In the moonlight, the big shore places were breathing and their breathing was in sync with my own. The houses would inflate and deflate and inflate and deflate and inflate and deflate, and then they were dancing, a coordinated hip sway, first left and then right. From afar, or maybe it wasn’t afar, but right [...]
I have a bit of the idealist streak in me when it comes to history as well. Maybe the Buddhist streak is more appropriate. There is a poem by Milosz about an old man tending his tomato garden during the height of the World War II inferno; the refrain I believe is “there is no other end to the world.” As the world ends around him, he continues to live according to ageless rhythms. Change occurs but nothing fundamentally changes. Tomatoes will grow if cared for.
I call him my son. I’ve memorized his life. I have no static image of him, but look at him from distinct blossoms of time. There he is gumming a frozen bagel; he is asleep in his swing, gently rocking side to side; we lie on the floor together, rolling matchbox cars back and forth to each other; he is on the soccer field; he is getting ready for the prom; I am showing him my birthplace in Damascus; we are praying together. His life is whole for me, and here my grief hits hard, a thud, a claustrophobic scratching at an endless wall. You only see a life in total upon death.
It is 1985. You are disappointed your time machine has propelled you only two years into the future. You are even more disappointed where the time machine has placed you. Mrs. Moynihan’s 5th grade class in the middle of a math quiz. You reach into your desk for an eraser, but instead remove a book that if you don’t put back right away, will define your life for years. Your first adult book.
The Enchanted Village has quite the heritage that Jordan’s felt meaningful enough to resurrect. From about 1968 to 1970 Jordan Marsh displayed the Enchanted Village in the windows of its Downtown Crossing location. Then they put it away until the 1990’s. Macy’s then bought Jordan Marsh and gave the Enchanted Village a second chance. The magic wasn’t there, so they sold it to the City of Boston, which gave it a third chance. The Enchanted Village then sat in storage for a while, before the City put it up for auction. Jordan’s furniture couldn’t resist this bargain, and now has it displayed in its warehouse.
Spanish Galleon is typing message
Fr?
FatherK is typing message
Yes
Spanish Galleon is typing message
Hi, it’s been 22 yrs since my last confession
FatherK is typing message
Sorry, no IM’d confessions. Please visit the church between 6-7 PM next Saturday.
…
Spanish Galleon is typing message
R u still there
FatherK is typing message
Yes
Spanish Galleon is typing message
Make an exception
FatherK [...]
How awkward we all were! All except for you Chad. So handsome. Enviously put together for someone just out of childhood. You were mesmerizing. And such a good boy! Principled. It’s all in good fun, no more than boyish mischief to throw eggs and tomatoes at passing cars from the shadow of the graveyard, but fucking is out of the question. There will be no fucking in a graveyard.
My own issue with “living green” is not guilt or fanaticism, but confusion. Take the slow food or buy local movement. This makes sense, but what about the effect on African farmers shut out from our markets? I have a difficult time saying to this person, “tough shit, the earth depends on your continued suffering.”
The Cup of Procrastination: