I think a lot of people agree with this one.
Category Archives: Personal
The Amulet
The Amulet
I darted out of Harps, pushing my cart in zigzags in case a sniper watched me from the roof. Yes, I’m nine at heart. Since I prefer to park my little car at the end of the lot, I passed several cars to my left. Inside one of them, I noticed an older woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Her car was nice. Passing it, I looked back. She sat immobile, which seemed odd. I saw that her front passenger tire was very low. I put my stuff in the alleged trunk of my car. I couldn’t shake the need to ask if the woman in the car knew her tire was dangerously low.
I walked to the passenger side, knocked lightly on the window, and stepped back. The woman was older than I initially thought. Though it was unseasonably warm, she wore a scarf around her neck. The passenger window went down.
“Ma’am, your front tire is low. Would you like me to air it for you? I have a portable air pump in my clown car over there.”
When she spoke, her voice surprised me. It was deeper than I anticipated, and I couldn’t quite pin down her accent. Most people’s voice loses their natural depth after a certain age. “It wasn’t low when I left, but the dashboard light started blinking a minute ago. I just had the tires replaced a few days ago.”
I nodded. “I’ll bring my car around to the front. You don’t have to do anything, okay? I just hope the pump doesn’t explode like last time.” I smiled.
She laughed, which was a good sign. People who get my idiotic sense of humor are always appreciated.
I returned to my car and drove to the other side of the diagonal spaces. Because my car is short, I knew the pump would easily reach her tire. After connecting the pump, I waited for the absurdly loud thump to start.
I wasn’t going to talk. Not because I didn’t want to, but to make her feel comfortable. She started the conversation.
“Is there a nail in my tire? I just had new tires put on.”
I hunched down and looked, running my fingers over the surface.
“No, no nail, but this pocked knife probably shouldn’t be sticking out of the tire like that.”
She laughed again.
I said, “Since they’re new tires, I bet you have free flat care included. Those tires are expensive.”
“You’re right! Thank you. I’ll drive over there if it inflates.” Her voice still sounded almost acoustic.
“I can show you how to use the pump and let you take it with you if you want to.”
She smiled. “Well, that’s quite nice of you. I’ll stop at a station if I need to on the way. What’s your name?”
“X. The antepenultimate letter. Just X.”
“I haven’t heard that word used in conversation in years. That’s an interesting name. X. I assume you’re literate, though, using a ten-dollar word like that.”
“What’s your name,” I asked. “I bet it’s something lyrical, like Apropos.”
She laughed. “No, it’s Angeline.”
“Nice to meet you, Angeline. I’ve been in jail for a few years, so I haven’t met many people.”
Again, she intuitively knew I was joking.
“I was arrested once, a long time ago. Long story, but it was fun. Back when things were different.”
I wanted to ask for an explanation. It’s the kind of response that evokes curiosity.
“Assuming you’re retired, what did you do for a living? Your voice sounds like someone who should be in radio.”
She paused. “I was a singer, all kinds of music. I’d sing anywhere to earn a living. I’ve been all over the world. And I’d do any job in between.”
“Aha!” I thought to myself. That explains the voice.
“I wish I could sing. Sing well, I mean.”
“It didn’t stop many people from doing it who had no ability.” She laughed.
I wondered who she had in mind.
“I’ve got a passport but haven’t used it in years.”
“What’s the use of a passport if you don’t use it? Starve if you have to, but get out there and see people.”
“The starving part is what stops me.”
“I wasn’t fond of making ends meet either, never knowing for sure I could many times. Now those times seem like the best I had.”
“Nostalgia certainly erases the discomfort, doesn’t it?
She smiled and nodded.
I looked down and saw that the pump indicator was almost 35 psi. I disconnected the pump, unplugged it from my dash, and walked back to her car.
“Do you want to take this pump? I don’t mind. I’ve given one away before.”
“That’s so kind, X. I’ll be okay.”
Because I was curious, I asked her, “How old are you? I like to be rude and just ask.”
“You should always ask. Rudeness and courtesy are overrated. I’m 83.”
I pretended to whistle. “Wow, that’s REALLY old!”
I got yet another laugh.
“Yes, I remember thinking 60 was over the hill. Can I pay you for helping me?”
“Of course not. Just a few minutes of my day. My probation officer will ask where I’ve been, though.”
“Are you sure? I won’t be offended either way.”
Because I’m wired to catch people off guard, I said, “How about a keepsake, like something ridiculous to repay me?”
“I have just the thing. Let me extract it from my purse.” She moved her purse from the passenger seat and rummaged through it. She removed a coin holder and opened it. As her fingers came out, I thought she pulled out a large coin.
“Here, take this. I’ve had it for years. It was given to me by someone I used to sing with.”
I reached in, and she put a round disk in my hand. I looked at it. It had, at one point, been on a necklace. On its face was a star of David and two Hebrew letters.
“This looks personal. Are you sure you want me to have it?” I felt just a tinge of guilt for having joked about her paying me with a keepsake.
“It is personal. It’s sat in my coin purse for a long, long time. It’s time it had a new home.”
“Thank you, Angeline. Do you need anything?”
“No, but I do appreciate it. And you.”
I stepped away from her car and saluted. It seemed like the thing to do. She smiled.
As I went to my car, I realized I had many questions about a total stranger. I had the sensation that I’d met someone with a fascinating life and story. I put the amulet in my pocket. As I backed out of the parking spot, I waved to her like Gump.
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I still haven’t figured out what the coin inscription says. I showed it to Erika. When I said, “How do you know it’s from Israel?” She laughed, “Because it says ‘Made In Israel’ on the back.” I hope it says something preposterous like, “Drink Coke.” But I have wondered more than once who the woman was and who gave her the amulet. I can’t shake the idea that it was much more meaningful than a polite conversation would have permitted her to disclose. I didn’t write this anecdote down because I thought I’d find out what the inscription says before I did. Now, I appreciate the mystery of not knowing.
The short talk I had with her reminded me that the word “sonder” is us. We’re like an undulating mass of birds in the sky, all of us invisibly moving in unison, believing that we are choosing our own direction.
Love, X
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Just a Friend (Or Ex)
Another thing I know to be true. Taught to me by my own hypocrisy.
Love, X
Cube Walk On A Fake Spring/Winter Day
I rendered my walk goal as a cube root, expressed in miles. Think of it as a GED test for an exceptionally warm winter Tuesday afternoon. (I did the base number wrong on purpose, just to make the math not be even.) 70° in January? Mother nature must have had a glass of wine.
During this beautiful and energetic walk, I was imagining the most brilliant mathematics teacher. The hair would be in a mess, socks unmatched, and their communication ability equivalent to a horse tapping out Morse code. They probably know everything in the world about math. People looking at them and listening to them would be so distracted by their presentation that they would erroneously conclude that they couldn’t possibly be intelligent.
Which leads me to point out that people can have a surprisingly vast knowledge about something. But those around them don’t appreciate it. Or can’t see past whatever visual or auditory filter that’s blocking them.
It’s too bad y’all weren’t walking with me this afternoon. One of you could have carried the six pieces of chalk I exhausted on the various surfaces around me. We could have shared the music too. It was divine.
Even now I have to double check that it’s not spring.
I climbed a pretty good-sized tree too. But the thicket that scratched and pulled at me that I traversed was much more interesting.
Pretty damn good day.
More than I have a right to ask for, but one for which I’m grateful.
Love, X
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A Eulogy…Intensely Personal
(I had to add a link instead of uploading the video. My apologies!)
This one is a heartbreaker.
Difficult to make, harder to listen to again.
It’s about Erika’s brother, but it turned out to be about several people.
I remastered the music because it expresses everything that’s said in the words.
Love, X
An Obvious Truth
An Obvious Truth…
Looking back on the trajectory of your life, personal or work, you’ll notice that things that drive you bonkers tend to continue being bonkers. The Serenity Prayer is applicable to your situation. Acceptance – Courage to Change – Wisdom. The ideal method juxtaposes the first two components: change YOUR attitude or put in the work to positively change what drives you bonkers. The wisdom portion sits at your feet when you realize that these are the only options to be happier. The world and the things you don’t like will continue on as they always have. Take the time to practice your mindset or put on your work boots and make changes happen. All of us get stuck in the complaining or dissatisfied mode needlessly. We have the erroneous and frustrating idea of what-things-should-be. The rain doesn’t care if you’re wet and the world is entirely comprised of your perception of it. How do I know? Because there are happy people who remain happy even in chaos. It is their mindset, entirely under their control, that shapes it. Not the other way around.Love, X
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Love, X
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Penni For My Thoughts
I never do the “memories thing” on Facebook.
I wrote the little bit below these words a few weeks back and was reluctant to share it. We weren’t real-world friends; we were weirdoes connected by only words. And maybe it’s arrogant for me to share it at this point. That makes me laugh because Penni would say, “Hardly anyone uses social media to talk about the depth of their life, the good and the bad. They’re going to think whatever they want to anyway, and that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”
Penni: For Your Thoughts
I had a fan for years. She read anything I ever wrote across all of my platforms. One of the reasons I made an impression on her was that she, too, lost a spouse suddenly when she was younger. She encouraged me to share and overshare. To jump into being an imperfectionist and just write. She enthusiastically asked for and read many things that no other person had ever read. She often got amused because it was obvious she outclassed me in intelligence and humbly deflected my insistence that it was true.
Her burden must have been incredibly heavy. I don’t know how, at my age, I can still be shocked. But she would have laughed at that and told me that of all the people in the world, I should know everything’s eventual. And no matter how wild the stories sound, they were all lived and earned.
Her stories are over now. I don’t want to get deep into the thicket of what happened; truthfully, we found out about her death in the weirdest possible way. Her passing wasn’t in the news. It was an exercise in craziness just to get a confirmation of her death from the police.
It’s obvious that the only way to show my appreciation for her enthusiasm and support is to do what she always told me to keep doing.
I’ll include one of the few messages I kept of hers.
“…remember when you explained the 10% or the Bald-Head rule to me? People around you aren’t going to see the same light others do. Their familiarity with you and the idea of you they have in their head will blind them. X, you’re creative. And you are your own worst enemy. You already say you’re an imperfectionist. Run with that. Be weird. Write about whatever the hell you want to. With your heart on your sleeve and a curse word on your tongue. Just don’t stop. You’re going to do it anyway. Eff the critics who never take a chance. If I can appreciate you, others do too. You’re going to get into trouble with people if you do it right.”
Now, I note her absence in my posts and on my blog. Just silence.
Love, X
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The Taboo Of Desire
I apologize for not putting the written version in this blog entry.
A Cup And A Walk
Earlier, the urge to walk in this beautiful weather overwhelmed me. Erika wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea, but I sold her with the insistence that once we started walking, it would be both beautiful and enjoyable. My 5-minute Rule seldom lets me down in terms of procrastination and enjoyment. We went to the Carol Scypc Trailhead in Johnson. It’s proximate and like the rest of the trail, it’s gorgeous. For fans of dapper Don Moore, that’s where you’ll likely see him walking his dog Diego.
A couple of weeks ago as I entered the apartment, my cat Gùino overzealously ran in front of me to get to the anticipated plate of cat juice that he knew would be waiting for him. I had to let go of everything in my hands because of the certainty I was going to faceplant. My favorite coffee cup lost the battle with the ensuing collision with the floor. Pieces flew in every direction. On a whim I collected and kept the pieces. When the motivation struck me, I glued it inexpertly back together.
With that in mind, on today’s walk, I took the repaired cup and a piece of wire with me on the walk. The cup is one I made myself, inscribed with the reminder of, “Choose Your Hard.” I owe that one to my cousin Lynette. Her picture is also on the cup. The choose-your-hard motto simply put is a reminder that you’re going to have to put the work in one way or another, either at the front end when it’s easier, or after, when you face the consequences of poor decisions.
When Erika and I were most of the way back, we stopped at the last bridge junction so that I could hang the cup in a tree near the bubbling creek. I think she sometimes grows weary of me telling her how striking she is when the sun hits her face and shoulders. For those of you familiar with the trail, it’s near the spot where two ancient pickup trucks sit at the perimeter of the trail. It’s also where I placed a keepsake watch of mine a few months ago. I hated to let the cup go and sometimes that’s when I feel most satisfied when I part with something. Everything is going to go one way or another. It’s good practice. And I hope that people will look at it quizzically and with enough curiosity to occasionally walk over to it to investigate. I’ve placed dozens of things along the trails and the places around here in Fayetteville. Some obscured, some in plain sight.
A cup, a reminder, and a beautiful January Saturday afternoon.
Was it worth it to venture out and have the experience? Hell yes. Such a simple thing.
Love, X
As If
As If
Note: this isn’t about me. I didn’t experience a loss, so save up your warmth and regards for the next person in your life who needs it when the wheel spins in their direction. 2023 is going to be a year like the rest: no matter what we think approaches, life always winks impersonally at us. We have to smile back.
Yesterday, as the new year swung into gear on a lovely, warm, and beautiful January morning, I left work. It wasn’t quite spontaneous, yet I accompanied Erika to a funeral for a co-worker’s father. Erika experienced a particularly harsh aftermath of her brother’s death last year. Such events often leave us raw, scarred, and vulnerable to the emotions welling up without provocation. It’s hard for some of us to feel free just to let our wellspring of hurt come out, even when it might not have its genesis in the moment.
I attended another funeral last Monday. The disparity between the two services astonished me.
Several of us took advantage of the odd holiday schedule and drove to support a woman who was lucky enough to have two loving parents until recently. The funeral home was packed. The family had arranged to have a photo memorial of their patriarch playing. The snapshots clearly defined a man who loved music and family. His casket was a beautiful and simple wooden one without polish or needless adornment. If anyone needed a demonstration of what he must have been like as a man, this served well.
The service was two songs, an obituary reading, and a eulogy from a friend whose hands had seen decades of work and life. His voice trembled with age, but his words were simple and direct. To be able to contain your message in such a way is a gift. Anyone would be lucky to have a speaker for the dead with such experience and love. I’m paraphrasing his message, but it was this: “His passing was tough. But I knew him and the family. He loved and was loved. And he wants y’all to go on like it was before.” Even with his broken voice, he said more than most people say in ten thousand words.
Like the man the family was sending off, the funeral was simple. It was finished in about ten minutes from start to finish. Ten minutes compared to the forty-two million he’d walked the earth.
Because of the incredible weather, we lingered outside in the beautiful January morning air. All of us knew we were experiencing a miraculous display of nature. Rain and storms were rolling in later. I heard someone say that God must have opened a window for the family that morning.
Our co-worker didn’t need us there for support. It’s obvious her family is more than equipped to do what their patriarch asked: live as if.
Love, X
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P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 