The Circus

So, last night I worked. I'm a security guard at the local civic center. I check doors, check badges, give directions and read books. If given the chance to throw someone down, well, my dreams tell me that I'd perform magnificently--one little "hi-yaaaa" and a sweet Hulk Hogan sleeper hold and wallah, another criminal off the streets. Truth is I've spent more time in the Choir than on Karate--I might instead be more like Chuck Barry than Chuck Norris, but I have my dreams.

Last night was dance recital night. The kids play dress-up, turning themselves into queens, hobos, crooners and clowns. Back stage looks less like a room full of pulleys and ropes than it does Pharaoh's own castle.

One either loves the circus or hates it. I'm a little of both, but I love the spectacle. One thousand nervous, excited, if not a little petulant, dancers doesn't usually sound like my idea of fun. Add parents with every kind of expectation and entitlement to back-stage, awkward but arrogant demands that their children have this right or that, lovely negotiations with me about why I should let them in before the doors actually open and more...you understand? A hoity-toity circus.

I love dance, I do. I might even be the person who'd send my own kid to dance class. But I can't wrap my brain around the hoity-toity. They're like a game of space-invaders. Hundreds of little colorful ships gliding left, right and all around. My little laser is blazing away, pew pew pew. But then the big ships (parents) come into play. They come in fast, land hard and SQUASH my cute little lasers--game over. "Hello," I say. Most of them look at security guards like they do dandelions--they look pretty, but gotta mow them over anyway or they'll spread like the plague. This was the rich crowd and security guards are a different level. I'm not offended really. They love the parade, I enjoy the circus.

Summer's here so white is in. White shorts, pants or capris, accessorized by expensive and colorful accoutrements -- bags made by Gucci, Dolce, and whatever other yadayada Italian this-or-that one can think of. The women have bags, the men have watches. I love the spectacle. I wonder if one drop-kicked a hoity-toity that they might fall in movie-like slow-motion? I wonder? Then it might be appropriate for throngs of angels to appear out of no-where and applaud their bravery?

My wife likes to dress up, and she's beautiful--a bonafied hotty. But I don't think she knows that it's time to make the "summer-white" turn. I'll have to let her know.

Although, come to think of it, white wasn't exclusive. One chap wore a green cardigan, held a green Pringles can in one hand, and a green Mountain Dew bottle in the other. Besides the fact that he matched his soda bottle, I was slightly surprised he'd accept Pringles crumbs inside his beautiful Cadillac.

There are rules. Summer day white is different than summer evening white. And the men wear light blue, green, even red is acceptable--mostly blue and "dance recital-night" khaki though. It's only the kid's dance recital at one of the nicest venues in town--I didn't see any pin-stripes or black ties, but I enjoyed the circus-parade none-the-less. I think if I could have some kind of x-ray vision I bet you anything that even their perfume and cologne wafts from their bodies in delightful, pleasant and wistful little circles. The kids dress-up and the parents follow a strict dress code. All night long I wasn't sure which tap dance I wanted to watch more, the kids or the parents? All the Jones's were keeping up with each other.

The circus allows us to forget the troubles of the day for awhile. I was glad to attend this circus. Every one at the event danced, the kids on stage and the parents everywhere else. One lovely woman defied the code and dressed in purple...but, I kid you not, she walked by my lowly station and I caught a grand whiff of her allergy-inducing perfume--grape--not the kind of grape one might smell near a winery--like grape gum. She was purple and smelled like grape. Hoity-freakin-toity. No one offered me pop-corn and cotton candy, so in their stead, I relished my peanut butter and honey sandwich, my Sun chips and enjoyed a cold diet-pepsi.

The circus hasn't always had the best reputation. It seems some delights come at the expense of others, and they please the voyeuristic side in all of us. I suppose we should feel a little guilty about that.

But, I loved my day at the circus. Now, can someone teach me Karate?

CHANGE ROCKS

I usually write something that I can't even wrap my brain around sometimes. Sometimes I reread the things I've written and believe I might've been sleep walking or on acid...at least on demerol. Today isn't one of those days...I feel every moment of every tap of the keyboard...why? Because I have something doctors call "soreness."

Friday night and Saturday Monique and I, Anne-Michelle, Andy Otto and Mom and Dad H. began the grueling process of change...in this case change = ripping apart a kitchen and dining room, then putting it back together in a completely new and different way.

Anne-Michelle (AM) and Monique did the bulk of the work Friday night while I spent my time filling in the gaps. But Saturday we got goin at 8:45 a.m. and didn't stop until 5:30 p.m.

Not stopping seems to be a religion to a man like Andy Otto who's upbringing gave him the mindset that says that the work doesn't stop so neither do you. He's got Cerebral Palsy. Anne Michelle is a great communicator and she's also tireless. She makes the day bright and happy and a delight. Her perspective on life is made of virtues such as patience, diplomacy, leadership and work ethic, although that doesn't exhaust her list. She's hard of hearing to the extreme but gets her most of every day. Mom and Dad's bodies are healthy enough and they're also made of unbreakable binds of work ethic. They're style leans toward efficiency and, although Dad can't seem to make it through a day without a bump on his head or blood somewhere on His body and neither of them knows where either of them have put any of their tools or whether they had them at all...yet they always seem to appear before it's time to go home. They've a wealth of military and work wisdom and we benefited from that. They had fun yesterday, and I enjoyed their company. However, they're 62 years old and put in a solid 9 hours...I'm impressed. One day they'll say they're too old for this, but that seems to be a long way off. Monique is...what can I say? She is the most generous person I have ever met. She has her moments like every one but her sense of duty rises above most I've ever known. She displayed grit, a good attitude a sense of wisdom and duty and a lot of patience yesterday. I'm not going explain her by the 12 hours she spent on the house in two days--three hours Friday night and 9 hours on Saturday. I'm not going to write a long essay about how patient she was or how delighted she was by the dusty hull we'd created. I am going to tell you that she sees and discerns so much and she asks a lot of questions that turn out to make sense. She had worries that a large pantry wouldn't make it down the steps in one piece and she was right. She was the first who had worries that the fridge would need to turn before we could move further...the rest of us caught on to the need, but she was first. There were quite a few moments like that yesterday and I'm very impressed with and proud of my lovely wife. She knows that 14 years ago she wouldn't have been so patient. God's made remarkable changes with her and we've benefited. Me? I'm pretty proud of myself...not in a haughty way I don't think--in a good way. I worked on Friday night too and I hammered and carried and pulled and organized all day on Saturday. I'm wicked sore today...my physical maladies predicted that I might be. But what I'm really proud of is that I made a list of jobs for everyone on Friday night! Everyone had a copy of the things they had to accomplish yesterday. The jobs also mostly fit everyone's skill set. Now, we strayed from the list a bit, and I had to make some minor reassessments throughout the day. If someone started to infringe on another's list item, I simply had to say "stick to the list." Simple. I knew that we needed to stick to the list if we would get all that we wanted done yesterday, and if someone strayed I coached them to consult the list and get back to work...it worked! Everyone knew what they were responsible for and none of us scrambled in confusion. Mom, for instance had drinks and food duty and she timed these things beautifully. AM and Monique had cabinet duty and Monique and I had to take out the dishwasher...yadayadayada. Totally sweet. And anyone who knows what I've been through in the past 4 years rejoice that I could even put in 9 hours of really hard work. It was a great day.

I could turn this into a big affair all about how 3 handicaps, two 60-somethings and one very strong woman broke through the glass ceiling of what was possible and expected. I could write a story about the disadvantaged who conquered the world blah blah blah. Instead, I've got a small story about an April Saturday snow, friends, a little hot coffee, some good spirits, smiling faces and the promise of pizza at the end...and everyone worked their little arses off. We went home tired, full and happy. Our dining room and kitchen are hulls--mere memories. But...memory fades and bursts forth into new ways and new days. That was a poetic way of saying the new kitchen and dining room will rock.