You are currently browsing the archives for September, 2009.
Today can only be called the Day of Ridiculous. It really started last night, when I was baking and cooking up a storm, and set off the smoke alarm at 9:30 pm. My neighbors must LOVE me.
This morning I slept through my alarm, but managed to wake up in time to get ready and out the door. I even packed my breakfast & lunch in a large brown bag.
I grabbed the brown bag and the bag of trash by my back door and headed down to my car. With the bags in my right hand and my keys in my left, I swung the garbage into the dumpster.
I had a fairly decent grip on my lunch in the brown bag, but the handle ripped and the bag toppled into the dumpster with the trash. Unfortunately, the dumpster had been emptied yesterday, so everything went into the very bottom. Into dumpster juice and assorted nastiness.
Gross. Luckily, it was all still in the brown bag, mostly protected.
I wasn’t going to abandon my lunch, however. Anyone who has spent time with me knows my relationship with food. I couldn’t reach the bottom of the dumpster. I looked around, and saw a desktop printer that someone had put by the dumpster, dragged it over, and stood on it. Still couldn’t reach.
I grabbed the picnic blanket out of the trunk of my car, draped it over the side of the dumpster, and stuck half my body into the dumpster to retrieve my bag.
(artist’s rendition of the morning’s events.)
After that debacle, I got to work, nearly fell on my face when I tripped going up the stairs, and realized that while I had my lunch, I’d forgotten my breakfast on the kitchen counter.
Can we just start today over please?
For years I have railed against the end of summer, the beginning of autumn. September was always a month of conflict for me: it is my birth month, but also when school would start up again, and when the weather in Illinois would start changing.
I am a little southern girl at heart, in some ways. I love the heat, the sun, swimming, and warm summer nights.
Sometimes September will surprise you, though. On a beautiful September day in Waukegan:
I went to my first White Sox baseball game last night, which was also my second professional sports game ever (the first was hockey). I’m not a fan of baseball, but I discovered that I had fun even though I don’t know much about the sport, and they were playing the Minnesota Twins (I was born in MN). It was a good way to close out the summer, and the weather was perfect.
Back to the subject at hand: I discovered that I am looking forward to the scarves, hats, boots, fall leaves, apple-picking, pumpkin flavored everything, the smell of autumn…
When did this happen?!
I haven’t really been home for 6 weeks. I stop here to sleep, do laundry, refill my suitcase, and off I go again! Travels are over for the time being, life continues to be busy but I’m glad it is slowing down a bit.
Lots of friends have come through town recently, and of course there is the usual revolving door of people moving into Chicago and leaving, visiting and stopping through, with the attached greetings and farewells.
Lauren did some fire spinning for my birthday on the roof of our friends’ apartment building. It was amazing.
The opportunities for using my camera have been endless. Especially since I’ve made a habit of carrying my camera with me everywhere. More photos on flickr…
I have been unable to write very much…no time or inspiration. I felt the slow stirrings of the writing bug today, though, so maybe it is coming back.
On sunset, there is a shadowed promise of the night
my favorite time
and I held my breath
we closed our eyes
there was everything surrounding in the stillness of the light.
Today is my birthday. It really feels more like a birthday week, what with the celebrating starting early with an evening at the Chicago Botanic Gardens, and concluding on Monday with more celebration. Everything is wonderful.
This book “is the personal account of an interracial family’s struggle against pervasive racism in the U.S. and the horrors of the civil war that plagued Rwanda in 1994. Raised in the American Midwest, author Elizabeth Gatorano, who is White, had no idea of the trials she would face after marrying Phanuel, who is Black and an immigrant to the U.S. from Rwanda.” (from Baha’i Distribution Service)
“They’re dead. I know they are dead.” Phanuel stated without looking up.
“Phanuel, we don’t know. Please don’t let go of the hope that some are still alive. They need you to keep the hope,” I pleaded.
“What can I do, Liz? What can I do? I can’t do anything. I don’t think you understand how it feels to not be able to do anything. On top of that, I am watching every day as my classmates, my teachers, my neighbors are being killed. It is not just my family. My history is being murdered,” Phanuel said as tears began to form in his eyes.
(excerpt from the book)
Reading Waiting for the Sunrise helped me gain insights into the difficulties that an interracial/intercultural marriage can face, informed me about the impact of the Rwandan civil war and Rwandan culture, and often brought me to tears. I found myself getting so engrossed in the book that I would look up and realize that it was several hours later than I thought it was. Their story is a compelling one, and necessary in a world that has more porous borders than before, but still struggles to learn how to accept the reality and necessity of the oneness of humanity. There are not enough accounts of the transforming power of love, service, and faith, and the author writes in an engaging and personable way that made me wish the book would never end.
You can buy this book at Amazon, Borders, and Barnes & Noble.