WORDS
THE LUNCHEON
His mother had said one o’clock. He had time to find her a fresh bouquet at Al’s greengrocer on Broadway if he left now. Only a scattering of people dotted the sidewalk despite the beautiful September Saturday.
non-functional slack fill
It was the middle of a pandemic, so you had to wait in line to sit. I waited, anticipating the act of sitting, thinking about which park bench I would prefer - certainly one with a bit of shade and a bit of sunshine. I planned to stay awhile and wanted to enjoy some of each. Everyone had to be far apart, so I knew I would get a whole bench to myself. No sharing in a pandemic. No sharing park benches, food, hugs, stories from strangers who stand close and start talking, no sharing of polite hellos that go nowhere. Maybe we didn’t need those anyway.
A Useful Skill
“Oh, just sew it shut and move on!” was Mother’s advice. Pointed yet all-purpose, it served well to change the subject in the middle of my tale of adolescent woe brought home from school. Her few words, plus the swing of her arm into the air as if in one cosmic pull of the needle, ended the conversation whether or not I was done complaining. Sewing worked for Mother as a world view.
the color of things
COLOR OR RACE: Yellow.
It makes color sound like a destiny. The finger of the Decider pointing at eight pounds of baby: “You will have the life of Yellow.”
If I had been able to look over the shoulder of Mr. David D. Helm, Registrar 5279, as he put his name on my birth certificate in Camden, New Jersey, I would have said I was not yellow. Bill was yellow, but not until he was bloated, jaundiced, and near death in intensive care. That was yellow.
at the wine shop
When I need wine for a dinner party, I walk into a wine shop recommended by a friend. I ask for help. I always begin with the true statement that I do not know anything about wine, or very little. The only opinion I can say is my own is that I prefer dry over sweet. Unlike pizza or apples, which you only have to taste to know if you like it, or if it qualifies as “good”, with the likelihood that others would agree, I have observed that opinions about wine do not come immediately.
THE ARCHITECTS
“It’s been four hours,” Rei said. “We’ve been stood up.”
“By a flatbed driver,” said Luisa. “I gave up two hours ago. You would think putting a whole house on a truck and moving it would not be something easily overlooked on their to-do list.“
“One would think.”
“I never liked this house anyway,” said Luisa.
“You’ve never said that! Nine years!”
learning how
to drive
It is a grey-sky day, good weather for an argument. A gorgeous sunny day diminishes your case. It is bigger than you; its planetary scale scorns your mundane picking at details and inward, vague concepts like happiness. A sparkly winter day with snow coming down has the same effect. But a cloudy, shadowless day does not have an opinion and leaves room for you to indulge the idea that you can change others.