I wanted (want) to say to God, “Hold my catastrophes, will ya?” As we were preparing for our son’s memorial, an “Evergreen” behind our two-story house—one nearly as tall as our house—suddenly fell over. I was home and heard the crash-bam-boom. I ran to the ruckus and saw the downed tree. If I’d been in … Read more
Whenever I wear this bike jersey by Cycology, (pronounced “psychology”) and inspired by Frida Kahlo, I almost—without fail—get a compliment (i.e., a car passenger boldly yells, “I LIKE YOUR SHIRT!”) Everybody loves Frida! Yesterday, the crossing guard checking out my kit + gear asked, “Do you do this every morning?” I assumed she meant riding … Read more
This morning, before any slippery bits could fall through the rusty sieve between my temples, I decided to jot down notes about what had happened over the last few days since writing about “talking” bunnies, dolphins, deer—and music—but then I became distracted by the Mary Oliver tome I keep on my nightstand. I turned the … Read more
If I could walk with the animals and talk with the animals Grunt, squeak, squawk with the animals And they could squeak and squawk And speak and talk to me They would talk too — Sammy Davis Jr. On the day of Joey’s memorial, I referenced the hymn “It is Well with My Soul.” … Read more
If I understand correctly, “distilling down” means reducing something to its most essential parts, focusing on crucial elements—having been purified by heating. On Sunday, we watched glammed-out celebrities living the dream, walking the red carpet, and a few days later, we saw these same celebrities shedding real tears. This is not a personal case of … Read more
This week, I’ve received a few heavenly DMs, which have been reassurances and comforts that cannot be dismissed as coincidences. Just as those had, one landed in my lap a while back: It was a song for Joey. The lyrics describe a little boy being ushered into heaven by the most tender, enveloping embrace, the … Read more
John and I got engaged under the moon on the winter solstice, December 22 The day we married, we were 22 On his way to Mulegé, Joey was 22 He liked the myth of Icarus and the novel Catch-22 The cross street where Joey left this earth was 22 That fateful date was 12/22/22 Yesterday, … Read more
If you saw “Terminator 2: Judgment Day,” you have some familiarity with the LA River. I’d wanted to ride the LA River Bike Path for some time. I’d had some resistance for some time. I was told it was sketchy and unsafe. Repetitively. It’s too close to gangland, John said. We’d be the minority. I … Read more
John Lennon said all you need is love, but I disagree. I just finished a Spanish-language Netflix series that used a beautiful, oft-repeated phrase: “confía en mí.” There is such warmth and music in these precarious and promising words. If the Spanish “confía en mí” is the deepest blue sea, the sound of the … Read more
I rode to the top of Whiting Ranch and got an ocean view. I came home and immediately began making bread. Nearing the end of my 4-hour shift, I was drawn to the audible viewer discretion warning from the CNN anchor perched atop my fridge. The warning was merited. The clip made me weep. I … Read more