Remember back in the l970s’s the Orgasm-Atron in the movie, Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask? A character would walk into what looked like a space-age telephone booth. After a few minutes of twirling around inside he would come out totally refreshed after being pleasured beyond compare.
Well… Going to see your 87 year-old parent in a Care Facility is nothing like that.
When I drink tea from a particular porcelain cup of my mother’s which I have known all my life, I am transported to another world. Where the Crinoline Lady in blue and yellow holds a basket of flowers I imagined as a kid, a whole garden of such ladies waiting for me to join them. Considering that it was Winnipeg in 1960 - and likely a frosty winter day at thirty-below zero - the powers of imagination are something to behold.
“…The truths of our hearts and memories never finish running their risks,” wrote Peter Abelard to his love, Heloise in the 1100s. I look down from that flash card clipped to the lampshade on my desk as my eyes catch sight of a dusty wood carved turtle.
The latin word for memory is memoria. The very sound of that word draws me back
into, and forward with, a wave of some emotion I cannot describe. Like the tides I watch from the 26th floor of my apartment building. Even from a distance those tides are rhythmic, unrelenting, unremitting perpetual and ultimately mysterious.
“When did you get back from China?” Mom asked.
“I’m not in China, mom. How are you?”
A few minutes later, she said, “When are you going to China?”
Mom, I’m not going to China. I’m going to be right here.
Someone had the audacity to send me an email today on what to do if you were bored in the Covid-19 Lockdown that has gripped Vancouverites like a very ugly pangolin chomping on a bat wing. Bored?
I might have mentioned that it’s a simple customer service
courtesy that’s been around since the equivalent of Bob’s Burgers opened in Athens
at the time of Christ.