It’s a two am layover in some airport in the middle of America. I stumble through the terminal with my eyes stinging from lack of sleep. A man with the most endearing southern voice beckons me over to his table by asking me about my flight—I have no idea what’s going on but I’m attracted to the voice. A week later I have a new credit card and gawd only knows who has my social security number.
****************
His frame is slung in a chair with a nonchalance I can tell is contrived. “Well if you came to work for us, the sky’s the limit. Of course, your stock options would be worth sh—t later, (pardon my French) as we’re this guys prostitute, basically, but you could always work your away to the head of the company.” Hmm…..
*****************
In the dimness of the quiet funeral parlor I see the casket at the front of room. My throat catches as I realize it’s open. I hold her tiny, 95 year old frame next to me. We walk to the white hulking box and she leans her small grey head over the top. My eyes mist as I stare at his face. Then:
“Oh my gawd, it doesn’t even look like him!” she cries out into the silence. I start choking at her side. “Karin, come look at him!”
Karin: “Oh my gawd Tande, you’re right! What did they do to him? It doesn’t even look like him!”
“I think it’s just the angle. It’s just the angle…” UB says, trying to calm the situation.
I don’t even know what to think.
******************
A day later and we are gathered by the graveside. Soft mist envelopes the mourners of the saintly man soon to be lowered into the ground. She still leans against me as the final words of blessing and farewell are spoken.
“Now you each have a rose. Please leave it beside the casket as a final goodbye and token of remembrance.”
Her wrinkly face stares up into mine and in the quiet interrupted only by soft rain and sniffling she says:
“I’m keeping mine.”
****************
We linger over a casual but delicious dinner in a restaurant nestled near a creek. The room is cozy and the waiters look like pirates. A flower rests beside my plate.
“But what about when you hook up with girls?” I hear myself say at an unintended amplified level that silences the entire room. His eyes widen. My mouth drops open in silent horror. Crickets chirp. One of those moments…..
Awkward.
****************
The concert seems like a cauldron of hurt and confusion as girls from six to sixty sing along with the painful lyrics. A lone fourteen year old boy sings louder,waves his arms,jumps higher, screams stronger and beats the heck out of any angst-ridden teenage girl in the audience.It’s a beautiful thing. And being with the two best girls and laughing our heads off makes it all that much better.
****************
I wake up with a start. I dreamt my dog was three times the size I thought he was going to be, eating everything in the apartment, and not potty trained. I lean over my bed and see paper towel, poop and toys strewn everywhere. Nope, not a dream. Crap.
****************
“Can you take on another student?” she asks as I guide the small, beautiful little girl to our work station. I nod, knowing I am burying myself alive. My “to do” list is getting longer than my 5’3.5” height.
****************
Occasionally that letter you wrote comes to mind and I want to scream but know it’s a waste of time. I threw it away— mostly unread.It's always all about you, anyway, not me. Why do people find the need, so often, to heal themselves at your expense?
****************
“Wann werden Sie kommen?” they write with a weblink to a dog licking a screen. Uhh…Sigh. Soon. I’m coming soon ….
****************
“You can’t wait. You have passion. You’re perfect. I can see it in you. You are what they want in D.C. You just have to show up and start networking…” her face leans into mine with an intensity I can feel in the back of my head. She speaks with a passion—knowledge in her being-- that comes from something specific and it’s not just her year in Iraq working in security.
“She was in one of the towers when it got hit,” my uncle says to me later. “45 of her co-workers were killed but she got out.” I nod. I knew it.
****************
“You are not here merely to make a living. You are here in order to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world, and you impoverish yourself if you forget the errand.” I read Woodrow Wilson’s words and throw my head back from conviction and frustration.
Haven’t forgotten the errand. Just realized that there are so many ways to run that errand that I find myself standing in an intersection with a blank shopping list…..
****************
“I know how he feels,” one of my student’s parents says to me on the phone when discussing his child’s new A.D.D. medication. “I mean I experimented with ADD meds when I was younger…”
Um. What? You’re not experimenting when you’re given a prescription!
Maybe I’m not the only one with a blank shopping list….
For all these snapshots I’m thankful…as well as for all of your kindness, concern and care...and much more….Happy Thanksgiving Y’all….
****************
His frame is slung in a chair with a nonchalance I can tell is contrived. “Well if you came to work for us, the sky’s the limit. Of course, your stock options would be worth sh—t later, (pardon my French) as we’re this guys prostitute, basically, but you could always work your away to the head of the company.” Hmm…..
*****************
In the dimness of the quiet funeral parlor I see the casket at the front of room. My throat catches as I realize it’s open. I hold her tiny, 95 year old frame next to me. We walk to the white hulking box and she leans her small grey head over the top. My eyes mist as I stare at his face. Then:
“Oh my gawd, it doesn’t even look like him!” she cries out into the silence. I start choking at her side. “Karin, come look at him!”
Karin: “Oh my gawd Tande, you’re right! What did they do to him? It doesn’t even look like him!”
“I think it’s just the angle. It’s just the angle…” UB says, trying to calm the situation.
I don’t even know what to think.
******************
A day later and we are gathered by the graveside. Soft mist envelopes the mourners of the saintly man soon to be lowered into the ground. She still leans against me as the final words of blessing and farewell are spoken.
“Now you each have a rose. Please leave it beside the casket as a final goodbye and token of remembrance.”
Her wrinkly face stares up into mine and in the quiet interrupted only by soft rain and sniffling she says:
“I’m keeping mine.”
****************
We linger over a casual but delicious dinner in a restaurant nestled near a creek. The room is cozy and the waiters look like pirates. A flower rests beside my plate.
“But what about when you hook up with girls?” I hear myself say at an unintended amplified level that silences the entire room. His eyes widen. My mouth drops open in silent horror. Crickets chirp. One of those moments…..
Awkward.
****************
The concert seems like a cauldron of hurt and confusion as girls from six to sixty sing along with the painful lyrics. A lone fourteen year old boy sings louder,waves his arms,jumps higher, screams stronger and beats the heck out of any angst-ridden teenage girl in the audience.It’s a beautiful thing. And being with the two best girls and laughing our heads off makes it all that much better.
****************
I wake up with a start. I dreamt my dog was three times the size I thought he was going to be, eating everything in the apartment, and not potty trained. I lean over my bed and see paper towel, poop and toys strewn everywhere. Nope, not a dream. Crap.
****************
“Can you take on another student?” she asks as I guide the small, beautiful little girl to our work station. I nod, knowing I am burying myself alive. My “to do” list is getting longer than my 5’3.5” height.
****************
Occasionally that letter you wrote comes to mind and I want to scream but know it’s a waste of time. I threw it away— mostly unread.It's always all about you, anyway, not me. Why do people find the need, so often, to heal themselves at your expense? ****************
“Wann werden Sie kommen?” they write with a weblink to a dog licking a screen. Uhh…Sigh. Soon. I’m coming soon ….
****************
“You can’t wait. You have passion. You’re perfect. I can see it in you. You are what they want in D.C. You just have to show up and start networking…” her face leans into mine with an intensity I can feel in the back of my head. She speaks with a passion—knowledge in her being-- that comes from something specific and it’s not just her year in Iraq working in security.
“She was in one of the towers when it got hit,” my uncle says to me later. “45 of her co-workers were killed but she got out.” I nod. I knew it.
****************
“You are not here merely to make a living. You are here in order to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world, and you impoverish yourself if you forget the errand.” I read Woodrow Wilson’s words and throw my head back from conviction and frustration.
Haven’t forgotten the errand. Just realized that there are so many ways to run that errand that I find myself standing in an intersection with a blank shopping list…..
****************
“I know how he feels,” one of my student’s parents says to me on the phone when discussing his child’s new A.D.D. medication. “I mean I experimented with ADD meds when I was younger…”
Um. What? You’re not experimenting when you’re given a prescription!
Maybe I’m not the only one with a blank shopping list….
For all these snapshots I’m thankful…as well as for all of your kindness, concern and care...and much more….Happy Thanksgiving Y’all….
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