silver linings, poems and mr. rogers......

Life in my world has been slow moving of late as a week of stomach flu has

rendered me played-out: hung up wet to dry as they say out West. One of the silver linings within this relentless cloud of upheaval has been the chance to finish Maxwell King's The Good Neighbor: the Life and Work of Fred Rogers. It is a gentle and thoughtful read about a tender and wise man. One quote from Mr. Rogers stands out:

You rarely have time for everything you want in this life, so you need to make choices. And hopefully your choices can come from a deep sense of who you are.

I chose to rest this week - a lot - and while resting two poems from The Writer's Almanac caught my attention as I tried to make peace with nausea. "Alive" by Naomi Shihab Nye gets it right: so much of our time in this realm is given to a collection of small concerns that we rarely evaluate or understand. Cumulatively, however, they give shape and form to our lives without honoring our truest self or our deepest values. 

Dear Abby, said someone from Oregon,
I am having trouble with my boyfriend's attachment
to an ancient gallon of milk still full
in his refrigerator. I told him it's me or the milk,
is this unreasonable? Dear Carolyn,
my brother won't speak to me
because fifty years ago I whispered
a monkey would kidnap him in the night
to take him back to his true family
but he should have known it was a joke
when it didn't happen, don't you think?
Dear Board of Education, no one will ever
remember a test. Repeat. Stories,
poems, projects, experiments,
mischief, yes, but never a test.
Dear Dog Behind the Fence, you really need
to calm down now. You have been barking every time
I walk to the compost for two years
and I have not robbed your house. Relax.
When I asked the man on the other side
if you bother him too, he smiled and said no,
he makes me feel less alone. Should I be more
worried about the dog or the man? 

It made me think of how the late Irma Bombeck, philosopher of all things quotidian, put it: "If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more."

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy and complaining about the shadow over my feet, I'd have cherished every minute of it and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was to be my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle. I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded. I would have eaten popcorn in the "good" living room and worried less about the dirt when you lit the fireplace. I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth. I would have burnt the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored.

I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and never worried about grass stains. I would have cried and laughed less while watching television ... and more while watching real life. I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband which I took for granted. I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream. I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the Earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for a day.

Taking her advice - and staying in bed during this sickness - I rewrote the lyrics and part of the melody to my song "Small Is Holy." Verse one worked, as did the chorus, but the rest was too preachy. Lofty when it needed to be grounded in the earth. It also needed to be confessional and in the first person rather than declarative. So now it is - another silver lining in an uncomfortable week. When I get a good recording, I'll post Small 2.0.

Ted Kooser brought this sick week to a close with "Waxer." I think he brings it all together: choices, time, beauty, joy, work, whimsy, reality, ordinary wisdom and even a taste of the holy.   

I once watched a man wax a hallway
with an overweight rotary buffer
that he waltzed from one side to the other
by tipping it ever so slightly, letting
the bristles on one side get a grip
on the floor, drawing the big machine
in that direction, then artfully tipping it
into the opposite, letting it lead, letting it
whirl him out over the beautiful shine
that the two of them made as they
swept down the hall, the man always
in charge but cajoling his partner
into believing that she was, stealing
the show while the man merely followed,
the two swirling out over the gloss
from the overhead lighting, gracefully
rounding a corner and gone.

It is snowing and sleeting outside. Robert Mueller has submitted his report to the Attorney General. I'm going to get another blanket and watch PBS news as part of my daily prayers. And I will do so in the company of our soon-to-be-senior dog, Lucie, who all week long has snuggled with me worrying that something is wrong. This too shall pass my dear I think knowing it is time to rejoin her on the sofa.