Losing Small Objects

Filed Under humor, lil things | 1 Comment

It’s said that you become, in old age, an exaggerated version of who you were when you were young. Quirks turn into eccentricities, and one’s most frequent humor hardens into a stubborn personality.

If this is so, then I had better work to undo one of my most annoying idiosyncracies: hiding things. It’s not something I do often, but it almost always ends up the same: me not being able to find whatever it was I hid.

Who am I hiding things from? I’d like to know this. It’s something I’ve done for years, even as a child. Maybe I was influenced by all of the Nancy Drew novels I read over and over again as a young girl. Or too many episodes of police procedurals and Perry Mason. Always, in those dramas, there was something hidden, and someone looking for it. I guess it could come from an upsetting childhood event I no longer remember. Or perhaps it’s a residual neurosis from a former life, the result of a tragic error that I must, in this life, make right.

Okay, well maybe that’s a bit much. At any rate, I am looking for a key to a chest that contains 20 years’ worth of journals, and I can’t find it because I hid it for ’safekeeping.’ In this case I’ve been foiled by an instance of triple-deception. It’s not in its normal spot, nor in its back-up spot. Which means I must have determined a third spot on the spur of the moment. Bad move. The same principle for creating usernames and passwords must be applied to hiding things: take time to deliberate on it, make it something logical to oneself, and re-use it at least twice before allowing long stretches of time to elapse.

Now I am in an unfortunate situation. And I don’t want to turn into an old lady who hides things from myself and then accuses my hapless nephews, hypothetical-future-children, and medical professionals of stealing them from me. “Youuu, youuu,” I will say, poking a craggy finger in their weary, bewildered faces. “I know it was youuu took my precious!”

Oh dear.

Popularity: 7% [?]

Oct

29

Eh? Thought of the Day

Filed Under lil things | 3 Comments

What is the deal with the dreamcatchers hanging from the rear view mirrors of cars?

Eh?

Popularity: 7% [?]

Oct

28

Past Tense: Piano Bench

Filed Under from the heart, love | 2 Comments

I sat on the piano bench with my hands on his shoulders, and asked my father not to leave. “Why do you have to go?” I said. “You don’t have to go.” He took my hands in his and said not to worry; he would be back soon - he wouldn’t miss my birthday. But he never came back.

I refused to believe that this had any significant effect on me, but last night I became aware that I’d been living in that 24 year old moment, still sitting on the piano bench. But instead of asking people not to leave, I’ve been silent, believing that maybe if I don’t say anything at all, they will stay. If I don’t try to bridge the widening gap with entreaties, they will feel the lack and it will give them pause, and they will come back to me. I reached out to someone once, pleaded with someone once, and he left anyway. I’ve spent all these years keeping my hands to myself.

It took “losing” my brother to make me understand that things do happen through inaction; that when you let your ties to another person come undone, you are lucky to find them again. Relationships are sustained by constant engagement, not by chance. I couldn’t continue to be passive.

So over the last 18 months I have been learning how to hold on to people. And it seemed that maybe I wasn’t even at the piano bench anymore; that the piano bench was gone, and I was traveling with people I care about, alternating leadership. Yes, I often hang back, waiting for encouragement or a second invitation, but my family and friends know I have taken many steps to be closer to them. The distant past was unimportant.

Last night, however, there was no doubt; I felt the heaviness of the past pressing me down. The one time - the first time – in my whole life that I think I might love someone and be ready to love them, I am back on the bench (!), staring at my hands in my lap, not speaking a word, and telling myself that if I just don’t make any sudden moves, he will understand and say, “Hey. I’m not going anywhere.”

(photo: me in 2005)

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Oct

26

Greed

Filed Under capitalism, quotes, religion | 2 Comments

The greed for more and more astounds you

until you come to the grave.
~the Qur’an, Surah Takathur

When I was in Guatemala and learned about some of the evil things that had transpired and continue to transpire there, a horrible thought occurred to me: that the people who had set those acts in motion had wanted for nothing. They had more wealth than most of us could dream of … so why did they see people slaughtered? Why are people tortured still? Even if every bit of profit they’ve been receiving were to dry up today, the wealthy finca owners and politicians would have more than enough money to live comfortably for generations. So why do they do it?

And we shouldn’t be so shocked when poor people kill for shoes or a car or a few hundred bucks in a till, when already-rich people have killed for more. In a sense, for nothing.

Related: I happened upon an article entitled “Why Are We Greedy?” from the July 1984 issue of The New Internationalist magazine. It is worth a read. The mission of NI magazine is “to report on issues of world poverty and inequality; to focus attention on the unjust relationship between the powerful and the powerless in both rich and poor nations; to debate and campaign for the radical changes necessary if the basic material and spiritual needs of all are to be met.”

NI is totally new to me and I am glad to have chanced upon it during a Google search (I couldn’t remember from where I had gotten the phrase, “The greed for more and more.”)

(photo by HSA, statues at All Soul’s UU Church in NYC, 2003)

Popularity: 8% [?]

Oct

24

Money and Activism

Filed Under ao resources, current affairs, local | 4 Comments

Why should a memorial to anyone cost 100 million dollars? Yes, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was an outstanding activist for human rights (and one of America’s greatest heroes), but … 100 million dollars? Imagine that money spent on actually teaching his thoughts to the public? On creating real change? On scholarships? I do not view this is as progress. People and politicians would rather rubber stamp a proposal like this than actually address racism.

In the last few days I have been giving more thought than usual to better ways of spending money. When I attended the Nelson Santana event, one of the Portland Central America Solidarity Committee (PCASC) volunteers stood before us and made a plea: “It cost $700 to bring Mr. Santana here from Venezuela.” I stood up straighter in my seat. 700 dollars? That’s all!? Bear in mind that Mr. Santana is here over two weekends, discussing, designing and making political community murals with students, local artists and activists. He is making himself available to anyone who wants to talk to him about socialism in Venezuela, art as resistance, community building, etc. Translators are even on hand. Now, I would consider that money well spent. When the earnest volunteer called for donations, I raised my hand; this was something I could support.

Part of fulfilling our obligation to the people is spending their money smartly, stretching it as far as it can go, and providing as much service to them as we can possibly squeeze out of a dollar.

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