Balanced Family

I know why families were created, with all their imperfections. They humanize you. They are made to make you forget yourself occasionally, so that the beautiful balance of life is not destroyed. ~ Anaïs Nin













Happy Birthday little brother. I love you.

What Happened Next

So I went to Peoria to visit my brother and his family. Peoria.

(It might be useful here to read the “One Version of a Family” post dated Wednesday, April 19^th. It’ll fill in the blanks.)

We grew up as city kids. I stayed that way, moving from city to city. He gave it up, moving from city life to the middle of nowhere, which, loosely defined, is Peoria.

The travel wasn’t so bad. I do so enjoy getting out of my warm and cozy bed at 2 A.M in order to start my traveling day. The drive to the airport was insignificant, made up for by the more than significant lines at the ticket counter and security checkpoints. But I’m a well-seasoned traveler, and had a book to read and little carry-on luggage, so I experienced no personal delays. You asked whether or not I saw any racial profiling during this journey – I was completely unaware of any. You see, there were no (NO – as in zero) people of color at my airport. None. When I arrived in Detroit, I saw one or two people with skin darker than my own, but I was rushing from gate to gate, so have no idea how they fared. And of course no one of any color other than pale pinkish white was going to Peoria.

Neither of my nephews recognized me when I came in the door. The eldest is 12 and hadn’t seen me since he was 5, and the youngest is 8, so can’t be expected to remember me from his 1^st birthday. My beloved niece is older, the product of an earlier marriage. She’s the reason I acquiesced and traveled to Peoria – I adore her, and hate that I live so far away from her. She’s nearly an adult now, tall, strong and beautiful.

For a while, we were all on good behavior, but eventually everyone settled down into standard patterns. My brother and I easily revert to tweaking reactions from one another, but it’s relatively benign. No one broke a chair over anyone’s head this time. There wasn’t even much tension when I explained to him that it would be broader minded of him to at least acknowledge other points of view different from his own. (This was a discussion on how religion has changed his life. Not that I don’t accept the fact that it’s *possible* that his god helps him out when he needs extra strength to turn a stuck oil filter, but I would like him to acknowledge the possibility that it’s a fluke. This is, perhaps, just me poking at him to see what happens. I am a brat.) I even found the strength to walk away when he tossed out bigotted salvos about homosexuals and racial minorities, allowing myself only the briefest of disdainful glances as I shook my head in disgust. I understand that he doesn’t believe his own words, but is just trying to poke at me until my head spins off. But since I still had several days of my visit left, I tried to keep my spinning to a minimum and to spread it out over the several days I was there. If I don’t spin, he will (probably) stop trying to get me to. Perhaps. It’s an old game. He tweaks me, I tweak him. There’s continuity, familiarity and safety in old patterns.

The kids and I watched videos of Shrek and Dr. Doolittle. Video games and cap guns are everywhere. I suppose this should be disturbing to me since I haven’t owned a television in many years, and have spent my life with my nose stuck in some book or other. But the simple truth is that they all seem to love each other. Affection abounds. You just can’t get around it. The kids and the grownups actually seem to like one another, and love is in the air. Even the golden retriever smiles. Very Norman Rockwell America.

Of course, Norman Rockwell only painted heterosexual white people.

Got Any Change?

They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself. ~Andy Warhol

October 22

Drip
Drop
Trickle
Plash

Ruby
Red
Drizzle
Lash

Black
Blue
Shiver
Ash

Soft
Still
Quiver
Sh!

Dead.

Courage

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. ~Anaïs Nin

Growing Pains - for TDE

She shattered.
Scattered on a twister-wind,
Like a freight train casualty.
Flattened.

When the consequences of past, present, future
Conquored,
He gifted her the power to stand,
In turn fixing, comforting, ignoring, jabbing,
An illustration of his own miraculous strength.

Sometimes they longed for who they used to be,
With each other. By themselves.
In the old times they clung to each other alone.
Scared,
Like flowers dying in the rain.

As time whirled past them,
They reached,
The grappled,
They grasped,
They expanded.
They grew.

Together.

Apart.

They Became.

Finally they loved.
Really loved.
Each other. The others. Themselves.

Another Version of Family

Family violence is a global and pernicious problem. It takes many forms, and affects all spheres of society and all aspects of human development. The links between violence in the family and social, structural and political violence are often overlooked, and the problems therefore dealt with in isolation. Not only that, but family violence is frequently denied as a problem, but until it is openly acknowledged and tackled it will not be eradicated. ~http://www.bahai.org.uk/dp/evif.htm

Survivor

Are you a “survivor”
simply because you outlive them?

Does longevity make you the winner?

They stay, like it or not.
Dead or alive.

They stay.

They’re the operating system.
Can you re-write the software?

Bound

Red shadow dancers
Drift
Through my daydreams
Like ribbon
Winding through the empty spaces
In my thoughts.

In and out
The dancing red ribbon
Cinches tight
Keeping me in bondage.

Becoming a Wise Woman

Somewhere in your mid-forties, if you paid attention to your life, you may have accumulated enough experiences to have gained a litle wisdom. This mostly because you've made so many mistakes so many times you finally get it and stop repeating them - maybe. A wise woman has learned to cherish her mind. She reads, she listens and challenges her mind with new information, new ways of thinking, new experiences. She learns to form opinions of her own that are worth listening to. The fact is, she's an avid student, hungry for all life can teach her and she's confident that she can learn anything she puts her mind to. A wise woman hones skills, first by learning to listen more carefully; she listens to her own voice, then to her body and finally, making efforts to suspend judgement, to other voices. A wise woman is stronger than ever, and softer at the same time. She moves furniture and she cuddles. ~Holly Fordyce

Autumn

The years will take part of him from her.
Some of him will fall off her
naturally,
like leaves.

In time
some of him will turn into other men,
and later
to lines below her eyes.

She'll lose a lot.
But even so,
I know she'll keep the sound of him
calling
her name.

Life's Gifts

I saw a woman sleeping. In her sleep she dreamt Life stood before her, and held in each hand a gift -- in the one Love, in the other Freedom. And she said to the woman, "Choose!"

And the woman waited long: and she said, "Freedom!"

And Life said, "Thou hast well chosen. If thou hadst said, 'Love,' I would have given thee that thou didst ask for; and I would have gone from thee, and returned to thee no more. Now, the day will come when I shall return. In that day I shall bear both gifts in one hand.

I heard the woman laugh in her sleep." ~Olive Scheiner