9AM in writing lab, after pancakes, coffee, walk with family on an Edenic morning. As we were walking, guy pulled up, shiny red buggy jeep type thingy, window down, smiled at me, said, “Great family walk!” I smiled and said thank you, gave him a thumbs up, and he drove off. I assume it was a friendly act. I think my kids put a spell on people. Everyone’s nicer, more vulnerable and open when they’re around. People start revealing things to me about their life, their kids, or about not having any, wanting some. I notice the difference when I’m by myself, people look at me less, smile less.
I think it’s more than that too. It’s the neighborhood I live in. My Dad grew up a block north of us, and during his time it was an idealistic slice of American pie. The eighties and nineties brought all the suburban sprawl, and typical exodus of resources and value from the city. The east-side got a reputation for being rougher, dirtier. I think people in the neighborhood see my family and I and it reminds them of this idyllic past they hold in their minds. Is it really such an exceptional sight, a Mom and Dad, a stroller, three kids, a dog, beautiful late summer Saturday morning, alive? Sort of scary if it is a novelty, but I remain proud my unit can inspire such a reaction.
Truth, it makes me a little suspicious. I can’t help but wonder what the nice man would think about the slush-pile or other subversive tendencies of the author. That I’m an apostate Catholic, anarchist, mystic, that likes to howl at the moon and spin in circles. That those boys he sees frolicking are, in the future, savage renaissance men, being pushed into the world armed with the licks of Hendrix, the words and rhythm of Tupac, the tutelage of Malcolm X and a black Jesus. That I’m a no-voter. That I believe a Dark Lord, Sauron type thing rules the world, and that most people, including the author, suffer under its web of illusion. I wonder what he would say about that?
Maybe he’d dig it, maybe he wouldn’t. The sky was so large, the white morning clouds cut across it, giving space and dimension. Big skies can make you feel like a giant, the world something you roll around on, teetering like a bear on a beach ball.
Got stuck on this debate between Cenk Uygur and Dinesh D’souza, don’t have will to summarize for you, watch yourself for curious and challenging social-political considerations. The world has gone mad, but we are waking up. Be gentle, kind, and Art. 11:18AM, time to edit.