we here in the guest family really don't know how to follow rules. i know i say that a lot, about myself... but i was realizing how deep this shit really runs. see, i brought my mom to my mat class at aol yesterday. every time i introduce my mom to someone i get one of several responses. 1) your mom is soooo beautiful (duh) 2) your mom is soooooo nice/sweet (yup) 3) are you sure that you came from
her?!?!?! (promise, assholes) 4) oh, it's very clear that you are related (my fave).
i am an old woman named after my mother. my old man has another child that's grown old.
every time i asked the class to do an exercise that was less pilates-oriented and more mind-body/visceral sphere/noodley movement/who-the-hell-knows, she would make that face that says,
ohhhh... honey, this is a good one. we all had a giggle and i think the aol gals realized why i am the way that i am.
anywhoodle. for thanksgiving, we, the guests, had a prime rib rather than a traditional turkey. it was ah. maze. ing.
when my mom asked what we had last year for thanksgiving, i reminded her that we ate turkey at my shitty, underground (literally, not politically) mission apartment. she said, oh, not memorable. i'm glad we're having beef this year.
make me an angel that flies from montgomery. make me a poster of an old rodeo. just give me one thing that i can hold on to.
but, really the best was the turkey prime rib day conversations...
-everything about the history of the financial climate in the united states from the 1960's to today. from the perspective of a recovering republican, honest, sees things in black and white (most of the time), but slowly softening as he gets older, banker... aka tony guest, my dear old dad. it was intense and sometimes i had to gloss over a bit and think about things that i love to not get angry, but then every now and then i would get heated and shout things that sarah lawrence, herself would be proud of... like, if we all just acted like fucking humans and treated each other appropriately and with respect, none of this would be happening. oh, there's so much more to this story, but i might have to save it for now.
-occupy. occupy sf, occupy oakland, occupy davis (i got real emotional about this one), occupy wall street, occupy long beach... wait, what? occupy the lbc is four or five guys on the corner of 7th and park handing out flyers in front of starbucks.
-the other side of pollution. when i was in the sixth grade, i had to take a speech writing class. every friday we were given a topic and over the weekend we'd all write speeches and present them during the week. one friday we had to write about the perils of pollution. why it was bad, how it was going to kill our world and what we would do to stop it. check, done. i did a great job. but, the following week, the assignment was to write a speech of our choice. any topic we could think of. whaaaaat?! heaven. thank you. i went home and thought of a million things to write about, but how could i ever pick just one?! tony suggested that i write about the other side of pollution. the stories of the people who worked in pollution-generating industries. the people who would lose their jobs if a bunch of sixth graders changed the world and got rid of pollution. basically, i discussed why we needed pollution to promote capitalism, economic growth and job security. oh, layla. my teacher was quite impressed. it caused a stink with the other parents. mr. partington came to my rescue... we had a discussion and he helped me share with stinky parents, sixth graders and uppity administrators that i was presenting information. i did not necessarily agree with the information i was presenting, but wasn't it great that an eleven-year old could remove herself from emotional journalism and present a piece that ignited such controversy. oy, if he only knew how emotional my writing would become. dear, dear mr. partington. how the hell can a person go to work in the morning. and come home in the evening and have nothing to say.
-several times my mom shouted time out. sometimes in reference to our conversations, but other times to get some help in the kitchen. there's flies in the kitchen. i can hear 'em buzzing. and i ain't done nothing since i woke up today.
-grandpa jim. he called after our meal. he's not well. very. not. well. he asked my mom to come pick him up and take him home. when she told him she couldn't he asked if she would just come pick him up and take him to her office at the newspaper. huh? (big red has never worked at a newspaper). when i was a young girl well, i had me a cowboy. he weren't much to look at, just a free rambling man. she cried. i listened. but that was a long time and no matter how hard i try. the years just flow by like a broken down dam.
all in all, it was a successful day of being thankful. we listened to great records and just loved each other. big red and i did some pilates after my dad went back to the hotel. then we snuggled for a bit. that's my favorite part. maybe next year a barbecued salmon.
brilliant words by john prine, angel from montgomery. check out bonnie raitt's cover of it, though. it's why i love the poetry of the song so much.
