Friday, March 16, 2012

Pig's supposed to look like that

I am fascinated by the variety of ways people create good in the world. Mr. Paul Simon is one of the more intriguing and admired humans I have never met but has played a role nonetheless in my view of the world and enjoyment of the same.

The themes he deals with in his lyrics and the way he gets inside the minds and stories of so many many humans through them is downright educational. Yet he never seems to think himself deep and tortured as so many musicians do. To me he is someone acutely aware of the struggle and incongruencies of humans, the mundane, the hopeless, and the price of love, but remains optimistic and determined to make something good of it.

And this was not just during a good run in the 60's or 70's. Or 80's. He's been going for well over 4 decades, continually collaborating and creating and contributing music to the world that means something to so many.

Thank you, Paul.

Just watch this first video and try not to let yourself get in a good mood. I dare you.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

An ideal husband. And weekend.

If you thought going to get your child a passport at the downtown SLC post office on a Friday afternoon on your husband's lunch break is a great idea, well, I bet if you tried hard enough, you could think of a few better ones.

It is a place with no filter--poor, well dressed, educated, illiterate, functioning and dis-functioning parts of families, patient, and those with less of that useful virtue--we all had to wait together in a small tiled room while two USPS workers moved slowly through stacks of forms with way too many tiny boxes to fill in, then disappeared altogether for long periods of time. New passport restrictions require both parents to sign their consent in the presence of these workers. There is no way around it.

We were in line, waiting, for over an hour and a half. We had three people in front of us.

But I actually really enjoy the peek into other's psychology in situations like that. And I will admit my eavesdropping skills impeccable. It is a little game I play, piecing together the lives of those around me based on all the clues presented. So if it hadn't been way past Magdalena's lunch and nap time, I would have almost enjoyed the afternoon spent in such a way.

After some lettuce and hummus sandwiches, we packed up the red subaru (otherwise known as Gretchen---a hardy mountain woman-car) and we were on our way north. What pleasure I find in good music and sun bathed fields through glass.

We tried going to one of the two restaurants in town, but a small Closed hung in the dark window of the Dude Ranch Cafe. On a Friday night.  So we had dinner instead at a taqueria attatched to the gas station, watching Mark Wahlberg speak spanish, surrounded by early 90's decor and large portions.

I've always loved the sound of car tires slowing and finally finding a place on that gravel driveway. The air was cold, but soft almost, and the darkness seemed clean and calm. After the babe was peacefully sleeping in her farm-house room, Dorius and I went for a stary night walk, past black cows on a dirt road along a log fence.

The next morning was spent in the hills hunting for deer sheds in the sage brush with three-year-old james. Lunch : Peanut butter and honey sanwiches, apples, and rice krispie treats on a quilt on the sunny lawn. Laszlo slept in the warmth.

We spent the afternoon with horses. My beloved palomino, given me on my 13th birthday, is still as kind and reliable as ever.  I walked up to the big animal slowly. His huge nostrils let out warm breath smelling of sweet hay. As happens every spring, he was shaggy and covered in dirt. I led him around the round pen with small boys taking turns in the saddle, then the two of us, joined by Dorius and Pepper, rode out into the fields.

Evening drive to another small town cafe with slippery plastic covered seats and a less than sanitary cement floor. I was served a pile of hashbrowns and an omelet, and watched Dorius, with his slightly sunburned cheeks, enjoy fresh Apple pie a la mode.

ideal: Dorius, sun, walking, dirty, horses, air, warm, tired.



Thursday, March 8, 2012

Thursday, March 1, 2012

2

love story pt.1
The next day, a note at recess. “Look in the mailbox.” Another present. This continued for days, each present getting more and more extravagant. Soon the mailbox wasn’t big enough, and the gifts were then set underneath it with only a note in the actual box. Until finally my mom called his parents to return some very large decorations and flower arrangements “borrowed” from his dad’s company.

I wasn’t one to love attention, and hated the teasing I got from my family about the whole thing.

I decided not to write back in an attempt to show the gifts had to stop. But then he showed up at my house, a baby bird in a brand new cage with my name literally on it. We named him Bilbo. Then went on a trip and forgot he needed to eat all those days we were gone. He died. I felt horrible. So horrible. I didn’t want to tell Garrett, but he somehow found out and then showed up with his own pet cockateil he was known to walk around with on his shoulder. I refused, but he insisted. I have always been bad at saying no. Particularly to him. And so, we added a cockateil to the number of birds already at hour house.

“I can’t date until I am 16” I remember saying. “What about going out?” “I think that counts. I can’t do it.” It was too much, too fast, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was, afterall, about 9 years old. I remember playing outside one day when I heard the click of our back gate. It could only be him. I immediately hid under a bush and remained there until I knew he had gone, unable to believe I really was doing that.

And then Aaron entered the situation. The two of them were good friends, Aaron my age and Garrett a year older. One day at school, I got a note as usual. But this time there was a tiny machine gun drawn on the cover. I opened it up to see different handwriting and a much wordier message. Aaron? LOVE, Aaron Griffith?

Soon the two of them began trekking up through the backyard together. They would tease each other about who I liked more. But even I could tell, at that age, Aaron’s was a momentary infatuation, Garrett’s was something else entirely.

* * *
sweetly since
January and school began. I was sure he’d left on a mission. Or even if he was still in Logan, the chances of running into him among the thousands was slim. I concluded my little infatuation with this boy I’d never met and never would again was rather silly.

Then I saw him from behind--his strangely familiar walk that I was embarrased to so quickly identify. He was here! I turned and went to class, where I tried to listen and feel what I was hearing was anywhere near as important as my discovery. 

I remember walking home on icy sidewalks, thinking. I should not be feeling this way. I have my best friend on a mission, who I really do love and in every way seems my destined future, planning to come home and marry me. Yes my feelings about that situation were confusing. Love was definitely there, but along with it a feeling I wasn't entirely right for him. I promised to date but had concluded I didn’t like it and wouldn’t find anyone that fit me, leading me to also conclude these little feelings I wasn't right for him were just nervousness. Since he was so obviously right for me. Then there was this new boy. I had never thought about someone so much whom I had never met. I am not your "typical" girl, and am probably not his type. I never act this way about boys.

More days passed without a sighting. But still the knowledge he was there warmed me for some reason, which continued to confuse me. Why these feelings? And what was I to do about them? I felt both numb and eager at the same time.

Then one sunny day, there he was, coming through the door. And there I was, opening my mouth and talking to him. Me. Talking to him.  A normal Tuesday morning, on my way to Chinese government and politics, and I was having a conversation with him. 

Me: “Hi.” 
Him: “Hey”  
He looked as surprised as I felt that I had said something, and smiled.
Now what?

Me: “Hey, did you go to Skyline?” 
He had seemed familiar, so it was the only logical question 
Him: “Yeah. You did too, right?” 
Me: “Yeah. I did. You looked familiar. What’s your name?” 
Him. “Dorius*. And you’re Brinn, right?”  

What? He knew my name?!

I saw his two friends whom I knew, also from Skyline, not far behind him. They squoze through the doors (which we were blocking but didn't really care), said hello, and kept on walking. I’m not sure what we talked about next, or what I had intended to, but I really did have to be on time to class, and so after a few short minutes, we said goodbye. I was thrilled. I had done something so completely out of character. I had talked to this mystery boy. Shy little me. I climbed the carpeted stairs to class, heart pumping, breath quick, and realized like a bucket of cold water there had been no number exchange, no talk of meeting up, no anything. Yes I had said something. But it may well have been the last something I ever said to him. I had no way of ever finding him again.

* Not, in fact, his real name. And therefore not what he in actuality said that day.