On Black Friday we went to the Peace Fair at the Esperanza Peace and Justice Center. It was so crowded that I couldn't stay very long, the jostling crowds of people who were pressed up against me from all sides were just too much, but we did get a little shopping in. I bought two things. One I can't really discuss because it's a present and there's an off chance the recipient might see this. I'll just say that it's handmade and I talked to the person who made it. I told her who I wanted a gift for, what kinds of things that person liked, and where that person would use/display the item. Between the two of us, we settled on the best possible choice.
In the outdoor area, I was looking at knitted hats and beaded bracelets, and my partner V gravitated over to a young guy who had no customers at his stand. He was selling small paintings he had made. I went over, too, and the other three people we were with stopped by as well. V engaged him in talking about his art, and I asked her, "Would you like one of his paintings?"
She said yes, so I had her pick one out, and I bought it. It's a painting of an anthropomorphized moon, but it's not the usual Loteria card moon which makes it unusual. As we were finishing up the transaction, other customers started drifting up to see what was going on, so hopefully he made some more sales.
Both of these encounters were very satisfying and mutually positive experiences, so unlike what many people experienced at the malls and big box stores (if the news is to be believed). I like meeting the person who made an item, especially when it's a gift. I like buying local. And I like spending my money with an organization that is truly queer friendly. I visited a link off twitter this morning that took me to an article about supporting gay friendly businesses like Target on Black Friday. Well, I do go to Target and yes, they do have a better record than some other businesses. But at the same time, they had workers coming in on Thanksgiving Day to work which I disapprove of. In this economy, workers at stores like Target and Wal-Mart don't have a lot of choices - either work during holidays or lose your job. That's exploitation.
The Esperanza Center, however, has a long history of providing real, authentic support for the queer community, for women, for people of color, for working class people, for the poor, and for other marginalized communities. I feel much better spending my symbolic Black Friday dollars there than I would've at Target.
I bought two more things on Black Friday, both of them bad but in service of good. I bought gas so I could drive to the hospital to see my mom (and dad). And when my dad texted me and told me the cafeteria was closed so all he had eaten was a candy bar and a Dr Pepper, I stopped at Whataburger and bought him a meal. Because he loves Whataburger and he was hungry and he needed some pampering. So those are both bad things in that they are bad for the Earth and the environment, but they were necessary and I don't feel guilty about them at all.
What did you buy?
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
My Heart Races
Last night as I was driving home from the hospital after dark, I got to the last busy intersection before you turn into the neighborhood where we live. As I sat at the light, I could see a small white spotted dog that was a bit portly walking around between the cars on the opposing side. The drivers were all honking (At him? At each other to warn each other, 'There's a little dog here - look out'? At oncoming traffic as we sat there in the dark waiting for the light to change?) and I watched the dog meander with growing concern. We have a slightly portly white spotted dog and, even though it didn't really look like him, I was suddenly seized with this wild fear that it was him. That the little dog had gotten out and was wandering the streets.
The turn light flashed green and I decided to drive home and see if he was in the yard before I went out and flung myself into traffic. Our house is a minute or so from this intersection, so I could be there quickly. I pulled into the driveway, hurriedly grabbed my bags and tissue box and laptop, and I rushed into the house and then out through the back door.
Even in the dark I could see his little white face looking at me through the fence. The other dog is pitch black so I had to get closer to see him, but he was there as well. They were safe and very excited to see me for the first time in two days.
I could feel my heart racing.
In the hospital we sat in the room as the nurse gave my mom a sonogram, and we could hear her heart pumping, the noise filling up that small space and overwhelming all comforting conversation. I had listened with a mixture of dread and relief. A normal sounding heartbeat, not to be taken lightly since my dad had rushed her to the emergency room due to chest pains, but at the same time such a fragile sound.
My happiness in this world depends upon such fragile things.
On Tuesday my mom had cataract surgery. She had been dreading it because her first cataract surgery, several years ago, had resulted in a detached retina and much impaired vision in one eye. The surgery went well and she had a follow up appointment Wednesday. On Wednesday morning as I was prepping food for Thanksgiving, my dad called me to tell me they were at the hospital. He had taken her to get flowers after her appointment and she had complained of chest pains. She was at the Heart Hospital in the emergency room.
As a kid I always wondered how people knew what to do in family emergencies. My parents always seemed to just know how to handle midnight calls from hospitals and other shattering experiences. But I am discovering that you don't know - you just do the best you can and somehow get through it.
I am writing this from the great unknown. I am learning how to do this. My mom is hopefully going to get good news from the doctors today and will hopefully be able to go home. And I am adding a new layer of worries over the layers I always carry with me.
The turn light flashed green and I decided to drive home and see if he was in the yard before I went out and flung myself into traffic. Our house is a minute or so from this intersection, so I could be there quickly. I pulled into the driveway, hurriedly grabbed my bags and tissue box and laptop, and I rushed into the house and then out through the back door.
Even in the dark I could see his little white face looking at me through the fence. The other dog is pitch black so I had to get closer to see him, but he was there as well. They were safe and very excited to see me for the first time in two days.
I could feel my heart racing.
In the hospital we sat in the room as the nurse gave my mom a sonogram, and we could hear her heart pumping, the noise filling up that small space and overwhelming all comforting conversation. I had listened with a mixture of dread and relief. A normal sounding heartbeat, not to be taken lightly since my dad had rushed her to the emergency room due to chest pains, but at the same time such a fragile sound.
My happiness in this world depends upon such fragile things.
On Tuesday my mom had cataract surgery. She had been dreading it because her first cataract surgery, several years ago, had resulted in a detached retina and much impaired vision in one eye. The surgery went well and she had a follow up appointment Wednesday. On Wednesday morning as I was prepping food for Thanksgiving, my dad called me to tell me they were at the hospital. He had taken her to get flowers after her appointment and she had complained of chest pains. She was at the Heart Hospital in the emergency room.
As a kid I always wondered how people knew what to do in family emergencies. My parents always seemed to just know how to handle midnight calls from hospitals and other shattering experiences. But I am discovering that you don't know - you just do the best you can and somehow get through it.
I am writing this from the great unknown. I am learning how to do this. My mom is hopefully going to get good news from the doctors today and will hopefully be able to go home. And I am adding a new layer of worries over the layers I always carry with me.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
I Wear Black
Because even though I wear mostly black (does anyone else remember that editorial about why we all wear black that was at the end of an issue of Spin magazine?), I do like bright colors and patterns and silly stuff like that. My closet is a sea of black, but the shoes are colorful; my sock drawer is a riot of patterns and colors, as is my underwear drawer.
I don't wear these shoes often because they're a pain in the ass to lace, but when I need cheering up they generally help.
Holiday travel
This is the first time in my entire life (I think) that I will not be making a long road trip for Thanksgiving. Up to this point, holidays were cut with the dread of making 3-6 hour car trips to a relative's house and then back home again at the end of the holiday. I enjoyed the holidays and I enjoyed seeing relatives and I miss them more than I can describe, but I am so happy that I don't have to make that trip anymore. Instead, I can spend the days bookending the holidays with my partner and the drive is a mere 30 minutes to my parents' house.
Quiet
We bought this house because it was in a small neighborhood and there were open fields on three sides. We bought this house because we could afford it. We bought this house because it was beautiful and open and filled with light. We bought this house because it was peaceful. We bought this house because it had a huge backyard and you could sit outside at night and look at the stars. You could sit outside in the early morning drinking coffee and reading a book and enjoy the quiet.
They are building a Wal-Mart in the field right next to our house. The bulldozers start every morning at around 6 am, and that's nothing compared to the noise and heat and congestion and lack of privacy that we'll endure once the damn thing is actually built. They built houses on the other two sides, nice neighborhoods full of people who wanted the same things we wanted, I assume. But right next door? Wal-Mart.
What we forgot is that we are not rich enough to have peace and quiet. We're just teachers, with teacher salaries, and we can't afford peace and quiet and space.
We can't afford to sell. Even if someone would buy. But even if we could, I don't know if I could let this house go. There are trees planted in the yard that both of our families gave to us. There's a deck that my dad and I built and a deck that my partner and I built. I still love the light inside, even though I rarely visit our backyard anymore. I don't know if I could give all of this up.
So we're waiting to see what it's like when Wal-Mart opens up. How bad it is. Whether it's bearable.
This is not an auspicious post to start a new blog with, but as I sit here in the semi-early morning writing I can hear the grinding and beeping of the machines next door, ripping up the field so they can lay down parking lots, and it's hard to think of anything else.
Maybe in the next post I'll talk about who I am.
They are building a Wal-Mart in the field right next to our house. The bulldozers start every morning at around 6 am, and that's nothing compared to the noise and heat and congestion and lack of privacy that we'll endure once the damn thing is actually built. They built houses on the other two sides, nice neighborhoods full of people who wanted the same things we wanted, I assume. But right next door? Wal-Mart.
What we forgot is that we are not rich enough to have peace and quiet. We're just teachers, with teacher salaries, and we can't afford peace and quiet and space.
We can't afford to sell. Even if someone would buy. But even if we could, I don't know if I could let this house go. There are trees planted in the yard that both of our families gave to us. There's a deck that my dad and I built and a deck that my partner and I built. I still love the light inside, even though I rarely visit our backyard anymore. I don't know if I could give all of this up.
So we're waiting to see what it's like when Wal-Mart opens up. How bad it is. Whether it's bearable.
This is not an auspicious post to start a new blog with, but as I sit here in the semi-early morning writing I can hear the grinding and beeping of the machines next door, ripping up the field so they can lay down parking lots, and it's hard to think of anything else.
Maybe in the next post I'll talk about who I am.
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