There’s a word, an obscure one, that describes people taking pictures that have been taken countless times. It’s because we all share a appreciation for certain things.
I took one this morning, early.
Before the throngs, before the day truly woke up.
The lamp post evoked a touch of Narnia. Early morning Monday, a time that normally excludes magic.
I had a cup of bitter coffee in my hand as I watched the trickle of people either meander without purpose or shuffle with reluctant efficiency.
As for me, I stood there as the sunrise creeped up on my left, over the top of history.
I tucked the memory of the view into a small corner of my mind. I’ll visit it again later, as life creeps back into my normalcy.
It was about 9:40. Though it was chilly, it was a beautiful sunny morning, just about a perfect one for early fall. I walked out of the store and into the midst of about 100 bikers. BB&B may have been canceled, but thousands of bikers made their way to NWA this weekend. I complimented one of the bikers on his choice of color. It’s the exact same color as my little car. Needless to say, someone who looks like him would be the last person I would expect to choose that color. A few feet away, a couple were talking to other bikers. Their friend Burt had not made it in yet. It turns out he is a licensed minister. I introduced myself, and told them they could go to the courthouse to get married. Then, I told them that I’m a licensed minister and would marry them right there on the spot if they wanted to. Or that we could go to the overlook, which is a beautiful spot, and do the wedding there. They were very tickled. I gave them my phone number on an index card and told them that they should feel free to call me today and I would gladly perform their marriage for them. I hope their friend Burt is okay. But I kind of also hope that he gets held up and that they call me. What a great memory that would be. Perfect weather, and a great day to make a memory, even if it starts with people who are initially strangers.
We’re all strangers, until we’re not.
It would be a sublime pleasure to be a part of people’s initial expression of love and togetherness. Optimism is infectious.
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I walked up and volunteered to be the picture taker for several groups. That way, their keepsake photos will include everyone. It’s such a treat to do that for people. One group of four insisted on taking my photo.
I heard a celebration down in the valley where I took the picture this morning. A beautiful wedding was in progress and I got to watch the end of it from about 30 feet up. The tears and applause when the groom kissed the bride even got to me a little bit. Hell, who am I kidding? I’ll admit that a tear rolled down my face. 2:00 p.m. on such a beautiful day seems appropriate enough to let a little emotion come out.
So even if the bikers from early this morning don’t call me, I got to live vicariously through another young couple just now. And then I watched them trudge up the long trail and hill. For two people, it was their first afternoon together, hopefully forever.
I had an extra tub of sidewalk chalk in my little car. Who doesn’t? I’ve had so many little adventures grabbing chalk and drawing for people who’ll never know who did it. Quick messages, words of encouragement, poetry, and odd notes to perplex those who happen upon them. The outside world is nothing if not surfaces, ones unfortunately left blank and colorless. If I find a bucket of chalk, crayons, or markers marked down, I grab a set.
Yesterday, I went to Dollar General to find cheap mixing bottles for my protein requirement. I bought another tub of chalk and a set of crayons and markers for a couple of bucks. A man was walking across in front of Lucky Luke’s bbq. He said, “Cool pin, man” as he looked at my shirt. I had money in my hand, as well as my Dollar General bags. I was on the way to the laundromat a couple of doors down to get what is commonly known as an “assload” of quarters. It’s one of the habits I’ve acquired living in an apartment without my own washer and dryer. “Do you need anything?” I asked him. I would have given him $10 if he had asked. “Nah, I’m good for today.” I stopped. “Hey, how about a tub of chalk? Draw something interesting, pass the time?” He didn’t hesitate. “Hell yes, I’d love a bucket of chalk. I haven’t touched chalk in years. My nephew and I will burn through this.” I handed him the bucket. I could see a little glimmer of the child he once was flickering on his face.
This morning, on a whim, I took the other bucket out and walked over to my downstairs neighbor. His door was open. His young son was already outside, riding around in circles, waiting impatiently on his dad. I handed the dad the chalk. He smiled. “Thanks!” he said. I almost told him it was for his son, but I’d rather see both of them out there covering the pavement and sidewalk with beautiful colors.
I saw them minutes later, riding toward the trail on Poplar.
No one is bored holding a stick of chalk – unless they wish to be. Blank canvases everywhere, waiting.
I have more than two full shelves of brooches and wearables now. That picture on the shelf is one of my Uncle Buck in the bathtub, taken about 50 years ago. It brings a bit of laughter to my face when I look at it. I’m not smiling because although I snapped five pictures, all the other ones look like I was just hit with a can of whipped cream.
Since my surgery, the nutritionist told me to eat at least 75 grams of protein a day. My boss Joe quipped, “You’re gonna have to get those numbers up.” I used to mock guys who lugged around a jug of protein powder. But it’s a lot less expensive than buying cases of good nutrition drinks. I’ve always loved the taste of raw protein and similar emulsifiers, so I think this will be good. Ignore me if my mustache is always powdery, okay? * I got a list of dumbbell exercises that I’m supposed to do. No pushups for a while, though. 🙂 I have three dumbbells in the apartment: two five-lb ones and myself.
Before I started doing pushups on June 1st, my shoulder hurt from my job, especially my right shoulder. The pain went to basically zero within six weeks. If that nonsense returns, I’m going to start eating a lot ice cream. I researched it on the internet because that’s where we’re supposed to get our health advice. Millions of people can’t be wrong. * Neighbor: “X, would you like to have kids?” “Why, do you have extra you need to get rid of?” * Customer service call: “Would you like to hold or be held?” (I’m pretty sure that’s what they said…) * I’m always surprised by the number of washing machines at nudist colonies. But not by the number of contact rashes. * “Sometimes making a meal with your best friend” could be read as tandem food preparation OR that you’re a cannibal. * My friend Rodney told me that he was so excited that his wife had joined him in a love of shooting. Since I was over at his house a couple of weeks ago, I heard his wife Jane tell another friend, “Let’s target practice on Saturday.”
I told Rodney he might check her Target rewards card because she didn’t mean the other kind of target practice. * “Silence is a superpower.” – X * If you play rock/paper/scissors, studies have proven that if you ask the other person a question immediately before playing, they will most likely select “scissors” as their first choice.
P.S. Can one of y’all tell me how RPS isn’t an Olympic sport already? P.P.S. Rock-Paper-Scissors should be played with real objects for maximum unsafety. * Lately, I’ve kept my promise to say, “I don’t know” or “I don’t understand.” It undoubtedly exasperates people. While I can’t reliably speak on behalf of other people, it’s hard to believe that they don’t suffer from the same tendency to attempt to avoid admitting they “don’t get it.” Part of my own journey led me to realize it was something I needed to backtrack and work on. I’m getting the hint, though. A lot of people’s hair is suddenly standing on end when they deal with me. 🙂 “There’s no such thing as a dumb question” suddenly seems to be completely false. * “There’s dark blue, dark red, dark green.. but there’s no real dark yellow.” Whoever said this hasn’t bee in the hospital, eaten really strong vitamins, nor consumed an entire box of cheerios in one sitting.”
I got to use a version of a classic joke while answering health questions: “X, do you smoke?” “I’ve never looked.” * Hope’s vending machine: a wishing well. (This one is not mine either, but I loved it.) * I filled my day with a variety of activities; a few were random acts of kindness, a couple were to beautify this place around me, and the rest were a combination of careful exercise, reading, and trying to eat calories and protein. I love the days but I’m still learning to fill the absence of people with ‘other.’ * If you didn’t read my “Bullets” post earlier, you missed a couple of juicy bits. *
I used a phoenix because it’s a symbol of perpetual rebirth. Any of us, sufficiently motivated and with the help of friends and loved ones, can turn a new page. It’s never too late. Addiction and habit makes the strongest among us weak and focused on our lesser selves. My sister can stand and testify.
I started this when my brother made it clear that he was going to stay out on the diving board. He was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. Intelligence, though, often provides an even greater lever with which to push away people who love you.
I finished it recently when I found myself helpless to give useful advice to someone else who found herself in the bystander position.
It’s not the most well-written piece in the world; but you’ll find no greater honesty, reflecting the horror of being unable to help someone.
There are no bystanders.
And none of us truly lives a life just for ourselves.
A gaggle of young runners made their way up Poplar toward the traffic light. I was outside near the crosswalk measuring for an address plaque I’m making for the apartment simplex. The last runner was struggling to catch up. “You won’t always be last,” I told him as he crossed Gregg. “I hate running!” He said. I laughed. “You won’t hate it the day you leave all of them behind you, though.” I gave him the thumbs up.
Around 8 last night, I heard weird popping noises. I didn’t think much of it. I was standing outside on the deck. Waking up this morning, I discovered that an unidentified idiot shot into the apartments by the trail on Poplar Street. Automatic gunfire, too. I can see the apartments and trail from the crosswalk outside the apartment. Y’all can scoff, but I wish I’d taken a walk last night. There’s no better adventure story than gunfire after sunset. Have you noticed that almost no nincompoops get up at 5 a.m., drink a cup of coffee, and start shooting? We need a better class of hooligans in Fayetteville! Also, bullets are expensive.
I bought four pieces of bacon in the work cafeteria this morning. (No, I’m not authorized to return to work yet. At least not PAID work.) It’s been a year since I had bacon. Bacon salt has been my salvation in the interim. When I got back to the apartment, I made lettuce and bacon wraps. I may have blacked out with pleasure for a moment.
I also left a surprise brooch for someone today. Nothing says, “Good morning!” as inexplicably as a surprise brooch. Today, I’m wearing a spectacular fleur-de-lis brooch that I found at Peace At Home. I’d not thought much about the symbol until recently. Like so many symbols, it’s an ancient one. When I chose the name “X,” I thought I was simplifying things. Lord, the number of things “X” can signify is astonishing, even though it is just a single letter. It’s nice having a name that looks the same regardless of direction.
Seeing someone’s ASL post this morning made me realize that people around me didn’t know I was saying “Please” a lot of the time. It may look like I’m rubbing my heart. I learned it from a deaf man who attempted to work at Cargill years ago. “Please” and “Thank you” are both great visuals, even in normal conversation – not that I’m sure what that is. People running away from me with their palms clamped firmly over their ears give me the wrong impression.
I finished the address plaque for the apartments. I used reflective numbers. And I couldn’t quite bring myself to NOT put a little bling and beauty on there in the form of a dragonfly. I also installed a nice solar light above it, either to illuminate the reflective numbers I chose – or so that the idiots shooting automatic weapons will have something other than my ass to aim at if they find themselves with an oversupply of bullets.
Other: * While chatting with my case manager, I did offer to re-write my surgical report. It needs a plot twist and a little bit of pizzazz. And/or humor and brevity: “Patient failed to notice my approach as I used a #11 blade to gut him. We found a herniation near the appendix but this box of Cracker Jacks did not have a surprise.” * A random internet person read my post about Tammy’s weight loss: “You have no idea how seeing you and your friend have motivated me. I think I have your incremental idea in my head now. I’ve already lost ten lbs, just by deciding to do a few small things each day. Such as choosing differently, doing exercises every hour while at work, and keeping my mouth shut as much as I can. You’re right. Food can’t get in there if it isn’t open!” * Another person wrote me and asked me if this quote is mine: “Saying you aren’t photogenic is kinda like saying you’re better looking than all available evidence.” No, but I wish I had. It’s pithy and logical. * A Bit Of Daily Motivation: “Have you stopped to think that somewhere there’s a tree growing that might one day become your coffin?” *
As part of my after-care, a Blue Cross case manager called me yesterday. We talked for an hour. You’re going to think I’m kidding, but it was like talking to a Grandmother and friend I never knew I had. She was engaging, personal, and we talked about a lot of things other than my health. I hope she’s rewarded for this kind of outreach. I would not have imagined that someone from such a large bureaucracy could be so personal. Because she’s a nurse, was on a ventilator in the hospital due to covid, and knows the medical system as well as anyone could, she also allowed me to openly discuss the mess we face when our health falters. She should be the face and soul of Blue Cross. As much fun as I have poking at organizations, she deserves recognition.
I was in Springdale today, chasing the unicorn of outdoor security lights I wanted. You can’t wait on a landlord to provide the minimum of safety, after all. It was my second visit to 64 in fifty-three days. My eyes devoured the familiar yet mercurial sights as I drove.
I can’t explain how, but I knew my old friend Mike would be in his yard if I drove by unannounced. (I’ll call him Mike for this anecdote to protect his anonymity and association with me.) On a whim, I navigated the byzantine streets and headed to the cul-de-sac he wisely chose to buy a house in. I saw Mike standing along the fence, holding a mug. Two of his dogs were with him.
I parked and said hello and let the dogs lick my fingers through the wire fence along the perimeter of the curved curbside. There was a break in the beautiful line of vegetation and flowers they’d carefully planted.
He’s not one to be idle. Along with the rest of his family, he did everything right regarding C19. Even though he’s a lifelong community servant, he took the time to be careful. Despite being vaccinated, he got covid.
It was such a pleasure to see him and hear his brand of rapid-fire yet laconic wit.
He told me he’d retire in a couple of years. I laughed. He might retire from his chosen career – but he’ll never relax. Mike is not wired for it. For years, I’ve asked him to transition from one form of public service to politics. He’s uniquely qualified. The fact that he doesn’t think so proves that he’s the right candidate, no matter what office he might seek or hold. Anyone who knows him would immediately agree.
I showed him my scar. “What’s a worldwide pandemic, divorce, and surgery to complain about?” I jokingly asked him.
Indeed.
Seeing an old friend, fatigued but safe from severe harm from this scourge of a virus, I left, happier than when I’d arrived. That “light you up” thing? Yeah, Mike’s one of the good people.
And a reminder that even when you do everything right, things can and will go wrong.
That gives hope to a poor soul like me.
I came back to the apartment and spent a couple of hours installing the lights, my heart filled with fondness on two accounts.
Laundry is love. Cooking is love. Vacuuming is love.
It is love in honor of service if you do it for another’s time and energy or to improve a person’s life, even incrementally.
It’s as important as telling someone, “I love you,” or obligatorily remembering your anniversary. Words are easy. The grind is hard.
Take out the trash. Pick up the mess without commentary.
The bureaucracy of life fills our lives with stupid diversions.
Anything you do to reduce the to-do lists of someone you love is an act of love.
“Jesus es verbo, no sustantivo,” Ricardo Arjona sang to us. Even if you don’t speak Spanish, you’ll recognize that love is indeed a verb – and not just a noun.
I’m adjusting to taking several shorter walks instead of long, meandering ones. Instead of pushups, I opt to find a new place to put my feet if I go out. It’s led me to see so many beautiful houses. Fayetteville is packed with artfully done architecture and stunning homes. Even in areas where the houses have been neglected, I find surprises to admire.
This morning, a woman was out on her wide, covered porch. She was smoking, and a large decorative mug was on the wood railing. “Your house is incredible, ma’am,” I said as I walked past. “Is it?” she answered. “I forget. You probably have a better view of it than I ever do.” Because I’m all about the metaphor, I replied, “I think that’s true about everyone and everything. We get proximity-blind to the things around us.” She laughed, nodding. I waved as I walked away.
A block further along, a dog of some sort, a mix of indeterminate origin, sat on its haunches next to the sidewalk, not too far from a fragrant magnolia. It watched me approach. No owner was in sight, and only one light was on inside the nearest house. The dog wore a nice collar. Without caring if the dog decided to bite me, I kneeled and held my hands palms up. The dog wagged its tail and lunged at me, its tongue licking my arms and then my face. I let it show me affection as I petted its head and flanks. I laughed. I carefully sat on the edge of the sidewalk and the lawn. The dog laid across my legs as I petted him. I sat there for several minutes until I feared I might cramp; I hated to break the reverie of the unexpected interaction. As I stood up, the dog licked my fingers. I scratched its ears. It did not follow me as I walked away. I’ll come back by on a random morning, hoping to see him.
Though I probably walked only a mile on that short excursion, it was exactly what I needed. The moon shone brightly above, and the chill of the air was calming without wind to make my bones chatter.
I am “taking it easy.” I’d rather be at work, surrounded by turmoil and activity.
I took this awkward selfie this morning. I’m wearing a nifty phoenix brooch that I modified myself, as well as my favorite rip-shirt. You can see that my custom Dumb & Dumber wood print to the right gives me inspiration, now more than ever. My nice incision reminds me to be careful, especially if I see a surgeon sneaking up on me with a scalpel. It’s okay to look at the weird, jagged scar. It’s a part of me forever. Everything is, in part because I’m dedicated to remembering that no matter how well things are going, life is both beautiful and capricious.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 