my passion...your entertainment
Vitae…Verba…Cruorem…Fluo…
1:00 am mdt- takeoff…
6:30 edt- touchdown in jfk…my first ride on the airtrain…a quick tour with mrs scribe around jamaica station…a touchstone from my childhood…
8:00- lirr to suburbia…have i mentioned how much i love trains…
12:30- after breakfast, a quick tour, a little shoe shopping, and some research…i explain the schnuzz to my wife…it is a made up word…i’ll cover what it means some other time…the point is…she didn’t get it…why use a made up word…ah well, there’s plenty of time for that…
1:30- mrs scribe meets the family in all it’s madness…and then off to the wake…
2:00- against his wishes, my father is on display in an open casket…rather than being cremated…this is what grandmother wants…and no one questions the matriarchy…a family full of men…run by three women…anyway…we are supposed to be sitting in mourning…for three hours…this is just not possible…we are too active…too alive…
3:30- mrs scribe and i escape…to generic strip mall restaurant…the place that deep fries an onion and calls it food…mostly, i just need a drink…and to catch a second wind…a couple of beers…and a mets victory…set my mind right…
5:30- dinner…southern/caribbean diner style food…selected by mom…and stories about dad all around the table…only the highly polished good stuff…of course…my request for a jamesons and soda gets me…a glass full of whisky and three ice cubes…o happy day…
7:00- the service…as run by my sister…moves well…until i am asked to speak…this is unexpected…tired and lubricated…i stand and speak…i acknowledge my outsider status…i think i say something about god…and get an amen…i express gratitude for being able to make peace with him before he died…i ramble another sentence or two…and then sit back down…i must have said something right…because mrs scribe…and my sister…both told me i did a good job…
8:30- leaving the funeral home…i come across a framed poem fragment…the cheesy presentation doesn’t overwhelm the agreeable sentiment…
“Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is like a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.”
11:00- business meeting for potential lucrative venture…
1:00- sleep…
5:30- wakey wakey…
7:30- and homeward we fly…and sleep…
10:00 am mdt- home…time to start planning the honeymoon…
a freshly minted wad of cash…and the news of my foster fathers death…has me thinking…what my would my response be…if i were still single…vs…my response now that i’m married…
$100 drinking binge/bar tab…vs…a comforting hug from my wife…edge…single life…the possibility of an anonnymous, random, sloppy, sympathy fuck…vs…sympathy sex from my loving wife…edge…married life…waking up hung over and alone in a pool of my own vomit…vs…rolling over to my wife’s kisses…edge…married life…being able to travel at the drop of a hat without worrying about the financial consequences…vs…having to think about the impact going to ny will have on my wallet…edge…single life…riding my emotional fences, keeping my guard up, and protecting myself from vulnerability…vs…knowing that the people around me can be trusted…edge…married life…
all-in-all…i’ll take married life…what i know of it anyways…all six days of it…anyways…
to bury the dead.
