Life of Wry

I presume the flag in Davis’ Central Park flying at half staff is a quiet act of civil disobedience on somebody’s part.  I’m rather certain the City of Davis did not send a park maintenance worker downtown this early Sunday morning to lower the flag.  Unless somebody big died and I didn’t hear about it (in spite of being glued to my news feeds for endless hours in the last day and a half), I think this is probably the work of one of the Occupy Davis protesters camping on the park’s north end in recognition of the horrific events on campus in the last 36 hours a short three blocks to the west.  Just my guess.

In any event, all was quiet this cold and wet morning.  Imagining the various camps are in their corners figuring out what to do tomorrow.  There is a big rally planned at noon on the quad.  Chancellor Katehi has indicated she intends to address the students’ general assembly (not sure when).  In light of calls for her resignation and a general sense that she’s mishandled pretty much everything associated with the Occupy UC Davis protests, we should be seeing a more considered response.

The Atlantic’s James Fallows wrote a good article this morning summing up the degree to which the students prevailed in making their points and doing it with class, dignity and restraint, and how the university panicked and relied on an unnecessary military-esque police response in making theirs.  About the students’ non-violent posture as cops in riot gear showered them in pepper spray, Fallows said: this is a moral drama that the protestors clearly won. I also loved this comment of his:

“The disciplined, contemptuous dead silence of the protestors through whom UC Davis chancellor Linda Katehi walks en route to her car is another astonishingly powerful demonstration of moral imagery. Again, as a moral confrontation, this is a rout.”

Which just means tomorrow will be interesting.

We are in the early stages of a drama that is rocking the campus and community of Davis.

Yesterday afternoon, UCD police in riot gear pepper-sprayed this row of sitting students on the quad (while I raked leaves in the front yard just 2 1/2 blocks away, obliviously). Students. Students who, okay, locked arms. But students whose message was hey, we’re having a hard time gettin’ an education here. And whose small cluster of North Face and Kelty tents was somehow posing a serious health and security threat.

This photo is making the rounds globally, quickly becoming a symbolic statement about all that is wrong in our country. [Hint: it’s not the students.]

A quick glance at what is trending in Twitter just now shows national and even global disgust at this police action against a non-violent, non-threatening group of students.  A Google search turns up hundreds of articles, photos & videos (impressively, just about every student present was taking pics and videos on cell phones).  I have friends in Holland, Nepal, Hong Kong and Australia who are following this and commenting on my facebook page.

Heads will roll, as they say, and I guess we’ll find out over the days and weeks to come how this impacts UCD, its new chancellor, its chief of police.  Nothing was more profound and powerful than the silent treatment the students gave Chancellor Katehi as she walked from tonight’s press conference to her car.  Hundreds of students lined her path as she walked, escorted, in surreal silence; a walk of shame.  Wow.

But I really hope the incidents of the last couple days add to the national consciousness about the imbalance of power and ultimately serve to mobilize and rally people in ways that grow this movement.

We have to start somewhere.

These skies lately are killing me.

Three days ago:

Me: Oh boy, you have a concert coming up! Do you have everything you need?  Reeds? 

Him: I’m good.

Me: Do your black pants and white shirt still fit?

Him: Yep.

Me: Try them on, maybe? It’s been awhile since you’ve worn them.

Him: Nope.

Me: Need anything else?

Him: Nope.

Tonight, 6:15 (he has to be at the performance hall by 6:30):

Me: How are those pants?

Him: They’re fine. 

Jim: They’re so tight he can barely breathe.

Him: Do we have any others?

Me: [Pulls slacks out of the closet] You could wear these.

Him: No.

Me: How about….

Him: NO.

Me: You have th…

Him: NO!

Me: Ok, well, those will work, then.

Him: I need black socks.  [Yells down hall to Jim] Can I borrow some black socks? [Adds with a surprising lack of embarrassment:] Do we have any black shoes?

Me: [Noting silently his choice of pronouns] Peter..

At the front door, 6:25:

Him: Where’s my sax?

Me: Under the piano (where it always is), how come it’s not in the car already? Load it in the car, let’s go, chop chop.  Wait, where are your shoes?! Peter!

In the car, 6:30:

Him: [In an amusing state of dishevelment, and a shocking lack of time-sense:] We have time to go to Watermelon Music.

Me: ???!! 

Him: I could use a new reed. 

Me: [Eyebrows up.]

Him: I’d play a lot better with a new reed.

Me: Nope, gotta go. That would have been useful information three days ago.

Him: I left my neck strap at school, I could get another one…

Me: [Cold stare.]

Arrive at performance hall, 6:35:

Him: Oh shi… I forgot my mouthpiece.

Me: Peter…

Him: [Somewhat panicked:] Can you go back and get it?

Me: [Drops him off, does a hasty time calculation, drives home. Talks to self entire way.]

Back stage, 6:45:

Me: Here’s your mouthpiece. Oh, and your music–you left it in the car.

Him: [Smiles.]

Me: [Smiles, sorta.] Knock ’em dead.

Driving home, 9:00:

Him: Did you like it? Could you hear me? Did you hear N– mess up the whole piece? Did you like Mr. Quick’s joke? Which piece did you like the best? I liked the last one. Did you see B–? Did you record it? All of it?  All the pieces we played? [Answering my question about how he managed when all his music fell off the stand:] It was fine, I knew it all by heart. And next concert… Oh, and next year…   [On and on and on and on…]

Me: [Smiles.]

 

Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is the noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of nonessentials.

-Lin Yutang, writer and translator (1895-1976)

Well, well, what have we got here?

Even without my contacts in yet, I spotted the spot in the sink the instant I walked into the bathroom this morning.  But… wait..

I know it was early, and I wasn’t fully functioning yet, but spiders… eight legs, right?  Is there such thing as a spider with six legs?

Okay, so he was missing a couple legs.  I didn’t do it, I promise.

In fact, I escorted Mr. Double Amputee out on a flying carpet of toilet paper. Catch and release all the way. So he’s back in a more natural (if colder) habitat. Hopefully those above him in the food chain will just let him be.

Looks like he’s been through plenty already.

In a funny bubble right now.

This picture has bounty written all over it.. so I’m calling the question. Thinking about whether I’m in a time of bounty or not.

If you’re not up for my rambling, stream-of-conscious introspection, now would be a good time to close this tab and move on.  I’ll totally understand.

Here’s the thing: I don’t really have a lot to say or do these days.  Cases in point:

-Most blog entries for quite a long time have been a struggle. Not much burning a hole in the right side of my brain. I haven’t wanted to force words and thoughts where there are none, so have just been uploading a picture-of-the-day with very little commentary.

-Once a month, I get together with a handful of other women–my women’s group. We’re seven women of varying ages, stages of life, and experiences. We drink wine or tea, depending, and talk about our lives, our challenges, our joys. Wisdom flies. I get a super lot out of it..except I haven’t had a lot to say there, either. I’m listening a lot and enjoying it.. just coming up empty on something to say about me.  Nobody doesn’t have issues (aware of, and loving, my double negative, in case you’re wondering), and I’m sure stuff’s there… but… nothing comes.

-Jim and I go to weekly-couples-counseling-for-life… and lately I don’t have much to say there either.  I’ve been lobbying for a break, which, how often does that happen?  Not to go all sexist on myself here, but women loooove couples counseling, or this one always has anyway.  Endless material.  But, not lately.  No one’s buying my argument that we’re cured, but really, what is there left to talk about?

-I have run out of questions for my physical therapist, too.  (I’m embarrassed to add here that I also see a massage therapist, and I have had little to say to her lately, as well.) I’m out of problems for which I seek a solution.  I still have problems, but I know the solutions. I don’t think I have anything more to talk about. No more talk.

-I was even quiet during my haircut today–with my haircutter of 25-plus years. We always have plenty to gab about.  Love haircuts, love C, just… do I have to talk?

-I actually said these words to someone the other day: “I’m all cafe’d out.”  I’m not tired of coffee or poppyseed muffins or the company I keep.  I just feel sort of antsy.  Expect it to pass, of course, but what does it mean?

-My to-do list is short. The filing’s done. The drawers and closets and refrigerator.. they’re all pretty much purged, cleaned, organized.  Hell, my laundry’s even done. Nothing to plan or do or say about any of that.  I mean, there’s always more to do, more projects to work on, more to throw out, more to sort. But right now, it’s all pretty good.

So.

Is this a bounty or the opposite of a bounty?  Nothing to say, nothing to do.. Is that good? Is there some relationship going on here between my state of mind and my state of being?  Is there some obvious cause and effect? Are the proverbial decks now cleared, and does that mean I’m ready for the next thing?  Have I arrived at that elusive there? Or.. is this just a fleeting moment of calm?

Going into the season of lights here pretty soon. Hoping some is shed on me.

Downtown, things'll be great when you're
Downtown, no finer place for sure,
Downtown, everything's waiting for you

You’re going to have to have been born a long time ago to get this, since it was top of the charts in about 1965..

She’s not exactly singing about our sleepy little downtown on a Sunday morning (which, that’s 3rd Street, above, between E and D on the way home from brunch).

It was a good day for pie.

Ran across this clever little graphic this morning:

Which put me in the mood to make one of these:

Peter’s room.

I know I’ve written about this before. But I guess that’s life with a teenager.

Really, you just can’t appreciate the mess in this picture, as so much of it is off camera.  But trust me, it’s a disaster.  And much of it is manmade, as in, “I’m so mad at you, Mom, I’m going to drive you batshit crazy by throwing this exercise ball against the wall 24,837 times and if it knocks over stuff on the shelves, well that’s just too damn bad, because I’m bored and you shouldn’t have taken away my media for the weekend, the LONG THREE DAY weekend, and I know how you hate it when my room’s all messy and stuff, so I’m going to throw some books around and empty my backpack and upend my laundry basket and scatter some money and unmake my bed and whatever else I can think of to make you regret ever following through with these so-called consequences.”   

Not regretting it one bit, my dear dramatic son.

I am glad it was only a moratorium on media and not a grounding.  Thanking goodness for that, because after a difficult night that turned into a tedious morning, he’s off with friends, a sleepover to boot, and we have some peace and quiet around here.  Good lord.

After a long evening of calm and reasoned responses to why it was to be a media-free weekend, my patience had run dry by this morning.  Last night it was a whole lot of “I understand it’s hard. I can see you’re very disappointed. I appreciate that you tried. I’m sorry you didn’t bring it home, too.”

This morning it was more like, “Do you realize there are children all over the world who have no food, no home, and have to work instead of go to school? They don’t have what you have, and they certainly aren’t crying over losing media for the weekend! You screwed up, now figure out how you’re not going to do it again! Man-up and make something out of this weekend instead of wasting all your energy complaining! Maturity is learning how to deal with disappointment. I’m done listening to you whine.”

You know, standbys like that. And yes, I evoked Africa.

Now I’m just looking forward to a grown up night that starts in a bar over a large glass of wine.