Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Crazy Making Isn’t What It’s Cracked Up to Be
I wrote strategic directions for my life on one half of a torn envelope and my grocery list for chili on the other half and yes, the only direction I can find in my nightmare of an office is to buy a 14.5 oz can of tomato sauce. Who cares, there’s more strategic directions where those came from. They’re lined up like the spotless sneakers of an impossibly rich and vain old woman.
Durant and Herc are having nose to nose little fright fests. Nobody’s snippy or anything. There’s just a lot of intense looking going on. They’ll look each other in the eye for a minute and then somehow get startled and jump back in unison. It feels like a cartoon. Meanwhile, Herc struts through the house, day or night, unwilling to cede a single moment’s thought to the new tenant. Never mind how big he is.
The events of this week are crazy making. The persistent cultivation of chaos, the intentionality of it, having as a goal to scramble the truth and wear out thinking people, it’s awe-inspiring. During the early days of Covid, I’d lie awake at night terrified for myself, my family, and the country. I thought nothing could be worse. But this is worse. But the handy thing is Covid made me tough enough to handle the lying sacks of shit that are many of our elected representatives. So, go ahead, try to make me crazy.
Our new dog, Durant, won’t come when he’s called. He will, however, turn in the other direction and take off. So, we are about to teach an old dog new tricks (if you can call coming when he’s called a new trick). This makes me wonder if we should change his name. If he won’t come to Durant, maybe we call him Buck like my daughter keeps calling him, thinking that Durant resembles the dog in The Call of the Wild. Don’t get me wrong. Durant is a wonderful dog. But he’s also going to be a project, which is good. A project fends off the chaos.
The reason that creative writing is good for old people is that you wake up at night wondering if the widow’s hands should smell of fish or instead of soap and lemons when she’s leaning on her husband’s newly installed headstone. I often read Heather Cox Richardson before I go to sleep despite her warnings to the contrary. But then when I close my eyes, I focus on the widow’s dilemma. It’s been many nights now and it’s still not resolved. Like counting sheep but more purposeful. I like always doing things that count.
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Interesting, this tension between these two members of the household. Is Tempest intentionally uninterested in all the staring? Why do I think Herc will reign triumphant in the end 🙂