Memorial

This past week I've seen flower stands along Foster Road, selling cheap hothouse flowers dyed with chemicals and wrapped in non-recyclable plastic. This afternoon's traffic to the Willamette National Cemetery was backed up over 1/2 mile, spilling down 110th Avenue. As I made my way through it, heading home, I thought about my tradition of calling all veterans I know on 11/11, how I don't actually know anyone who died while in military service, how my father threw his purple heart into the ocean, his reasons complicated and intensely personal.

And then I thought of Utah Phillips (wiki link here), whose singing and storytelling touched me, and provided a common forum through which my father and I connected, he a veteran and his daughter a peacemonger. The 1996 album Utah Phillips produced with Ani Difranco, The Past Didn't Go Anywhere, was tremendous and moving. Two tracks in particular, "Korea," followed by "Anarchy," brought tears to my eyes every time I heard them. I have many memories wrapped up in associations of this man, his cataclysmic force and sense of humor will remain in the threads woven through the past twelve years when I was first introduced to his stories and his music.

From "Korea":

I knew that it was all wrong, that it all had to change, and that change had to start with me.

From "Anarchy":

I learned in Korea that I would never again, in my life, abdicate to somebody else my right and my ability to decide who the enemy is.

. . . anarchy is not a noun but an adjective. It describes the tension between moral autonomy and political authority, especially in the area of combinations, whether they are voluntary or coercive. The most destructive coercive combinations are arrived at by force. As Ammon said, 'Force is the weapon of the weak.'

All these thoughts and memories and triggers inform me that now is the right time to publicly acknowledge my next project, to investigate and explore the Great Peace March of 1986. My fascination with the March, with Marchers' thoughts and stories twenty-two years later, with the meaning of Peace as a concept, a practice, a vision, a reality - these things will weave together the next creative phase.

What is peace? What is war? What is between the two? What else is on the spectrum? How do we choose to exist?

.

He Said . . .

. . . to K on the phone:

Oh no! [rummaging sounds] Shit! . . . . What the . . . . ? Dammit!

So she asks:

What is it? Whassa matter?

And he says in utter seriousness:

I can't find my phone anywhere!

K laughed until urine threatened to soak her jeans. And when K recounted the story, telling us of "B's blond moment," T looked at me, raised her eyebrows and wondered aloud if he should have taken that last hit.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken those last twenty years' worth of hits.

.

Taken with my phone last Sunday

Apostrophe

I'm a word-nerd. I have an inner editor-proofreader, and she is snarky. Lately she has been squirming, but not in that pleasantly-sexy-squirming way, but in that oh-shit-my-OCD-is-sure-squirming way. (Lest ye question my word-nerdness, I'll just say that I creamed myself when I took a look at this WildWords game. Not-so-subtle gift idea!)

Lately I've been fixating on misuse of the apostrophe. The lovely apostrophe, though not nearly as fetching as a semicolon, is nevertheless a marvelous mark of punctuation. And so I lament! How it loses its power when well-meaning but ill-informed people toss it into a word, believing it necessary to make a word plural or past tense! I did it myself last week, writing that we had subpoena'd someone. My inner proofreader recoiled, and I rephrased the sentence, giving it a different verb, and looked it up later. (I'm sure you're aching to know that the correct spelling of the past tense to subpoena is subpoenaed.)

You want proof? Think that surely you are doing it correctly? Check out this wikiHow page on apostrophes. Or this grammar rule page. Or this one. Or see this site dedicated to Apostrophe Protection. Those Brits are oh-so-polite:

We are aware of the way the English language is evolving during use, and do not intend any direct criticism of those who have made the mistakes above. We are just reminding all writers of English text, whether on notices or in documents of any type, of the correct usage of the apostrophe should you wish to put right mistakes you may have inadvertently made.

For you visual learners, see the flickr pool of public apostrophe misuse.

Until I went to graduate school and well-paid legal writing professors told me that it is perfectly acceptable (in their warped universe) to start a sentence with And, But, or Because, that particular writing choice used to bug me too. And now I do at incessantly. So perhaps I just need some grammatic authority to tell me to get over myself for cringing over the alleged apostrophe abuse.

Maybe I just need to get laid and transform the obsessive-squirmy into some sexy-squirmy. Soon, friends. Soon.

* * *

Bubbles

J: I'm leaving for Wisconsin on the 22nd, the morning of that dark solstice day. I get synced up, embarking on cosmically significant dates.

me: The time of solstice is actually tonight at 10:08 pm PST, making last night the longest night of the year and today the shortest day. Longer days and shorter nights from here on out - hooray for the return of light!
(pause)
me: Um. . . . Well. I'm sure your leaving for Wisconsin on the 22nd can still be auspicious, though. It's the second-shortest day.

Safe travels!

Bright Solstice Blessings!

Wimmin

XX1 to XX2, frustrated by trouble with her husband and anticipating going to work at a new office: Can't wait to meet these fifteen attorneys - most of them are men. I wonder which one I'll be f*ckin.

XX2: Men are so stupid. Our husbands treat us like shit, but they don't know that we can always f*ck around if we want to. We're the ones with the power.

XX1, nodding: Damn straight.

Me, listening in, picking my chin up off the floor.

There are real world scenarios for which Gender Studies could never adequately prepare me.

Aggressive Solicitation

The conversation could have gone like this:

her, walking up to us quickly, entering the realm of our personal space, thrusting american flag and peace sign stickers in my hand: You are hereby under arrest for being too beautiful, for smiling too much, for being too happy. Your citation fee is a minimum of $10 that goes to our food bank where we feed hot vegetarian meals to the hungry.

me, practicing nonviolent communication: Wow! I can see that you are really motivated by this project and very enthusiastic to gain my support. You seem like you feel passionately about what you are doing and you want me to give you money for it. I am feeling like my personal space is being violated and that you aren't giving me a viable way of saying no to your request, and I feel resentful when I feel as though I am being manipulated or cajoled into giving money. I am requesting that you take your stickers, give me some space, and tell me more about what you are doing in a less invasive way.

Instead, the conversation went something like this:

her, walking up to us quickly, entering the realm of our personal space, thrusting american flag and peace sign stickers in my hand: You are hereby under arrest for being too beautiful, for smiling too much, for being too happy. Your citation fee is a minimum of $10 that goes to our food bank where we feed hot vegetarian meals to the hungry.

me, slightly inebriated, staring at the stickers in my hand, just starting to understand she was asking for money: is this a religious based charity?

her: this project is run by the Hare Krishnas, but --

me: is there proselytizing?

her: people can listen if they want or not. But many people want someone to talk to when they come share our meals.

me, lamely: There is a lot of loneliness in the world. Then, handing her $5, feeling manipulated and like I wanted my personal space back, thank-you-very-much: Have a nice day.

I felt pissed until I left the stickers at the free literature stand at the public library.

Moral of the story: NVC is much easier to think about and plan than it is to do spontaneously. Clearly I need more practice.

Display

Ring ring ring

voice, slightly muffled: Hello?

me: Hey, baby, how's your night?

voice, more clearly: What?

me, panic rising: Mom?!

I'll be watching the cellphone display a lot more carefully from now on. I'm just so relieved that all I did was say "baby." It could've been worse. It could've been a hot and steamy sexy-text. Yikes.

Bumper Sticker Wisdom

Seen on a vehicle near Hawthorne and 39th Avenue in SE Portland:

It's never too late to have a happy childhood.

Empty Mind

The five-year-old who lives upstairs likes to come down and eat fruit with me. We're buddies, she and me. I'll be posting some of our conversations because this child knows what's up.

M: Hey, B, I saw you meditating while I was cutting up the pineapple.

B: I wasn't meditating. I was doing yoga.

M: What do you think about when you do yoga?

B: I don't think about anything. I have an empty mind.

M: Will you teach me how to have an empty mind?

B: No, Mossy. You have to do it yourself. I don't know how to teach you.