Oops. I blew it. I looked at the moon rising over the lake last night and thought it was the Full Cold Moon, so I sent pictures around to friends. Well. . . it serves as a good "heads up," I guess. Tonight, look up. And if you can't see the moon where you are, don't worry, Queen Mab will surely disturb your dreams.
Mine were quite disturbing last night. Want to hear? What? No?
O.K. Then I'll tell you about my day. Stop it. I have to say something. I took my mother to Costco midmorning. She used the big-ass cart as her walker. Slowly we went, inch by inch. She has cataracts and wears thick bifocals now, so she is moving her head all around looking at things. It takes her awhile. And so, to keep from clogging up the aisles even more, I walked behind her. Once in awhile she would ask me to put something in the cart.
Costco is big. My mother is small. We picked up only a few items and argued some when she wanted to buy things we still have plenty of.
On our way to the checkout line, a woman using a walker looked at me and smiled shaking her head.
"I don't know how you do it," she said, then, still grinning, "Not me."
WTF?
I guess we were pretty obvious.
Afterward, we went across county lines to a bank on one of the busiest highways in the area, but the sun was shining and the sky was blue and the traffic was flowing nicely.
The bank business didn't take long. The bank fellow asked my mother if he could get her some coffee or water. My mother, being a hillbilly, never ever ever turns down anything that is free.
"I'll have some coffee," she said.
I was shaking my head. "Mom, we are going just across the street for lunch."
She was pissed, but she was determined. "O.K. Just water."
The fellow got up and went into the break room and brought back a little cup. My mother put it to her lips like it was mana from heaven.
"You know, you can just call to renew a CD," the bank fellow offered.
"I know," my mother nodded, "but we were on this side of town, so. . . ."
No we weren't!
After the bank, it was time for lunch, so we went to a Jewish deli across the street. I only get to go there once every couple of months and I always get the same thing, a combination pastrami and corned beef on rye. The thing is awesome. Comes with a salty slice of pickle and Cole slaw.
We got situated in a booth and I folded up my mother's walker and stored it next to the baby seats. The waitress brought us menus. We ordered drinks.
Mom was looking at the menu. It was big.
"What do you want?" I asked her.
"I don't know," she said.
"Then we are going to be here a long time. You know what the problem with most people is? They don't know what they want."
When the waitress brought our drinks, she asked, "Do you need a little more time?"
I nodded sadly.
My mother settled on a Caesar salad and chicken wrap.
"Really?"
I tried talking to my mother, but she couldn't hear me, so I gave up. I didn't want to shout to her and ruin everyone else's lunch.
I finished my sandwich with glee. My mother picked at half her wrap and asked for a box.
"Why did you order that?"
"I didn't know."
When we got back to her house, I carried in the purchases and told her I was going to take a nap. I was beat. In truth, I didn't feel very well. And so I lay down at one and didn't get up until three. I had to dash. I needed to get home and get my car out of the driveway. The roofers were gong to deliver the roof tiles the next day. I wanted to take a long walk, and I needed to wash my hair.
When I got to my house, the tiles were already on the roof. Hmm. Maybe they would finish up in a day. I put on my walking clothes and headed out. I really didn't feel good, and I was slow, but as I walked, I began to perk up a bit.
By the time I'd walked the 3.5 miles, opened mail, got the rent check, and showered, it was getting close to dark. I moved my car to the apartment and packed my bag into my mother's car and headed off. That is when I saw the moon coming up over the lake.
Yesterday morning, I sent this to my old college roommate.
Tom Robbins was "required reading" when we were in college. I have no idea how his work holds up, but I have a good idea. Travis and I have talked about how much of what we read by Jim Harrison or Thomas McGuane and some others is impossible to re-read, and that is the difference between fiction and literature, I think. You get more out of a second reading of a work of literature and less out of a work of fiction. The test of literature is in the re-reading.
I guess I've read a fair bit of fiction along with the rest, but, I tell myself, at least it was "hip" fiction.
Travis and I agreed that it was worth going back to re-read Shakespeare. Of course.
And so. . . the holidays march on. My mother was happy to get out, she said. "I felt like a human being." I will try to get her out more often then. More for her, less for me.
They light the Christmas tree in the park tomorrow night. The Bach Choir performs tonight. The Tiffany windows from the Morse Museum will placed and lit all about. The Boulevard will be blocked off and the crowds will mill about. Saturday is the Christmas Parade.
We will be in shorts. Sorry.
If you like bundling up to go outside, this is not the place for you. But I am a lazy southern boy from Ohio. This life suits the heck out of me. Still. . . I like the idea of a snowy Christmas. . . somewhere.
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