When i was in college... rather, a more accurate depiction of the era
which I am trying to describe would be, um, hmmmm.... in between
colleges.... something about wandering, and waiting, and watching the
water roll over the Mississippi.... ..... anyway, during the time of
which I speak, I worked for a home for developmentally disabled people.
There were four gents in my house, aged 17-45, with varying degrees
of autism, mental retardation, and other disabilities. I loved them all.
there was the youngest fellah, who loved cars and trucks and called my
car "The Mighty Topaz!" He did this because he loved cars and when I
began working there, he asked me what kind of car I drove, and I said,
"Why, The Mighty Topaz!" Only he had a way of raising his pointer finger
in the air like Tony The Tiger when he would say it. "The Miiiiiighty
Topaz!" A person had to be careful, though. If you didn't hide your
keys, this kid might run out and start your car and drive it down the
street for you.... or, maybe even through the garage door if you had
been silly enough to park in the garage AND leave your keys out in the
open.
Then there was the one who was not by first glance developmentally
disabled. I remember the first time I walked into the house and saw him.
I thought, "Hell, yeah! Hot coworker!" Then he started rocking back and
forth, bringing the three middle fingers of his hand in an ASL "W"
rapid fire to his mouth, again and again and again in rapid fire
progression. Turned out he was one of our guys. He was handsome, though,
and sometimes I would say, "Come on. You're just pretending, right?"
The third guy was a sweet one who.... nope, wait. I can't lie. The
truth is, I never quite connected with him. But still, I massaged his
head and shoulders at night because it helped him sleep. I can still
remember how tense his shoulders were and what a fun challenge it was to
get them to go from concrete to the feeling of hard earth so he could
fall asleep.
But then there was my music lover. One of our guys loved music
desperately. Unfortunately, fortunately, he played autoharp and sang.
Also, fortunately, unfortunately, he was OCD and only knew two songs:
Buffalo Gals, which is the unfortunate part. And fortunately, and even
surprisingly, he could play autoharp and sing THIS song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fmBChhEoo8
Un amor... one love....
Always and ever love is on my mind, love of all varieties as
fantastic expressions of one grander variety. My sister was married over
the weekend in what was simply the best (http://youtu.be/aIrCFrFpHvw)
ceremony I've ever attended. I know I'm prejudiced, but it was personal,
honest, vulnerable, romantic, present, emotional, communal, familial.
It was under the blue moon on a yacht called the Fantasea, out in the
waters of the Marina del Rey. Everyone in attendance was in joy, in
love, in excitement for the union of two beautiful people.
I love the unlikeliness of life and how beautifully that unlikeliness
continues to surprise me. Laura and Kevin, by all accounts from each
individual's beginnings, were never supposed to meet, let alone fall in
love. My developmentally disabled friend shouldn't have been able to
mimic the Gypsy Kings pitch perfectly. Blue moons are rare, like the
willingness to grow into a true and deep love with a high stakes
partner. And when it happens, it's gorgeous.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sp6zoc84NcU
Life can really knock you off your feet and sometimes that's the best
thing that can happen. Let the waves take you and turn up on the other
side, surfing all the way from Malibu to the Marina. And if you float
under the water, deep beneath the current, dreaming til human voices
wake you, then let that sea salt flaxen your hair and melt your
unwillingness until the stars pop up in the sky once again and you are
them. It's your life, damn it! Are you really living?
I am.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOMyS78o5YI
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