September 12: "Roses, Later Summer," Unstinting Happiness, My Car

Mary Oliver wants another life . . . 

Roses, Late Summer

by:  Mary Oliver

What happens

to the leaves after

they turn red and golden and fall

away?  What happens

to the singing birds

when they can't sing

any longer?  What happens

to their quick wings?

Do you think there is any

personal heaven

for any of us?

Do you think anyone,

the other side of that darkness,

will call to us, meaning us?

Beyond the trees

the foxes keep teaching their children

to live in the valley,

so they never seem to vanish, they are always there

in the blossom of light

that stands up every morning

in the dark sky.

And over one more set of hills,

along the sea,

the last roses have opened their factories of sweetness

and are giving it back to the world.

If I had another life

I would want to spend it all on some

unstinting happiness.

I would be a fox, or a tree

full of waving branches.

I wouldn't mind being a rose

in a field full of roses.

Fear has not yet occurred to them, nor ambition.

Reason they have not yet thought of.

Neither do they ask how long they must be roses, and then what.

Or any other foolish question.

Unstinting happiness.  That's Oliver's only condition if she had another life.  She doesn't care whether she's a fox or a tree or a single rose in a field choked with roses.  As long as she's happy, Oliver will take whatever second life she's given.

I know yesterday's post was not very happy.  In fact, I would go so far as to describe what I wrote as a little depressing.  I couldn't help it.  I wasn't feeling the whole Pollyanna vibe last night.  Or the Mary Oliver vibe.  Nope.  I was feeling the Holden Caufield, the-world's-full-of-phonies vibe.  And my mood hasn't changed much today.  I'm still not sure what's wrong with my car, or how much it will cost to fix.  

Life would be simpler if I were a rose in a field of roses.  You see, human beings are the only living creatures on this planet who worry about things like car repairs or the future or death.  On the other hand, flowers need just a couple things for happiness:  sunlight and water,  That's it.

So, I understand Oliver's inclination to life as a rose.  No foolish questions or ambitions to screw things up.  Just unstinting sweetness and beauty.

And Saint Marty wouldn't mind a little more of that in his life right about now.

November 4: Daughter, Bullying, and My Car

One of my daughter’s best friends has turned into a mean boy.  “Grady” has been hanging out with my daughter for years.  They played together all the time.  He was over at our house practically every day this past summer.  I really liked Grady.  He was laid-back and funny.  Since the start of the school year, however, Grady has transformed into a little bit of a bully.

First, he joined a pee-wee football team, which he did last year, as well.  No problem.  Then, literally the first day at the bus stop, he started hanging out with another boy from the neighborhood, telling my daughter he needed some “guy time.”  No problem there, either.  While my daughter was a little upset about losing the company of one of her best friends, she eventually got used to the idea.  Then, Grady turned mean.

One day on the bus, my daughter was sitting with a friend and laughed about something.  Grady yelled from a few seats behind her, “You have such an annoying laugh!”  The rest of the students on the bus laughed.  A little while later, my daughter laughed again, and he repeated his statement, much to the amusement of the rest of the kids.  My daughter came home that day in tears.

Well, that weekend, Grady and I had a little man-to-man talk.  I told him how much he hurt my daughter’s feelings.  I told him that what he was doing was bullying her.  “And I know you don’t want to be a bully, do you, Grady?” I said.  He shook his head seriously.  I told him I wasn’t going to talk to his parents about the incident, but if anything else happened, I would speak with his mom or dad.

Last week, my daughter was waiting for the bus, and Grady came marching up to her and said, “Stop tattling on me, you little shit.”

So, yesterday, my wife called Grady’s mother and had a talk with her.  Yesterday afternoon, Grady’s dad and Grady came over to our house.  Grady’s dad made Grady apologize, much to Grady’s chagrin.  My wife said he obviously did not want to apologize.  His dad apologized more than once and, as they were leaving, said to Grady, “You are so grounded for a long time.”

I have a feeling that our trouble with Grady isn’t over.  My daughter was planning to hide at the bus stop this morning until the bus showed up, so she didn’t have to face Grady’s wrath.  I told her not to.  I told her to tell the bus driver if Grady retaliated.  I never would have predicted this kind of behavior from Grady.  This summer, we took him camping and swimming.  I bought him ice cream, treated him to a movie.  And now, he’s become a little asshole.

I don’t want to get Grady in trouble, but I also don’t want my daughter to be afraid of waiting for her bus.  To quote one of my best friends, “Kids suck.”  They do, sometimes.  I really pray that Grady learned his lesson yesterday afternoon.  I don’t think my daughter’s friendship with him will ever be the same, although Grady’s older brother has a crush on my daughter.

Grady doesn’t really know how lucky he is.  My first instinct was to run him over with my car, but the adult in me took over.  I’d have to pay too much to get my car fixed if I did that.  Plus, there’s that whole prison thing.  I don’t think they’d let me blog behind bars, and I don’t really want to be some hairy convict’s bitch.

Saint Marty’s just going to lay low, watch what happens, and keep the engine running.

Time to take Scott Farkus out