Raw Fish Heads and Mustard, Please

My nephew, Aiden, is 5 (and a half!) He gave me plenty of reason to smile this weekend.

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“Aiden, what do you want to be when you grow up?” “A chicken!” Aiden exclaimed with all the enthusiasm of someone who had just won the lottery. My brother and I quickly looked over at one another. “A chicken?” Aiden’s dad asked. “Why do you want to grow up to be a chicken?” “NO!” Aiden shouted. “I want to be a policeman!”

…my brother Allen and I later realized that Aiden thought we had asked him 'what kind of pet do you want when you grow up?' Aiden is allergic to pet dander and their cat died recently, so now they are trying to identify a pet that doesn’t have dander. So Aiden is a little pre-occupied with animals these days. Later that afternoon, Aiden came running into the house from outside, cupping something in his hands. “Daddy? Can we have this as a pet?” Aiden opened his hands to reveal a millipede.

Aiden likes to go to www.nick.com and play Square Pants Spongebob. In the game, you can turn the characters into giant puffer fish (the spiky kind) to protect them from the bad guys. My bother asked Aiden not too long ago, “what are those things coming out of their bodies – spikes?” Aiden responded adamantly, “No, daddy. They’re porkers”.

(It turns out that Aiden believes that the quills on porcupines are also called porkers; hence the name, porcupine.)

Konnie, my sister-in-law, recently got off the phone with her cousin, who is caring for Konnie’s Aunt. The cousin has to get up during the night to check on her mother and was complaining about being up all day for work, then up all night to care for her mom.

Aiden overheard the conversation and when his mom hung up, Aiden ran over to Konnie and said, “Do you know what cousin Jane is? She's eternal!” Konnie, caught off-guard, asked Aiden to explain what he meant by eternal. “She’s up all night mommy. She’s eternal!” Of course, he meant that she was nocturnal.

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“Aunt Sandy?” “Hmmmm?” I responded, turning away from the car window to look over at my nephew.

“Yes, Aiden?”

“Aunt Sandy, would you like to go to the Pancake House after church and have Mickey Mouse pancakes?” I thought carefully. I had been to the Pancake House once before and remembered how much Aiden loved the Mickey Mouse pancakes.

“I think, Aiden,” I responded slowly and carefully, “that I would like to have raw fish heads for breakfast after church.” I smiled a big smile at Aiden and licked my lips. Aiden looked worried. “Really, Aunt Sandy? But I never had raw fish heads before.” “Never!” I exclaimed. “Why this would make it even more special! Besides, I’ve been looking forward to raw fish heads for breakfast all week!”

Aiden turned and looked out the car window for a moment, then turned back to face me.

“Aunt Sandy?”

“Yes, Aiden?”

“What if we had Mickey Mouse pancakes for breakfast and raw fish heads for dinner?”

“Why, Aiden! What a marvelous idea! In fact, I think I would like my raw fish heads with mustard, which would be perfect for dinner!” Aiden looked over at me and smiled uneasily.

“Aunt Sandy?”

Yes, Aiden?”

“You see...the thing is...my stomach doesn’t really like raw fish heads with mustard.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No, Aunt Sandy. My stomach likes Mickey Mouse Pancakes.”

I could see the concern in Aiden’s eyes, wanting to make sure I had what I needed, but not wanting raw fish heads with mustard. “Aiden. I appreciate you wanting to make Aunt Sandy happy. But I want your stomach to be happy. So let’s have Mickey Mouse pancakes after church!” Aiden smiled the biggest smile he could make, picked up his Star Wars book and asked, “Aunt Sandy, read more about the Jedi’s.”

Tags: aiden

Idol Gives Back

Anyone watch American Idol tonight?  They got me to get the credit card out!  I loved the piece by Annie Lennox (I'm a big fan).  She did a feature spot on 4 brothers (OMG!  The PM of Britain just pledged $20 million dollars or 200 pounds or vice versa - !)....four boys whose parents and grandparents were dead from AIDS.  The oldest boy is 15 and taking care of the others, the youngest who is 3.  Annie took them to get tested.  They were all negative.

When she left, she broke into tears (our of sight of the boys).  She has children their ages and was truly moved as a mother.  After the video ended, Annie came on stage, Live, to perform Many Rivers to Cross.  This is a Jimmy Cliff song, sung reggae, but she didn't do too bad for a fair-skinned chick like me!

Catch a clip of Jimmy performing the song (he's got some real feel to it)

Hey, Beth - they had the Manning brothers on the show, featuring a spot on a program for teen boys who had been traumatized from the hurricane.  I think Eli's cuter!

If BBBSA ever learnt to raise money like this.... : >)  You can throw your $10 in at http://www.americanidol.com/idolgivesback/

Do you believe in fairies?

"Loopy".  What exactly does that mean?  Manic with a Jerry Lewis twist?  Ok...that works :+)

I'm catching up with some back reading this week - 2 months of National Catholic Reporters.  I'm not sure how they got away from me this bad!  Fortunately, between the subway ride to Penn Station and the Amtrak ride home from Philly, I can finish off one paper.

Tonight there was an article about a play that was in NYC (ended March 8th) - the price you pay for not keeping up with your reading!  The playwright is A.C. Grayling (a Brit), a writer and philosopher.  Entitled, "Grace," it premiered in London in 2006.

Anywho...he is quoted as saying something I found intriguing, particularly in light of my last journal entry:  "Religious belief of all kinds shares the same intellectual respectability, evidential base and rationality as belief in the existence of fairies."  Interesting, isn't it? 

 

 

Into the Woods

Reflections on a train ride home....

Did anyone ever see “Into the Woods” - the musical? I saw it. With my mom. She visited New York once. It was the first time she had ever traveled on her own since coming to America. It was only the second plane she had been on since arriving in the States in 1967.

We didn’t know it then, but she was dying of cancer. She was in a lot of pain, but made the most of her long weekend with Alberta and I. I remember three things: taking her to the Atlantic Ocean (Coney Island)…how she walked off by herself to stick her feet in the water, looking across the water towards home (England). She’d left in ’67 and never been back. Her mom died. Her dad died. And her brother would die only six months later.

I also remember waking up in the middle of the night and finding her in the front room, sitting by the window with a cup of tea, staring down at the people walking along Seventh Avenue. Throughout my childhood that was my most intense image of her: sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the window towards the front door. Waiting for one of us to come home. Always with a cup of tea.

The third memory I had of mom in New York was going to see “Into the Woods”. I don’t recall what it was about. I think Vanessa Williams was starring. I remember crying. I remember mom crying. She died April 9.

When I went to Kol Nidre services last fall, the Rabbi’s drash was all about a song from that play: “No One is Alone”. The cantor sang it at the end. I cried. I’ve interspersed verses from that song in the following journal entry, but it’s worth downloading.

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Things are quite circular aren’t they? How is that I am so blessed in life to be reminded how rich life can be…just when I feel the most tired?

Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood.

This week has been the week to remind me what an…”experience”… project planning the National Conference can be ; >) I won’t bore you with details, but suffice it to say that it involved brochures, posters, scheduling, bag distribution, hotel chaos, no space, too little space, budget overruns, milestones, late milestones, canceled meetings…is it only Wednesday? Oy-vay!

You decide what’s good,

You decide alone.

But no one is alone.

Friday night I ended the day with a 6pm phone conversation with Melanie, who was out in St. Louis with the party planners. I went to bed feeling tense, aggravated, and already anticipating the worst.

People make mistakes…holding to their own, thinking they’re alone.

Then I talk to dad on Saturday morning. And after 3 months of vague conversations, confusion and uncertainty, he finally calls it what it is: “chemotherapy” and “six treatments”. This is a big step from “injections” and “just one and then we’ll see.…”

Honor their mistakes…everybody makes….one another’s terrible mistakes.

I do the laundry crying Saturday morning, take a 3 hour nap in the afternoon and generally shut down. I knew it all along. Why am I so shocked? Denial is an amazing thing, isn’t it? I do what every decent Maskell does in such situations: I go online (to the library) and research it. Only problem is…I’m not quite sure what I’m researching! My brother and I talk. We both knew that we’d given up our annual spring trip to NASCAR so we have vacation days to go to England when need be. Al’s wife has gotten passports for Janae and Aiden so they can go and see Grandad. We decide dad’s recent transfer of 90% of his assets to America is more of a very smart investment move (given the exchange rate) than an admission on the part of dad that’s he’s going to die. Did I already say that denial is an amazing thing?

Witches can be right;

Giants can be good.

Best memory of mom before she died? She loved Connie’s (Chicago-style) pizza. For two months, before she became too ill, when I would travel home to Illinois for the weekend to spend time with her, I’d bundle her up, put her in the car, and drive to Connie’s to pick up pizza for her. She loved the feel of the hot pizza on her lap. She loved driving around and seeing what was happening. We’d go home, I’d pour us each a glass of Bailey’s, and we’d eat pizza and sip Bailey’s. She’d ask me all about life in New York: work, Alberta, friends. She’d tell me about Helen, her best friend and all the happenings on the block.

I remember asking her about the trolls. I had a very vivid memory from when I was about four. Mom and dad took me to this forest where giant boulders stood. And my dad told me that if I put my ear to the rock I could hear the trolls that lived underground, working. I was 28 when I shared that story with my mom. I remember her laughing. I remember my laughing. I recall her saying “don’t be silly, Sand. You don’t still really believe that, do you?” I did. I still believed that I had heard trolls. Then she smiled and said, “That’s ok. It’s good to believe.”

You decide what’s right.

You decide what’s good.

Then this afternoon, God gave me a good thump upside the head. He calls me up this morning a few minutes after 9am (using someone else’s name and voice as He likes to do…but I’m not easily fooled!). And I find out something that flips that little switch inside. The one that lights up “Tilt” when I think everything’s a heck of a lot more important than it ever will be.

Just remember….someone is on your side.

Now…bear with me. I can’t disclose what my caller shared because it’s not public knowledge. But suffice it to say…it made me think of mom. It reminded me that when people in our life need us, when they are hurting, or sick, or afraid, or need us to celebrate with them, be superhero’s with them (go Charlie!), spend time with them, sit with them, read with them, share space with them, love them…we need to do it.

Things will come out right now, we can make it so.

Sandra Searle strolls by as I’m chatting with Cindy and says, “That sabbatical paid off. The conference materials look fantastic!” I give credit to Barb and her team for pulling it all together and the M&C group for making things look pretty…but I get a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

Someone is on your side…No one is alone.

Thanks for being a part of my life. For making sure I don’t have to go through it alone. And for letting me believe in Trolls….moose...dragons…superhero’s….