How Did God Made Da People?
I. Sunday Late p.m.
I am taking full advantage of this mild and beautiful January night with a “that’ll get your attention” drink and a glorious Ashton. The train in the near distance so rumbles and whistles that it feels as if I am on it, feet dangling from an open, graffiti-covered car, going wherever such trains go at this time of night. The sound is gone in the time it took me to write that sentence—and with it the brief tinge of excitement that always follows a train whistle.
II. Overheard at a Child’s Birthday Party
Woman (holding 8-9 month old baby) to husband returning from restroom: Where’d you disappear to?
Man following his four-year-old son: I was in the restroom. N. had to go ‘poo-poo’ and wanted me to wait.
Woman handing over 8-9 month old baby: Here, hold this. I have to go potty!
Man (with sardonic chuckle): Hold THIS? I guess he doesn’t want to be around you either.
Woman walking away: Yeah. But he doesn’t have a choice.
III. The Cabbie and Uncle G.’s Girl
The cabbie looks the stereotypical part but speaks English more clearly than me. He has opinions and ideas and takes on life that he feels compelled to share with us. Likely his talkativeness is a nervous response to Uncle G.’s girlfriend who is happily perched on the cabbie’s lap, offering commentary into the dispatch radio as we near 75 mph up West End Avenue.
The Cabbie takes us to the Villager.
He gives Uncle G.’s girl a candy bar.
Uncle G. tips him $20.
We laugh like children on our way into the bar and the possibility of trouble.
IV. Electric Travel
I am three and a half weeks from a trip away from myself. To Portland again I venture. The necessity of adventure is tangible. The need to be elsewhere and with friends is electric.
V. How Did God Made Da People?
Emerson is interested in “how did God made da people?” He thinks maybe we should go to church and “talk to God about dat.” I told him we would do just that.
I admire my son so. At just four years, he regularly forms complex conceptual questions that I barely approached in my twenties. Instead of Man’s Place in the universe, I struggled over the price of beer and which cable channel was running Simon & Simon reruns.
Indeed, Em. How did God made da people?
Hmmm. With much the same care, Boy, which he made the train whistle.
I am taking full advantage of this mild and beautiful January night with a “that’ll get your attention” drink and a glorious Ashton. The train in the near distance so rumbles and whistles that it feels as if I am on it, feet dangling from an open, graffiti-covered car, going wherever such trains go at this time of night. The sound is gone in the time it took me to write that sentence—and with it the brief tinge of excitement that always follows a train whistle.
II. Overheard at a Child’s Birthday Party
Woman (holding 8-9 month old baby) to husband returning from restroom: Where’d you disappear to?
Man following his four-year-old son: I was in the restroom. N. had to go ‘poo-poo’ and wanted me to wait.
Woman handing over 8-9 month old baby: Here, hold this. I have to go potty!
Man (with sardonic chuckle): Hold THIS? I guess he doesn’t want to be around you either.
Woman walking away: Yeah. But he doesn’t have a choice.
III. The Cabbie and Uncle G.’s Girl
The cabbie looks the stereotypical part but speaks English more clearly than me. He has opinions and ideas and takes on life that he feels compelled to share with us. Likely his talkativeness is a nervous response to Uncle G.’s girlfriend who is happily perched on the cabbie’s lap, offering commentary into the dispatch radio as we near 75 mph up West End Avenue.
The Cabbie takes us to the Villager.
He gives Uncle G.’s girl a candy bar.
Uncle G. tips him $20.
We laugh like children on our way into the bar and the possibility of trouble.
IV. Electric Travel
I am three and a half weeks from a trip away from myself. To Portland again I venture. The necessity of adventure is tangible. The need to be elsewhere and with friends is electric.
V. How Did God Made Da People?
Emerson is interested in “how did God made da people?” He thinks maybe we should go to church and “talk to God about dat.” I told him we would do just that.
I admire my son so. At just four years, he regularly forms complex conceptual questions that I barely approached in my twenties. Instead of Man’s Place in the universe, I struggled over the price of beer and which cable channel was running Simon & Simon reruns.
Indeed, Em. How did God made da people?
Hmmm. With much the same care, Boy, which he made the train whistle.
posted by Ryan at 1:06 PM
2 Comments:
As always, beauty in your words, images and thoughts. It's why I keep coming back, Ryan. Thanks
With the same care that he made special little boys named Emerson.
Post a Comment
<< Home