Sunday, December 27, 2015

Too Close for Comfort

"Momma?"

Her voice was shaky, unsure, sounding much younger than her 30 years. I could feel her fear in my bones. It became my own.

I could picture her huddled in an airport bathroom with alarms sounding out in the corridor, afraid and uncertain.

Sitting in front of the computer, the phone to my ear, toggling between a half dozen webpages: the weather radar, 2 different tornado alerts, a map of Dallas, a map of the airport and Twitter - trying to find something that would prove her safety, I felt completely helpless. "She has to be safe. Keep her safe" I silently prayed.


Her texts during her brief stop in Dallas - one where she wasn't supposed to have even deplaned - went from a cheery banter ...

...into a terrifying reality.

















And then she called. We talked as they moved the passengers off the plane, into the terminal and eventually into an "Authorized Personnel Only" area in the lower part of the airport.

I was somewhat comforted being on the phone with her, but as the events unfolded and the situation became more and more dire, I began to panic a little. What if? What if I lose the connection? What if? What if the tornado hits and debris and devastation are raining down on her and I'm not there?

She can't be hurt. She can't be scared. I have to protect her.

But I couldn't. The best I could do was man the computer, stay on the phone and pray.

So I did. I reported each town the tornado hit as it traveled on its course of devastation. I obsessively watched the radar relaying to her how the storm, miraculously, was everywhere around the airport but never exactly there. "It doesn't hit there" I said. "It's south east of you and its moving north east. It's going to miss you!" I said. "But it touched down?" she asked "What about those people! Oh, Momma! Are they OK?"

Even in her own panic, she thought of others. Now I proudly reflect on what an angel of a heart she has, but at the moment it just tore at my soul. "She has to be safe. Keep her safe" I prayed again. "I cannot be talking to her for the last time, God. Please."

For one of the longest hours of my life, I stayed with her on that phone, thanking God we weren't disconnected. When the series of storms finally yielded and the break was long enough for the passengers to be lead back upstairs into the terminals, we hung up. She kept me updated through texts that her flight, fortunately, wasn't canceled. After a few more delays for various reasons she was finally safely in the air and eventually into the arms of the man she loves. There was some comfort there for me - that she was where she was happy and loved - but today as I read the horrifying news of the devastation, of the 11 dead, of exactly how close it came, I just wanted those arms that are holding her to be mine.

-KC



Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Liberté, égalité, fraternité



We gazed out the window at the quiet, late Sunday afternoon. Occasionally a couple, arm-in-arm, strolled along the path next to the canal. Paris closes on Sundays, or at least the part of Paris we were staying in did. The shops shuttered early if they were open at all and we were hard pressed to find a café open this late after lunch.

Needing dinner, we ventured out to the tiny market on the corner hoping to find something we could turn into a decent meal for our first night in Paris. The store was just a few steps away from the apartment, maybe five doors down. I’d noticed it when we’d driven in, but I’d mistaken it for a flower shop. The entirety of the storefront overflowed with carts filled with bouquets. Here had gathered most of our strollers, it seemed. A steady stream of people passed back and forth between the flower merchant and the restaurant across the street.

I would have walked past it still ignorantly searching for the grocery if the realization of where we were hadn’t stopped me in my tracks.

The Petit Cambodge stood closed, of course, but the sidewalk was alive with activity. Wilted bouquets were removed as fresh flowers were lay down. Votive candles twinkled in the dusk illuminating notes, postcards and photos of the fallen. It was somber, but not sorrowful. It was human kindness, patriotism and compassion.

We wandered a bit down the cobblestone streets, the tall walls of apartments along the narrow sidewalks hugging us. It felt warm and friendly. Safe.

The sky grew larger and the path widened. Before us stood the magnificent statue of Marianne in the center of the Place de la République. A symbol of the triumphant French democracy, the monument now stood covered in graffiti and surrounded by a melee of flowers, candles and words of defiant love. There was no mention of war or hate gracing the landmark, only pleas for peace and a declaration that they would not be broken. The words “même pas peur” repeated on banners and signs. Indeed, the scene was not one of fear. The crowd was as a democratic nation’s should be: filled with individuals free to emote in whatever way they wished. Yet none chose anger.

A couple holding  a sign reading “free hugs” drew me in. I carried Dia toward them, smiling and asking aloud who could turn down a hug. We embraced – all four of us – while some stranger took our photo. There were television crews everywhere, set up under canopies and working out of vans, but they remained a respectful distance from the group. This was no media circus. No one was exploiting the scene and we were free to feel whatever emotion gripped our hearts.

In my case I still have yet to find the words for that emotion. I’m not sure if I haven’t processed it clearly yet or if the words simply haven’t been invented. All I am certain of is that in that surreal first impression of our Canal St. Martin home, Paris won my respect, my love and my loyalty.


Monday, November 9, 2015

Make Love, Not War

Apparently Starbucks has declared War on Christmas. How dare they downgrade a happy snowflake cup to a plain red cup? Can't you see what is happening here? They hate Christians! Those pagan bastards! Goodbye Pumpkin Spice Latte! See you never Peppermint Mocha! I'm taking my business elsewhere.

Can I get a reality check here?

What has become of us? Seriously. This is a war on Christmas? I thought the complaint was that Christ was being taken out of Christmas. I thought the uproar was about losing the true meaning of the holiday and that the materialistic commercialism was the problem. I thought that the clamor was over replacing nativity scenes with Rudolph and his merry band of misfits. But, no...

Now we've gotten all upset over ornaments and snowflakes.


Are we so amazingly privileged and bored that we just look for ways to be victimized? And, of course, since the gauntlet has been thrown we have the obligation to be ugly in return. I mean, the name calling just has to come into play too - right? Isn't it those left-wing gay loving hippies that voted for Obama and his healthcare who want all babies aborted and gun rights stripped from the constitution who are at the helm of this War on Christmas? Of course it is.

Here's an idea.

Instead of screaming foul at the top of our lungs, instead of demanding that our life preferences and beliefs be delicately wrapped in tissue paper and tiptoed around so that they aren't slightly bruised or inadvertently bumped, why don't we practice what He preached? If you believe that Christ should be in Christmas act like it. Don't scream about it. Don't get in the face of the nearest violator and demand your rights. Jesus! I mean literally. Jesus! That's what this particular one is about, right? What would He do?

First I doubt he'd have a 6 week birthday party every year, but that is beside the point.

I do think he'd be pretty tolerant. He seemed like a tolerant guy. I think there is something in Matthew about not judging, but I'm rusty on all that.

He seemed pretty focused on asking us to love one another. I don't think he was unclear on that. When he knew he was done for this world and his last words were being spoken, love was what he chose. I think it went a little like this:
"A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.  By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another."

Maybe it's just me. As I said I'm rusty on all this. But if I'm reading this right, he's saying the best way to show people that you are Christian is to love each other. Love isn't screaming. It's not accusations and name calling. There's even a verse on that. It's in Corinthians. I'm sure you've heard it at somebody's wedding. And though that isn't straight from Jesus' mouth, I think it covers the topic he was trying to convey.

That is this: 
Just love each other, people. Don't look to be offended. Stop screaming at everybody about how they are sinners and wrong and ugly and stupid. You want Christmas? Then be Christmas. YOU. Be the spirit of Christmas. Be faithful, generous and loving. Be tolerant, open and turn the other cheek. I'm pretty sure that would be the best birthday present he could ever ask for.


 

 







 

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

An Ode to Thigh Gap



What light though yonder thighs once broke
That skin and fat and age now choke
Tis the rub and sticky heat
That madden me now that they meet.

Lo Talc! In you I put my faith
To spare me from this cursed chafe
Yet thine evidence in powd'ry snow
On all my wears of black doth show.

Fitness Lords, why doth ye lie?
These moves dare not reshape mine thighs.
Nay, ev’ry plié and plyometric squat
Causes me to wish in Hell you’d rot.

And now as I peer in the glass
To see the fate befallen mine ass
Once small and round and firm and high
Now sits deflated upon mine thighs.

This road of life tarries on, forsooth
Alas, I must now visage the truth
Twas never so before, and yet?
Twould seem my thighs hast truly met.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Thy Wrath

I can't keep my temper any longer. I don't know if it's my advanced age or simply my situation. Going to Children's Hospital every single week can turn your perspective on things a bit. I admit I don't have much tolerance for people's petty complaints and tenacious focus on inconsequential matters in their white-bread, First World lives. Still, I try to understand.

But now y'all are preaching that your god has found a reason to step into the dealings of this earth. It's not to save sick kids. It's not to bring about peace. In fact, He doesn't interfere with wars and He doesn't get particularly bothered over malevolent rulers or genocide. But homosexuals getting married? Yeah that's a huge problem.


Look, I try to stay in a positive place. I believe - very strongly I might add - in a presence that is benevolent and is, in a word, LOVE. I don't know if that's God, Jesus, Allah, he who cannot be named, or the freaking Spaghetti Monster. I don't really care. I just know that it rained the other day. Not much, but it did. I'd prayed for it and it rained. And for me? That was enough to raise my spirits and raise my faith and continue my prayers that all those kids at Children's and that my kid will get to grow up. I'm not asking for them to grow up to become anything at all but alive and hopefully well. Gay, straight, or in-between is fine.

But God seems to have a different opinion on that matter. Apparently, he's fine with kids being sick and dying, but being homosexual is truly troublesome. He isn't angry at the child abusers and He's just fine with rapists. He can't rile himself up over the cruelty of man against man, but He sure as hell gives a boatload of fucks over who is sleeping with whom.

The Good People are warning us: God's wrath is about to come down. He's so utterly disgusted that He may even destroy us ALL - even the God-abiding ones. Oh no. Wait. They are saved. But the rest of us - those who live their lives with love and generosity and CARE for their fellow man - He's gonna' throttle us. He's going to rain down because we extended our hearts and our understanding and our tolerance.

He cannot turn His attention to human suffering for that is part of the Great Plan. He cannot interfere with the cruelties we commit upon each other, for - again- it is the Way. But THIS? This is intolerable.

So to the parents sitting by their children's bedsides, arguing with doctors, researching desperately for a cure, foregoing sleep, foregoing food, begging their God for a miracle?

He can't be bothered with that right now. He's too busy worrying about the gays.



Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Fast vs. Furious

Another shooting, another day, another opportunity for those crazy liberal gun haters to call for the banning of firearms or, at the very least, strict regulations on the purchase, registration and use of guns.

Fat lot of good that would do.

Think about all the regulations in place to own and operate a vehicle, yet they still kill, don't they? In what's become a rite of passage, teens all over the country dutifully take Driver's Education, trudge down to the DMV, labor through the written exam and sweat through the driving test. For what? How does the government know which one of us is ready to drive and which isn't? Aren't we qualified to make that determination? After all, parents know their children and can be counted on to do what's right for them, can they not? 

Although ... In my junior year in high school I witnessed a moment that shocked me forever when our friends' mother donned a bright pink mini dress and stilettos to attend the funeral of her son and daughter. Her denial and guilt were too raw to face the reality of the event so she hid in insanity and deemed it a 'party' for the kids. Just months earlier, she had gifted her son with a motorcycle though he wasn't yet legal to drive. The inexperienced driver lost control in the rain. He and his passenger, his sister, slid under a semi.
and
Tony was only 15 years old. His friend, having recently gotten his learner's permit, was trusted with his parents' car for the night. The boys were smoking pot, were about to get pulled over and the driver decided to run. He handled the car well and soon lost sight of the cops. He turned a quick corner, flipped off the lights and sped directly into a metal telephone pole. Tony had called shotgun. A shotgun couldn't have killed him faster.

But back to this nonsense of regulations. It's not good enough for the government that we qualify to drive by age, experience and competency, is it? No, they impose additional laws that smother our freedom to live as we choose. Helmets, seat belts, car seats, air bags... it seems they go to no end to dictate what we can or can't do. Are we not intelligent beings adept at assessing how skilled we are at our crafts at all times? We don't need these types of protections.

Except ...My dad drove cars for sport. He could perform amazing stunts that both terrified and thrilled me. Yet sleep deprived and ignoring his own rule about wearing a seat belt, a momentary mishandling of a simple exit ramp took him from us.
and
We always envied Mike who had a dream job testing new motorcycle features for Honda. He could drive anything. One sunny summer day he was demonstrating his skills in his shining '69 Camero. On a tall bridge over a river we watched in awe as he mounted the sidewalk ramp, the powerful car going up on two wheels perfectly until a rock in the road caused the wheels on the ground to lose traction. The car lurched over the bridge and into the water below expelling Mike, unsecured, through the windshield.

The harsh reality here is that if the rules had been followed, none of these deaths would have occurred. You see even with ordinances in place, we harm ourselves. We humans are stupid, neglectful, cavalier, impulsive and thrill seeking. We can't be trusted.

So should we deregulate vehicles? Should we abolish traffic laws because thousands die each year despite them?

Of course not. That's an absurd idea. Obviously regulations don't prevent all tragedy, but as a country we recognized that vehicles are dangerous and instilled mandates to keep us safe from them. Individually we accept the rules with little more than a grumble about the line at the DMV. Had my friends, my love and my father not broken the law, they might still be here. Fortunately the vast majority of drivers heed the vast majority of the rules. There are undeniably thousands of us who have survived accidents because of helmets, safety belts and car seats. There are, without doubt, millions of us who arrive safely to our daily destinations thanks to traffic laws.

In the same way we accept the registration of our drivers and our cars, I cannot imagine an argument where innocent, sane people who enjoy sport shooting or who own guns for personal protection would not take a test to prove their competency, willingly register their firearms, carry liability insurance to be financially responsible and agree to abide by laws that simply protect their own safety and the safety of others.

Is that a solution that would prevent the heinous tragedies like the one in which we sit, once more, in the wake of? No. This isn't a direct response to that. But whether or not we like it the dialog has been brought up and we're having it yet again. There is little we can do to prevent horrific mass shootings nor can we get guns out of the hands of criminals any more than we can completely prevent people from driving illegally. But if we can reduce the number of accidental deaths, the number of impulsive suicides, the nauseatingly high number of children who die playing with guns wouldn't it be worth a little inconvenience?

******************************************************



The numbers:
In 2013, 32,850 people in the United States suffered their fate in car accidents.
95% of American households own more than 253 million cars.
Each year we all have a .01% chance of dying in a vehicular related death.


In 2013, 33,636 Americans died from gun shot wounds.
35% of American households own more than 300 million guns.
Each year we all have a .01% chance of dying in a gun related death.

All pretty equal except for one thing:
Guns are much more efficient. The 35% who own guns manage to kill about 790 more each year than the 95% of us with cars.


Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Daylight Savings Song

One of my friends was lamenting the ills of Daylight Savings Time and considering petitioning the government to put an end to the hour-robbing practice. I agreed, but thought the revolution needed a theme song. So I present to you "Daylight Savings Song" (with the caveat that it's just silly friendship stuff and that I'm no Weird Al):

Set to the tune of Tom Petty's "Don't Do Me Like This." 
I'll wait while you go find your favorite YouTube or mp3 version. 
Got it? OK. Ready? Hit play!


4
I was talking with a friend of mine
She was wonderin' about the time.
Said she had this hour a day ago
But woke up and where’d it go?
Then she said her kids were all messed up
That they almost missed the bus!
Yeah, someday it’s just gotta die:
Daylight Savings Time

Don't do me like that
Don't do me like that
What if I don’t want this crazy?
Don't do me like that

Don't do me like that
Don't do me like that
Why don’t we just change this, maybe?
Don't do me like that

Listen Senate, can’t we agree?
This is just stupidity.
Since you are in the public eye
Maybe we could give change a try?
But you know it’s like you are deaf
Or not thinking about what is best.
Or maybe you’ll just tell us lies
‘bout Daylight Savings Time.

Don't do me like that
Don't do me like that
What if I don’t want this crazy?
Don't, don’t, don’t, don’t!

Don't do me like that
Don't do me like that
Why don’t we just change this, maybe?
Don't do me like that

'Cause someone in Government
Has to be saying,
"This law just can’t last that long."
People don’t want it ...and they are sayin'
We can't take it no more

Listen Senate, can’t we agree?
This is just stupidity
Since you are in the public eye
Maybe we could give change a try?
But you know it’s like you are deaf
Or not thinking about what is best.
Or maybe you’ll just tell us lies
‘bout Daylight Savings Time.

Don't do me like that
Don't do me like that
What if I don’t want this crazy?
Don't, don’t, don’t, don’t!

Don't do me like that
Don't do me like that
Why don’t we just change this, maybe?
Don't do me like that