What Is Cool?

Phillip asked, "Mister Caven, have you ever been to a funeral?"
This was the question that started my day. In my mind, I did a quick inventory: Aunt Nell, Darren, my father. I faltered for a moment. Was that it? In all my years and all my associations, I could only come up with three?
"Yes. I have." In my mind, I scrambled for details. Each one was so very clear in my mind, perhaps because I had only attended three. I thought about the car rides and the music and the silences. I thought about the clothes and the shoes and the light. I thought about the way things never felt quite the same afterward. "Have  you ever been to a funeral, Phillip?"
"Yeah. I went to my cousin's funeral." A pause. Then, "It was fun."
I tried not to register anything.
He went on, "Well, it was kind of sad. A lot of people were sad."
I nodded.
"But it was also kind of fun." He continued, "There were these two motorcycle cops who rode in front of all the cars, and they made the other cars stop. All of our cars could go through red lights." He looked at me with a kind of halfway grin. "That was kind of cool."
I had to agree with him. Probably out of the entire experience of going to a funeral, he had picked the coolest part. Running red lights on the day that you're really not in a hurry to be anywhere else is a pretty interesting bit of irony. Irony can be cool, can't it?
I decided that I didn't really want to press Phillip about how close he was to his cousin or how old he or she was. It was plenty for him to register at ten years old that he had been to a funeral, and that it was kind of sad and also kind of cool. I tried not to imagine how many more funerals he might attend before he was my age. I tried not to imagine that there was any kind of competition. I was glad that Phillip could remember those moments.
And then he was off to play four square. A much more appropriate preoccupation for a ten year old boy.

WWBCD?

"They persecuted Jesus and look what happened." These were the words that Bill Cosby's lawyer used to mark the sentencing of his client for three to ten years for sexual assaulting a woman in 2004. That would be the kind of hyperbole one might expect from a defense attorney, but one who lost his case in the face of fifty-nine additional accusers, over a span of nearly fifty years. Most accounts of the life of Jesus Christ have him living between thirty and thirty-five years. In order to generate that history of being tormented, he would have had to live longer, so maybe attorney Andrew Wyatt was drawing a more delicate parallel. “Not saying Mr. Cosby is Jesus, but we know what this country has done to black men for centuries. So, Mr. Cosby’s doing fine, he’s holding up well and everybody who wants to say anything negative, you’re a joke as well.”
A lot of people suggest that Jesus Christ was a black man. But I am not familiar with any part of the Bible in which the words "you're a joke as well" appear. An interesting retort, considering that when Cosby was about to be taken away, Janice Dickinson (one of the dozens of accusers) laughed slowly and loudly in the courtroom. “See I got the last laugh, pal,” the actress said as she looked at Dr. Cosby being led away in handcuffs.
And so this chapter of #MeToo comes to a close. Meanwhile other defendants and their attorneys attempt to make defenses out of thousands of years of male-dominated jurisprudence. CEOs and Supreme Court Justices will now be held accountable for their actions. It should be noted here that while Jesus didn't have a lot to say on the nature of comedy, or the last laugh, he did suggest that the meek shall inherit the earth. Or maybe just a good sized chunk of it in the settlement.
Or maybe the "weaker sex" isn't so meek after all.

Keeping Up

Having a home means that it is your problem if something breaks. If you are a renter, the problem is often solved with a quick call to the manager or a trip downstairs to knock on the door of the super. The most important skill one needs to have to be a renter is communication. Important. Vital, even. That is exactly how I got a new dishwasher installed in my one bedroom apartment back in my bachelor days. A few weeks before I moved out, on my way to California with an achin' in my heart, I had a couple friends over for some celebratory ice cream sundaes. All those months and years of living alone had not afforded me that many dishes, but here I was with more than a few dishes in the sink and a chance at last to use the automatic dishwasher that had never been necessary before. And when I did, the water that poured out from the cracked and dried out seal left an inch of water in my kitchen, and began to soak into the carpet in the hallway and dining room. I called the manager immediately and I went down the stairs to pound on  the maintenance guy's door to tell him that the flood waters were rising.
I had remembered to shut off the dishwasher before I did any of that. Showing off what would be my strong suit as a home owner: common sense. Which is where I found myself once again after I had discovered that those cute little raccoons had been scarfing up all our strawberries. With no one else to turn to, I went to the garage where I kept the tools of my avocation. I put together a hanging pot to keep our fruit out of those clutching claws. I added this triumph to that of the slow flushing toilet in our bathroom I had wrangled into submission a day before and the load of laundry I had completed earlier that day. What a flurry of home management.
When at last I was on my way back inside when my wife came up the stairs behind me and pointed to one. "Are those termites?"
And that's when I wished that I was renting again. But there was no one else to call. This was my moment to head back to the garage and grab the tools that would help me deal with this new problem. On the plus side, the dishwasher was still working. Last time I checked, anyway.

Don't Not Vote

“We get the leaders we vote for. We get the policies we vote for. And when we don't vote, that's when we wind up with government of, by and for other people." This is part of what Michelle Obama had to tell a gymnasium filled with Nevadans, part of her first rally for When We All Vote, the nonprofit voting initiative she launched over the summer. “While some folks are frustrated and tuned out and staying home on Election Day, trust me, other folks are showing up. Democracy continues with or without you.” 
What is she talking about? As a percentage of eligible voters, Hillary Clinton received 28.43%  of all votes compared to Donald Trump’s 27.20%  and Did Not Vote’s 44.37%. That's more than one hundred million Did Not Votes. Nobody wins in a landslide!
And yes, it would be easy enough to paint a circle around this disparity and say that if one candidate or another had all of those votes that there would have been no contest at all, but that's not how the see-saw works. It seems just as likely that those votes would have been split evenly across a disgusted group of individuals too put off by what hangs in the air currently to go to the polls. People who have given up on the Democratic process. People who would rather watch and be disappointed than participate and potentially be disappointed. 
But at least have a horse in the race, right?
“Believe me, I am frustrated, too,” Ms. Obama said. “I am sick of all the chaos and the nastiness of our politics. It’s exhausting and, frankly, it’s depressing. I understand wanting to shut it all out.” She continued: “They’re finding all kinds of ways to keep you at home, hoping that when you hear about all those things, you’ll just give up. Don’t let anybody intimidate you from being a part of this process.”
If nothing else, voting gives us the unalienable right to complain. That's a part of the process that we don't often take the time to fully appreciate. 

When I Was Seventeen

10/1/1979 - Study for Biology Quiz - Talk to Sally
10/2/1979 - Check out new Police album "Regatta De Blanc" - Talk to Sally
10/3/1979 - Band practice after school - buy spark plugs - Talk to Sally
10/4/1979 - Grapes of Wrath Quiz - Get Sally's #
10/5/1979 - Football @ Home/Cherry Creek - Happy Joe's - Call Sally
10/6/1979 - Music lesson - Drive by Sally's house
10/7/1979 - Help in yard - hangout with Jay - Does he know Sally's brother?
10/8/1979 - Computer Lab before school - talk to Sally's brother
10/9/1979 - Talk to counselor about switching Algebra - What section is Sally in?
10/10/1979 - Band practice after school - Try talking to Ann
10/11/1979 - Algebra quiz - study for Biology - Call Ann
10/12/1979 - Football game - Drive to Westminster with Jay and Ann(?)
10/13/1979 - Music lesson - Stop by Ann's house
10/14/1979 - Ann's house for bake sale prep - Buy cookies
10/15/1979 - Bring $10 for uniform cleaning - Drive Ann home
10/16/1979 - Check with Brad - Sally broke up with Dan?
10/17/1979 - Band practice after school - Call Dan
10/18/1979 - Buy Homecoming Tickets - dinner at Ann's house(?)
10/19/1979 - Football @ Home/Aurora Central - Happy Joe's w/Ann
10/20/1979 - Music lesson - Bake sale
10/21/1979 - Call Ann - Already asked Sally to Dance?
10/22/1979 - Dan for breakfast - Ask Sally to Homecoming?
10/23/1979 - New shoes for dance? - Call Sally re: Homecoming
10/24/1979 - Band practice after school - Go by Sally's house
10/25/1979 - Pop Lit. Test - Read Cliff's Notes - Check with Dan
10/26/1979 - Football Game - take Sally
10/27/1979 - Music lesson - Wash car - buy Corsage - Dance
10/28/1979 - Call Ann - Thanks for last minute change
10/29/1979 - Call Dan - Thanks for nothing
10/30/1979 - Drop Algebra - Pick up Selected Topics in Math
10/31/1979 - Band practice after school - Call Shelly

Nature's Wonders

A lifetime ago, my friends and I took a sunset cruise out of Key West. As the boat eased out into the gulf, the skipper was spinning tales of dolphins who came swimming alongside, following him and his crew into deeper waters. Then he started to describe the rays who would leap out of the water, sometimes three or four at a time. It was at this point that the Colorado born and raised landlubber in me began to scoff. Not loudly, but a bit of eye rolling with my buddies. Flying manta rays. Right. At which point heard a splash and looked to my right. Hanging there in the air, a couple feet above the water, was a great leathery flying saucer. It hung there for a moment, just to be certain that I could recognize what I was, in fact, seeing: a manta ray leaping out of the spray. And me sitting there, stunned, with my jaw and camera in my lap.
I have no evidence of that aquatic display, save my memory of the experience.
Last week, I had a similar moment when my wife and I were sitting out on our patio having one last dinner on the deck before fall. We were enjoying cherry tomatoes in our pasta and diced cucumber salad we had grown in our garden. A rustle in the bushes in the far corner of our back yard caught my attention. Poking its nose around the branches of our lemon tree was a raccoon. The beast then clambered down the fence post, followed by another smaller raccoon. Then another. And  another. A mother and her three babies began their slow parade across the stretch behind our lawn. I gestured to my wife, not wanting to scare the wildlife.
"What? Is it Fluffy?" She was referring to the cat that lives across the street. The one who makes a habit of flouncing over to our house, taking Fluffy's own sweet time to desecrate the final resting place of our beloved dog. My wife says that Fluffy is "visiting her friend." I know that Maddie would not agree. Nor would she sit still while a family of rodents trooped through her domain. Still, we sat and stared, caught up in the urban wilderness show. Eventually the little family made crept up into the blackberries on the other side. Which is where it occurred to my wife and I that these furry scoundrels may have been the culprits who had been sneaking into our strawberry patch, harvesting our sweet treats before they were completely ripe.
All just a part of the wonders of nature.
And missing my dog.

The Announcement

A friend and colleague of mine sat down after a busy day of teaching to share some news. She wanted me to be among the first to know that she was pregnant. This was especially nice to hear, since there aren't a lot of people to whom I would immediately ascribe the epithet "mom." She is one of those.
We talked about the tricky first trimester, in which the physical realities of carrying a burgeoning life is still so foreign and many of the physical and emotional swings of this phenomena are felt to their fullest extent. She suggested that she might start her own blog, featuring "things I have thrown up." I suggested it might be best as a photo essay. Perhaps with before and after pictures.
Then the conversation turned to the revelation portion: When to tell anyone that this miracle was taking place. She didn't want to lead anyone on. She didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. Her own, I ventured. And then it became a matter of no surprise. After twelve weeks, it becomes a little more academic. Now you're on the ride and you're starting to mark off weeks and days. And you can start shopping and painting and making decisions that could alter the rest of that life that has only just begun.
And there is still all that poop to worry about. Months and months of it. Someone else's.
Which is where I started to remember the time I spent at a changing table, wrangling the Diaper Genie, and making things fresh but only for a moment. I tried to explain that all that mess is just a part of the package: a package that has so much else to offer that the poop is anecdotal. A widely discussed and repeated anecdote, but anecdote just the same.
The chance to share the tiniest moments with this person that is all your fault is a double-edged sword. The dull side is the responsibility. The worry. The anticipation. The sharp edge is the one that cuts through all that fret and leaves laughter and tears in its wake. Photos that will never capture the whole moment but serve as signposts to the place from whence they came. The opportunity to be one the party planning committee for all those birthdays? Priceless.
I was surprised how much of a contact joy high I carried with me after this announcement. Reminders of when my wife and I had a baby, and how he grew. A pretty amazing trick, with stories to last a lifetime.