Friday Round-Up: Last of 2017

I’m so sad about the news that Sue Grafton, the mystery writer who started with A is for Alibi and got all the way to Y is for Yesterday has died. There will be no Z says her family. She hadn’t started it and there would be no ghost-writing just to complete the alphabet. Hearing this reminded me how much I loved Kinsey Millhone, the idiosyncratic private detective who graced all the letter books, she of the QP with cheese, the one black dress rolled up in a ball in the backseat, and the index cards, the constant index cards, one clue to a card. I’ve imagined myself to be Kinsey Millhone more than once and not all that long ago.  I was eating the QP with cheese in the car, in the rain.

My granddaughter asked me if I had had that dream where you can do anything you want with your life. She said all her friends have had the dream but she hasn’t. So she wondered, did I think I could do anything? We were driving so I had time to think. Well, actually, even though I should tell you that you can do anything, the truth of the matter is you probably can’t. She looked at me, a little disappointed. I told her I never thought I could do anything I wanted but I had accomplished plenty, set goals, achieved things, made a mark. She nodded. Later I wondered if I was still a captive of my dad telling me in the 60’s that I could be a teacher, a nurse, or a secretary. I never thought to paint with the whole palette, I just had three colors.

My dogs continue to live. We have temporarily stopped doing dog hospice and are now providing more on the order of long term care. Think of your uncle in a wheelchair watching the finches in the solarium. Every vet visit generates a list of proposed tests that will produce new conditions we ought to treat. We are already administering insulin and pain pills, eye drops when we remember, and carrying the bigger dog (52 pounds) up the stairs to go to bed. We just want them not to hurt and to ease out of this life in the sweetest, calmest way possible so we say no to new tests and more treatments. Meanwhile, they lay around all day under the Christmas tree, beloved.

My husband gave me an extraordinarily beautiful pair of handmade mukluks from Canada. They are tall boots with leather straps and thick fur. At first, I worried that I’d be guilty of cultural appropriation, a white woman walking around in native boots. But then I opened the Certificate of Authenticity and read the Manitobah Mukluks vision statement: “As an Aboriginal-owned company, our vision is to build a vibrant, global brand that makes a significant impact in Aboriginal communities. Walk with us.”  So walk I will, gladly.

This morning at 5 am I walked into a church gym where fifty homeless people were sleeping on the floor. It was dark with just a slightly open door to a lit room providing any light at all. It’s been very cold here in Milwaukee so warming rooms have opened up. My job this morning was to walk around the room and try to gently wake people. The rules say they have to be out of the building by 7 am and it takes a long time to move so many people. I walked past snoring men, couples curled up with each other like my husband and I might, a single woman against the wall, waking and re-braiding her hair. I called out to them in a bit more than a whisper, “Good morning, good morning.” Waking strangers, something I never thought I would do. I tried to do a good job.

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Photo by Sam Carter on Unsplash