TFOB Part 4

(Yes, I am milking the experience for an entire week's posts.)

Random Quotes from Random Authors on Saturday:

Martin Walker:  "Macron is Trump with table manners"

Jonathan Lethem: "Write the book you want to read." (He didn't claim authorship, but it was new to me so I'm giving him credit.)

And Jonathan Lethem, again, on why we love stories:  "Human gossip - from Cain and Abel - who did what to whom and why."

An author responding a lengthy question:  "I like the word sheriff."

To round off my day, I spent the 4 o'clock hour with H. W. Brands, one of TBG's favorite historical biographers.  It was a master class in democracy.  Here are some gems:

The Constitution gave us a Republic.  Jefferson, with All men are created equal, gave us a democracy.

(Quoting Benjamin Rush) Without a King or a Central Church, how will we create a moral society 

Rush is the tofu of the Founding Fathers.  Anyone on any side can quote him. 

The frontier used to be the solution to our domestic problems.  We had room to grow.

If democracy has a failing, it's that short term problems rarely get solved.  There's an incoherence in the current framework to solve our problems. 

We can be comforted and reassured that these same problems were in existence at the founding.  

TFOB Part 3

I secured a reserved ticket to hear Lorna Luft waxing eloquent on classic movies.  I was in my happy place.

She's a slip of a thing, as Daddooooo would say, presenting as a friend you'd have over for wine and conversation.  She's quick on the uptake, eager to laugh (at herself and at others), and achingly sincere. 

I sat 50' from Judy Garland's daughter on Saturday.  For me, it was a thing.  Here are some snippets:

She's written A Star Is Born, a timely title this Oscar year, and the conversation kept bouncing back to that movie.  Did you know that the studio really wanted Cary Grant opposite Judy Garland?  They wined him and dined him over many months but, ultimately he said "I can't play Norman Maine."  
*****
There have been 5 versions of the film, "because it's a great story, isn't  it?" 

There's only one line that's been in all of them: "I just want to take another look at you."

If you've seen it, you know why. 
*****
The 1954 version was cut to ribbons by Warner Bros, which thought it ran too long.  By instructing projectionists where to cut the film (they sent directions), they could squeeze in an additional screening or two.

Only the audio exists intact today. If you watch it now, the cut portions are covered with stills.

You may now stop hissing Jack Warner.
*****
As for Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper's steamy Oscar performance and the subsequent gossip about a romance, "It's not happening, people!  They're ACTORS!"

TFOB Part 2

Little Cuter sent me on a mission - find books for FlapJilly where the main character is not white.  The kid's life is more colorful than her literature, it seems, and that is a situation that required a remedy.

 So, Gramma to the rescue.  Or so I thought.

The Harper Collins kid lit tent was my first stop. 

The tent was big, the selection was huge, but of all the picture books in all the Harper Collins land, there were no human characters of color.

Sigh.  I was probably louder in my disappointment than I should have been, but I was terribly, sadly, horrifyingly sad.  I was smiling and quietly repeating "No, that's a bear/kitten/puppy" until I exhaled that much too loud yet much earned "SERIOUSLY?" as we reached the end of the books on sale without a single one for me to buy.

A local bookstore that I like, a lot, was similarly unsatisfying.

There was a brown policeman in a career-centric I-Can-Read book, but the inquisitive kids in the story were all whiter than white.  The bookseller assured me that the store carried the titles I sought, but I was at the fair, and they were not.

I had better luck in the used book department while supporting my local public library and spending very little money.  I left that tent with a big smile on my face.

And then there were the UNA ladies.

They didn't bat an eyelash when I inquired about their stash of colorful characters.  They merely smiled and waved their hand at the display.  There were world stories and earth stories and folk tales from every corner of our planet.  I settled on an over-sized collection, a series of chapters (a Big Sister type of book these days) and activities to complement them.  

Words and art projects - that sits right atop FlapJilly's happy place.

I left with some swag - a Fancy Nancy tiara, a Wilbur Wildcat face mask, several bookmarks, a few pins, several notepads of various sizes and quality, and a tote bag or two.  I bought some books for the authors I heard to sign, and to buy a little bit of time with them (yes, I'm shameless and I'll admit it).  I didn't wait in any lines longer than 3-in-front, and the conversation in those lines was stimulating.  The entire book purchasing experience was a treat.

If only I could have stopped worrying about being a mother whose child didn't look like the kids in nearly all the books I saw that day.  It's hard enough to parent without adding that burden to the pile. 

TFOB Part 1

It's my favorite weekend of the year.  Authors and sunshine and books everywhere.

I walked miles and miles, saw old friends and made a few new ones.

I'm exhausted, from my legs that carried me, ably and relatively smoothly, up and down the mall, to my fingertips at the end of the shoulders that carried a backpack filled with books I bought. 

The Festival of Books, the 3rd largest book fair in the USofA, deserves more than I can give it right now.  I'll be back tomorrow with pithy analysis and photographs. 

Right now, I need an epsom salts bath.

A Long Goodbye

He's gone, now.  There's a hole in the world that cannot be filled.

He's no longer striving to do that which had become impossible.  The Loathsome Disease that robbed him of his stamina and his thoughts released its hold on Tuesday morning.  I'm imagining him hovering over his house as his friends and family gather together to share memories - nodding and smiling and chiming in when a detail isn't just quite right.

He's a good listener, and I intend to keep talking to him.  He saw the world through a pediatrician's eye and heart, and I'm not willing to let go of his wisdom right now.  His heart-attack-in-Peru-adventure coincided with my perforation.  The hug we shared afterwards, when we were both, finally, upright and ready to visit, stays with me to this day.

We were feeble, where before we'd been strong.  We were unstable, where we'd previously been solidly planted.  We hugged and held onto one another, feeling our hearts beating, recognizing the wonder of it all. 

"It's good to see you!"  "It's good to be seen!"

Who said which first?  I don't remember.  I do know that those words were more than platitudes.  They were very real to both of us, to each of us, to our families who stood around us and smiled, ready to catch us if (when?) we fell.  He leaned on me, I leaned on him, and together we took a deep breath into the After of our lives.

We almost died.  We didn't.  We were gifted with bonus years, and we were bound and determined to enjoy them.  Sadly, the Loathsome Disease stole much of the joy, the opportunities, the adventures.  But his smile was still there.  The twinkle in his eye remained.  His handshake, though tremulous, still sent power and love through his fingers.  Burtt was still in there, though buried beneath a deteriorating self.

Dependent when independence had been his forte, he ran his caregiver ragged on their daily walk... until he decided that she could, in fact, keep up with him. They walked until he could no longer get out of bed.  He didn't always obey the traffic lights, didn't always stay on the sidewalk, but he moved, at his own pace, through the world he was preparing to leave.

At the end, he knew that he wasn't hungry, that he didn't want to eat, and no one forced him to feed the body that was betraying him. 

There was respect for the man himself, even if he was only a shadow of his former glow.  No one talked around him, over him, through him.  He was included even when his affect revealed nothing.  His opinion was sought, even after he was unable to share it.  He nodded.  He had an occasional YES or NO.  He was here until the end, in the ways that he could be, involved and revered and loved.

He was loved, so very, very loved. 

Is there anything better to be said about a life well lived? 

Rest in Peace, Burtt.  May your memory be a blessing.

A Free Concert and A Front Row Seat to History

Mark Kelly for Senate was really a lot of fun.

For one thing, while everyone was standing, unable to see unless they were in the front few rows or were exceptionally tall or were hoisted on their Daddy's shoulders, TBG were comfortably ensconced on folding chairs in the front row, inside the VIP rope. 

No feet at all in front of us was Luz de Luna

with attitude

and joy

and music.

Oh, the music.

The standing room only crowd began filling the plaza at 2pm.  They kept coming for the better part of an hour, becoming pleasantly restless as the minutes ticked by.  Usually, a long wait is something TBG and I studiously avoid.  But there was a free concert going on right in front of us and the violin bows were crashing into one another in an obviously ongoing battle for supremacy, and the sun was shining and I was there to enjoy it.  

I  took great delight in the superfast recitation of I Am My Own Grandpa by the sound-checking hipster staffer.  I loved the un-muffler-ed motorcyclists who roared around the block, quieted, yelled Mark Kelly for President, and roared off to cheers from the gathered throng.

I admired the traditional Navajo dress of the campaign treasurer.

I loved listening to the youngest survivor of our shared experience command the audience's attention. And I loved this

and this.

And I love that Scott helped Gabby down that ramp to Mark's filial riff on their shared resemblance to the view of the earth from space - round. 

Science and facts permeated his stump speech, drawing more cheers than anything else. With guns and health care and climate change and a living wage as part of his platform,  I'm thrilled that a candidate such as Mark Kelly has a serious chance in my Arizona.

We left with a sticker and a window sign and an American flag - and a whole bunch of intangibles that keep jumping up and grabbing my heart.  It's fun to feel excited about an election again.

Dear Prince Elementary School,

When I was a little girl

I loved my birthdays.  

As I grew older, they became less important.

Yesterday, you made them special for me, again.

I love my birthday cards, and all the words inside and out and on the back (yes, I looked).

Thank you for the compliments; one is never too old to be told that she is beautiful.

 I'm so very happy that my presence makes you smile, cheers you up, makes you glad to see me.

You know that you do all that for me, too, don't you?

You are all beautiful, inside and out.

You all make Prince a very special school..

You are kind and generous and helpful.

You are thoughtful and compassionate and silly.

You are eager learners and willing sharers of knowledge.

You make me feel loved as soon as I come through the door.

I loved my Hallway Serenade, Kindergarten Style.

There's nothing like a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday to Me to put a smile on my face.

Your classroom cards are fantastic, as is your penmanship.

And then there was the Cake Parade, developing quite a following as you walked across the playground.  Another chorus of one of my favorite songs accompanied my cutting the cake and the icing roses just so.  On behalf of the last group of Garden Club Scholars (who were lucky enough to be there to share it with me) THANK YOU!!!

You gave me a wonderful day, a "just a little bit more special" day, a day 

I'll remember, always.

Know that you are all welcome - grownups and kids alike - to gather some Prince Super Powers. 

Our Grandma's Garden scallions, parsley, and lettuce is all grown with love.

You've shown me that there's plenty to go around.

With love,

Grandma Suzi

The Friends and Family Entrance

I always refer to my Perforation Family, a very extended family at this point, as members of The Club That No One Wants To Join. 

Like any club, though, there are perks to the membership.  In my case, it's access to a candidate for the Democratic nomination for the US Senate.  He called, we were thrilled, offered all the help we could imagine, and then Gmail brought me the news that I could bypass the long lines at his Kick Off Event by going to the Friends and Family Entrance on 5th Street. 

So, to 5th Street we went, TBG and I  We parked in the underground garage and rode up in the elevator with Ruben Moreno, the mariachi maestro who serenaded us as we toured the outdoor memorial at the hospital. There was much hugging, as there always is when we see one another around town. 

 Eight years.... yesterday.....the Friends and Family part was starting early.

We passed through a gate keeper or two and found ourselves wandering around the fairly empty patio of the Hotel Congress.  Forewarned that it was a Standing Room Only event, we quickly staked out spots on the most comfortable bench in the back. 

That lasted about 30 seconds.  It was cold.

We strolled over to the sunshine and found another Family Member.  Again, there was much hugging and catching up as she guided us to front row folding chairs.  Getting shot has its privileges, I suppose.

My State Representative's wife;, my MoC; this one's husband and that one's wife; Nurse Nancy who saved my life and Pat Maisch who fights the good fight, both wearing embroidered Moms Demand Action shirts... there was so much hugging and so much joy and so much hope and promise that it was easy to forget that the genesis of our friendships was the worst day of our lives.

I refused to get maudlin, though CTG was never far from my thoughts.  How could she not be, when everyone who looked at me that day saw her, as well.  Or thought of her, and that's good since her dad just wanted to be sure that she was not forgotten.

No, she's not forgotten.  She was well represented on the stage by another girl who was there that morning.  Emma McMahon was Gabby's Page one summer; the next January her mom was shot three times while protecting Emma with her body.  They were both at Mark's event, her mom madly taking pictures behind a very proud smile, as Emma introduced her hero, Gabby Giffords, to the crowd.

There's a future for that kid, that's for sure.  Just as there is a future for Mark Kelly and the members of the Friends and Family Club That No One Wants To Join.  We're the ones left behind to do the work, to raise our voices, to create the change so that nobody else need apply for membership.

Sadly, we're always here when you need us, right through The Friends and Family Entrance. 

A Shoelace Emergency

Sitting on the side of this month's Spirit Assembly,

watching Prince Scholars of the Month pose for pictures with their Mustang Mascot on Crazy Hair Day,

I noticed a shoelace emergency.  One of my most fidgety kindergarteners, sitting at my feet in the very front row, had straggly laces, knotted laces, laces which were invulnerable to my every effort to tie them.  Luckily, my cape's capacious pockets hold a plenitude of shoelaces, donated to GRIN via Facebook's Giving Tuesday event.  

Yes, I carry shoelaces in my pockets. It's what I do.   Unfortunately, I did not carry a pair of scissors.  I raced (in my fashion) across to the cafeteria lady, begged her help, and was able to return the shoes before the next round of photos. 

He really wanted to pull out the old laces, so I left him some easy ends.  The friend looking over his shoulder got in on the act, as well.   

So did his teacher.

A short lesson in tying 

involving bunny ears

came to a screeching halt when the length of the shoelaces became apparent.

Taking over, Ms B explained that the shoelaces were long because they belonged to Grandma Suzi's brother. 

"Your BROTHER??" 

"Yes, my brother."  

"Now I have cool, all grey shoes!

With cool, grey laces."

Happy Washington's Birthday! Really

I first published this in 2011. 

 It remains one of my favorite rants.

I remember when THIS was the most aggravating thing our government did.

Sigh.

*****

Mary Ball Washington gave birth to a boy child on February 22, 1732. Unlike many of the stories surrounding this man (think cherry trees and coins across the Potomac and standing up in an open boat as it crossed the Delaware) this is an indisputable fact.

Mary was not in labor on the third Monday of February.  She produced her child on a specific day - the 22nd day of February.  His birthday didn't move around with the vagaries of the federal holiday calendar.

Nancy Hanks Lincoln met her second son, Abraham, 209 years ago today.  Like Mrs. Washington before her, she was not in labor on an indeterminate day sometime in the middle of the month.  It occurred on a certain day, a day formerly commemorated by school children and mail carriers alike.

Alas and alack, these fine gentlemen have been conflated into Presidents and their birthdays combined into a generic celebration designed primarily to afford employees the opportunity for a 3-day weekend in the middle of the winter. What was wrong with the old system, I wonder?  As an elementary school kid I looked forward to those random days off in the middle of the month.  One day, breaking up the routine.  One celebration for each president - pennies examined on the 12th, leadership and lying (not) on the 22nd.

There was no time for a weekend away (not that G'ma and Daddooooo could have afforded to take us anyplace anyhow) and there was no competition between students for who went the furthest and had the most fun.  It was an opportunity to go sledding at Bethpage (the Black Course was used for many things in my youth; this was the best of them) or to meet friends at the bowling alley and then walk to Smiles (our precursor to a 5-and-dime) where we cruised the aisles until our parents picked us up.

It was grilled cheese sandwiches with bacon on the side, eaten on paper plates and accompanied by the admonition Don't Tell Daddy since the bacon was not exactly kosher and he cared a lot more than did G'ma.  There were snow forts to be built, snowball fights to be fought, snow men to be built. The entire neighborhood roamed from front yard to front yard, creating and tumbling and finding warmth and drinks and the occasional bathroom in whichever house we happened to be in front of when the need arose.

And now?  Now President's Day is always an event.  It's a long weekend for which plans must be made.  It has no intrinsic meaning, no relationship to George or Abe or any of their colleagues.  Their faces are used to advertise white sales and car sales and furniture sales and The History Channel runs back to back episodes of The Presidents but that's about the size of the historical component.  What began as tributes to great men has devolved into spending opportunities for the masses.

Am I bitter?  You bet.  A day off followed by another one 10 days later.... what better way to combat the winter doldrums than that?  A random day, a day to cuddle under the blankets with your sweetie or to do all that laundry that interfered with your weekend plans and so still sits in the basket, mocking you.  A day to explore the neighborhood and have lunch in that place you've driven by 100 times before..... a day just to be.

Sometimes, when I was a girl really was better.

Goodbye, Silver Sneakers - A Snippet

It Happened

TBG's pass didn't work at the gym this morning.  Our relationship with Silver Sneakers has been officially severed.  No one is paying my membership fees.

$22 per month for an all-USA-access pass to LA Fitness seems reasonable.  I'm committed to regular exercise.  TBG lives most of his away-from-home-life in the gym.  I went through the internet sign-up procedure for whatever the United Health Care AARP Medicare Supplement calls their subsidy program.... twice.... once for me, once, after a bit of a kerfuffle with the software, for TBG.

It was a lot more work and a lot more money than Silver Sneakers was.  They required no sign-up procedure; I produced my identification, the club looked me up in an on-line data base, and in I went.  Platinum Fitness, Fit Stop, LA Fitness.... they all were glad to see me.

I worry about my less enthusiastic-about-the-whole-exercise-thing friends.  When it was free, and available everywhere, excuses were harder to come by.  Now, for people on a fixed income, watching every expenditure, $22 a month is a noticeable expense.  Couple that with a natural reluctance to start something new, and the insurance companies have, once again, taken steps to undermine our health.

Am I being overly dramatic?  Perhaps.  But aren't you used to that from me by now? 

Oops

Today’s post was published yesterday afternoon.
Oops.
I have no new thoughts to share this morning.
Oops.

Happy Thoughts

I woke up to find that I had not published yesterday's post.  Rereading it, I started today the way yesterday ended - fearing for the safety of a Federal Judge.  Deducing that this was not a productive stance, I resolved to think happy thoughts, and sat down to write this post.

I saw the snow on Mt. Lemmon, my thoughts wandered to Daddooooo pulling all 3 kids on sleds tied one to the other, and I was smiling until I looked down and saw a swarm of black bugs crawling over the river rocks in the courtyard.

Where are the lizards when you need them?  Aren't those migrating birds the least bit hungry?  Granted, it's only 46⁰ today, but there's a free buffet climbing the concrete plinth of my southern column and I wish you would take advantage of the situation.  Like, now.

It's like watching a train wreck - it's awful and I can't tear my eyes away from it.  We've had a lot of intermittent rain over the last few weeks; the ground cover is covered with what passes for crabgrass

here in the desert.

It's not only my yard; all around me, the weeds and the viruses and the parasites, like mistletoe,

are enjoying the natural irrigation and cooler temperatures.

The humans are discontent.  We'll have two sunny days, albeit with below freezing nights, then more rain will fall.  Looking back at previous electric bills, we usually turn on the pool by the end of February.  I don't think that will be happening this year.

But I lost the train of happy thoughts, so I drove down to Prince Elementary School where Maurice Sendak's wild things terrified some kindergarteners with their terrible claws - on their feet!!! -  and where I found my smiles once again.

There were three girls with pink sneakers.  There was a headband with kitten ears atop a shiny head of black hair.  There was a boy without a jacket and a girl who forgot it at home and neither of them seemed the least bit uncomfortable on the playground.  There were random hugs from random Prince Scholars - where else can I go and find so much love available for the taking?

The traffic coming home didn't bother me.  The broken garage door couldn't dampen my mood.  The black bugs have disappeared and the sun is, once again, glinting off the snowcovered mountain tops out my window, as I sit here, typing to you, with a smile on my face.

Sometimes, it's the simple things that do the trick.