Today I was talking to my Russian friend who referred to her mother as “elderly.” My Russian friend is the age of my children, so I thought perhaps her mother had given birth at age fifty-five. —“How old is your mother?” I inquired. —”Fifty-five,” she answered. I let out a howl because my feelings were hurt. That’s because it’s all about me, as you well know. But in this one case I turned out to be wrong. “It’s different in our country.” she told me. “She really is old.” I hadn’t considered factors like harsh living conditions and shorter life-expectancies that could, in fact, turn someone who’s 55 into an elderly person. Sobering. (Not that I needed any more sobering, thank you very much.)
We’re always so busy with schoolwork and classes that our SLA teacher released us from the classroom to search for our favorite leaf, and then instructed us to stick each one to the blackboard where they were soon dwarfed by chalky linguistics terminology.
Later, Lauren and I went on an impromptu walk when I should have been doing homework. It was her idea and it was a good one. We climbed through woods for half a mile and broke through to a giant mowed field with Vermont-like barns in the distance. After a little more walking, lo and behold I knew where I was: back by the sunflowers… but, alas, the llamas and sheep and the fence that had contained them were gone.
The significance of the middle picture is that Lauren noticed how like shower heads were the giant sunflowers. The significance of the one on the right is that Lauren is a good photographer.
My silly elder daughter sent me this video today, precipitating one of those rare moments when, all alone, I laugh out loud.
[flashvideo filename=wp-content/video/antelope.flv image=wp-content/video/antelope.jpg /]
I am not very good at Kiswahili, but I guess it’s better to be distinguished as the slowest student in class than to be undistinguished altogether. Sawa?
Tomorrow I have no classes until 7 pm, so I’m hoping I can pry myself from all the things I absolutely have to do so that I can do what I want, which is to drive northeast to look at the leaves. They’re reaching peak, but a good windstorm will do them in.
But which leaf is YOURS? Inquiring minds wish to know.
That video from Eep is excellent. She is a very silly girl and I think she belongs to me.
“They’re reaching peak, but a good windstorm will do them in.” – I’ve often said that about you, actually.
OK, first of all: It IS, in fact, all about you-and I don’t believe for a minute I’m alone in thinking this.
Secondly: According to my calculations, technically, yes: you’re old. However, that, in conjuction with the heap of troubles that you’ve managed, somehow, to massively dominate (I’m young, you see; I can say these things and get away with it) mean that you look really good for your age.
I kid, I kid.
And IF you are, indeed, as old as is rumored, you’re really only at the starting gate of old-and it’s the still-dignified kind, anyway.
I love you and am proud of you and admire you more than anyone, ever.
More than Gandhi, and Mamie Till, and Steve Perry, and Arlen Specter put together.
xo
P.S.
M: Knowing my MamaGinna, it is very likely that I DO belong to you.
I would be thrilled to find out that were true.
The olde mill. Remember it well. the beginning of the end times and nucear power plants.
M: I know you really need this answer so I’ll tell you. My leaf is the spotty, faded, jaundiced one directly above the letter “u” in “Commun C.” You know why I picked it. One of my Russian colleagues — the one who says 55 is elderly — put her vibrant, youthful green leaf just to the left of mine.
Eleni: Though it’s hard to prove you are actually mine, since you were born in the gutter while I was shooting heroin and could easily have been swapped for one of the other babies there — I believe I can say with some measure of confidence that you are, in fact, mine. Despite your Sliggish appearance and that fact that “I don’t make Greek like you does,” I believe that the tilt of your left nostril is positive evidence.
Bul: There’s a nuclear power plant just down the road from here. A teacher told us that it tends to have little accidents and then tell the public, “There is no danger to the public at this time (italics his and mine).”
“Raleigh runts” is my reCaptcha.
Goooooo RUNTS!