My Birth

My mother’s father, Samuel Joseph Cawley, died three days before I was born and was buried in a paupers grave in Van Nys, California, alone and still drunk so the embalmer had it easy. My mother went into labor etherized and alone, and, hearing “ it’s a girl”, sighed into her peignoir and turned her back on it all: the dead first boy, the second, another boy, then two girls and then me. A brood mare. She struck a match for her L&M and flicked the ashes in the nightstand drawer it’s white metal smooth and cold. Loyal to her. She slammed it shut when she heard my grandfather’s voice in the hallway. The most important post birth attendant. Bearer of the name and the cash envelope labeled “Olive”. He always wanted her to be free of his son.Telling my father to be kind to her, grandfather gave her money. He said it was so she could leave but really it was so she would stay.
Lucinda Watson

Anger Management

Last night my friends and I went to a very low-key restaurant in Stinson Beach to have an early supper. We were hoping to eat at outdoor tables but they were all filled so we went inside and eventually chose a table right next to a window we could open up. We opened both windows next to us because we are older and we are concerned about the virus and most people in the restaurant sat next to open windows. I was a bit concerned because the couple next to us had a very young child there with them who couldn’t possibly have been vaccinated.I guess some people are willing to take risks.

The most interesting thing to me that happened during the evening was a large group of men probably in their 30s arrived wearing biker clothes and sat quite close to us. They were not masked entering the restaurant and they seem to have no hesitancy in walking close to everyone else’s tables. They sat down and started ordering drinks and became louder and louder.

I never object to people having a good time because I think life is short and particularly now people need to get out and have fun. What I do object to is when that fun interferes with my fun.

At one point a man from the table got up and walked over to us standing too closely without a mask and asked if it was all right with us if he closed our window. We explained that we were keeping it open because we were worried about the virus. That should’ve been enough of an explanation to him.

He went back to the table and I could hear him explaining to his friends that we were worried about the virus and one of the young men yelled out to us two of us just tested positive today. And they all laughed.

What was rather hard to believe to my friends and me was that this group of young men were so disrespectful to us.

We were simply sitting there enjoying our dinner not interfering with them in anyway. They, on the other hand, interfered with our safety and attempted to force us to close the window and then made fun of us and frightened us with their statements.

They also frightened the family with the one child.

The group got louder and louder which made it almost impossible for the rest of the people that were nearby to have any kind of conversation and finally left.

My friends and I were talking about why there are quite a few people in this generation of 30 somethings that are disrespectful and unmannered? Did their parents allow them to be the boss in the household? Were they never taught respect for older people? Were they never taught respect for anyone?

 

This virus creates an interesting dynamic among our generations. I would say that throughout these past two years I have seen people my own age be very cautious and careful and respectful of others but the younger generation seems to feel that they’re invincible and they are not careful about themselves nor about others.

The tragedy to me is that many of them are now getting very sick and have been hospitalized. I think that many are vaccinated but their behavior puts others at risk. I’m wondering if this is something new or this disrespect has been present in other generations as well.

I’m certain that I behaved recklessly from time to time in my 20s but once I had children that behavior stopped so maybe it’s having children that teaches you respect and responsibility.

There was something else present in this group of young men. It was a kind of rage. There was a super feeling of anger towards us because we were daring to make them uncomfortable. Even though all the other people in the restaurant preferred having the windows open they wanted them closed.

 

It’s a known fact that anger and rage are based on fear so that takes me to the place of why are they fearful? I guess the answer to that is obvious. Our generation has failed to protect them from having to live on a planet where we have viruses, climate change, pollution, and dramatic  weather incidents, and whether or not they think about this in a logical progression it must occur to them this world isn’t safe.

They are correct.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Car Wash 1

Just as I was trying to keep my front tires in alignment on the slightly rickety, vibrating tracks of the car wash I felt my passenger door open and a splash of warm water on my arm and saw a curious pair of smokey eyes in the face of a man of unknown age but of great beauty. I reached over to touch his cheek and wipe some of the water away and he pulled my hand to his ear. “Touch my ear!” (but not in English) he said and electrically we slid through the rinsing and sudsing and and finally the great blowing which opened his door and though he grasped my finger, the baby one, he was sucked out of the car and into the blower and then I was outside and raring to go.

Dinner

Light the candles, dim the lights, serve the good wine, make people laugh, tell them to go home after 2 1/2 hours, go to bed, drink water, pet your dogs, Dream of passion.

Hopeful

Yesterday a man held my hand so

powerfully I couldn’t tell after a while

as it seemed so right

that consistent pressure.

Normally I don’t like comfort in any form as

it embarrasses me like the chameleon

turning pink

on lava or carnation, I pull away from

touch as I know the consequences.

But this time I stayed and cried.

It had been so long since I

felt comfort.

Loss

Loss

In the gray half open eye period prior to

full alert status I feel a touch or maybe an

outstretched limb, a phantom connection

I may remember. Warm and wanting..

Delaying the awakening I dwell there

In hopeful desire among my fresh sheets,

memories of sun fragrant and salt drying,

my fingers on your chest, lightly, sensing

your heart which in these dreams is

still faithful to us, your family.