I live at the end of a cul-de-sac. But when I was growing up, we just called it a Dead End. So that’s what we’ll call it. A Dead End. In order for me to get out of my driveway, I need to do a three point turn backwards, often at an angle. It’s quite a sight to behold, actually.

Anyway, when I was backing out, I peered into my rearview to see what was going on behind me. I noticed that one of the cars that belongs to my neighbor had a green something on her windshield. This family, by the way, has a shit ton of cars at their house. 1 X5. 2 Lexus (Lexi?). When the boyfriend comes over, 1 Honda Prelude (riced out). 1 Mercedes. 1 Porsche Cayenne. Sometimes all at once. Sometimes they’re all gone for a week. Whatever. 

Anyways, I pull out and manage to wedge myself into their driveway and pull up next to the Lexus and see it’s a rose. Looks like it’s been there all night. I flashed back to those dorky days when you would get into a fight with a significant other and you’d find mementos or notes left for you in some kawawa state as a lame way to beg forgiveness or to get back in your good graces.

I could only imagine what kind of fight would merit a rose on a windshield, and how brazen an act for everyone to see (it was parked at a 90 degree angle). Ya gotta have nuts and be seriously in love with someone to put your “I’m a Schmuck” badge out there for everyone to see.

As I drove away, I glanced back and had to laugh about how wack those days were when you wake up (or open a door, whatever) to find someone’s apology that wasn’t really an apology -  more like a bait and switch. Ooh lookie pretty flower, please overlook the fact that I macked on your best friend. Flooooowwwweer.

I got home later that day and the rose was gone, but the car back in the same place. Good luck, Prelude boy. I would have probably gone with a “I’m sorry.” those tend to last longer than floooooowwwwwers.

char

I went to Border’s with Bambina the other day, and while watching her play with Thomas and the Tank engine table at the back of the kids section by herself, I mused over her singletoness. As an only child, she plays quietly by herself and yells only in the company of the familiar. It was a bittersweet moment because I would love to see her throw down with a sibling, to chatter with another little voice, but those things all come in time, I hope.

I saw earlier a woman in a niqab around the store. She and I made eye contact and said hello to each other. I saw her with her husband soon after, and then came rushing to the table their three daughters. They reached around and grabbed the trains and started playing with them as kids are apt to do. Bambina stepped back and watched them take the train she was playing with. She made do with a sign and Mr. Toppenhat. The mom waved hello at Bambina and kid that she is waved back. The mom walked up to Bambina and handed her something, and I watched them interact. I wasn’t being nervous, but I was happy enough that she offered something to my child.

Meanwhile, the three girls were runnin’ thangs at the table, and Bambina contented herself to eating chips I bought earlier as she sat next to me. The mom chided her girls to share with Bambina. She’s so quiet, I thought to myself, I hope she doesn’t raise a fuss. She didn’t. God bless that child. I walked up to the table and found a train that wasn’t used and passed it to her. She went to the table and played quietly with her train.

Soon, moms takes her girls away. I took the gum from Bambina so she wouldn’t presumably lose it or try to eat it with the paper on. Later I looked at it over dinner, and it was from Saudi Arabia. Not opening it, I smelled it and it was so heavily perfumed, sweet and heavy. From the moms or the gum, I have no idea.

“Hey, did you hear the news?”

Some of you who go to USF or went to USF, more like, heard the news recently about the shooting and death of Hyman Taylor. Go ahead and read it. I’ll wait for you.

My mind snapped back to some of Hyman’s first days at USF. He came to my office to handle some business, sat down on our couch, and closed his eyes as if to take a few for some rest.

“How’s it going?” I asked him. He opened his eyes, smiled, and told me things were well. We exchanged a few more pleasantries and then went onto our own business. This was the context of our relationship. Touching base, greeting, and being folks. He was 6’9”, I am 5’0”. Without doubt that 17 inches of difference didn’t seem to far away after all.

As in any job, loss is inevitable, but I tend to see it from an arm’s length, away from me. It’s someone I heard of or someone I barely knew. I can’t say Hyman and I were homies, but our exchanges I will always remember as pleasant, kind, and punctuated with smiles.

So to hear of his life cut short like this cuts a little because I knew him. It makes me sad because he was part of my landscape like so many students are, but he, literally stood up taller than the rest. So it was easy to pick him out, wave, say hello.

Life moves so fast, and hellos go to goodbyes equally fast. I’m grateful I had the chance to say hello.

Char

6/14 update: this report and update about the circumstances around his death make me even more sadder.

So today I made an executive decision to head to the SF Zoo to show Bambina that all those wacky animals in her books actually exist.

I unfortch am on another computer and don’t have the pics from the trip on this one (I know, life is hard with multiple macs and don’t be tellin’ me that I need to network them together. BLAH). First off, sad of sadnesses, Bambina is howling that we’re going out, and she’s all about it. I pack a bag with lunch, drinks and water, and decide that I’m going to carry her through the zoo (no stroller, so I don’t have to pick up her to show her the poo-throwing monkeys and she’ll be pretty much near eye level to me). I load her into the car, and aw crap, I left my phone upstairs. I unbuckle her and she starts bawling, like “bad trick mommy, you tricked me! you suck.” Yes, I felt that way, and sheesh I brought her upstairs with me and back down in 2 seconds flat. Load her up, and we’re on our way.

After a quick trip to the drive up ATM (woot, Brisbane), we make our way to the Zoo. It’s about 10:30, and the zoo just cracked open. Images of throngs of children fill my head. Pink popcorn. Poo throwing monkeys. You see, I love the zoo. My parents, bro and I would make annual trips out, and I was always in love with the place. The sounds of the howler monkeys. The roar of the lions. The smell of the elephants (more on that later). The gorillas. This is kid Char heaven, yo. So it makes perfect sense for me to lug Bambina out the door on a somewhat chilly yet sunny day to see the Zoo.

I get there and am a little aghast because, um, there’s parking. Is it closed? Did I indeed play a bad mommy trick on Bambina? No, it’s open, people are walking up. Do I pay for parking? Because I’m ready to carry her through the zoo, I want to park right up against the gate, and eerily enough, I am about 15 feet from the front door. The parking lot is pretty empty.

I laugh to myself because there are obvious tourists here. How obvious? Wearing light jackets. Shorts. Bad haircuts. It was cute tho to see them shiver and put on another layer while Bambina and I cruised up to buy our tix. 15 bucks for me. 8 bucks for parking. She’s free.99.

Present my ticket, get a pic taken of us (that I never pick up, oh well), and head right off to the giraffes. Now before you think I am going to go play by play on you, I won’t. I’ll just say this: babies in carrier with full bags of food are FKN heavy. But I sure did carry her most of the way. I let her cruise around where the penguins and lions were, but that’s pretty much it. Like I said, the zoo was empty enough that it felt like we could have just been there by ourselves. The only other kids that were there were school groups, and I think I can say with certainty there were only three other groups. Oh and the tourists who were freezing.

There are no elephants there, and Bambina is all about the elephants. It’s pretty understandable though, because there was no love for the pachyderms. So she saw a tapir and we called it a day. The zoo still held that fascination for me that it always had. I remembered places and walkthroughs from my childhood, and felt my heart swell with the merry go round, but I was already exhausted enough and was racing for the exit.

I took pictures mostly so we can look at them together and she can recall the animals. I took some of her, but as usual, none of me. So I sort of regret not getting the group pic we took at the entry, but that’s life.

Mild sunburn on my lip. Nice. Bambina cheeks sun pinked. Eating oranges in the sun talking about the penguins, the cranes, and the owls. I hope that when she grows up she’ll remember the zoo as a happy place to see the animals in her books.

The best part of it was looking at the pictures afterward with her and Husbandido, and she recalled most of the animals and was chatty as a sub-2 year old can be. I will probably feel the muscles hating on me in the morning, but it was well worth it.

Charlene

PS: the title? sometimes when i see words, i’ll add up the point value in scrabble. yah i know. weird.