I'm walking to the Jewel Osco, the grocery store right around the corner from my place. The weather's mild. The snow is melting. I'm jumping over a few puddles that collected by the curbs. I'm on this healthy kick for the new year. At least until I'm noticeably thinner and I miss Julius Meinl's almond croissants too much.
There's a sale on
Eat Smart Vegetable Stir-Fry microwaveable bags. 99-cents, limit 3. So I've been spending $3 ever time I visit to stock up. $2.59 regular price. I pick up
Gi-Joe from the RedBox DVD vending machine. I've heard it sucks but I'll risk wasting a buck.
I'm woking - if that's a word - frying veggies in the wok, youknowwhatI'msayin'? A little olive oil, some cooking spray, so it doesn't stick, a couple bags of stir-fry, a little stir-fry soy sauce, and "Voila!" - healthy goodness.
At the TV, I'm pressing the
ALL PWR button and either the TV is turning on or the cable box is turning off. I'm pressing
CBL. An
ABC Special World News is on. Diane Sawyer -
"man I like her" - is walking on the streets of Haiti with rubble all around. My daughter is bumping my foot with the hard plastic of her walker.
"Ouch, Zo-Zo-Ma-Go-Go..."
Diane is asking some family about something. She's speaking the language. I'm impressed -
"Damn, she seems like such a sweet person." The people look desperate. "
What these vegetables need is hot sauce? Go get daddy some hot sauce sweety...No?"
I'm at the TV shaking out hot sauce and Diane is interviewing this man who lost his oldest daughter. His youngest daughter is lying down on the ground with a bloody leg and a T-shirt around her head soaked with blood. He's saying, "Man, I need help. Please help me with my daughter, man. I need medicine or something for my baby. Just help me, man." His voice is helpless.
I'm staring at the ceiling, letting the tears soak back into the tear ducts. One gets loose and I dab it out with my shoulder. I tell myself,
"I couldn't imagine." Now another one gets free, so I shut off my mind till my eyes dry out. I'm wondering,
"Will texting Wyclef make me feel better?"
I'm looking around the room. I'm thinking of all that I am and all that I plan to be. I'm picking my youngest daughter out of her walker. She's grabbing for my glasses. I'm staring at her - staring - as she chews on my frames.
Later, I'm watching
Gi Joe. It's not a bad movie. You can't expect too much from these blockbusters, they're really only meant to be fun.
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The Beginnings of Lil Knuc-Knuc
It took a long time for me to get one of these frumpy dog-eared hats, but the guy at the store sold me on it. I usually just go to the Beauty Supply and buy a batch of skullies in every color, but the guy said these hats are great for that Chicago winter cold, and I've been walking in it a lot more lately.
Yelling and applauding for your favorite artist or band or comedian to return for an encore, standing on a sticky concrete floor just so far from the stage, floating on the wisps of weed smoke and the waves of the last $15 drink, holding an attractive stranger in your arms, you think said her name was Melinda or it could be Lucinda or maybe Heather, but she's touching you like you're hers, and the artist or band or comedian comes back and performs as if they're having a spiritual experience on stage, and the audience and all that are present are intertwined in the fabric of the same glorious moment, and as you lift your cellphone backlight and sing every word, you feel so alive.
Drinking coffee in the morning before the sun comes up, standing at the warehouse dock on the empty bed of a Ford F550, after all the complaining union drivers have left with their loads and before any of the rowdy bi-lingual pickers arrive and before any angry customers or salespeople call and the only sound is the backup beeping of the Receiving forklifts at the back of the warehouse out of sight and holding that ceramic-vendor-swag mug with Colombian aromatic steam lifting from it and the chill of the air is just cool enough to numb your knuckles and nose, letting you know you're alive.