Rainbow tires

When you openly, radically trust people, they not only take care of you, they become your allies, your family.

Sometimes people will prove themselves untrustworthy.
When that happens, the correct response is not:
Fuck! I knew I couldn’t trust anybody!

The correct response is:
Some people just suck.
Moving right along.
–Amanda Palmer/The Art of Asking

Driving home from Eugene in the rain, there was a brief respite from the downpour just North of Salem.

During the sunbreak, I drove past a semi truck and long trailer that was spewing water from all 800 of its tires. Normally, I’d have been a little annoyed at being blinded by the spray.

Not in this case.

In this case, I enjoyed it because each of the spray trails coming from each set of tires was carrying a little miracle–a rainbow trailing behind it. There must have been half a dozen little rainbows following that truck. It was amazing.

Beauty can be found in the most unexpected places. You see it. You take it in. You file it away and smile.

Then you keep moving right along, just like you do with dishonesty, ugliness or unkindness.

I got a dose of that when I got home later that day. Someone very important to me said I make them sick. That is never something you want to hear. It’s not true, helpful, inspiring, necessary or kind. Well. I guess it might have been true. I was being whiny and annoying. I admittedly deserved a snide response if they were not able to see past my annoying remark and understand the feelings that were behind it. Something compassionate might have been called for. Some empathy, maybe. I don’t know.

In the long run that unkind moment may help me get to a place with them where I can move on, because if nothing else, someone who would say something like that to me or anyone else is probably not the sort of kind or caring person I am used to having around. Or want to have around.

So I’ll try to remember that most of my days are spent with people who love me. People who are kind to me. I’ll try to remember the rainbow tires and not the people who are mean.

And I’ll keep moving right along.

Being thankful

Yeah, yeah. It’s been done. A lot.

It’s totally unoriginal.

Everyone writes about what they are thankful for on Thanksgiving.

Bandwagon? Consider me on it.

Being thankful every day is actually something I work at. Every morning, before I get out of bed, I say thanks for something. Usually it’s easy. Sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes I might only be thankful for having a new tube of toothpaste, but there is always something.

It’s pretty easy to be thankful most days. It’s easier still on the last Thursday in November at my Ma’s house. In my family, Thanksgiving is about three things: family, football and feasting. This seems to be a theme with my friends and family throughout the Fall, actually. Thanksgiving in my family is a little like an indoor tailgater with less booze and more elaborate food.

Since most of us work or have worked in health care, sometimes Thanksgiving has to be moved to a different day. That means the football game might not be the traditional Detroit or Dallas game. We stick pretty strictly to tradition aside from observing the actual day of the holiday.

Always turkey, stuffing (cooked inside the turkey), mashed potatoes and a salad. Sometimes maybe some green beans. Pumpkin pie.

This year we were all a little sad that due to work schedules we ate dinner at dinner time. This meant that we did not get to have the traditional turkey sandwiches. Maybe for Christmas.

We try to work it out so we eat between games so we can sit at the table together like civilized people, but if there is a game on and it’s close? Well, in that case we eat in the living room so we can see the game. This is what happens when the matriarch is as much of a football fiend as the men in the family.

It is a low key day. I’m not much of an NFL fan, so I have been known to read while we wait for dinner. My family is used to it. I only get a little flak about it. Mostly I pay attention.

We’re a small family, so it is a quiet day. It is not the most exciting day of the year, and that is perfect.

So, what am I thankful for?

Family, friends, food, football, pie, books, turkey, water, the automobile.
Family and friends. Saying it again because I really mean it. All the people who make my life a happy one.

And you know? A turkey does make a handsome dinner.
And if you are having pie, it should be pie made by my Ma.

Hope your Thanksgiving was just the way you like it.

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Invisible woman

There comes a time when you swim or sink
So I jumped in the drink
‘Cause I couldn’t make myself clear

Maybe I wrote in invisible ink
Oh, I’ve tried to think
How I could have made it appear
–Aimee Mann/Invisible Ink

I wanted to be seen.

That was absolutely true. All performers–all humans–want to be seen; it’s a basic need.
Even the shy ones who don’t want to be looked at.
–Amanda Palmer/The Art of Asking

Last weekend I was at a football game. I have season tickets, so I sit in the same seat every week. A lot of the same people sit around me. I usually smile and say hello when I sit down. I yell a lot during the games. I occupy space like everyone. More than some people. I’m large, I jump up and down. I feel like I am pretty conspicuous.

On Saturday, I happened to come in with a pocket full of Jell-O shots and gave some to the people behind me. The ones who have been there all season. The man sitting next to them, who has also been there all season said “where have you been all year?”

I was right where I always am during a game. In my seat.

I was a little non-plussed. I mean, I am not the kind of person who launches into conversations with people. I’m on the shy side. On the other hand, I ‘m not a withdrawn ogre who snarls. I look people in the eye. I smile. I high five after great plays.

I am not invisible to the human eye.

Right? I’m not.

Hello, hello, hello?
Is there anybody in there?

To be fair, it’s not like I have given anyone around me my life story. They haven’t given me theirs, either.

And it’s not like I can’t make an effort to be more outgoing, except. Except.

I hate it. I really hate it.
It isn’t because I am afraid of rejection in this case–talking to the people around me at a football game is very low risk. They aren’t going to tell me I am too fat to talk about our defense with. I am not too old or ugly to exchange a high five with.

There is a point between smiling and saying hello and anything else where I feel like I am pretending to be someone I am not. Where it isn’t genuine. Where maybe I’m just masquerading as someone outgoing. It seems deceitful.

Later, when I mentioned the guy’s remark to a friend, he kind of rolled his eyes at me and said:
“The guy was probably just referring to the Jell-O shots and not talking about you at all.”

Ohhhhhhh. Uh. Yeah. Right.
He kind of was.

Never mind.