The Disturbed Girl’s Dictionary by NoNieqa Ramos ~ Review of one hell of a fully justified rant rampage from Macy Cashmere, The Girl reporting directly from the Cultural Crime Scenes.

Yesterday was International Women’s Day so what could be more appropriate than advocating reading than a book which lays out the ongoing conditions under which many girls and women do not thrive in our world while fighting to survive despite the odds against them? Via chapters presented as entries of significant words and phrases in The Disturbed Girl’s Dictionary writer NoNieqa Ramos takes you directly into the inner world of Macy Cashmere–named for the store and the fine wool used in luxury clothing items–who puts the survival skills of the likes of Laura Croft Tomb Raider to shame.  Suffice it to say that Macy has truly mad survival skills and an equally mad will to thrive no matter what the world throws, literally, at her.  Now there’s one thing that’s crucial for you, the reader, to keep in mind: Macy’s world IS our world, your’s and mine, no matter what your level of reality denial may be based on the specific context in which you live, this is the truth. Savage Inequalities is not only the title of Jonathan Kozol’s indictment of educational inequity in America–which still exists. Savage inequalities is one way of describing the nature of the vastly differing statuses between females and males—unequal on multiple levels and viciously savage from the home-front to the war-fronts.  Macy’s dictionary presents an indictment not of the educational system which far too often serves as an overburdened safety net for children, but of American culture which treats girls and women as sexual objects for exploitation and male gratification. If you don’t agree then quite possibly you’re living in a vacuum without a cleaner.  I’m not going to argue the point as the media lays it all out there every day with ongoing reality checks from real life—no need for reality television shows which are pure fantasy yet often reflect this sad state of affairs. Now that that fundamental piece of ugly truth has been laid out (no sexual allusion intended) let’s let Macy take the lead. This is a first person narrative which speaks to readers without pulling any punches. Actually it throws very hard punches. Consider your children very lucky, and very privileged, if they have a home, stable family life, enough food to eat –at home–, access to a quality education, and your undivided attention whenever they need it. Macy Cashmere has none of these essentials.  Macy is a designated “problem child” at school where she speaks her mind very freely–and is willing to pay the consequences for doing so. She knows the in-school behavior drills so well that at times she pushes the office buzzer herself after crossing lines.  If she didn’t have such a strong voice and immense willpower who would pay any attention? School is not perfect, but it does throw life lines to Macy via the likes of Miss Black who sees and hears far more of Macy than she lets on and does what she can to feed and support Macy mentally, emotionally and physically. Oh the power of music, never underestimate it. Jazz pulls Macy’s trigger in all the right ways upon her first hearing of  John Coltrane, A Love Supreme in Miss Black’s class.

Macy’s home world might be described as a mix of David Simon’s Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets of Baltimore and Dick Wolf’s Law & Order’s SVU–yes, it’s full of sex crimes and violence.  If you think I’m pushing this too far, well, Simon’s book and Wolf’s series kept coming to mind while I followed Macy through her world. So that’s that–the power of references for creating connections. The difference is that it’s all seen and told from the viewpoint of a young teenage girl–not from the perspective of adults.  Adult perspectives trickle in via Macy’s observations but they do NOT drive this narrative in her very personalized dictionary format. The chapter titled “I Have A Dream” has nothing to do with Martin Luther King’s speech except perhaps as its utter antithesis.  Yet, Macy’s world is one created by adults–and not just her parents–and a system devised by adults and perpetuated by adults–and fought by other adults.  Macy is a girl who knows how to effectively put to use whatever comes to hand to deal with important problems like a visit from CPS and the entrapment of her best friend by an oh so caring “uncle”: an all-purpose cleanser, a slave’s machete, a bag of cocaine. Make no mistake, nothing holds Macy back when she sets out to protect those she loves: her brother Zane, her friend George, her best friend Alma–for whom being Gifted & Talented is not enough to ensure escape from poverty, not by a long shot.

As if violence, drugs and wrecked home life aren’t enough challenges for the girls Macy represents there’s the entire SEX package to contend with. What matters to the males of our species? Breasts, bodies, and booty calls—those are what females are for–bottom line, that’s it.  Brains never come into the picture. Heart never comes into the picture. It’s all a sex end game never-ending.  At least that’s what Macy observes from her mother’s efforts to survive and the prostitutes like Velvet working the streets. Yes, Macy has issues with her mother. Issues so big they’re ethically trying.  Ironically, Velvet does more looking out for Macy than her mother seems capable of on a good day with or without her “guests” who provide the necessities of life when Macy’s father goes to prison.  Perhaps it’s because one good turn deserves another thinking–or maybe it’s just plain decency and fair play in Velvet’s books. Just because you’re stuck in the sex for hire business in order to eat doesn’t make you a bad person—far from it. But who would Velvet be with other options? What would Macy’s mother do with positive options? Think about that. Who would you be with no positive options in your life? Why do we do the things we do–and don’t? Macy’s dictionary entry:

Why

Noun: Reasons 1 and 2

Why do I hate? Because it’s so much easier than love. Because hate is reality. Love is a fantasy.

Why do I write? Le me break it down. Teacher Man taught us about something called haves and have-nots.

 

Via the words that really matter and their meanings for this very “disturbed girl”, Nonieqa Ramos deftly gives Macy Cashmere not just a voice but a ROAR impossible to ignore.  Ramos does this so effectively that her writing makes it look easy–the sign of real greatness in every art and skill. It’s not difficult to read the writing and words on the pages–but it gets downright nerve-racking to take in the content the words portray. Macy Cashmere’s dictionary is disturbing—it’s supposed to be. It’s a book meant to shake you up and rattle your brain pan. Macy Cashmere is here to wake people up not lull them into sleep at bedtime. How would you go about saving your best friend from the worst daily grind you can imagine? What are machetes for? I don’t think that qualifies as a spoiler. Hmm, naw, just a hook for Macy’s line of action in this microcosm of the world in which we live.  Have you asked your teenage girl what’s going in her life lately? If not, you need to get on that right now, because the issues faced by Macy Cashmere are everywhere.  If you don’t know what those issues are then you need to read The Disturbed Girl’s Dictionary asap because it’s only a matter of degrees.

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Breakfast Special, #47, “Flipping Switches”

Flipping Switches

“Oh it got something to do with them and Lily all right.” Anton took a few steps backwards to get out of Sarge’s immediate reach in case he pushed the wrong buttons and riled him up while trying to discuss an issue that needed to be addressed immediately in light of what he and Esther had just witnessed. “Now we go back to what we set on the side. You dancing the way you did with Lily was like turning on a whole lot of light switches at the same time like we did today to check the rewiring at Percy Two’s place. Only it turned on a bunch of women instead of light bulbs. Probably more than a few men in that bunch too, truth be told. You read that action?”

Sarge frowned at Anton and shook his head. “No way. I have never had anything like that happen before. Never after dancing with a woman in public. Not once. Not ever.” He pushed away from the wall and stood up straight, facing off with a clearly disbelieving Anton. “I am not bullshitting you, Anton. That sort of thing has never happened to me any other time.”

Anton read the other man’s body language as an effort to assert his honesty rather than an attempt to physically intimidate him into backing down. Considering this and recalling their private conversation on the roof, he took his time deciding what might be the most effective route of communication. “When was the last time you danced in public with a woman, Sarge? Huh? How long it been?”

Sarge shrugged and took his time answering. “I don’t know exactly. Sometime in the spring. I met up with a group of people from Max’s store going out for a night together. I had a good time with a couple of the ladies who were willing to step out on the floor. It didn’t score me any action. But I wasn’t looking to score any action anyway, so it was all good. I certainly didn’t get any other women coming onto me afterwards.” He looked down the hall to where Lily and Esther remained talking close together. “Christ, I hope it doesn’t piss Lily off.”

“Fact you did not leave her hanging in the wind back there, Anton don’t think Lily get bent out of shape with you. After she get a full list of who and who from Esther, well, Anton not putting any money in the betting bank on who she do get bent with first.”

“Ahh I don’t want her getting into it with anybody on my account.” Sarge started moving towards Lily until Anton lightly put a hand on his shoulder.

“Lesson regarding Esther and Lily, let them talk it out. Otherwise you get them both coming at you at the same time. That a definite no win scenario, Sarge. Hang back. Don’t worry, Esther keep Lily from acting out if need be. How about we talk some more?”

Sarge hesitated, watched the two women for a few moments than stepped back to stand next to Anton. “I don’t want her thinking I was feeding her a line of bs last night when I came clean about all the women in that damn book.”

“How’d you pump up to do that?”

“I didn’t. It just seemed logical and right considering she decided to give me a chance. I didn’t want her getting blindsided at some point and giving me the boot for not being up front from the get go.”

“We working together all afternoon and evening and you neglected to mention that tiny piece of significant intel, Sarge. Is that any way to build up trust?”

“No offence intended, Anton. I’m still getting used to the whole idea myself. Besides, with Little George in the dark mood he was in the whole time, it didn’t quite feel right to bring it up. But I told you now. It’s barely been a full twenty-four hours since she decided.”

“Ah ha. No harm done. No foul.” Anton held his tongue regarding what Lily had told him about her giving Sarge a chance all along. He glanced at the other man alongside him in the dimly lit hallway. “How all that talk about those women go down with Lily?”

“Not quite like I expected. But that was okay. She asked a lot of questions. Most of which I could answer and a few I couldn’t. Even though I was worn out by the time we finished, I felt good about talking it out with her. She didn’t, or hasn’t changed her mind yet, since I laid it out for her, so all in all I’m still feeling good.” He grimaced. “Except for what happened a little while ago. I mean, hell, it wasn’t like we were getting it on out there. If we had, that would make some sense, but you know damn well we weren’t.”

“Ah huh, if you say so.”

“Your tone implies a certain element of disbelief, my friend. Why is that?”

“You ever get it on with woman on a dance floor like you say, Sarge?”

Sarge began pushing his hair away from his face with his left hand. “It’s been a long time since I did that, but, yeah. It was not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Not by a long shot. But yes I have.”

“Did the audience express their appreciation accordingly?”

Sarge crossed his arms and shrugged. “Depends on what you mean by accordingly, Anton. If one hell of a wild brawl counts as the audience expressing their appreciation of that dance, then yes they certainly did.”

“A brawl? Where that dance be? In a bar? You get it on with some pole dancing queen?”

“No.” Sarge gave him an indignant look that said he couldn’t believe Anton would even suggest such him doing such a thing.

“No?” Anton waited for more information. When it was clear that it was not forthcoming, he said, “You gonna make me pull that tale out of you, Sarge?”

“No.” Sarge adjusted his stance and bent downwards. After some further hesitation and a long look at Lily and Esther, he spoke quietly so his words wouldn’t carry towards the kitchen. “You know Reginald’s in M-?”

“Hmm. Way too proud of itself without just cause high dollar dinner and dance joint uptown is where Anton thinking.”

“Sounds about right. My brother Francis set me up with this really smart, gorgeous woman for a night out to celebrate his first wedding anniversary at Reginald’s. Only problem was she wouldn’t dance with me. I couldn’t get her out on the floor no way. No one else would get out there with me either. Not even Francis’ wife, Irene, who at that time was usually good for at least two dances, sometimes three depending on the music. That night the live band was hot and tight so I was going crazy with no dance partner. I said to hell with their drinking party and I grabbed a seat at the bar to scope out the place for a likely candidate. In almost no time I get a fix on a woman wearing down the guy she’s with on the floor. When he’s had enough, he leaves her stranded out there. I did not waste any time with formal introductions. I went out there and we faced off and went to town for about five numbers in a row. It was all good until tune number six when we both decide we like each other’s moves enough to turn up the heat for fun. It got hot and real fast. Her guy and his friends didn’t appreciate the show. Francis and Irene did not appreciate our behavior anymore than my dance partner’s guy. They all decided about the same time that they didn’t like me very much. Things got very out of hand. The damage tab was quite impressive. I couldn’t get back inside the place for six months. That really pissed me off because she, the woman I’d picked up for dancing, and her guy could. Considering it was him who blew his cork first and came at me, I didn’t think that was fair play at the time. It didn’t help my attitude that I really wanted to dance with her again and couldn’t.”

Anton considered this intel, glanced at Lily and Esther then shot a wary look at the kitchen entrance. “Ah ha. What about your date for the party? She shut you out too?”

Sarge shook his head. “Strange as it sounds, she did not. Right about the time things started winding down fight-wise, she makes a run right into the middle of the action and surprises the hell out of me by getting a grip on my belt. As I’ve had enough of the action at hand, I see no point in resisting, so I let her haul me out the back door and straight into a waiting cab.”

“No f’n way.”

“Yes way. Stranger yet, when we get to her place, she cranks the stereo and we dance until she decides it’s a good idea to alternate dancing with other things. She was a damn good dancer. I never understood why she wouldn’t dance with me in the first place at Reginald’s. We could have had a great time right from the start if she had.”

“Her name in that book?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe that had something to do with her not dancing with you in public.”

“Who knows.” They stood side by side. Sarge was appreciating the cold coming from the porch which Anton was simply ignoring. “Why would anyone, even a pimp, care about a woman dancing with me? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Who says pimps make sense? If that pimp be your father, then no point even looking for any sense nowhere, Sarge.” Anton rubbed his jaw. “You like dancing with Lily, don’t you?”

Sarge surprised Anton with a big bright grin. “Like? Are you kidding, Anton? I love dancing with Lily. She swing dances like none other. She’s got all the oldies down pat thanks to Priest. She has no hesitation for trying everything else too. We have a damn lot of fun with that old record player and the radio. Hell, I would not think twice about getting out on the floor with her for that swing dance fest contest at U of M- they have every fall. Damn, I wonder if she’d do it?”

Anton stared at Sarge and shook his head. “Ah ha, so much for dancing just being dancing with some people.”

Catching Anton’s serious tone, Sarge stopped thinking about how to broach the idea of the swing fest with Lily and punched Anton lightly in the shoulder. “Hey, I wanted a chance with Lily even before we ever started dancing. Even if she couldn’t dance like she does with me, I’d still want a chance with her. Fact that she does dance, is well, well it’s sort of like having the very best fresh homemade cherry pie for dessert after a great main entrée. Makes a great meal even better.”

“Hmm. Anton thinking Sarge got dancing as the wrong part of that meal, but no matter right now. Heads up, here they come.”

“I’m thinking we should call it a night, Anton. Early as it is, at least I should. I’m in no mood for a round two of any sort or I might do a little acting out of my own. I do not want to put you to the trouble of keeping me in line. I’ll keep myself in line by making tracks back to Lily’s place. If Lily wants to stay on her own, I’m okay with that as long as she doesn’t walk home by herself.”

“That is almost funny, Sarge. Almost. Like Lily going to let you wander off all by yourself to her pad after that dance and whiplash action? Anton don’t think so. Anton think it a damn good idea both you and Lily call it a night so those all those turned on light bulbs don’t blow the whole damn fuse-box. Anton think damn best you two go home together and dance up as much cherry pie as you please. Alone. As in: no one watching the dance show. You read that music?”

“You don’t really expect me to argue with that thinking, do you, Anton? Hmm?”

Anton’s eyes narrowed as he took note of Sarge’s grin. “Sarge using Anton to get right where he want to be with no debate from the women-folk.” Anton shook a finger at him. “Ah huh. You smarter than you look, Big Man. Anton on to you now.”

@eva2014

Breakfast Special, #46, “Pinballing”

Pinballing

Upon reaching the main hallway Sarge kept on moving until they’d moved past the kitchen and stood at the cold back end of the house on the inner side of the rear porch. Seeing his stressed expression, noting the strength of his continued grip on her and how he put his back up against the wall and took on a defensive stance, Lily  glanced back down the hall they’d come through. Seeing none of the b-brigade had followed, she turned back to find Sarge pulling on the string around his neck to which one of her sachets was attached. She helped by releasing the string when it caught on a shirt button. Trying to regain her composure, she said nothing.  Sarge inhaled deeply  the scent of the small bag then managed a smile for her. “Have you done that pinball action before, Lily? Was that beginner’s luck or are you a ringer? Come on, fess up, Missy.”

“That’s what that move is called, pinball? Ah ha.” Lily clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Purely beginner’s luck, Funny Man.” She laughed softly. “We’re going to have to practice that in reverse.”

“Reverse? As in you putting me into motion?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Sarge cocked his head to the left and looked her over. “Sure, why not. With the right leverage and some serious spin you could get my weight flying. Maybe.”

“What? You think I can’t throw your hide?”

“Throw me, sure, no problem. Pinballing me through a crowd, that’s another story. But it’s a possibility under the right conditions.”

“Under the right conditions, huh.” Lily smirked then glanced again down the hallway.

“Are you okay after those body slams?”

“Yeah, I’m good. My shoulders did most of the work. But you look really hot.” Without thinking how he might react, she reached out and put her hands lightly against his fully flushed cheeks. “Are you sick?”

“No. Just way too many people in one place.”  He searched her expression for some sign of being angry with him. Finding none, he sighed with relief. Unsure of how to begin processing what had just happened with the women in the crowded main room, he waited  for some clue from Lily on the subject. “Is everyone in the Flats trying to pack themselves into that one room tonight or what?”

Lily refrained from bringing up what had happened with her and the b-brigade and the young man and his friends. “There are a lot more people than usual showing up tonight that’s for sure. The kitchen is full of food waiting for space on the tables. There’s hardly any room to move around in there either. I don’t understand why people aren’t spreading out into the other open rooms.”

“Maybe there’s an effort underway to set a record for most people in a certain amount of square footage?”

Unaware they were being watched by several very interested parties from the kitchen, Lily felt his forehead for sign of a fever as Sarge closed his eyes and leaned his head into her palm. “If that’s the case, why don’t they just pack themselves into where the middle of the street ought to be? Put their body heat to use melting some snow.”

Sarge laughed a little then opened his eyes and tensed.

“Everything level here?” Anton’s voice and presence startled them. He’d caught them unawares without realizing he’d done so. Having made no effort to hide his approach, he backed away a few steps with his hands held palm open and up in front of him at the fierce look in Sarge’s eyes and an equally harsh glare from Lily. “Easy, Anton comes in peace.” He inclined his head towards the hall he’d just walked down as he tried to get a reading on Lily regarding her reaction to what had transpired with the b-brigade and other women. “Figured I’d run some interference in case anyone still does not have a full grasp of no.”

Relaxing noticeably as Anton kept his distance and his calm tone while apparently taking no offence at the threatening look he’d initially sent his way, Sarge responded with an apologetic shrug. “No problem, Anton. I just didn’t realize you were here until you spoke. You do a fine impression of a ghost. You’ve got some damn quiet feet. A little chain rattling wouldn’t hurt. ”

Anton took his house keys from his pocket and shook them. “How that work?” His own red alert signal eased up when Sarge laughed and waved a dismissive hand at his joke. He shook the keys again while meeting Lily’s  puzzled stare. “That working for you, Lily?” Unlike Sarge, she didn’t laugh or relax. “O give Anton a little joy for effort.” He jerked his thumb in the direction behind him. “Esther holding the front line. She’ll make noise if some company you don’t want makes tracks this way.”

Lily moved to look past him to where Esther was standing further down the hall watching the entrance to the front room. She looked at Anton. “What’s going on? If the b-brigade is on the warpath, I’m more than happy to deal with them on my own. Esther doesn’t need to burn any of her bridges on my account.”

“You best inform her of that fact. You know she not going to budge on my say so.”

Fully aware of Anton’s intention to send her Esther’s way and guessing they both knew something she didn’t but should, she decided to cooperate. “I will. Keep an eye on Sarge. He’s not feeling well, even though he says otherwise.”

“Don’t concern yourself, Anton. I’m good.” Sarge shrugged when Lily gave him a look that said she didn’t believe his self assessment before walking in Esther’s direction.

Satisfied that he’d pushed the correct communication button, Anton  cautiously edged closer to Sarge and lowered his voice for privacy. “Sorry, Sarge, Lily say otherwise and Anton’s bones say otherwise too.”

“Who am I to argue with your bones? That crowd got to me. But I’m okay now. I’m not sick as in, toss my dinner sick.” Knowing that Anton wanted to talk with him, Sarge joined him in keeping an eye on Lily as she made her way to Esther. “What’s a b-brigade?”

“B-brigade no problem at the moment. Anton define them later.” He moved to stand facing the hallway so he could watch it and talk quietly with Sarge at the same time. He looked Sarge over. “You definitely not up to par, Sarge. Lily correct in saying you not well. If you gonna hurl or do a face flop, please inform Anton directly so I can evade the splatter.”

Sarge shook his head. “I’m not going to do either one. Quit already.” A moment later he said, “Do I really look like I might?”

“Either, both, or something else.” Anton watched Lily and Esther conversing down the hall. He stepped sideways a little closer to Sarge and glanced cautiously at the kitchen doorway before speaking. “What in hell possessed you to turn up the heat dancing with Lily in a crowd full of stir crazy women?”

Not liking the implication that he’d deliberately brought the unwanted sexual advances upon himself, Sarge said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Anton. I didn’t dance any differently with Lily than we do when we’re by ourselves.”

Anton gave up watching his wife and Lily and turned his full attention to the man still getting his bearings after politely bulldozing his way through a dozen bold women with no claims to self-restraint or tact a few minutes earlier. “Hold on. You been dancing like that with Lily all along?”

Sarge’s confusion and incomprehension was plain. “Like what? We dance, that’s all. She’s a great dance partner, even when her right foot acts up. We read each other and the music really well together.”

Tuning into his bones and his intellect full throttle, Anton stared intently at the younger man, himself on the alert for duplicity or any form of  deception. “That what you call it? Reading the music together?”

“Yeah, what else? What do you call it?”

“We put that defintion on the side for now. Don’t you dare tell me you don’t know what just went down while making an exit from that room. You got to be clued into that action or you be brain-dead and don’t know it yet.”

Sarge pushed his hair away from his face. “Of course I know. How could I not? I dealt with them without making a bad scene, didn’t I? What the hell that was about is beyond me though. I never saw most of those women before tonight.” He leaned against the wall  in an effort to relieve the tension the conversation was creating. “The ones I have met never acted like that before. You know it because you’ve been with me at every one of their homes when we did some repairs. You also know that none of them ever pulled that kind of shit on me before tonight.” When Anton didn’t respond with more than a nod, he continued with, “Does it have something to do with Lily?”

 

 

Breakfast Special, #45, “No You Don’t”

No You Don’t

Lily’s public statement of ownership had not gone unnoticed by the group of women she’d intended to warn off. The b-brigade held its ground against the east wall watching closely as other women, none of whom made any bones about wanting a taste of what Sarge had unwittingly put on display while dancing with Lily, launched single and combined efforts to get him either back towards the clear area near the musicians or off in other much less public directions. From the perspective of the b-brigade, all of these actions were doomed because they failed to address the necessity of separating the man from the woman directly behind his broad back as they moved single file through the crowded room.

Sarge’s polite smile never wavered, his voice never rose in irritation, his free right hand never resorted to applying serious force as he extracted himself from grasping, clutching and caressing hands of women he had never met and a few he had while making repairs in the Flats. Yet he effectively managed to decline each demand and offer without letting go of Lily’s hand or directing her attention to what he was encountering head on while wading through the sea of people. Confused and at a loss for the reason for this unexpected onslaught of feminine attention, but having dealt with far larger and more forceful acts of aggression than a steady stream of uninhibited women blocking his path, Sarge pushed onward thinking the strange scenario would come to an end as soon as they were out of the now jam-packed room.

Within ten steps of extracting them both from the pressing mass of people Sarge suddenly found himself contending with what he immediately recognized as a coordinated group effort involving Lily. His first sense that something new was going on came from activity behind him instead of face to face as previously. A sudden hard yanking of his left hand holding Lily’s caused him to stop moving and look over his shoulder to where she now stood the length of both their arms away from him. Instead of close up behind him as she’d been until a few moments ago, she was facing off with two irate young women while a silent third was leaning against her arm now stretched out full length between her and Sarge. Realizing the intention of the third woman was to get Lily to release her hand hold on his, Sarge turned around and began moving to close the distance between them. As soon as he did this, another woman stepped directly into his way. Laughing and grinning at him, she half fell against his chest in an effort to push him off-balance and backwards. Instinctively adjusting his stance to maintain balance, Sarge became aware of another woman closing in from the left with the same movements.

“No you don’t.” He comprehended the scope of this coordinated action and began dealing with it even as someone else bumped into him from behind then proceeded to get very comfortable and cozy with his backside and belt. He looked away from the women shoving against him to where Lily stood facing the opposite direction as she contended with the two women working themselves up into a fine lather arguing with her without raising their voices to attract unwelcome attention. He saw their silent partner quickly move to where his and Lily’s hands were still holding onto each other.

A hot hand covered his and nimble fingers began trying to pry one of his fingers loose from his grip on Lily’s hand. Thinking she was about to succeed with this action, which by most rights ought to have given her painful physical leverage to force him into letting go of Lily, she turned and sent him a big happy smile over her shoulder. As far as Sarge was concerned her smile confirmed that none of this activity was accidental and that its intent was to separate him and Lily in order to put another part of a group plan into action.

For the amount of time it took him to think how very ironic it was that his life in a world so very different from that of the Flats had more than adequately prepared him for this type of situation, Sarge allowed the young woman smiling at him to continue working at pushing his index finger against the back of his hand. When she knew she had his finger bent far enough back to the point where the pain ought to have already accomplished her goal yet had not, she glared at him then yanked it farther. Sarge grinned back at her and tightened his grip on Lily’s hand hard enough to get her to look his way in surprise. Knowing he had her attention, he suddenly pulled her towards him with enough force to yank her off her feet and send her body slamming directly into the woman at the point of breaking his finger out of frustration. The two women collided and yet Lily kept moving as Sarge twisted hard to his left to keep her body in motion as if she were a fish at the end of a line being hauled out of water. The force with which he put her into motion caused her shoulder to hit the finger-pryer’s chest hard enough to send the woman falling and stumbling into other people. The momentum brought Lily twisting like a top knocking into the two women trying to move him backwards. Finding and keeping on her feet, Lily pushed and shoved against the women to keep her balance.

When her body had nearly cleared them, Sarge pivoted again so that he was now facing the hallway. The woman who’d been yanking on his belt to get him moving backwards now found herself facing him and took a step backwards to steady herself. Sarge pulled again on Lily’s hand causing her to spin a little more before she collided with his side. Immediately his right hand went around her waist pulling her up flush against him.  Having accomplished his immediate goal, he smiled down at her red streaked cheeks and startled eyes. “There you are, Lily. I wondered where’d you’d gotten to back there in the crowd.” He nodded at the frustrated woman glaring at them as she stepped away. “Sorry if I stepped on your toes. It’s getting really tight in here. There’ll be a little more room when I’m out of the way.” Keeping a tight grip on Lily, he pushed only slightly less politely than before onward through the curious onlookers.

~~

As always, I’m open to more music suggestions.

 

Living and Sustaining a Creative Life ~ Essays by 40 Working Artists, ~~ Thanks for sharing, Sharon Louden

In the box or out of the box?

To gallery or not to gallery — to quest or not to quest?

Shut up and pass paper and pencils. Art wants making.

For the book price of less than a dollar a piece, editor Sharon Louden, working artist herself,  invites artists, and any other interested parties, to engage with 40 working artists n what has been an ongoing discussion for as long as creative people have striven to live and thrive in a world at large that far too often is less than supportive of their existence. No, Living and Sustaining a Creative Life, Essays by 40 Working Artists isn’t a book about artists who rock the status quo of mainstream society. Though there are artists within these pages who do so in one medium or another.  What this very engaging tome offers is a very wide and diverse range of perspectives based on experiences had by artists who’ve found their own ways to survive, thrive and continue to create over time. There are discussions of quests for studio time,  for money to provide food, shelter and art supplies, for solitude and for companionship, gallery representation and new ways of making a go of things with and without galleries. There’s a lot of insight, hindsight, information, ideas and inspiration in these essays written by a very wide range of artists including those raising children and engaged in mutually supportive relationships. Plus, there is an excellent photograph of each artist’s work prefacing their essay. Yeah, that’s a very sweet bonus track in this book–you get some views of art you might or might not have seen yet. So this libro also serves as a visual catalog of artists as essayists. Hence, you get a small visual sense of what these artists invest so much vital energy and time creating.

A few of my visual treat picks:

Michael Waugh’s The American Jobs Act, part 1 (detail)

Peter Drake’s Day for Night

Thomas Kilpper’s State of Control

Maggie Michael’s Swans of Other Worlds ~  (photography by Dan Steinhilber)

Julie Hefferman’s Self Portrait as Big World

Jay Davis’ Please, no more birds

&

Living and Sustaining a Creative Life Panel ~ Book tour video.  Yes, this is an interesting and engaging serious discussion among artists, about artists, art and the art world. Enjoy.

 

Here’s a link to Amazon’s Look Inside page for the book – http://www.amazon.com/Living-Sustaining-Creative-Life-Working/dp/178320012X#reader_B00F4AT02K

&

Here are just a few of my favorite quotes from the essays:

Annette Lawrence ~ “I am generally led by curiosity, and nothing is off-limits.”

George Stoll ~ “I LIke to work but don’t always like to start, so I make it as easy to begin as possible. At a restaurant near my house that has good coffee, friendly waiters and an owner who tolerates my long visits, I start most days. . . .  I’ve learned that I am especially productive when feeling a bit delinquent.”

Tony Ingrisano ~ “I sleep and eat and breathe drawing, so it’s only logical that I’d do anything necessary to keep drawing.”

Sean Mellyn ~ “Rauschenberg’s Bed made an early and lasting impression on me – that art can not only be made from anything, but material extrapolated from a life lived is a powerful statement.”

Brian Tolle ~ “There are no bad opportunities if you have only one.”

Austin Thomas ~ “There are as many ways to be an artist as there are artists; Lucas Reiner told me that one and it is true.”

Amy Pleasant ~ “And it wakes me up each day. And I follow it. And at the risk of sounding melodramatic, it is the greatest thing I know.”

Maggie Michael ~ “Falling n love was easy. What became labored was managing our bank account after college (when our student loans came due). Artists often pair with someone who has a reliable career and income, but we could not change partners now or in hindsight.”

Dan Steinhilber (Maggie Michael’s partner) ~ “Many people seem to give us extra credit because we involve our child in our life as artists. Clay has excellent conversational skills, yet he does not make a great deal of artworks. Nevertheless, he is imaginative and creative and amazing to us.”

Dan Steinhilber ~ “Over time we learned how to help, support, and appreciate each other rather than be competitive. For example, on days when Maggie is teaching, I often go to her studio and do practical things for her – build stretchers, prime canvases, and keep her supplies organized so that her time in the studio can be focused on painting.”

And

Link for Intellect, Publishers of Original Thinking page –>>   http://www.intellectbooks.co.uk/books/view-Book,id=5042/

How do you measure success?

What did you create today?

Okay, now that I’ve done my good book information sharing deed for the day, it’s time to take advantage of the lull in the rain to get the box of sheet music out of the back seat and see what suits my agenda.

 

Breakfast Special, #44, “Heat Waves”

~Heat Waves

Lily felt deep red heat rising, streaking her cheeks as they danced. Sarge’s hand holding her’s as he led her in the small floor space wasn’t any different from all the other times they’d danced, yet it felt like the most intimate touch ever in the midst of so many people. She’d intended to send a message to the b-brigade and the other women, but she hadn’t given any thought about how anyone else might react to her actions. Sarge had grinned happily, exactly as she’d counted on him doing, when she’d asked if he felt like dancing even though no one else was. Little George had given her a quick thumbs up when she’d handed him her plate of food with encouragement to eat the remaining contents.. As she’d reached to take Sarge’s willing hand, Anton had caught her eye and nodded approvingly as had Percy Two and the other men in the group. It was clear they wanted her to finally show Sarge some preferential treatment in the midst of a very successful public gathering. There were no razing or off-color comments, just quiet approving encouragement as they moved away to make their way to the area next to the musicians.

But now whenever she caught someone’s expression as they made the most of the little floor there was for their dancing, she realized they’d attracted the attention of a lot more people than just the women she’d wanted to dissuade from even thinking of making any moves in Sarge’s direction. At the same time she was enjoying having his hand in hers and his other lightly resting on her waist as they moved. She could tell that even in this crowd of neighborhood people Sarge felt comfortable dancing and safe touching her and that felt good.

The song ended and they stood patiently waiting  without talking for another to begin while the group decided what to play next. In keeping with their own agenda to mellow out the atmosphere, the musicians put another easy-going tune into motion and Sarge responding accordingly by gathering Lily in closer for moving with the soft textured music. His hands didn’t roam, he uttered no sweet nothings into her ear, he didn’t press suggestively against her as their feet kept moving, there was plenty of polite space between them and yet Lily as if felt he was making love to her as they danced. Fixing her attention on a small section of his borrowed too large flannel shirt where green and blue lines of the pattern intersected, she noted that her vibes were happily humming with the song and let herself simply fall into sync with him via the dance. For the length of the song they moved in a sphere of their own making oblivious to everything except the music and each other.

When the music stopped Lily glanced at the quiet, intent expression on Sarge’s flushed face then she lowered her head enough to let her hair fall forward in an effort to hide her own blush. The guitar players murmured to each other, then decided to take a break in order to enjoy the bottles of beer someone had brought them. She sensed an  unfamiliar tension in the room as Sarge began leading her through the crowd towards the open space in the house’s main hall. Her hand firmly holding his, she followed closely in his wake. As they moved through the densely packed mass of humanity towards the comparatively empty and much cooler hall, Sarge’s grip on her hand tightened and tensed.

Lily’s eyes focused on the heels of Sarge’s boots as he’d set their course. In her quest for a little personal privacy while she inwardly basked in the afterglow of dancing, she kept her head down while walking close enough to his backside that if he made one step backward he’d be standing on her toes. Preoccupied with her own deep internal workings, feeling secure in the close proximity of his large form and linked by their hands, she let him lead her along through the people continuing to enter the large main room. Hence, she missed the initial bold face to face approaches by several women making aggressive efforts to get Sarge’s attention and directly draw him away from Lily. Her first clue that her effort to make a public social statement had gone awry came in the form of a young man she was barely acquainted with attempting to wedge himself between her and Sarge. Realizing that his action had nothing to do with the crowded room when he slipped an arm around her waist in an effort to pull her in the opposite direction, Lily pushed him away with a  single hard hand upward shove to his chin. The entertained and intrigued tone of his laughter and that of his friends as he retreated effectively alerted her to the highly charged, unpredictable nature of the room’s current atmosphere.

~

From the documentary Standing in the Shadows of Motown. Joan Osborne preforms Heatwave

 

 

 

Breakfast Special, #43, “Owning the Man”

Owning the Man

Lily set down the glass punch bowl filled with canned fruit cocktail and stirred it while wishing for fresh grapes with skins that cracked when you bit into them. No one knew who’d brought the very large restaurant sized can to the kitchen and left it for the potluck. She looked around the room full of people and hoped whoever had shared the generous treat of fruit, even if it wasn’t the fresh variety, would notice that it had been gratefully honored with both the pretty punch serving bowl and placement near the plates so that everyone was aware of its presence as soon as they came to get something to eat. As she scanned the room for anyone taking any notice of the efforts of herself and the other people setting out the array of hot and cold dishes she caught Sarge looking back at her.

Lily set the punch bowl ladle handle in its grove by touch and returned Sarge’s ‘Hey, I see you over there’ look from the side of the room where he was keeping company with the men who’d helped with the rewiring project at Percy Two’s home building today. Esther came to her side, picked up a plate and hip-checked Lily.  “You going to eat something tonight or stand here trading stares with that man? Hmm? You’re attracting attention.”

“Oh? Who’s attention? Yours? Hand me a plate, please, Esther.” Feeling Esther oblige her by slapping a plate against her open palm, Lily looked away from Sarge to her friend.

Esther settled some fruit cocktail on her plate then surveyed the packed room. “The b-brigade been on point all night long. Check out the east wall. They’re all lined up like they’re posing for mug-hots.” She made her way down the length of the buffet table starting and stopping suddenly several times causing Lily and herself to bump into each other. “They ready to run and jump like they waiting for a gun to go off for a race.” Esther deliberated, stopped and leaned backwards so that Lily would bang into her again. “You have any intel on what’s got into them?”

Lily glanced at the group of young women standing along the east wall, plates in hand, eating and talking amongst themselves and to the men walking past who caught their attention. “They seem to be their usual selves as far as I can see.” She looked back at Sarge who’d lowered his eyes while listening to something someone in the group was saying. Instead of trading eye action she got a good look at his dusty mop of unruly waves and curls. She shot a fast look at the young women along the east wall and caught two of them obviously looking him over and snickering between themselves.

Lily elbowed Esther who responded with a soft, “Uh huh?”

“Esther, dare me.”

“Dare you what?” Esther dropped a spoonful of macaroni and cheese onto her plate then slid her eyes towards Lily.

“Just dare me. Say, ‘I dare you, Lily.’”

Esther refrained from spearing a piece of thinly sliced brisket with her fork and turned her full attention to the woman next to her. “What am I daring you to do?” She followed Lily’s glaze to the women of the b-brigade. “Don’t be thinking of stirring that horde for some fun, Lily. It’s been a long day and Esther has zero fuel left for peace-keeping. They’re just looking. They ain’t touching.” She looked in Sarge’s direction. “He ain’t even looking their way. No reason to strike any matches, girlfriend.”

“I won’t say anything to them, Esther. I promise.” Lily held her plate with both hands and looked around the room as several newcomers approached the food tables. “Give me a little verbal push. That’s all I’m asking.”

Esther raised one eyebrow and looked from Lily to Sarge. “Ah ha. A little verbal push? Hmm. First swear that you’re not going over there to b-slap the b-brigade for be-ing themselves.”

“I swear.” She faced Esther and nodded. “I swear I won’t slap anyone.” She pointed at Esther’s plate. “You’re going to go eat with Louisa and Martina?”

“That’s my short-term plan. Nothing stopping you from joining us. Except whatever, ‘I dare you’ action is on your mind. What’s on your plate besides a lot of canned fruit, Lily? Hmm?”

“Dare me and you’ll find out.” Lily grinned. “Come on, Esther. I promise to keep the peace. Though I do admit that the b-brigade is getting on my nerves tonight.”

Esther stepped away from the table and Lily followed in order to let the newcomers have access to the brisket. “Oh they are, are they? Why is that, Lily?”

“Do they change as they get older, Esther? I mean the b-brigade type of women. Will they ever stop being the b-brigade?”

“Sorry, Lily, but as far as Esther’s intel goes, once a member of the b-brigade, always a member. It’s like they’ve been imprinted for life unless they literally get struck by lightning and their wires get rerouted.” She frowned. “That didn’t come out quite like I was thinking, but you get my drift.”

“I do.” Lily popped a grape from the fruit cocktail mix into her mouth. “Not bad for a canned grape.” She handed Esther her plate and removed the hair tie from the end of her braid.

Esther held both plates while Lily quickly undid her braid. “What’s with this hair action, Lily?”

Lily shook her head sending her hair rippling down the lenght of her back then took her plate back from Esther. “How do I look?”

“How?” Esther glanced at the b-brigade then looked at Lily. “Like you got a long, long ways to go before you ever even close to b-brigade membership. Infiltration is not an option. They spot your intent zero second flat.”

“Oh yeah? You think they’re that sharp, Esther? I mean, do you think they’re smart enough to catch and comprehend my unspoken intentions?”

“They’re bitch-es, not dumb-shits.”

“I’m counting on that distinction, Esther. I’ll catch up with you later. Okay, I guess I’ll dare myself.” Lily squared her shoulders, shook her hair again and smiled at Esther. “I dare you, Lily.” She turned on her toes and walked around the table to the other side. Pausing for moment, she looked over her shoulder and winked at Esther.

“Hmm, yes you did. Now what are you up to, girlfriend?” Curious, Esther hung back, ate some macaroni and watched Lily making her way through the people eating and talking in various social groups. When Lily made a point of walking past the women designated as the b-brigade, Esther held her breath waiting for her to suddenly break her stride and engage in some caustic verbal warfare as often happened when she and the group got a little too close to each other for their mutual comfort. Instead of slowing down or stopping to engage in a sarcastic exchange, as had been her want ever since Lily had gotten clued into what John had called his meaningless side-bar dalliances with several of the young women, Lily kept on moving. Her proximity and silence had definitely caught the attention of the women who waited for her to do an about-face and come straight back at them for a little dishing.

Oblivious to the other people moving past her near the buffet table, Esther spoke out loud quietly to herself. “You got their attention now what do you plan to do with it, Lily? Hmm? Where the hell are you going in this can of jam-packed human sardines? Wait. Brake time. Lily, are you? You’re not, are you? Are you going where I think you’re going?” Esther took an inventory of the b-brigade and noted that every one of them was watching Lily’s progress through the crowd. She looked to where Sarge stood with Anton, Little George, Percy Two and several other men. “I dare you, Lily. I dare you to finally outright own that man right here in front of everyone.” When Lily stopped near the front windows to talk with the musicians taking time out from playing for their meal, Esther sighed with disappointment. “Oh come on, Lily. Don’t stop working your mojo now. Go on, at least slide by and give him a little body slam or something. You don’t have to stick around, just make contact. Come on, girl. Do it for Esther. Please. I know you want to. You know you want to.”

When several people blocked her view of the room, Esther moved to her left and stood waiting for Lily to leave the music making trio. When she did, Esther took a deep breath and rolled her own shoulders. “That’s it, yes, Lily. Alright feeding him fruit cocktail grapes would not be Esther’s first choice of action, but it’s something.” She looked again at the women watching intently. “It’s making a point of some sort.” First the guitar player and then the others began playing one of their new songs. She took a bite of brisket and a moment later stopped chewing in surprise when Lily handed her plate to Little George then took Sarge by the hand and lead him to the small open space near the little band.

In spite of the crowd Lily and Sarge easily settled into a slow dance together in the tiny available floor space. As they danced, little by little more floor appeared as people moved aside to give them what little room there was left in order to dance properly. Esther scanned the room quickly noting who was paying attention to the only couple in the room dancing. The b-brigade was looking deadly serious. Several men were watching with dark diamond hard eyes as Lily’s stream of loose black hair swayed and shimmered as she moved in accord with Sarge.  “Mmm. There be plenty enough eyes catch that dance action to send the point to all parts known. Yes, indeed.” Esther looked at her husband and the other men in his group also taking note of the public statement Lily was making by getting Sarge to dance with her in a room  so crowded no one else was even trying to do so. “Big Man going right along with that dancing. Mmm. That’s it, Sarge, you keep on giving me reasons to like you.”

Esther was satisfied that now the attention of most curious parties would shift to other more available persons of interest and some tensions would ease up now that speculation had been put to rest with this social statement. But when they continued dancing  for another song and then a third, she wasn’t quite sure what to think about anyone’s reactions. Dance number three did more to arouse interest in the couple than it did to dispel it. Esther quickly pointed this out to Anton when he came to the food table to satisfy his sweet tooth. “Anton, there be dancing and there be dancing, you read me?”

Anton nodded. “Oh Anton reading Esther straight up.” He selected a brownie then looked across the room to where Sarge and Lily were dancing considerably closer than when they’d first claimed the small space for themselves. “Lily doin’ a good job of owning Big Man out in the open. ‘Bout time too. What got your back up about that, hmm, Fine Woman of Mine?”

“My back is not up about Lily owning the man.” Esther moved closer against his side and whispered. “But what is with all these other folks? There be more than a little sweet touch in that dance, but that’s nothing these people haven’t seen and done themselves plenty of before and then some.”

“True that. Maybe all their eyeballing cuz they ain’t sure what they seeing. Are they just dancing or are they Dancing? They sure not crossing any lines out there to decide that question. Yet.”

Esther swayed a little with the music. “Maybe they should.” She surveyed the large room again. “Or maybe not. Anton, what are your bones saying?”

“My bones? What about?”

Esther pointed with her fork towards Lily and Sarge then she quickly waved it  over the people crowding into the room for sharing food and socializing. “About whatever is trying real hard to tie a knot in my stomach.”

~~~~~~@eva2014

Any suggestions for the music they’re dancing to would be most welcome. Don’t be shy, please share your ideas.

 

 

 

Pulling The Rug Out From Under Big Brother– The Burglary, The Discovery of J. Edgar Hoover’s Secret FBI by Betty Medsger

The New York Times

*

 

“There are certain points in history where a society goes so wrong, and there are certain people who will say, ‘I won’t stand for that . . . I will risk career, life, limb, family  freedom . . . And I will take this risk, and I will go and do it.”

                                                                                                                                                                                          David Kairys

Betty Medsger’s book about the 1971 burglary of the FBI office in Media, Pennsylvania isn’t about a cheap thrill ride of robbery for adrenaline kicks and profit, though it was a crime with a huge payout–the truth.  The burglary committed by a crew of non-violent peace activists assembled by a physics professor, William Davidon, confirmed the suspicions of anti-war activists that they were being unlawfully spied upon by their own government because they were exercising their right to dissent — and that thousands of other people were being illegally spied upon because they were considered subversives according to one man, J. Edgar Hoover.  People didn’t have to commit any crime or even speak about committing treason to get their names put on a list of folks to be rounded up and jailed in the event of some national emergency. If they were liberal, if they were black, if they espoused anti-war sentiments, if they were writers, artists, then they were candidates for warrantless, indefinite detention without due process under the law–as far as Hoover was concerned. The Citizens Commission to Investigate the FBI’s theft of FBI records brought into the light of day the term COINTELPRO–and a lot of very very illegal activity by the FBI as it committed crimes against the American people with impunity. Such crimes included destroying the lives of innocent people by deliberately framing them for crimes they didn’t commit, celebrating such wrongdoing and refusing to turn over evidence that proved their innocence in any wrongdoing. Hoover’s secret FBI didn’t give a damn about truth, integrity, civil liberties, or the law. It existed to create paranoia and fear in the population at large in order  to control everyone. It refused to protect and uphold the Constitution of the United States and the law. It was a criminal entity from the top on down with a few exceptions.

If this is striking a contemporary current events cord with you, that’s not an accident.

If you’re expecting an anti-war tale rife with hippies, drugs, sex and rock and roll music, look elsewhere. The people who broke into the FBI office in Media were not a bunch of hooligans. They weren’t looking for money. They were searching for evidence.  These were people who raided draft offices in order to destroy the effort to conscript young men for the war machine then stayed to be arrested by the police in order to take responsibility for their actions. These were people deeply invested in ethical behavior and education who wanted the death and destruction in Vietnam to stop. They were people committed to the civil rights movement.  Betty Medsger’s book provides varied personal portraits of the burglars, each dependent upon how much personal information they were willing to share, of the Media burglars.  There’s a range of backgrounds and experience among them which provides some sense of the breadth of the range of people involved in the anti-war movement and what inspired them to become activists.

If you have no clue about the short and long-term importance of this burglary and the context in which it occurred, don’t fret, Medsger will fill you in. She provides notes and a very useful bibliography for further reading. While this is a very serious book about very serious issues which are very relevant to the here and now, it’s also very very accessible and readable. It gives life and breath to events by creating connections with real humans thinking hard about the world we live in–and how we live in it. What are the responsibilities of those who are free? What does it mean to have the right to dissent without fear of retaliation in a society that claims to be free? What are you willing to do to protect your civil liberties? Who wants to live their lives in fear of being arrested because of their ideas?

Betty Medsger’s book raises all sorts of interesting issues for serious conversation while stressing the important role ‘ordinary’ people play in creating the world in which we live our daily lives. If you think one person doesn’t have a lot of influence in the power plays then consider J. Edgar Hoover the Head of the FBI versus William Davidon, a physics professor with an idea.

Who is reading everyone’s mail? Who is collecting phone conversations? Who is creating files on everyone? Why?

Who has the Hoover virus? What is to be done about it?

~~~

The Burglary site –>> http://www.theburglary.com/

~~~~

Betty Medsger ~ The Burglary (note, her part does not run the full hour of the video)

Published on Mar 21, 2014

http://www.politics-prose.com/book/97… Betty Medsger talks about her book about the previously unsolved burglary of an FBI building in Media, Pennsylvania. Recorded on March 16, 2014.
Founded by Carla Cohen and Barbara Meade in 1984, Politics & Prose Bookstore is Washington, D.C.’s premier independent bookstore and cultural hub, a gathering place for people interested in reading and discussing books. Politics & Prose offers superior service, unusual book choices, and a haven for book lovers in the store and online. Visit them on the web at http://www.politics-prose.com/

BookTV

 

Breakfast Special, #42, Father Timothy He Got Game

Father Timothy He Got Game

Dylan O’Mara dipped his fingertips into the holy water, knelt down at the end of the aisle, made the sign of the cross, stood up and looked around the interior of St. Teresa’s church. The old stone building settled like a brick in the middle of a snow mound was showing its age yet appeared well maintained and clean inside and out. He noticed that in place of real flowers there were elaborately folded paper ones in the nearby vases. Hearing an unseen door open at the other end of the church, he waited patiently in hopes of encountering someone who could direct him to the priest he’d cautiously driven the main road that had been plowed just that very morning through Falls to find. A few moments later a slim man wearing an old-fashioned priest hassock made his way down the east wall aisle with a group of small children following in his wake. Seeing Dylan, the priest raised a hand in greeting and nodded as he continued leading the children to the main front entrance where an elderly Mexican woman sat waiting at the end of the very last pew near the windows. After a brief exchange, the children and woman exited together through the doors behind Dylan. Hands deep in his coat pockets, Dylan walked to meet the priest halfway. “Father Timothy?”

“YYes.  Hhello.”

“Good day, Father. I’m Dylan O’Mara. I just need a minute of your time, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Nice tto mmeet you, Mmister Ooo’Mara. How cccan I hhelp you?”

Dylan looked the young-looking priest in the eye for a moment trying to get a sense of the man. It was clear that he had Father Timothy’s full attention but beyond that, Dylan couldn’t be certain of anything including his age. ”I’ll keep it short and to the point. I’m looking for my son. He’s been out of touch since this snow hit. His mother is worried sick. My boy, he’s not the most regular church going Catholic, but he minds his ps and qs. I’m making the rounds because my wife has this notion that maybe he got snowed in with some friends and might have caught a mass someplace other than the usual. He’d be about my height. Half my weight. Fit, but not muscle-bound. Mid twenties with longish brown hair that’s kind of wild-looking.  Have you seen anyone like that at mass recently?”

Father Timothy took a few steps backward then carefully looked Dylan up and down. He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorrry. Haven’t ssseen anyone your height who looks like yyou.”

“Oh no, Father, he doesn’t look like me except for the height. Sarge is big, but not like me. Leaner, longer build. Has a kind of hard boned look to him. Got a pretty boy face with hazel eyes. Not brown eyes like mine.”

Father Timothy shook his head again. “No. I wwould rrremember vvery tttall and wwhite. I can kkeep an eye out ffor him. I’ll ccall if you give mme your number.”

Dylan nodded as he pulled a business card out of his wallet. “Thank you, Father. I appreciate your help. So does my wife. Thank you so much for your time.” He handed his card to the priest. ”Well behaved kids you brought out earlier. Quiet, polite like.”

Father Timothy’s face light up with a bright smile. “Oh ttthey’re aaa joy. LLotts of ppparents work. Wwe ttry to help out as much as pppossible. Lots of older people hhelp wwith aan hour or two. They’re like ffoster grandparents. They make warm meals for the ccchildren when their parents work late shifts. And we ttry to mmake sure every ccchild gets sssomething ggood to eat from us aaafter school.  It all adds up.” It wasn’t lost on Father Timothy that Dylan O’Mara was studying him intently while giving the appearance of only partially paying attention to him.

“Yeah. A little here, a little there. It adds up. Thank you.” Dylan turned to go after shaking the priest’s hand and then he turned back with an expression that said he’d forgotten something. “Before I go, one more thing, Father. You wouldn’t happen to know a young lady who goes by the name of Lily, would you? Any chance of that?”

Father Timothy put his hands behind his back and nodded. “ I do kknow someone named  LLLily. Do you have a last nnname for your Lily?”

“No. I don’t. Sorry. Does the Lily you know attend Mass here at St.Teresa’s?”

Father Timothy shook his head. “Not usually. Ssshe follows aaanother path. It’s all ggood in the eyes of our Lord. I seem ttto be eempty handed for you. I will wwatch out for your son.”

Feeling slightly unsettled by the unexpected certainty that Father Timothy would indeed keep an eye out for Sarge, Dylan nodded his thanks.  He made a slow exit out onto the steps of the church where he stood with his coat collar turned up, hands back in his pockets, and his eyes taking in everyone and everything in the area. She follows another path. What the hell does that mean? That does not help me, good Father. It does not help me at all. More to you than meets the eye, Father Timothy. Hell yeah. You’re a cagey one with that ‘your’ Lily, ‘my’ Lily number. Not willing to give up a last name either. Working it so that if I ask more, you’re gonna shut me down in case I’m some sort of pervert.

Dylan turned towards the sound of children laughing. Two older teen-aged Asian girls were leading another group of children, each carrying a little brown lunch bag same as the first group, down the church steps towards a waiting van. Like you said, a little here, a little there and it all adds up. I owe you for that, Father. I don’t know why, but I have the feeling you’re the type who just might call me if you see Sarge. But for some reason that does not rest well with me.

Suddenly Dylan pulled out his wallet, took two crisp hundred-dollar bills from it, walked back inside the church to the donation box and slipped them inside. Then catching sight of a vase of small paper roses by a statue of the Virgin Mary, he put another hundred-dollar bill into the box. He turned hard on his heel, not wanting to be seen again by the priest or anyone else and quickly left.

Carefully making his way across the recently shoveled and sanded sidewalk to his car, he spoke aloud to himself, “What kind of priest puts out paper flowers for the Holy Mother Mary? I know what you are, Father Timothy. Oh yeah. You’re a subversive. A genuine commie lefty wearing a priest’s collar for a disguise while you rock the status quo boat. Sack lunches, warm meals, foster grandparents. It all adds up. I hope to hell my Sarge does not get a whiff of you.  Goddamn it all. Last thing I need is my eldest son getting some idea about joining the priesthood in order to do good works. No way! No f’n way! Not after all the damn pussy I’ve thrown at him to keep that from ever happening.”

~~

Breakfast Special #1 https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/04/25/breakfast-special/

Breakfast Special, #41, Beez-wax

“Beez-wax”

Lily dropped spoonfuls of pork filling onto the masa while Rosa folded corn husks around the mixture.  She caught Rosa looking at her intently. “What is it, Rosa?”

“None of my beez-wax.” Rosa shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Priest’s old record player break? You and Sarge tired of dancing?”

Warning alarms went off in Lily’s intellect while her home people vibes perked up from their nap. “The record player is working fine.” Lily thought of the little “Do Not Disturb” sign in Anton’s distinct handwriting she’d found taped to the outside of her apartment door when she’d left to come upstairs to make tamales with Rosa. “We danced yesterday, just not as much as usual. Sarge’s feet needed a rest after all the time he spent in Mrs. Ling’s cold basement that’s all.”

“Hmm, his feet, si.” Rosa adjusted her arrangement of tamales in the steamer. “You weren’t in Ling basement. Why Lily look like she need a rest big time? Some other dance start-up?”

Lily scraped the last of the pork filling from the bowl for the last two tamales. After depositing the pork, she set the large spoon in the bowl and closed her eyes. “Why is everyone so interested  in if we’re having sex or not?”

Rosa gave a little laugh. “Oh funny one, Lily. You know why. Everyone wants know when you break cold shoulder streak. Hombres wait and see if Sarge stay or go. Mujeres wait and see if Sarge stay or go. Men watching Lily. Women watching Sarge.  They play wait and see game. Maybe they get some chicken soup and some bread. That simple. No sex means odds better chance for them.”  Rosa put the cover on the steam pot of tamales then turned to where Lily was still standing with her eyes closed. She put the empty bowl in the sink then pushed a chair against the back of Lily’s knees as an invitation to sit down. Taking another chair for herself, she glanced at the children in the other room before giving Lily her full attention. “Rosa got one tough question. No more for Lily today. Okay?”

Lily nodded and opened her eyes. “Just one. Promise.”

“Deal. Here we go. Lily holding back with Big Man because of what John do?”

Taken off guard by Rosa’s unexpected reference to John, Lily turned to face her. “Fuck John’s shit.”

Rosa’s eyebrows shot up with the force of Lily’s quiet reply. “Bueno John plan. Why Lily hold back?”

“That makes two questions.”

Not to be put off by what she considered a language technicality, Rosa held her ground. “No. Same question. You know what I mean.”

Lily sat listening to her home people vibes for several moments. “I’m not holding back. Not like your question means. I’m waiting. That’s different.”

Tapping her fingers lightly on the table, Rosa watched the children in the other room while she considered Lily’s response. “What for? Never know how much time we have with people, Lily. Don’t waste too much waiting.  Maybe Sarge right for Lily, maybe not. One way find out. Make a leap.”

Lily rubbed her eyes then scratched her scalp. “It’s not me who needs to make a leap, Rosa. It’s him. He’s a little stuck.”

“Oh? How about a push? Little push for little stuck. Like record player sometimes need to get to the next song. Nothing hard.  Tiny tap.” Rosa illustrated her notion with a very small movement of her fingers.

Lily looked away from her widowed friend and started thinking about last night’s hours’ long conversation with Sarge.  Closing her eyes again she focused inward on her now wide awake home people vibes.  She could feel Rosa watching her with concern. “Nope. No little tapping. No little pushing.”

“How about a big shove? Hm?” Again Rosa illustrated with her hands.

Lily shook her head. “No shoving. Sarge has been pushed and shoved a lot regarding his personal life, Rosa. That’s why he’s stuck right now. He wants to get unstuck.”

Rosa gave a two thumbs up sign. “Bueno. Let’s unstuck him. What need for that? Hmm? What the recipe?”

“Recipe?” Lily cocked her head to one side and stared at Rosa. “Recipe, hhhm, good idea, Rosa, let’s stir something up.” Lily drummed on the table with the heels of her palms. “Where’s the photo-copy you made of that little grey book?”

“What Lily thinking?” Rosa pulled her chair over to the cabinets.  Standing on it she took  the stack of photocopies from the top shelf. She climbed down as Lily brought the yellow and white pages to the table. “What we doing, Lily?”

Lily put a hand on the telephone books. “You ready to do some serious shoving and pushing, Rosa? You ready to play what Anton calls ‘mind fuck hard ball’?”

Rosa glanced at the photocopied book pages in her hands then at the telephone books. She held up the stack of photocopied pages. “Why? Lily got clue why Sarge got pimp book?”

“Ha.” Lily pointed at the pages in Rosa’s hands. “That book is the glue that’s got Sarge stuck. I’m damn sure it’s messing with his mind, Rosa. I think that’s exactly what it’s supposed to do. Lily thinks it’s about time that shit went right back to where it came from, his family.”

Rosa set the stack of photocopies on the table and stood thinking. She looked at the telephone books then at Lily and nodded. “Si, Rosa play ‘mind fuck hard ball’.” She smiled. “Like old times with Juan.” Her hips swayed as she did a little two step dance. She picked up the yellow pages and turned to the construction advertisements. Finding the pages Lily and Esther had shown her after she’d made the photocopy of the pimp book, Rosa laid it open on the table. “Rosa got ideas.” She and Lily looked at each other. “Lily got ideas.” Rosa flipped a corner edge of the stack of photocopies. “Mrs. Ling got lot mind game ideas. Let’s play.”

“Mrs. Ling? Really?”

Rosa laughed. “Mrs. Ling’s funny bones very wicked. Mind mess game her kind of game.” She went to her large oversized recipe book and turned to the inside back cover. She showed Lily the cartoon taped there. Lily whistled and her eyes opened wide with comprehension of the meanings of the images and the words.

~~~

One way to make tamales –> http://whatscookingamerica.net/CynthiaPineda/Tamales.htm

Another way to make tamales 🙂

Making Tamales In Oaxaca Mexico

paradox398

In a Mexican village located on the coast of Oaxaca local women traditionally prepare tamales for a birthday celebration
The woman whose birthday it is works with her daughter in law and her sister in law. In the background you can hear the radio intermixed with “sounds of the campo” including children doing their English class homework.
When new banana leaf is needed, one woman steps from the shelter to harvest some leaves from a banana tree.
The chickens to be future tamales scurry the ground.
As the birthday woman continues to assemble what will be 500 tamales, her grandson plays mañanitas, the traditional Mexican birthday song on the instrument he is learning in school.

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