The Crooked Shall Be Made Straight

To the children: We believe you!

I finally had to turn off the TV.  If I see one more image of Michael Jackson surrounded by body guards - tall, husky fellas whose job was to protect him - I just might projectile vomit right onto the screen. 

Just what did he need to be protected from?  He used his money and power and fame to get away with molesting children, and who was protecting them?  WHO IS PROTECTING THEM NOW?

I, for one, know just how crazy making it is to have someone in power abuse you and get away with it.  It's maddening.  It causes you to doubt your own experience.  It makes you double over inside and withdraw into a knot of bewilderment and horror, especially when the abuser calls it LOVE.  And if you don't know true love, it can really suck you into a state of mind that may very well destroy any sense of self or well-being you have.  But this isn't about me.

The boys, the ones Michael Jackson molested, are no doubt horrified at how their abuser walked away seemingly unscathed.  They are probably questioning their own reality, what really happened to them, because for fuck's sake, the whole wide world seems to think Michael Jackson was some kind of saint. 

Certainly, MJ was a disturbed individual who was a victim himself, but that does not excuse the way he preyed on innocent children.  And just because he wasn't convicted doesn't mean he didn't do it!  He did, and he called it love. He used a soft, "sweet" voice and proclaimed that he loved those boys and then he tried to manipulate the world into thinking that those of us who could see straight through his perverted ways were dead wrong about him.  Well, we weren't wrong! 

And yesterday, today, and tomorrow, we must not forget that he victimized and harmed children.  He used those boys' need for REAL love and attention, and seduced them right into a web of lies, deceit and perversion.  And then he made them feel crazy for thinking he'd done anything less than love them.  That's sick!

And those boys will never get over that!

So, today, I'm going to stand with Cheri,  Blognut,  and Amber, and form a virtual circle around those children MJ preyed upon and say, "WE HEARD YOU.  WE BELIEVED YOU.  WE WILL ALWAYS BELIEVE YOU!"

"It's so good, I hate myself."

I went to see the movie, DEPARTURES, by myself tonight.  It was a beautiful film, and it will go on my list as an all time favorite. But I wept like a baby.  I even shamelessly wiped my nose with the sleeves of my sweatshirt. That's how hard I was crying and snot-ing all over myself.

It was so lovely I felt like my heart was expanding inside my chest.  It's a Japanese film about ceremony and family and loss, AND how the bodies of loved ones are prepared for their final "departure." 

I was so captivated by the process and the grief of the loved ones and the beauty of the life cycle that it actually hurt physically. 

And THEN there was the part about the main character and how he couldn't remember his dad's face (the dad had left the family when the main character was just 6 years old), and that part of the plot nearly did me in!  But in a good way, if that's possible.  It was particularly meaningful, given what I wrote recently about not remembering my dad. 

Man, this movie is stellar.  The mix of beauty, sadness, grief, love, and humor is perfect -- the acting exquisite!   The music score and the cinematography are equally breathtaking! 

I felt as if this film swept me up (or was it away) in some very surreal and beautifully poignant and powerful way.

And when I walked outside and into the moonlight, my entire body trembled with my own, now fully triggered, grief. 

So, I did what any normal person would do, I went to Target and walked the aisles aimlessly until the store closed. 

It only cost me $194.00!

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PS:  If you want to know what the title of this post means, you have to go see this film! 

PPS:  This film so enraptured (Is that the right word?  That's what it felt like.) me that I wasn't even able to take notes.

I'm leaving on a jet plane (soon!)

(I'll be in Pohang, right on the coast!)

 

So next week, I'm off to Korea for the month of July.  I'm going with this program of which I'm a fellow.  They invited me, and are paying to get me there, and then paying me MORE just for going -- so, while it's not Italy, it is a trip, and I do love to travel (mostly)!

I'll be implementing a creative writing program with other fellows from the same program. 

My time in the blogosphere will be limited, I'm guessing.  I may post regularly as I'm expected to keep a journal, but I don't know how much I will be able to read and comment while I'm there.

I have a long list of things to do to get ready!  (Blech.)

I'll keep you posted! 

I may actually have full blown anxiety attacks if I can't text while I'm there.  I'm going tomorrow to see how the phone thing works while one is in another country!  ;-) 

The Bronte Sisters are Wussies and Apparently, So Am I!

Picture this.  I'm all snuggled in bed.  Surrounded by pillows.  One under my head.  One on each side of me.  Emily Bronte is sprawled out on top of the pillow on my left.  I turn off the evening news and click on my bedside lamp so I can read for a while.

Emily jumps off the bed. 

I think nothing of it.  She often leaves when I begin to read.  It means I'm done petting her. 

I call her back, patting the bed with my hand while making a kissing sound with puckered lips.  She usually comes right back, but this time she doesn't. 

I glance over to see where she is and discover her hunched down, FROZEN, and STARING at this!

That is one CREEPY LOOKING son of a gun! 

Evidently, Blognut finds scary shit on the beach in Mexico, and I find it on the floor in my bedroom! 

I immediately go into full force FREAK OUT! 

How the hell did you get in here?

I get out of bed (I REALLY COULD USE A HUSBAND UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES!) and chase Emily away.  I don't want that damn thing going under my bed.  It'll be all over then. 

Shit.

I rush around the living room.  What do I do?  How do I get that bugger out of here?

I'm doing a bit of a heebie/jeebie jig by now. 

In a fleeting moment of clarity, I know what to do first.

I flit over to my purse, which is on the dining room table.  I root around for my camera, pull it out, turn it on, and snap a few "memory maker" photos of this little f*cker! 

The camera flashes, and it doesn't move!

I think maybe it's dead.  Wouldn't that be lucky? 

Well, yeah, it would, but when have I ever been LUCKY?

Next, I run into the kitchen and get a plastic bag, thinking I'm going to pick up the sucker and toss it outside. 

I bend over, inch the bag right down over the little guy, and prepare to pounce!  As soon as I touch it, IT MOVES! 

Insert a series of profanities HERE!

I squeal, drop the bag, and run into the living room squirming around like I have to pee. 

Charlotte is now on the scene.  She is tentative at first, but then decides to bat at the damn thing.  It runs behind the bedroom door and emerges looking like this.

So, you know how I have someone ELSE do my laundry?  Evidently, I NEED someone to SWEEP for me, too!  But that's beside the point.  So not important right now because I'm totally flipping out!  

"I hope you're not allergic!" I say to the little f*cker! 

"Thanks fer dustin' while you was back there!  Obviouslee, you desire ta earn your keep.  That's mighty nice a you," I say with my best Texas accent. (I like to entertain myself. What can I say? It calms my nerves!)

I pick Charlotte up by the scruff of her neck and and put her on the bed.

She's back on the floor in a split second engaged in a stare down of sorts. 

"BE A DAMN CAT, and KILL THE THING, WILL YA?  THIS IS NOT A GAME!"

She flashes me a disconcerted look, "Hey, I've been an indoor cat for 12 years, what do you want from me?"

I run outside to the patio where I put the latest Amazon boxes.  Shit.  There are none there.  I must have put them in the recycle bin.  I grab a big brown mailing envelope and head back in.

By now Charlotte has chased our new renter into the bathroom.  I shut the door, like that's gonna help.  Me, a cat, and some kind of lizard locked in a bathroom!  Smart.

Charlotte's on one side and I'm on the other with the envelope open like a dust pan.  "Come on, Charlotte, chase it in here!  YOU CAN DO THIS!  You're a cat, remember? Activate your instincts!" 

The three of us scurry around on the bathroom floor for several minutes.

Finally, the lizard freezes.  I say, "Come on, get inside the f*cking envelope, and you will SAVE yourself from the FELINE, I promise!  It's a sweet deal, really.  I'm trying to save your sorry trespassing ass!  Get INSIDE.  NOW!"

No one in this getting-crazier-by-the-minute-scenario is listening to me! 

All of a sudden, I feel like I've been transported back into my classroom-filled-with-graduating-seniors-who-somehow-have-forgotten-during-the-final-days-of-the-year that I AM, INDEED, STILL IN CHARGE!

Only, the joke's on me.  I'm SO not in charge here because NOW, the LARGER THAN LIFE LIZARD IS UNDER MY BED.

And Charlotte is under there with it! 

Just  G R E A T!

All I want to do is read my book!

I get my fat ass down on all fours and look under the bed to see if I can spot it.  I'm soooo not going to sleep with that thing under there.

I can't see it anywhere. 

I get up and go into the kitchen looking for a box.  I find a one of those GLAD reusable plastic bowls in the sink.

I head back to my room and start pulling everything out from under my bed. 

Suddenly, and out of nowhere, it appears and scares the bejesus out of me!

Insert ANOTHER series of profanities HERE!

I QUICKLY slap the plastic bowl on top of it like this and then drag its sorry ass all the way to the back door where I toss both IT and the bowl onto the patio and SLAM the door!

 

Then I do the heebie/jeebie jig all over the living room while Emily does this.

 

She's just not convinced it's gone, and frankly (and weirdly) neither am I!

(Stop looking at my dirty floor!  I was supposed to clean today, but I have a summer cold, which I'm milking for all it's worth, and a good book to read.  It's all about priorities!) 

Do you think that thing was poisonous?  Are lizards poisonous like snakes?  Do you think it had babies in my closet or while it was under my bed?  How long do you think we've been roommates? How will I EVER get to sleep tonight?

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So, it's now 2 am!  This whole fiasco started at about 10:45 pm!  I'm WIDE AWAKE! 

I started googling, and I HATE GOOGLE. 

Google, just so you know, MAKES things worse!

My skin has just about crawled right off my body!

(And I didn't have a category for this post, so I tried to copy Blognut's style.  She rocks at creating categories! She's my inspiration!)

I don't remember him

My dad died in a tragic car accident 39 years ago today.  It was 1970, and I was just shy of my 5th birthday.  I made the collage below in 2007 because the anniversary of his death that year was also the same day as Father's Day.

All day I've been thinking of what to write about him, and all I could come up with is that I don't remember him.  I don't know who he was or what he was about.  I know so little about this man who was my dad.  I wanted to write a poem or something.  I wanted to say something profound or at least beautiful, but I just couldn't come up with anything.  I think I'm still a bit mad at him.

Is it odd that I never forget THIS day, though?

I heart blogging (and facebook)!

Stop what you're doing and go straight to my sidebar and scroll down to my "Writing Samples." 

Go ahead. 

I'll wait.

Now, click on the last entry entitled "Where I'm From."  Read the poem if you want, BUT definitely READ the first comment! 

Okay, It IS asking a lot, so here you go!  Just click here.  Now read that first comment! 

HELLO!  George Ella Lyon LIKES my imitation of her work!!!

That's what I woke up to this morning!  How sweet is that?!

Now, go to this post.  YES.  I'm demanding a lot of you, I know!  Pluh-ease! 

Just go. 

I'd TOTALLY DO IT FOR YOU! :-)

And read the last comment from Ashley.  Yep.  That one.  You don't even have to read the entire post.  Just click right back there on the word comment and read Ashley's.

I taught her in 1989 during my first year of teaching (in Houston!  At the end of that first year, I moved to Los Angeles!)

(SHE FOUND ME ON FACEBOOK!  If that doesn't sell you on getting a facebook account, nothing will!)

I remember her vividly in spite of the fact that I was 23 (she was 11!) and didn't know what I was doing.  I'd just been kicked out of church, and I cried everyday after school.  The fact that I survived is miracle enough, but she claims I made a difference in her life.  Whew!  I'm so humbled by that, and it FILLS ME UP to the very top!  I'm so full I can hardly stand myself today!

So, guess what she and I have been up to the last two days:  TEXTING!  Oh yes we have!  Good thing I'm cool like that!  And we WILL talk on the phone this week. 

As I complete my 20th year of teaching this week, I'm in awe of all those years and all my kiddos!  It makes me want to do it all over again in September!

But I DO need a wee bit of a break before then!

Thanks for indulging me!  NOT enough can be said about all you WONDERFULLY AWESOME PEOPLE who choose to read my ramblings here.  I HEART YOU!  (Each and every one of you!)

You love me, right?

If you saw R on the street, you'd think he was in his mid-twenties even though he's just barely 18.  You'd also speculate about whether or not he was in a gang, and you might just cross to the other side of the street because you weren't quite sure about his over-sized white t-shirt and his 4-sizes-too-big-khaki-dockers that gather in big wads around his lace-less sneakers.

Yesterday, R sat in my class signing yearbooks with all his buddies.  I sat at my desk frantically trying to finish senior grades and the project I've committed myself to finishing as my end of year gift to all my classes.

R:  (Yelling LOUDLY)  Ms. S., YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?! 

Me: (Without skipping a beat!) Yes, R, I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!

R: (Looking at the guys sitting opposite him at the table.)  SEE, TOLD YA!

Me:  (laughing!)  What was that all about?

R:  I TOLD them that you have my back!

These kiddos crack me up!

By the way, you'd be wrong about R.  He works two jobs to help support his family.  He's thoughtful and funny.  He drinks hot green tea and eats a croissant for breakfast each day during 2nd period.  He treats his girlfriend like a princess, and he honors all the adults in his life.  He's a complete sweetheart with a tough exterior (wearing the wrong clothes!). 

Knock.  Knock.  Knock.

I stand at my desk, Palm Centro up to my right ear, listening for instructions on how to retrieve my rental car reservation, which I can't find in my email file.  I'm agitated at the knocking.  It's lunch time, for crying out loud.  Can't I get a minute to myself! 

The end of the year crazies are affecting my mood as well as my ability to be fully present. 

My "TO DO" list is so long, I've developed a full time TWITCH.

Knock.  Knock.  Knock.  KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

GEEZ!

I walk over to the door and open it. 

M rushes in.  Her beautiful green eyes filled with tears.

I hang up the phone, direct her to the couch, and we sit down facing each other.  Her knees at her chest with both arms wrapped around them.   My feet curled up under me.

M:  I need someone to talk to.  I think I just need someone to talk to.

Me:  Okay, Sunshine.  I'm here.  What's going on?  You've been absent for a week.  You okay?

M:  I have no idea what's wrong with me, Ms. S.  I can't seem to get out of bed.  J.  told me you called my house yesterday, but I didn't get the message.  I don't know if my mom did.  She didn't say anything if she did.

Me:  I called because we missed having you in class, and I was concerned.  I don't want you to fail and not graduate.  How can I help?

M:  (weeping now and wiping her eyes with her navy sweatshirt)  I'm not going to graduate, Ms. S.  I really messed up my life.  I've messed up everything.  I don't think I can fix it.  I thought I could, but I can't.  I don't want to see anyone or get out of bed.  I just lay around all day.

Me:  Let's slow down and talk through this.  I'm concerned about you, Pumpkin.  Tell me more about what your days have been like while you were absent.  Did you go to school today?

M:  No, I didn't go to school today.  I snuck onto campus just now during lunch.  F. helped me get in.  It wasn't hard.  Then I came straight here.  I just can't get it together.  I mean, I care, but I so don't care, either.

Me:  Tell me about your mom.  Have you told her how you're feeling?

M:  Me and my mom don't talk.  Not like this anyway.  She's always fighting with my dad.  He finally moved out and now only comes over a few times a week.  It's better that way.

I sit, now holding this kiddo's hands in mine, and I listen as she talks about her feelings of hopelessness and despair and her inability to function.  I ask her questions.  We talk about what she's told me, and how her behaviors appear to be symptomatic of depression, but that we'll need to explore further.

I've known her for four years.  She was in my 9th grade class too. (I also taught her older sister.)  She's an avid reader and her appetite is voracious.  She reads constantly, and I've been putting novels (great novels!) into this girl's hands for four years.  We talk books nearly every day.  She rarely completes her assignments though, and we've "battled" over that, too, for four years. 

When she'd been absent four days last week, I called her home.

I watch her and size up the situation and try to concentrate on what she's telling me.  I keep asking questions, hoping to gather enough information to determine how to proceed.  We discuss what she needs in order to take care of herself.  I explain her options and the services the school provides. 

She catches my gaze and says, "Ms. S.  I really need a hug!"

"Oh, Hon, of course," and I take her into my arms and hold her.  She sobs and sobs.  I hold tighter.  She buries her head into my shoulder.  I hold tighter.

I have this urge to pray for her.  I don't know her faith or if she has any.  I don't want to cross any lines or violate her in any way, but I sense it would be okay.  I whisper, "Would you like me to pray for you?"

"Oh, Ms. S.  I'd love it if you would."

So I do. 

And she sobs harder.  And I hold tighter.  I allow her to let go first.  It's a fine balancing act.

She releases and comes up for air.  Her big green eyes meet mine, and I ask her if she's okay.  She says, "Much better," and tries to wipe the "snot" off my blue summer cardigan.  I tell her to leave it. It's okay.

She says, "Hugs are just good, aren't they?"  And we both laugh.

"Yes.  Yes they are," I say, "and it helps that I'm so soft!"

"You are soft, Ms. S.!  It's all good, right!"

We hug some more until she feels settled. 

I hold her perfect, round cheeks in my hands and tell her that we'll figure out together what to do next.

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No matter how many times kids come to me, I never feel equipped or prepared for what they have to tell me!  I ALWAYS feel like I'm walking a fine line, one that I'm not so comfortable negotiating.  The thing is, our teenagers NEED us way more than we realize.  Just because they look like they are adults and can mostly navigate their own lives, they STILL NEED TONS of SUPPORT, and they need it from the adults in their lives -- all of us!  They act like they don't want it, but believe me, THEY DO!  Mostly, THEY DO!  My heart breaks wide open many times in any given day by what they share with me.  But here's the deal -- my heart is equally FILLED to the VERY BRIM just by being in their presence.  Teenagers -- their passion, their brilliance, their awesome capacity for love and pain and astounding joy -- make my life FULL, so blessedly full!

This morning, while reading student papers, I discover this senior boy's reflection.  I'm going to use it as my evidence to defend my opinion that our kiddos NEED us more than we realize --  'cause that's what Cheri, my all time favorite lawyer, says is necessary to prove all IMPORTANT points!

Your homework assignment: 

Find a teenager, ANY teenager, and ask them what they need, and then wrap your arms around them and whisper in their ear that you will be there for them in whatever way you can! 

 

My lovely friend's wedding

Get a load of this church!

And the view from the top!

And I'd never seen this before, but all four of their parents ENCIRCLED them just after the ceremony.  They held them close for several minutes, and I WEPT because it was so BEAUTIFUL and POWERFUL! 

The reception was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!

Y-U-M-M-Y!

D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S!

And those were just the appetizers!

Isn't she ADORABLE!

She is one of my very bestest friends in the whole wide world!

And she moved to Northern California to marry a wonderful man! 

I'm trying NOT to think about how much I'm going to miss having her here!

She's my sushi buddy!  Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone to eat sushi with?  I LOVE sushi and she does too!  We spent a lot of money enjoying the finest raw fish you can find in LA!

 

She's also my "inner healing" buddy!  We've taken every course imaginable for doing the hard work of healing from the pain of our pasts!  We've shared our very intense journeys through years of therapy and have cried and laughed together more times than I can count!

We S-T-R-E-T-C-H-E-D together in some of the most enlightening (and liberating) theological (and psychological) studies!

We learned and practiced the art of centering prayer together for nearly all of the last year!

 

(At my house after a centering prayer session! Note that Charlotte Bronte is STILL centering!)

We were in book club together and have had many engaging discussions about some AWESOME literature!

 

(Her book is a used copy and the insides are right side up but the cover is upside down!  And we didn't ALWAYS choose such serious books!)

We went to the monastery together.  And then it burned down, remember? And we were on the phone crying as the news played out.  It was her favorite place!  I loved it too!  I made her this card to keep our memory of Mt. Calvary alive.

She sees me!  And I see her!

I LOVE THIS GAL WITH ALL MY HEART!

I will miss having her close by!

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(I had to write this fast!  Must get busy making my end of the year gift for my seniors!  It's a iMovie/slideshow of our year together!)