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Green army rising up.
It was Miz K, not me, who first noticed all the daffodil pips squeaking their way out of the black wet soil around my porch.
Everything smells fresh -- moist and damp and earthy. Sunroof open, seats warm from the sun. A walk through the 'hood to visit Miz Amy. Kids on bikes, kids on scooters, kids on Big Wheels. Two skater girls practicing their board moves (and bored moves) in the street.
Spring's ready to bust out. She's making a break for it, and I'm ready with the getaway car.
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OK, this was weird.
--edited for content --
When I arrived at the office Monday morning, my voicemail light was blinking. I don't get many outside calls; those I do get are usually angry customers. So that blinking light always prompts a long internal sigh as a rock forms in the pit of my stomach.
Only this voicemail wasn't from an angry customer. It was from one of my very first boyfriends -- the first one to give me jewelry. Sixth grade. Fabian Rios. A jet black bowl cut and a smile wider than his face. He came from a hard part of town, we all knew that, but I didn't know until much later, long after the post-high-school diverging of paths, just how difficult his home life was. I only remember he was always so happy, so sweet.
Nearly a year ago I saw him at our 20th high school reunion. Fresh out of the state pen, and so high he barely knew where he was. We talked for about 10 minutes; an hour later he came back, shrieking, "Oh my God! Becki! You're Becki!" He only showed up because he was with some girl at her 10-year reunion, and someone reminded him, "Hey, Fabe, y'know, your class is having a reunion, too."
Now he's getting divorced and moving out of his home, and in the process of packing up his life he found the business card I'd given him at the reunion, and he seemed to remember that he'd totally promised to call.
When I returned his message he sounded sober, normal -- upbeat, even. I'd caught him on his daily walk, he said. He's days away from moving back to Kearney, from Omaha. Starting a factory job, $14 an hour. Maybe he'll go back to school -- computers.
I hope life ends up being kind to him.
The "jewelry" was a skateboard pendant. The wheels really worked. Most everyone had one, along with a satin jacket and a comb with a big handle sticking out the back pocket of their Jordache jeans. We used to "ride" on them with our fingers; we used to race each other.
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In praise of ...
I'm trying to make a habit of randomly telling people something good every day. Started as a work thing ... just to compliment coworkers on a job well done. We catch so much outside flack, and we criticize ourselves constantly. The many things we do right, much less spectacularly, often seem to go unnoticed.
It's all selfish, though. What we project comes back to us. When I pat someone else's back, I feel better about myself.
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Universal truths.
One of those sometimes funny, sometimes annoying list emails that make their way around, this one from my cousin Russ:
1. A day without sunshine is like night.
2. On the other hand, you have different fingers.
3. 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.
4. 99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
5. Remember, half the people you know are below average.
6. He who laughs last, thinks slowest.
7. Depression is merely anger without much enthusiasm.
8. The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese from the trap.
9. Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have.
10. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
11. Change is inevitable, except from vending machines.
12. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.
13. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand.
14. OK, so what's the speed of dark?
15. When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
16. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.
17. How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?
18. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
19. What happens if you get scared half to death, twice?
20. Light travels faster than sound. That's why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
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Opiate of the masses.
Conor Oberst was guest VJ on the "All Songs Considered" podcast last week. In talking about how soothing he finds M. Ward's music, he used the phrase "aural Xanax." Love that.
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Currently hearing: Miles Davis, "In A Silent Way" (to be taken aurally, as needed)
Currently reading: "The Sun Also Rises"
Currently watching: "The Sheltering Sky"
So I'm in Paris and Spain with Hemingway, and in Africa with Paul Bowles via John Malkovich .. in short, I'm in heaven ...
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