Remember Who You Are

My dreams are often no more than a nuisance. I’m not liking this latest kick… Greasy French kings from the 1500’s [I’ll blame that on genealogical research], wind suit wind surfing in the Bahamas…

Magic marker pasted the edges of Puck’s mouth. The result of intense concentration of artistic endeavors.

I’ve been reading a lot about Native Americans/First Nations lately, and… it sort of makes me want to boycott Thanksgiving this year. [And not just because of all those thousands of slices of dry turkey – it’s almost impossible to make turkey not dry, I’m convinced.] That might sound a little stupid, but it’s tempting. All this muck-ruck about the Pilgrims. Those stinky grave-robbing destitute Pilgrims… And maybe it was the Puritans who sold the nearby tribes into slavery, but still… It’s difficult not to make a connection.

I’m grateful for two hours every Wednesday night when Puck can play his heart out with all the other kids at church. So after cranking him up with salad, omelets, and Louis Prima’s “Shadrack” [courtesy of The Bear], he was ready for another night of crazy times. And before we dug into Lesson 2 of “The Truth Project”, our guest preacher homilied on diversity. The John Goodman version of Mr. Sing. A Reformed Mr. Sing. In fact, this jolly gentleman could have been the younger cousin of Mr. Sing.

Puck resumed the position of prayer, trying to keep down a struggling bundle of fur in the blanket…

“Please help Uncle Mo to have good dreams and a good night’s sleep. Please help Sun’s eyes not to get red. Please help Daddy’s eyes not to get red at the video tonight and help him blink a lot. And please help me not to sin. Amen.”

I did what I shouldn’t and forgot who I was for a couple of hours. “Korean”, as Puck calls it, will do that to you. Maybe it’s something about the foreign culture involved with the subtitles. Too much brain concentration to keep the reality of your own life in the front of the back of your head. It makes me wonder if theaters would have done double duty for kids during the Great Depression. If they went to the movies to forget about real life, maybe adding in subtitles would have made them forget even more.

Not that I was trying for this angle or anything. I was just waiting for The Bear to get back from his own movies with a bag of aerated chocolate.