remember that day in school when the teacher passed out timed tests and told you to have a pencil ready? she or he specifically said to “read all the instructions first and read through the test before you begin.” and then – silence.
you grabbed your pencil, chewed nervously on the eraser or the side of it, put your name at the top and started answering questions as fast as you could, skipping the instructions or reading through it.
you got to the last question and it read “go back to the beginning and put your name at the top of this page and only answer question 1” (or some other such verbiage nonsense like that.) dang.
there’s something to be said for reading instructions. patience, baby, patience.
i am writing this ahead of time…in anticipation of a so-much-looked-forward-to trip to the high mountains to spend time with The Girl and our new granddog lumi. when you read this, we will be almost home. and there are a few things i know for sure.
that i will -for sure- awake at night, as i often do, and i will relive the time we spent in those mountains. i will relish the time i will now have in my memory bank, the visions in my mind’s eye. i will cherish the bits and pieces i will have brought back for our special box. i will hold dear the photographs i will have taken.
when the moon wakes me, i will be endlessly grateful for any and all moments in the little town she calls home. i will run conversations and laughter through the middle-of-the-night quiet. i will catch a hint of the cool midnight colorado air on the breeze through the window. i will feel what it feels like to, once again, hug my beautiful daughter. and i will store it all away. so that in the night – any night – i can recall all of it.
when i think about long island, i miss the days that i could bike to the beach, climb the fence and watch the sun rise over the sound. these colors – the blue, green, aqua, yellow – dominated those mornings, both gentle and fierce, end of night, beginning of day.
i feel that if i were in outer space looking from far away at the earth…i would see the sun wrap its rays around the east side of the earth, a mix of blues and greens, melded into a blur with a rounded edge. it would be a kaleidoscope of color and feeling.
either way i hold this piece, vertically or horizontally, i see the sun. golden rising. off the east edge of the earth. or over the water. either way, a new day.
so, one of my least favorite things is calling customer service. of any company. insurance companies, airlines, stores, online retail, the cellphone company, and the worst-the cable company.
one day recently i literally called time warner cable to inquire about a less expensive plan. of course, the company has been acquired by spectrum, so i was talking to the spectrum folks. but, at the time, my bill still had “time warner cable” on it, so i figured that they were still somehow in the game.
i explained to the gal on the line what i was looking for, the reason for my call. this was misunderstood time after time, until i just blurted out “i want a cheaper plan!” she then proceeded to tell me that she would research that for me. holdholdholdholdholdholdhold……
she came back on the line to tell me -excitedly- that she was able to find a fabulous new spectrum plan for me and that i could sign up right away, over the phone. here’s the thing (the moment i was hit by the customer-taser): the new plan was $35 a month MORE than the one i already had and about which i was calling to negotiate. what?!?!?! i asked her if she understood what she had just told me. she (again, excitedly) said she did and that she could sign me up right away.
i told her i didn’t want to talk on the phone with her anymore. 45 minutes of wasted life. a taser would have been more honest.
my sweet momma had this thing. and she passed it down to me. genetics are brutal! when she would get something new, she would saaaaaave it. for later. for good. for something special. no matter what. we would give her gifts (like a beautiful scarf or blouse) and she would wait to wear it. she would purchase a new pair of shoes and they would stay in the box, only for “good” wear. and…i have the gene. d jokes that every time i ever get anything new, he knows he must wait about six months (an exaggeration…well, maybe an exaggeration only sometimes) to see me wearing it. now, i don’t purchase things too often, so i understand my momma’s “thing”…you want to keep the item in tip-top shape, you want to treat it like it is ‘special’. but it’s a curse. my sister did not inherit this trait. she will buy something and wear it later the same day. i envy her nonchalance, that cavalier attitude of well-i-bought-it-and-i’m-gonna-wear-it-ness. oh, how i wish i could do that.
recently, though, i got this new tunic…up north at a little boutique in a little town. it was on sale – 50% off – and i pondered it for quite some time (ask ANY of my girlfriends about my fine purchasing-decision-making-skills.) d convinced me to get it…i mean it was $24. a total bargain. i….wait for it…wore it the next day! the very next day!! and many times since. it has already made it to the pack-it-for-an-evening-in-the-mountains-with-a-pair-of-skinny-jeans-and-boots list. i am wondering if, somehow, i have overcome my waiting-thing.
eh. i doubt it. i still haven’t worn the pair of heels in the box in the closet that i got on sale about six years ago. they are waiting for later. for something good. for something special.
the image is strikingly beautiful. two men tenderly holding their baby. shared fatherhood. for me, personally, as i have written about before , a hopeful vision of The Boy someday…
but the words “shared fatherhood” makes me also think of people who have been in the lives of my children. in addition to their father, there have been others in their lives who have had impact. i distinctly remember The Boy recalling the day my dad – his Pa – made him respectfully remove his hat at the table; no bones about it…lessons. and i remember the generous message he wrote for my dad’s funeral service. i know there is an unbreakable connection The Girl has to her Pa, the man she bought a sweatshirt (that he adored) which read “smart-ass university”. their paternal grandpa was a sweet sweet man as well, and i know there is take-away from their relationship with him. but when you sort out further – the concentric circles in their lives outside of family – that’s when i must also express gratitude for other people who shared in “fathering” them. their high school band directors, the marketing teacher, tennis and other coaches, private music instructors, talented men who cared deeply about them. even more, they were there for them. in past years i knew that i could count on them for support, for demonstrating what was good, for the love they showered on them.
we walk through life, sometimes unaware of the impact we are having on others. perhaps we need a moment or two to stop and think about all of those people who have contributed to our growth, who have shared in our lives, who have “mothered” or “fathered” us regardless of whether there was a biological connection or not.
father’s day – another day to recognize that we are, indeed, all one family. better together.
shared fatherhood II, mixed media on panel 25.25″ x 40.25″
my sweet momma had a sweet nose. but somewhere along the line my poppo, using a derivative of her first name ‘beatrice’ nicknamed her “beak” and, for a time, all hell broke loose. she railed against his perceived slamming of her nose (which was actually a perky little nose) and was questioning of his continued use of his (now) beloved nickname when it irritated (“irked”) her. “beak” morphed into “beaky” – the name by which everyone under the sun knows and loves her. eventually, she even grew to love her nickname and proudly wore a gold necklace my dad had specially made for her (no, surprisingly, “beak” necklaces are not mass-produced!) our sweet beaky-beaky. ohmygosh, how i miss her.
we have dandelions. ask our neighbors. luckily our neighbors on the west (and our sweet friends) share our love and adoration of dandelions. well, maybe not love and adoration, but they don’t have a terrible aversion to them either. neither of our households competes in what charlie calls “the lawn olympics.” we have old houses and, thus, old lawns. and yes…i have walked around our neighborhood and there are plenty of old houses with utterly rich, dense, verdant carpets. but, alas, that is not us.
we have much to learn about grass. everyone in our circle asks dan, because dan is a lawn god. his grass is gorgeous and cross-cut and weedless. we do have a lot to learn from him. we are glad (but only for the grass reason) that he and gay don’t live next door. but if they did – (and that would be lovely, but only on the east side so as not to displace our west side neighbors) – i am betting that our dandy dandelions would be gone and we would have dandy grass instead.
we have no problem playing. take our sweet boy chicken marsala, for example. you may remember this. chicken was born when we were taking a roadtrip. we had been driving for about 12 hours or so and were talking about what we would have named a child, had we had one together. we laughingly agreed on “chicken”….”chicken marsala.” don’t ask us why; neither of us has the answer. maybe it was road delirium. regardless, chicken has stayed with us since then. we even carried a flat-chicken across the country a couple years ago, taking pictures of him with rest area personnel, at points of interest and with various family members. we joke about chicken and me cantering in the fields and d uses his “chicken marsala voice”, making us go into fits of hilarity.
no matter the age, no matter the relationship – parent/child, brother/sister, husband/wife, boyfriend/boyfriend, girlfriend/girlfriend – playing adds moments of immeasurable treasure.
reverse threading 