The Summer Day

I don't know exactly what prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

-- Mary Oliver

I will miss you, Jessica. But I won't forget.

Aspiration, age 3

"Lily, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"A chicken."

Chocolate

I learned recently that (some) prisons have gift shops and, apparently, at least two of them sell custom tins of chocolate with the prison (logo?) printed on the lid. I know this because my sister Jane sold them the chocolate. That's her job, selling chocolate. Her clients include hotels, wineries, restaurants, and most recently, prisons. She's really good at her job. I think she may be the first chocolatier to break into the prison niche market.

I suggested that she look into the mental hospital market too. She could do custom tins with googly eyes. Jane liked that idea, calling them "looney tins."

So the next time you're in a prison or a mental hospital gift shop and see custom tins of chocolate, you won't have to wonder, "who the heck thought of this?" You'll already know the answer. Jane.

Dating Advice to Boys

Sage advice from a 14 year old girl named Tibby:

I think boys are hot....but I have had my heart broken ALOT of times and here is a tip for boys: when you get asked out by someone you dont like, dont like say: "Gross!" and act like you are throwing up, ok? To actually act like a guy or a MAN then at least say it nicely like: "Well I'm really sorry but I just like you as a friend".....because you don't know how doing that can stick to a girl FOREVER. And don't just like her for her looks, like her for her personalty too.

State of Mind

"Wouldn't it be nice to be a pigeon" flashed through my mind today. I think I am unwell.

Although context for the thought was that I was trying to force myself to read Torts, while the pigeon was taking a bird bath.

Still. Couldn't I have looked beyond the pigeon? Couldn't I have wished I were a tree blowing in the wind? Or at least, perhaps, a finch?

Tigger

As a parent, one of the first things you must learn to do is let go. It starts as early as pregnancy when you have to let go of the idea that you have any control over your body, and culminates in the ultimate letting your child go off on her own into the world. Fortunately, there are many small steps along the way.

For example, when Molly was two, I had to let go of the idea that I could dress her in cute outfits. Apparently, though she had only existed for a matter of months, Molly had developed a clear, independent and wild sense of style that had no room for my humdrum ideas of complementary or matching colors, or belief that one should only wear one outfit at a time.

Molly's fashion heyday was kindled in no small part by an innocent three-dollar purchase of an hideously ugly Tigger-suit (thank you, Auntie Eliza), and a hand-me-down Little Mermaid bathing suit complete with stains and a tattered skirt. Every day, for a year or so, Molly insisted on wearing at least one of the two items. By "insisted" I mean I had a choice of a daily screaming, kicking, crying battle to get her into different clothes that she would rip off as soon as my back was turned, or I could just 'let go' of my feeling that the way she dressed somehow reflected upon me, and let her dress as she liked. She was the freak in the tigger suit, not me.

When Molly started nursery school, she made a new friend, Ivy. Ivy's parents and I arranged a first play date for the girls at the beach. Molly had grown out of both the tigger and mermaid suits by this time and had moved on to princess dress up clothes which included plastic high heels, purses, feather boas, and sparkly jewels. Per usual, I could not convince her to wear a sundress and sandals to the beach and tried to let go of feeling embarrassed by her most impractical get-up for the first play date of her life. Imagine my relief when Ivy stepped from her car in a matching outfit, and they tripped (literally) along together down to the beach.

Though Molly and Ivy were clearly soul mates, I did come to realize that the fashion plague is prevalent among the young set. They are short, but they have strong sense of style that has not yet been diluted by society's expectations and peer pressure. Molly still occasionally puts on an outfit that defies description, but the influence of elementary school style has (sadly? happily?)toned down her fashion statements.

Happy Anniversary

My friends, Jess and Marvin recently celebrated their first wedding anniversary. They got engaged only three months after they started going out. That was about 15 years ago. So though they only have one official year under their marriage belt, it counts for a lot more than that.

The first time I remember hanging out with Jess was at a party, long, long ago. She was drunk. She was also feeling sad (a dangerous combination) because (she cried, repeatedly) Marvin could never love her as much as she loved him. It turned out she was wrong. Although her lamentations were on the sloppy side of sweet, I think of that evening as my introduction to the largeness of her heart.

Thoughtful, quiet (except when drunk), strong, sweet, honorable, determined, safe, appreciative of the perverse, insightful, strong as can be, loyal, delicate, good. Words that jump to my mind when I think of Jess. When I was asked at my job to find another writer to work with, I knew it would be Jess. "She's my angel friend" was my recommendation. Not the usual criteria for hiring, but it seemed to work for my boss. I guess we were in need of an angel.

Jess has been sick for a while and through our discussions about life and death I know that she (like anyone) wants her life to be meaningful, to affect the lives of others. She has. Jess has taught me about goodness, about quiet strength, about true love. When I want to be a less selfish and more honorable person, I think about what Jess would do in the same situation. Admittedly, sometimes I've had to call her to find that out.

I wish Marvin and Jess many more years of happiness and count myself lucky to be a continuing part of their lives.

George

George swept up around the bar where I worked in exchange for sodas and company. He lived down the street in a residence home where he was irregularly medicated for his mental instability (which came first, I wonder).

I'd chat with George when business was slow, and over the years gathered bits and pieces of his story as they fell through the cracks of his dementia.

George was as unsure of the details as I am now, but he did kill a man when he was in his teens or early twenties. Angry (high on speed?), he pushed an old man who fell and hit his head and died.

George was sent to a mental hospital instead of prison, and years of drug and shock 'therapy' brought him through to his present condition of a state-mandated medicated existence.

Some days he'd be lucid, crack jokes, tell me he loved me with his gummy smile, and ask for my hand in marriage. I always demurred, "you're too old for me, George" and he'd laugh.

Other days he'd show up agitated, grinding his jaw, incoherent, and I'd send him home. "George, you're too crazy today, you can't stay here. Come back tomorrow. " He'd acquiesce and stumble back down the street.

Once I asked him if he'd pose for a portrait. I had been taking photographs of family and friends and was intrigued by the way people responded to the camera. Most people were self-conscious when being photographed, and often preferred to look away as though I weren't standing right in front of them. I wondered what it would be like to photograph George.

George, of course, was different. He had no self-consciousness. Maybe the drugs had taken care of that. He stared straight into the lens, not posing, just staring. He wasn't looking at the camera, but looking through it. At me. It made me feel self-conscious. I hadn't expected that.

He died several years ago. His condition had deteriorated so much that we couldn't allow him in the bar anymore. He insisted his caretakers were trying to kill him by overmedicating him. Our bar manager went down to the home to see what was going on and tried to help. I don't think it did much good.

He died alone and I don't know whether he expected anyone to remember him. I haven't thought about George in years, but he popped into my head for some reason the other night. So I dug up these photos and remembered him here.

Truth

"In a world congested with falsity, the anus becomes the final unimpeded outlet to truth, the last bastion of rebelllion where life force is stored and preserved. "

-- Han Shaogong, A Dictionary of Maqiao

Lazy Parents

Lily didn't get what she wanted the other day (gum for breakfast? Molly's special toy?) and had commenced her strategy of parental torture, hoping we'd give in. This entailed lying on her back in her pink fleece nightgown, whining as she scooted herself in circles around us on the floor. Shaun turned to me.
"Shall I put her in her room?"
"I don't know. She's not whining that loudly, and she is cleaning the floor."
"True."
"Although it would work a lot better if she were wet."

We didn't get to hose her down. I guess Lily picked up from our conversation that her tactics had backfired. She stopped whining and wandered off to play in her room.

Blind?

While I was in a movie theater, a blind woman walked past me down the aisle. I assumed she was blind because she had to use her white cane to find a seat. I found it rather odd. I had difficulty concentrating on the film (Syriana, which did require some concentration), because I kept wondering what she was experiencing. I left after the first two hours because I got bored with the film. She didn't.

Milk

We got lost in Chicago. We rented a car downtown and hit the road with a thumbnail map of the area around the rental car place and vague directions to the freeway. It didn’t take us long to drive off the map, miss an important turn, and end up in some distant neighborhood. If we didn’t live in the ‘hood at home, we might have been nervous. We stopped at a drive-through ‘restaurant’ for some edibles. Shaun ordered milk for the girls.
“Do you want white milk or black milk?” asked the (black) lady behind the counter.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want white milk or black milk?”
“Uh… white milk, please.”
“We’re all out of white milk.”

I don’t think we passed her test. But we did get our food. And eventually found the freeway.

Resolutions

I didn't make any resolutions this year. I'm just going to keep on truckin'.

Ruby Canyon

Our train was ten hours late coming in to Chicago. One of our unscheduled stops was in Ruby Canyon next to an abandoned freight train.

Galesburg, Illinois

My family and I recently took the train from the Bay Area to Chicago. We passed through Galesburg, Illinois at night.

Sexy Trees

I thought tree faces would go the way of the haircutting umbrella – something you find in a catalog full of equally odd items that never reach mainstream. I was wrong. It seems to be catching on. Just google “tree face” and you’ll see. At first I was worried, you know, about where America was heading and all that. But then it occurred to me that this could be the answer to our deforestation problems. If the trees looked more like people, then maybe people wouldn’t cut them down. But it would probably work better if the faces were more attractive. And female. And sexy. That would give tree-hugging a whole new dimension.

First Crush

My daughter, Lily, has her first crush. She’s three. She has fallen for my cousin Niall. He’s almost 30. Lily is a social and friendly child who has been known to hug and kiss a perfect stranger. But it’s different with Niall. She’s giggly and nervous around him and won’t leave his side. Niall earned Lily’s devotion by joining her for tea. This was a complicated process involving a couple hundred pink and purple beads and a plastic singing teapot. For some reason, she called him “Karen” for a while. Now she refers to him as “the Man.”

Niall told her he had to use the bathroom. Lily ran ahead of him to the guest bathroom. Apparently unaware of the social aspects of toilet use, Niall went the opposite direction. I found Lily sitting atop the commode, wiggling in excited anticipation. When asked if I could use the toilet, Lily responded, “No, mommy. The Man has to go to the bathroom.”
“Who?”
“The Man.”
“Who is the Man?”
“The Man is my friend!”
She was crushed to learn that not only had the Man evaded her company, but also that she would not be allowed to join him. Fortunately, his reappearance quelled any further ado.

Haircutting Umbrella

Though I don't like reading newspapers, I do enjoy perusing the occasional catalog. Especially those which support the inventive spirit. I had never before considered how handy a haircutting umbrella could be. Now I think about it all the time.

If you feel you need one, you can buy it here.

Sad Drips

Lily told me she was sad at Susie's the other day. She said sad drips fell from her eyes.

Lily will be three tomorrow.

G as in God

I spent a few years billing insurance companies for a psychologist. Most of my working time was spent on the phone with customer service or managed care, trying to get claims paid. Inevitably, there would come a time when I had to spell a patient's name. Early on, before I became familiar with the standards of "C as in Charlie" and "N as in Nancy," my spelling practices often resulted in fits of giggles on both ends of the phone line. Or worse, my own mounting laughter was quelled by business-like acknowledgments (or a lack-thereof, depending on how you look at it).

"'G' as in ... ah ... 'God'; 'I' as in 'Insane' (always appropriate as I was dealing with the mental health department); 'D' as in... um... 'Donkey'; 'E' as in 'Egg'; 'O as in 'Octagonal'; and 'N' as in 'Nun'. Gideon."

Though my initial forays in to letter/word association were innocent, I became aware of an opportunity to apply my literary background to my current line of work. Thematic spelling might spark inspiration in the customer service rep who must be as bored with her job as I was. Possibilities seem endless, from the crude: 'H' as in 'Hairy'; 'A' as in 'Anus'; ... to the devine: "'H' as in 'Heaven'; 'A' as in 'Angels'....

My stepfather, Patrick, apparently has a similar "problem" with letter/word association. My mother came up with a simple, yet ingenious solution, which I believe can be universally applied.
"Patrick. That's
'P' as in 'Patrick',
'A' as in 'Atrick',
'T' as in 'Trick',
'R' as in 'Rick',
'I' as in 'Ick', and
'CK' as in 'Cuh'.