Archive | September, 2012

Wordish Wednesday, positivity edition


Automated affirmation, Albany, CA.

My Pops always says he’s an optimist mainly because the alternative is so much more unattractive.  He’s also always been convinced that it came down to a decision on  his part.  For decades I fought with him over this: could he really be saying that our outlook could simply be re-routed, that the force of our will could redirect the impact of events, as simply and decisively as a railroad switch?  Well, yes: that is what he was saying. And though I think he left out a few helpful substantiating details, more and more I find myself in agreement with him. And not a moment too soon.

Everyday care of my kids has rapidly filled the breach the sudden loss of my job opened up a month ago (step aside, babysitter, Baba’s back in the driver’s seat!).  And though this throws a roller skate or two in the path toward my next Right Livelihood, there’s no disputing that children are grounding in a way nothing else is.  Per usual, I need them every iota as much as they need me.  Match made in mama’s ovaries, and in heaven.

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In the tunnel, Codornices Park, Berkeley, CA.

She plunges into the dark of a tunnel with the same unflinching determination, the same open fascination for discovery that she brings to the cold of a mountain lake.  This tunnel joins the Rose Garden on the one end (it was one of her namesake grandmother’s favorite spots in town) and a much-beloved kiddie park on the other.

Helps that there’s a light at the end of this one.  ‘Spose that’s the defining element of a tunnel: they do in fact end, at some point.  Note to self.




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Daddad taking namesake grandson for a spin, Castro Valley, CA.

[A story unfolded after we exited these doors: it will follow soon. Meanwhile, I could’t resist sharing the image.]



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Mom’s passing, 19 years later (Weekend bonus shot, 09.02.12)

Pops and family, Castro Valley, CA.


The summer of 1993 I was slowly adjusting to a breakup (not my choice; the axe fell just outside a Lesbian Avengers meeting in NYC).   My mother spent that summer in a convalescent hospital, ostensibly healing from first one, then another bone break earlier that spring. She was a heavyweight and older woman, unaccustomed to advocating for herself anywhere as fiercely as she advocated for others.  These were the reasons, I decided later, that no doctor had valued her body enough to thoroughly examine the x-rays of her bones as of her first bone break.  She had had a double mastectomy just three years before, and the bones that broke (we would find, posthumously) were textbook bones for a breast cancer metastasis in a woman her age.

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