November 11, 2001
"No Better Presents"
And what a meal it was! Enchiladas Sonoran style, with good beef and chewy thick corn tostadas, and chips and more chips and more chips with the bean dip. Just when I thought I could eat no more, they surprised me with a deep fried ice cream dessert for my birthday. Julia and Laura helped me with that. Oh, it was all succulent.
We postponed the birthday dinner to today, as yesterday I wasn't feeling well. I think the fever and malaise were a reaction to the flu shot I'd had a couple of days earlier, for today I feel fine.
Peaked though I was, I still enjoyed the cards and presents I got. Mother's box was so strongly wrapped, it nearly looked impenetrable until Julia helped me find a pair of scissors. When I got the boxes opened, for there were boxes within the box, the following is what I found.
jade pendant, Dad's Navy medal . . .
Not only that, but a simple gold tie clasp that used to belong to my Dad was in the other box. It is adorned with a single initial 'R', for Russell, his first name. But the most special of his mementos is his Navy medal, featuring an eagle clasping an anchor in its talons, given to him FOR SERVICE. Yes, on this most appropriate Veterans' day to note it, my Dad was a veteran, a NAVY MAN! He looked so handsome in his sailor suit, as the photo to that link shows. I recall he was a deep sea diver, as Gramma had had small square grayscale photos of him suited up for underwater adventure.
I wish I had those photos now, but am grateful for what pictures I do have. Those, my Mother sent to me. Some were loaned, so that I could scan them for digital copies, and some, like their wedding picture, she has given me hard copies. In a separate envelope, my Mother sent a birthday card, ''For a Daughter Who's So Special'', the front page reads.
The message is special, as well:
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How do you tell a wonderful daughter that she is an absolute treasure? Do you mention the way she adds joy to your life? (It's impossible for you to measure!) Do you try to explain all the warmth that you feel when you look in her face and recall every moment, each day of her growing - up years and the way that you cherish them all? Or do you just, finally, express your deep love and hope that she knows even part of the importance she's had, and always will have, in the family she's so at the heart of?
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Those words made me feel good.
I didn't get any presents on the day, from Laura and Julia. We have a different sort of set up. In some traditions, a person is quite frugal all year long, and rarely buys anything for themselves. Before their birthday and Christmas, they are allowed to hint at what they'd like, and a family member will get it for them.
Well, here in the Lansberry household, we sort of have a celebration year round. Any time one of us wants something, the others encourage her to get it. If I see the latest Andrea Bocelli album, for instance, I just get it. If Laura craves a new computer program, she gets it. If Julia hankers after some ancient coins, numbers are given, and a package soon arrives.
It wasn't always like that. However, sad events just before the Christmas of 1985 inspired Laura to do so. Her father had always wanted a special belt buckle. It was adorned with a large cats eye agate. He'd never be so extravagant as to dream of buying it, however. Laura's brother, Greg, got their Father this belt buckle that Christmas of 1985, and packaged it up all nice and pretty, to be opened on the 25th.
However, just FIVE days before the 25th, their Father keeled over in his yard, while picking pecans. He never got to see the lovely belt buckle.
Ever after that, the Lansberry's have made gifts a year round thing, because you just never know.
I, did, of course, receive beautiful cards from Laura and Julia.
The image on Julia's card
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All I need are your arms around me when I fall asleep, your smile when I awake, and the promise of having your love in my life till I run out of days on this earth.
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Inside, Laura drew a cartoon image of herself, with weepy eyes, full of love, for ''I Keep crying for joy!''
I couldn't ask for better presents!
November 14, 2001
"At The Center"
| ''As a matter of fact, the world does revolve around me.'' |
I don't know what his purpose was in wearing that shirt. Was he answering a parents accusation? At any rate, it brought to mind the mindset I had as a very young child.
I'd just learned my directions and which way pointed North. I had the remarkable epiphany that I was exactly at the center of the world. The proof of my good fortune was easy: facing North, all that was before me was NORTH, to my left, all that was there was WEST, to my RIGHT, only EAST remained, and behind me, nothing but SOUTH! Therefore, I had to be EXACTLY AT THE CENTER!
''I'' at the center . . .
I had such innocent faith. And, in a way, I was not wrong. All I needed was to acknowledge that everyone on the planet experienced the exact same perspective. It took a few years to be able to do that.
But there I was, happy at the center of it all. It's not such a bad innocence, after all. There's a bit of Zen wisdom that captures something of that innocence, combined with a bit of grace:
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When you set out to look for the Way, At once it changes to something That is to be sought in your self. When sight becomes no-sight, You come to possess the jewel, But you have not yet fully penetrated into it. Suddenly one day everything is empty like space That has no inside or outside, no bottom or top, And you are aware of one principle Pervading all the ten thousand things. You know then that your heart Is so vast that it can never be measured. - Daikaku (1213-1279)
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Is it 'heart at the center', for you have become the center by containing all things? The compass expands, folds out three-dimensionally, and as long as the length, breath and width of it is filled to all regions with compassion, is this not whole?
love at the center. . .
This Thursday morning, I settled down with the tape Laura had made of Tuesday's Buffy show, while I was at work. The UPN station based in Phoenix, channel 45, broadcasts stronger than the one in Tucson, but the Phoenix station wasn't showing the Buffy show. Had they decided the brief scene of lesbian intimacy between Willow and Tara too much for the less sophisticated Phoenix audience? All they featured at the 7:00 o'clock time slot was crappy old reruns of other shows.
Fortunately, Tucson's audience is considered more 'sophisticated', and the tape was made off that broadcast, only slightly fuzzy. Willow's, the witch who raised Buffy from the dead, for all of you in a cave or reading this three hundred years hence, been getting dangerous with her spells. Raising someone from the dead has made her feeling quite the Goddess. Anytime sometime goes wrong, POOF!, she casts a spell, and POOF!, the situation is sorted to her satisfaction. HER satisfaction, of course, and never mind about manipulating the minds of people she loves.
This time she conspired to do a doozy of a spell: make both Tara forget about their recent fight, and Buffy forget about the cozy heaven she'd left behind when returned to earth.
The spell was a doozy, all right. ALL of the Scooby gang forgot EVERYTHING. POOF!, they passed out, while at the magic shop, and when they came to, they didn't even know their own names. This was solved for most by looking at their driver's license, or a piece of name-bearing jewelry, for instance.
Buffy's sister had such a necklace, and she addressed Buffy's nameless state:
DAWN: So you don't have a name?Her innocence does not last forever. The blackened crystal remains of Willow's spell falls to the floor, and is stomped on during a tussle Xander, Willow and Tara are having with some baddies.CLUELESS BUFFY: I think I can name myself!
I name myself 'Joan'.DAWN: Ugh.
BUFFY, aka 'JOAN': Did you just 'ugh' my name?
DAWN: No, I just, I mean it's so 'blah'.
BUFFY, aka 'JOAN': I feel like a 'Joan'.
DAWN: Fine, that's your perogative.
later in the show: SPIKE, aka 'RANDY': Looks like Joan fancies herself boss!
a little more later in the show: (During finishing off a vampire with a stake:)
BUFFY, aka 'JOAN' (to the vampire: Stay away from Randy!(Vampire now dust,:)
SPIKE, aka 'RANDY':What did you just do?BUFFY, aka 'JOAN': Hey, I don't know. But it was COOL!
(After finishing off a few more vamps, more aware of her strength:)
BUFFY, aka 'JOAN': I think I know why Joan's the boss. I'm like a super hero or something!
Meanwhile, back at Buffy/Joan's arena. Gaining a bit more confidence, as she deftly stabs another ugly vampire, she shouts: ''Don't mess with Joan, the v-'', crystal crushed, and she comes to.
But don't you think 'Joan, the Vampire Slayer' has a nice ring to it?
All of yesterday's philosophical musing aside, Richard wrote to assure me there is yet another being who sincerely, without a doubt, completely believes he is at the center of the world!
THAT's right, BANTUS!
November 18, 2001
"Won't Fade"
Plans of going to Tucson got scrapped for a trip to Ray Rd. ''We might catch Harry Potter.'' Laura made haste on the trip, shortening it by a good ten minutes. Surprisingly, though, the lines at the movie theater were not long. But I gather Friday, opening day, the furor was so great, some mothers even let their kids skip school to see the show.
Today's audience was a wee bit more sedate, and a few empty seats were still available when the film began rolling.
This was a unique situation for me. I'd never before read the book upon which a movie was based. I already had pictures of Harry, Hermione, Ron, Harry's fat cousin Dursley and everyone else. The movie characters had better match the ones created in my mind while reading the book.
A few matched perfectly. The huge, mountain-like Hagrid, and the long white haired wizard Dumbledore could have been siphoned out of my mind in a mind meld. Red haired Ron, and snotty Draco Malfoy could have as well.
Dursley, however, was not nearly fat enough. In contrast, I'd pictured his mother of a mean-type thin, severely so. The movie father looked more like what I would have pictured the grown Dursley, not the sturdy, well muscled 'Paul Bunyon' build I'd imagined.
Harry, in my mind, had inherited the long, thin boned look that his aunt had, albeit without the severity. A lithe and limber sort of thin, rather than pinched and scarce of skin.
Movie Hermione, on the other hand, was too thin, The thick mane of brown hair was the same, though. Professor McDonagill was much older than I'd imagined.
But after the show began, all disbelief was abandoned. I was THERE AT HOGWARTS, the wizard school. The special effects were absolutely tremendous. I've never seen better. Wait until you see the 'Quidditch' game. The teams really fly fast on their brooms.
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone is the most purely FUN movie I've ever seen. Oh, The Princess Bride is still quite close, but this is just a titch more fun. Everyone left the theater smiling.
Where to next? I'd not had much to eat since that burrito and peas at work last night, and eagerly anticipated lunch.
Julia hankered after sushi, to which a tiny tray of oddly tasting raw bits appeared in my mind's eye. Ugh! Gratefully, Laura promised her sushi another day. We'd have something more substantial today.
Mexican, ala ''On The Border'', drew us. I partook heartily of the fresh thin, still warm chips, and piquant salsa, with just the right amount of cilantro. Hot salsa like that has a way of making you feel more alive, it does. I just barely saved enough room for dinner, a variety of enchiladas, flautas, and a taco, with rice and guacamole. I almost felt drunk from too much food. Is that possible?
On the trip home, we watched the progress of a delightful sunset, full of many layers of pink-orange ripples against a still faintly blue background. At the beginning of the sunset's first glow, Laura posed an interesting question: which of the characters did we most identify with?
For Julia, it was easy. Studious and knowledgeable Hermione, won, hands down, or up, wand in hand. I fancied myself the young Harry Potter, joyfully discovering a new world and his powers. I assumed Laura would, as well. But to my surprise, she chose the seasoned magician Dumbledore.
By the time we got home, the sunset's grandeur had already begun to fade. But not the memories of this day. They won't fade, I'm making sure of that!
November 19, 2001
"What Shall I Think?"
What was the impetus for this entry? A fellow journaller needs 'the freedom to develop'. He's referring to exploring new modes of coding for his journal. But any freedom matters. In an email to the group list he has, I advise:What if I wrote the first thing that comes into my mind? Like a butterfly, it enters. Or a cat on quiet feet. Or a cloud, softly passing. Or a crack of lightning, BOOM!, and then leaving me breathless with the shock.
Re ''freedom to develop'', by all means, go for it. Every journaller should always have the feeling that their journal is a special spot that's uniquely theirs, that they can do whatever they want with it. I prefer the simple html I learned back in 1997, ancient by current web standards. But it's what works for me. It should always be about 'freedom'.Yes, I quite suspect that was the inspiration for the following:Like the radio advice I've received recently, "Stay brave, stay free..."
What shall I think? Whatever I want. Will I think what I don't want to think? Then I'll examine it, and see why I don't want to think it.
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This above all: to thine ownself be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Shakespeare, Hamlet
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That's some rich advice my Mother gave me when I was young. She wrote it in a special book I'd been given for autographs. I didn't see it then, but now that I'm older, I see its wisdom.
If you can't think what you want to, there is no worse slavery than the walls and cage you construct for yourself. Nobody can tear them down for you. Only you can.
And yet I will think, and I will think and I'll keep right on thinking 'til I can't think no more, whatever I want. This freedom, I shall have.
Meanwhile, in Afghanistan, that war-torn country far away, they are rejoicing. They are finally free to blast radio music loudly and shave their beards. Women can at last show their faces, not suffocated by those horrible body bags they had been forced to wear. We cannot imagine what their life had been like.
So that much good has come out of the war. Sing, Afghans, and maybe one day you'll be able to THINK freely.
Freedom can start small. You can sit in your cage, even though the door has been crashed away, looking at the barrier-less space, and not know what to do with it. You do not know you can take those cramped, weak legs, and cross beyond. It is all quite an illusion to you.
Any clear hint of a way out must come slowly. Like the new breeze on your cheeks, if the wind gets in, what can get out?
Start slow, but start. That shuddered worry will retreat.
Start now. Can you not hear the bird singing, and don't you want to join him?
The way is open, breezeless no more.
Start now.