6 or 7 (a Talking with Bob interlude)

My friend Bob sighed. Bob always sighed whenever he read the newspaper so I didn’t bother to pay much attention to it. “Man, I wish some of these guys would get out of the Presidential race, there’s almost too many of them to keep track of.”

I shrugged. “C’mon, Bob,” I said, “what’s the big deal? There’s only like 6 or 7 of them, right? What’s so hard?”

Bob put his paper and turned to face. The incredulous look on his face let me know that I had just said something stupid that he was going to need to correct. “6 or 7?”

I shrugged again. “Yeah,” I insisted, “there ain’t that many of them. The Democrats have Bill Clinton’s wife, that black dude, and the guy with the hair and the teeth. The Republicans have Mayor Rudi, that cranky old guy, the Mormon fella, and, sooner or later, my pal Fred.” I paused and looked at Bob. “Seems easy enough to me, Bob.”

“Michael,” Bob as patiently as he could, “those aren’t the only candidates. Haven’t you seen all the other people onstage during the debates?”

I frowned. “Well I don’t really listen to the debates that closely but from what I can tell those other folks never get to say much. I thought they were just there to make the stage look fuller. Are you sure they’re real candidates?”

Bob started to say something but, for once, he seemed to not have a comeback. “Well,” he said finally, “given the way the media treats them, you sort of a have a point. It’s a moronic point…but not completely incorrect.”

I felt quite pleased with myself. “Well, odds were that I would get something right sooner or later, Bob.”

Bob sighed again…that one was for me but I didn’t mind….and went back to reading the paper while I stared out the window idly humming the theme from Law and Order.

Moondance

It had been a blind date…a date that both of them had to be cajoled to go through with…and it was, when all was said and done, magical.

They had smiled tentatively when they first met…sizing each other up in the warm light of a quiet Mexican café…and then they had started to talk.

And their talk became like jazz…sweet and soulful and soaring, blending together and slipping apart and blending together into something new and enticing.

And their smiles became like dawn’s light…bright and open, welcoming and hopeful with just a wee bit of wistful, time-worn wariness.

And the world fell away and the time crept along and flew by…bending and singing like magic…like jazz…like sweet dawn’s light.

And in the night they walked…talking about everything and talking about nothing at…walked until they were at the beach…windswept and set quietly aglow by the golden light of the bright full moon. And, with out needing to say a word to each other, they flowed together and danced…the wind and the surf played heavenly music and they danced in the salty air and on the cool blanket of sand.

And it was like magic.

And it was like jazz.

And it was like dawn’s light in the golden light of a bright lover’s moon.

They both started humming the song that came into their hearts at the exact same moment and they stopped and laughed. And then they shared what they hoped...in both their hearts of heart...would be the first of a million kisses.

And then they started to dance again.

It was a marvelous night…for possible new love…for magic…for jazz…and dawn’s light and moonlight.

It was a marvelous night for a moondance.

- thanks and apologies to VM -

I Still Believe

Despite the fact that our world sometimes seems bent upon being as violent and venal…as foreboding and faithless…as cold and cruel as it possibly can be, I still believe. The lessons I learned from my mother and her mighty heart inform my worldview now as always and thus, a certain affinity for cynicism notwithstanding, I still believe.

I still believe in magic…the everyday magic that shines in the songs and the shy giggles of schoolchildren and from the souls of people who smile and laugh with knowing, sparkling light in their eyes and warm, welcoming joy in their hearts; the everyday magic of babies gurgling happily in your protective arms; the everyday magic of knowing that, even in your darkest hours, that there are people who love you fiercely and eternally.

I still believe that people are, any and all evidence to the contrary, are more naturally drawn to be subjects of the better angels of their natures even though they sometimes allow their baser impulses to run unchecked. I still believe in always trying to do the right thing not because someone is watching…or because of some dire consequence for not doing so…but because it is the right thing.

I still believe that Dr. King was right and that the content of my character is infinitely more important than the color of my skin. I still believe that our differences are few and negligible and that our similarities are myriad and undeniable.

I still believe that there is a power binding us all one to each other and each to everybody and everything in the Universe as we know and understand it. I believe that whatever name we give this power it makes us an indelible part of the boundless many even as we are each a unique one. It makes us strong even when we feel weak. It makes us all connected to…and responsible for…everyone else. I believe that faith should be a guide and not a crutch….that compassion should flow freely…and empathy should be the default position whenever we’re interacting with anybody else.

I still believe in music…in the power of music to caress the soul and to shout out to eternity. I believe that there’s nothing sweeter than children guilelessly singing sweet and simple songs as they discover wonders of the world that we’ve long since taken for granted. I believe that dancing is the inalienable right of every man, woman, and child regardless of their ability to find and keep the beat. And I believe that voices of angels have to sound like Louis Armstrong, Emmylou Harris, and Aretha Franklin.

I believe there’s unquenchable wonder in being young and there’s gentle glory in growing gracefully and proudly old. I believe in love…chaste and carnal…and expressing that love to best of our abilities each and every chance we get.

I still believe that hugs and kisses and tender touches, like smiles and laughter and beautiful songs, were meant to be shared often and abundantly. I still believe that it’s okay to cry when you need to and that being sad is a good thing as long as you wallow in it overmuch. I still believe in kind words and reflexive reaching out and having strong shoulders for others to lean on. I still believe in teddy bears and sentimental greeting cards and little gifts given “just because”.

I still believe in the power of words and the joys of daydreaming and in indulging fanciful imagines whenever and wherever possible. I still believe in Superman and Captain America, in truth and justice and what should always be the American way. And I still believe that there is indeed nothing funny about peace, love, and understanding.

I still believe that our journey through life should be informed by a never-ending thirst to learn and understand everything we possibly can or otherwise we’re just wasting the precious gift of awareness.

I still believe that everybody should walk in the sunshine as often as they can. I still believe that everybody should dance in rain showers as often as they can as well. I still believe that clouds paint soft tapestries for anybody and everybody who takes the time to really see them and that breezes like to play mischievous games with anybody and everybody who takes the time to play along. I believe in stopping to smell the roses and in waltzing in vibrant fields of wildflowers and in playing tag with carefree waves on cool and windswept shores.

I believe that our dogs love us (no matter who we are) and that our cats do too even though they would never admit it.

I still believe in the true meaning of Christmas and what should be the true meaning of Valentine’s Day and in giving thanks for the wonders of life, liberty, and love each and every day. I believe that the universe will offer up wonders beyond our imaginations to our children’s children and to their children.

And I still believe that Pluto is a full-fledged planet no matter what anybody says.

In our bittersweet, but still utterly amazing, world…a world that sometimes seems filled with too much tragedy and tumult and not nearly enough faith, hope, or charity, I still believe. My hardworking mother taught me that, though I think she might deny it, and thus I know it’s absolutely the right thing to do.

Brother-Man and Sister-Woman: A Fable

Sister-Woman liked the view from behind her barricades and so she stayed there as much as she could. It was easier than the alternative. She stayed behind her barricades looking out at the world through a haze of wariness and cigarette smoke and waiting for something she couldn’t quite put on finger on.

Brother-Man thought of himself as hero and he carried himself thusly. It was a gentler madness and his compatriots let him embrace it without trying to draw him back to the norms of the crowd. He went through life looking for wrongs to right and damsels to save and feeling quite pleased with himself for his righteousness.

Sister-Woman wasn’t sure what to make of Brother-Man when he approached her barricades looking for a way to break them down and “free” her. She watched…with equal measures of fear, fascination, and foreboding…as he, smiling and seemingly sure, carefully examined her barricades looking for a place where they might give.

Brother-Man wasn’t sure what to make of Sister-Woman when he approached her forbidding barricades but he decided that she was woman in need of rescue and that, of course, was his destined role and so he set about the task. He wondered what she was thinking as she watched him…smoking and looking at him with seemingly dispassionate curiosity…but that didn’t deter him from trying.

Sister-Woman found herself strangely moved by Brother-Man’s valiant attempts to break down her barricades. She put out her cigarette and reached out and pushed. A small space in her barricades gave way and Sister-Woman looked into Brother-Man’s eyes and almost, but not quite, smiled.

Brother-Man held his hand out looking to free her from what he saw as her prison…it’s what heroes were supposed to do.

Sister-Woman held out her hand looking to see if life outside her barricades was something that she really wanted to go back to.

Brother-Man and Sister-Woman joined hands through the space and held on for a small eternity. And then, tentatively, each of them took a step forward.

It was a start.

Hope

Hope is always singing…always dancing…always laughing and smiling…it’s just the way hope is. Hope is my hero and I want to be more like her…always singing…always dancing…always laughing and smiling…but too often I am not. I am sometimes more comfortable in my dour shadows than I am in the bright sunshine but that’s okay…Hope loves me just the same.

Hope likes to whisper in my ear and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I always try to believe her but sometimes the darker angels of my human nature hold sway and I find that I cannot. Thankfully, Hope is patient and she always waits for me to come around and she always welcomes me with open arms and soothing touches.

Hope always leads me forward...she has the power and persistence to push past my fears and foibles and show me the way to the paths where love, light, and laughter hold court. Hope…always singing…always dancing…always laughing and smiling…swears that she will always love me…swears that she will always be there when I need her. Even in my darkest, saddest moments that assurance makes the path from here towards the light that much easier to continue down.