Melting Pot

A lot of things on my mind today. Posts and comments of late got me thinking. And yesterday's range of emotions made for a strangely calm and clear-thinking today. It's a bit like my post migraine sense. I never see things quite as well as at that time. Or maybe I should say quite as plainly.

As the news spreads about my youngest son's news of a child on the way, I get plenty of opinions tossed my way. (No doubt he does, too.) He's eighteen. The unanimous response is along the lines of, "Oh he has no idea what he's done to screw up his life now. Having a child will throw a wrench into his plans like none other!" (I guess I'm into hardware metaphors today.)

I consider myself a realist. But I'm a little too optimistic in some eyes to be considered a REAL realist. I think optimism is very realistic. After all, the sun does rise again every single day. I see no reason to take that for granted. It's a beautiful thing, and I count on it. In my darkest days, just knowing that has gotten me through many, many times.

When I discovered I was pregnant with this same boy, I was devastated. Not only was my marriage in a wretched state, but I wasn't even sure if he was my husband's child! (I'm not going to bother explaining that.) I did not want this child. Every day I woke up disappointed that I had not had a miscarriage.

One day, while driving over a bridge, I thought, "I can just turn my wheel and drive over the edge and it will all be over. Easy." At that same moment, a song was playing on the radio. One I'd heard a million times. It's called "Signs." From the seventies. Just at that point, I heard, "I made up my own little sign. It said, 'Thank you Lord for thinkin 'bout me. I'm alive and doin fine!'" Hit me like a ton of bricks (hardware simile). I think I even said out loud. "What the hell am I thinking? I AM alive and doing fine!" From that moment on, I was over it. Brady was born and I was, of course, overwhelmed with love and appreciation for him. Just as I was with the others.

So back to Brady's pending fatherhood. We were talking about this negativity that's being tossed around. I swear, I think people want me to tell Brady every time I talk to him, "okay.. but don't forget... from now on.. your life sucks!" They are kinda disappointed that I'm not doing that! As my dad said on the subject, "It's gonna be whatever you make of it." Brady is made of strong stuff. He does better than roll with the punches, he fuckin hits back!

Now Brady wants to get a tattoo of that line in the song. :)

She's Two!

The blog world is full of dark messages today. And no wonder.

That was a bad day, 9/11. (I'm sorta into understatements.) I was at my friend, Betty Jean's house. I was staying with her to help her take care of her grandson. I was getting ready for work and happened to walk by the tv just when the tower's were being attacked. She was sitting on the couch, stunned. Time did stand still. It was shocking. I'll never forget what she said. "I hope it wasn't white people who did this." ?????? What the fuck? God love her. She used to say some backward things. I said, "What in the hell are you talking about?" She said, "You know... like the other guys... the unibomber and those kind of guys. It seems worse when we Americans are attacking ourselves." I said, "Betty, I know this comes as a shock, but there are lots of Americans who are not white." She giggled in her little schoolgirl way. "Oh yeah." I miss her silly self. She lost the battle to ovarian cancer the following year. It's hard for me to think of the events of that day without thinking of her.

But the most shocking thing, to me ~ the thing that made it hard to concentrate on work that day, that made it impossible to do much but stare at the computer screen ~ was the idea that people could be so intentionally destructive. (Gosh, Teri, have you ever heard of war?) I didn't see it as an attack necessarily on Americans. There were people in that building who were not Americans. And all of us came from somewhere else, except the Native Americans, right? I saw it as an attack on mankind. It was pure evil, through and through. No matter where you stand politically.

The response of the nation I can only describe as horrifying. The sudden view of any mideastern person as "the enemy." The sudden desire to give up our freedoms, right and left, in the interest of "security." We felt powerless. We felt as if SOMEONE had to do SOMETHING! So, no matter the request, we were there. Even if it comes down to traveling with just the shirt on my back (no pants or shoes) I'm ready to do it! JUST MAKE IT SO THIS WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN! What a bunch of dolts we are. As if any of that has any effect on whether or not this will happen again.

So here we are. Time marches on.

Two years ago, my granddaughter was due to be born around this date. People almost unanimously said, "Oh! I hope she's not born on 9/11!!" And I'd say, "Why?" They would normally just say, "um.... I dunno.... just seems like that would be bad!"

I said, "I think it's a good thing to have new life come to remind us that it doesn't end there." And so it was. She was born on 9/11/04. I'm pretty sure she's not the only one.

Recently, I was reading about the Biship Pine. A forest fire can sweep through thousands of trees and cause great destruction. How in the world can we replace so many trees? The seeds. As it turns out, "the tight-fisted pinecones only open in the heat of a fire." There is always a provision made for life.

So we remember the dead and celebrate the living. Can't do one without the other. Would make for a terribly imbalanced life.

So to celebrate BrynLeigh Jade at two, I'll repost the poem I wrote for her just after she was born:

Sweet light that shines from those bright eyes,
Makes heaven wish for bigger skies.
The sun could warm the darkest place,
Yet still not match that precious face.
And in her orbit, gorgeous moon,
Seeks to make a dim world swoon.
But all her efforts pale in vain
When those small sighs our hearts obtain.