Thursday, August 23, 2007

Thinking in the Bathtub, Birthday 47

Follows...some thoughts on my 47th birthday:

  • My life has spanned two centuries. Now, before you think that is old, anyone born before January 1, 2000 can say that.

  • Like James Taylor I can say, “I've seen fire and I've seen rain, I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end, I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend...” You can take it from there.

  • I've had my feet in 15 states not counting, Euphoria, Confusion or Discontent.

  • I have seen both solar and lunar eclipses as well as meteor showers and the tails of two comets.

  • There have been five Popes, ten Presidents and six Archbishops of Canterbury in my lifetime.

  • I've churned butter, picked strawberries, tailed green beans, popped fresh peas and shelled beans. I have also eaten hot tomatoes in the field as the migrant workers ate them at the same time.

  • I have milked both cows and goats, goats are more dangerous and I am lactose sensitive.

  • Though I was young, I know where I was when John F. Kennedy was assassinated and I remember the funeral. (I was watching Popeye and Janie, it happened right after Beanie and Cecil the Seasick Sea Serpent.)

  • Again, I was young, but I remember the “I Have A Dream,” speech.

  • I cried in Junior High Geography class while a plane filled with Vietnam POWs deplaned in the United States.

  • I have read East of Eden and loved it and watched East of Eden and hated it.

  • I have held my newborn nephew in the hospital and in a very lame Darth Vader voice said, “Luke, I am not your father.”

  • I have seen each of my two nieces and three nephews come home from the hospital wrapped in the same shawl that I came home in as well as each of my three sisters.

  • There have been tears of joy, sadness, grief, fear and disappointment come from my eyes.

  • I have laughed at jokes, falls, funerals, weddings and family reunions.

  • There have been rants, raves and disbelief in my life, several of them before noon today.

  • I have interrupted my mother while canning peaches. It was August of 1960, I made her go into labor. (As if canning peaches wasn't labor enough.)

  • Peaches are my favorite fruit.

  • I've made friends, lost friends and missed friends.

  • I've read, written, sang, drawn, painted, hand lettered and faux finished. In fact, I like to think that my death will be a faux finish.

  • I've celebrated, lamented, feared and dreaded birthdays, all in the same day.

  • I've had nightmares of playing naked Twister with the Golden Girls.

  • I have lived in hopes of finding someone to share my life with, the search has spanned two centuries. This is when it seems like a really long time.

  • Man has walked on the moon during my tenure here.

  • I've been under the Golden Gate Bridge and avoided Alcatraz.

  • I've been a Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist and always a Christian.

  • I have been witness to first steps and last breaths.

  • I have sat through Gone With The Wind, The Ten Commandments and some really bad sermons.

  • I was vaccinated with a phonograph needle.

  • I've never been on a property owned by Disney, unless you count the mall stores.

  • I own a Mickey Mouse watch.

  • I've been given “truth serum” and gave my opinion on Wellington Boots while under it's influence.

  • I have cranked ice cream.

  • I've owned three bikes, a 1969 Ford Falcon and a 1976 Ford Mustang Anniversary Edition.

  • I have learned this advice from a very dear friend, no longer with us, “Birthdays are a luxury that many cannot afford.”.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Kiss Me Clarissa




This afternoon I thought of my late friend Clarissa. Now by late I mean that Clarissa has gone to be a part of the heavenly throng. Clarissa will forever have a special place in my heart and I'll never forget her. She had sass, and lots of it, but that sass was seasoned with such an immense measure of love that every word was hand dipped in her sweetness.

What made me think of her is something that seems so silly and fun that it has to be marked as one of the most important moments of my life.

Sure, birth was great, I don't really remember much of that event that will be marked by it's 47th anniversary on the 23rd of this month, others seemed to have made a bigger deal of that day than I did, I have heard that I cried through part of it.

The first day of school had a memorable moment or two, well at least one, while I stood at the end of the lane, book bag in hand the big yellow student conveyance went off and left me standing there. I remember going to the house and saying, “They don't want me to go, they won't stop and pick me up.”

I remember my parents coming home to inform us that there would be a third child added to the family. My response through tears was, “this ruins everything.” Of course it didn't.

Another life moment that I won't forget was being in the hospital room when my best friend died. The sound of finality filling the room as his mother and I sat and looked at one another wondering if it really was over. I see now the mystery of life and death.

I remember a birthday party that I threw for myself, a dinner party for six, $350 in food and flowers, there were only three of us there. I wondered what I did wrong, not sure, but I'll tell you this, I won't turn 30 again.

Clarissa had a way of making you forget those moments that weren't fun, those hard memories were a part of what made you – you, but a laugh, an, “oh you,” her smile, her glow, even in the face of fighting breast cancer she was all grins and smiles and if she couldn't do it, you didn't see her.

I thought of her today because I remembered being Clarissaized. Somewhat like being baptized, it was into the family of Clarissa, not exactly the family of God, though the two were very tight friends. It wasn't an immersion into deep water, it wasn't a sprinkling, it wasn't walking on hot coals, it was one big deep plum colored kiss right on the forehead, for me, right where bald meets balder. I called it being Clarissaized. Right there in church in front of God and everybody, a smooch on top of my bald head that looked like a lip shaped neon sign.

It was a neon sign, it was a neon sign that reminded me that this beautiful woman, nearly the age of my own mother enjoyed life so much that she wanted to share it with anyone who would enjoy it with her. She referred to me as one of her boys. She only had a girl or girls I think, but for me it was one great honor to be one of her boys. Up and down the church aisle on Sunday morning, Clarissa the usher captain hugged and squeezed, and kissed her boys. When she plastered that nearly purple kiss on my forehead I didn't do like others did, no rubbing it off for me, I left it and I wore it just about all day and when it was faded I wanted to go back and ask her to do it again.

“For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them.
In my life I loved you more.” - Lennon and Mc Cartney

These words from a popular Beatles song ring through my mind often, my friend Reed and his wife Holly danced to these words at their wedding. They are the words from a love song, perfect for that first dance. For me they are the words from a love song for those that I wake up thinking of, when I'm longing for a dayglow purple kiss right on my bald spot.

The photo above is not a gratuitous shot of me mugging for the camera by the way, I just wanted you to see the expanse that Clarissa had to work with.



Friday, August 10, 2007

Living in Community: "You don't want to be measured and found wantin'"

There is a chance, only a chance mind you, that one of the best feelings in the world is to be wrong. Now, I'm not so foolish as to say that being wrong every time feels good, but there are certain subjects that it's just nice to find out that you are wrong about.

It isn't good to be wrong about having enough room to beat the train. VERY WRONG to try and second guess a freight train. It is not a good idea to just believe that the iron isn't hot any longer. My mom always said, cold or hot treat it like it will burn you, I do. There are other ways to get burnt, their scars are not quite as visible.

I lament quite often that it seems that the idea of community is dead. I'm not talking about a neighborhood. That is a concept of community that will never die. We will always have that kind of community. I'm talking about living in community. Let's take a couple of, “for instances,” I live in a rather natty building near the corner of a numbered street and a street named after a state. Oh, what the heck, I live near the corner of 16th and Pennsylvania in what I like to call Central City. We aren't downtown, but in this building we sure as heck aren't uptown either. In fact, I joke that I'm waiting for the editor of Better Shacks and Hovels to call and put my place on their cover. In my building there are 24 apartments. Generally speaking there are about 22 or so filled at a time and the rest are always in a state of perpetual clean up for the next tenant. I would not call my apartment building a community. It's a neighborhood, but we do not live in community. Well, not everyone does.

Take for example the man who lived across the hall from me. An aging black man who made it clear on the first day that I lived in this building, “I don't take well to people.” I explained that someday we would be happy neighbors, glad that the other was near by, as it turned out we did become good neighbors, lived with a sense of community and now that he has moved, I miss him.. There are others in the building who haven't been exactly the model for friendliness. Another example, there is a man in my building, very attractive, when you see him one of two reactions are going to take place, I don't care what gender you are, you are either going to knock yourself out to speak to him because he is attractive, or you are going to be intimidated by his good looks and you are going to do the embarrassed school girl routine and kick the dust with the toe of your shoe while looking down bashfully. I have spoken to him several times. He is not friendly and has no intention of becoming so. I went so far as to explain to him that living in community is a good thing, should there be a fire he doesn't want to be the one that no one wants to alert. No one was asking him to cook dinner and invite us in for it, we simply would like to say hello at the mailboxes and be acknowledged. He does it, but begrudgingly. There was a fire scare in the building and when I pounded on the door to wake him at 2 in the morning, I was working my way down the hall to alert the others in the building that there was unexplainable smoke and to be prepared to leave. Mr. Beautiful thanked me later for waking him and asking him to dial 911 to make sure that it had been reported as I continued my rounds of waking those still uninformed.

This is when I wish that I could say that there was a turn of events, there wasn't; he still grunts when he sees me in the parking lot and says hello only when spoken to at the mailbox.

The first of this week I went to the grocery store here in the neighborhood, the one that has been dubbed by the First Earl of Herron Morton Place, (that's me,) as the Kreepy Kroger. There are sights there on a regular basis that amaze and astound. There are times that I wonder where these people come from. I've seen two women in their Sunday best literally elbow one another out of the way with vicious aplomb to get to a pile of mustard greens, scrapping like they had each come upon the Holy Grail first. I learned later, while each was strolling through the grocery store having filled several plastic bags with the foliage that they went to church together. YIKES!! And they were , Sister this and Sister that.

I've been to a more upscale grocery in town and had an unnerving situation happen. Two men, shopping together like a happy couple playing house were there, we had just been in church together not an hour earlier. I had shaken hands with them at the passing of the peace, we are all regulars. When I spoke to them in the grocery they acted offended and wanted to know why I was speaking to them. Are these examples of community? There have been many other examples of these kinds of experiences that I could share, in fact I could probably regale you for pages. It makes me wonder at times if the line from Shrek applies to me, “I'm just an ogre.” I know that I'm not. Something scares people away though.

I mentioned that I love to be wrong, and here's where I am most happy. I went to the doctor's office the other day and because my clinician is often running late I took a book with me. I was zipping through the book enjoying the format as much as anything. I giggled each time I closed the book for a moment because on the opening page is a quote that says, “If I set you on fire, will you keep me warm?” Now in this particular waiting room I have seen a little bit of everything. I'm not going to hide it exactly, the practice specializes in mental health. I understand why we are there. For some reason or another and at varying degrees we need a little help, some a lot of help, but it makes me feel good that there are those who have chosen professions to do just that.

A young man, maybe 24 or so, not more, came in and sat down against the wall at the end of the room, only a few seats from me, he leafed through a magazine and then saw me laugh about the book. He said, “So, that book must be good.”

“It is,” I told him.

“What makes it so good?'

“I love the opening line, it says, 'If I set you on fire, will you keep me warm?' Besides that, the concept of the book is very clever, the kind of thing that I would like to write.”

“That is a good line,” he said, repeating it to himself.

He was called off by his clinician and he turned to me before leaving the room and said, “it was short, but I enjoyed talking to you.” I told him that I enjoyed it too, and I did. Two strangers actually talking to one another? What was that all about?

When I got in to see my clinician she told me that it was her first week back after having been at church camp for two weeks. She shared with me that her 11 year old son came to her choking back tears on Tuesday and he told her that he missed singing that song. “What song?” she asked. “You know the one, 'Shall we break bread together on our knees.'” While telling me this she began to fight back tears. I told her that I thought that her son was missing a very important thing. While he was at camp he learned the importance of community, he learned that while breaking bread in the celebration of the Eucharist he became a part of the body of Christ and while in the Anglican tradition that she and her family are a part of they believe that they actually became a part of the body and blood of Christ. But what's more, while doing that he learned that being a part of the body of Christ also meant being a part of a community of faith. A community! Her tears began to dry as she said to me, “That's exactly what he learned and he learned on his first day back in the real world that that community isn't just everywhere.”

But it is everywhere, yet, I regret to inform you that there are so many people for whatever reason believe that they hold onto the notion that they are the center of the universe and we are their satellites. We orbit them, we are here for them. The sense of community, of being a neighbor of offering ourselves as helpers, supporters, encouragers, coworkers, has been beaten within an inch of its life because of the folks who believe that their problem is more important than everyone else's, their health is worse than anyone's, their loving relationships make yours look like training wheels on a trike. That because of these things we are here to serve them.

I was watching “The Lady Killers” the other night, the new version with Tom Hanks. When I put the disk into the player I was thinking about how I want to live in a real community, what would it mean to be a part of a real community? Then I heard the lovely, deeply southern Negro lady lead say, “You don't want to be measured and found wantin', you don't want that written on your wall.” I fear that is where our world is headed, I fear that we will turn our faces away from our neighbors, that we will refuse to live as a community and we will have to answer to her question. I would enjoy being wrong, I would enjoy thinking that we won't find this written on our wall.

I thought as I drove to work the next morning, I'd like to see New Harmony, Indiana. It was designed to be a Utopian community, then I thought about the Shakers and how they were looking for the same thing, then the light came on, well it turned green and as I drove through it I was reminded, both of these communities didn't make it. So maybe it's best not to look for a Utopian community. Just a regular one for me please, a nice little community.