by Dino Corvino on May 16th, 2008
So I guess, some of the hardest rejection is that from a volunteer agency. I know in most cases, these are folks doing good and are just looking to fill slots, but it still bothers me. It still makes me angry for wanting to help out.
Summer is here, and that means so many things. Car windows open, sleeping under a sheet and not a blanket, so many things.
- If you had to pick, what is the one song, the only song, that is the summer theme song for you? What song makes you think of summer, and is that song a song you listen to in the summer and it feels right?
- Do you think the city does enough programming to keep you engaged? Not really the city proper, but is there enough stuff to do, are we all doing enough? I mean there is the big stuff like the City Pages shows on the 400 block, and the KinzieBenefits shows, but is there enough little stuff? When I lived in Milwaukee, Summerfest was always there, but it was the little things like Rainbow Summer that were most appealing. What about the theatre companies doing something outdoors?
- Do you ride a bike? Not a scooter, Rosenberg. A pedal bike. Do you think it gives you the same joy now as it did as a young person? I loved riding my bike, doing skids and jumping, and now I am old and larger, and I do not jump. But I love riding my bike like a kid. Screw the heart rate monitors.
- Did you do anything at all for Earth Month? I ask this, because I am so sick of the general idea that real life gets in the way of just doing something, anything. I have grown tired of the naysayers. I mean why not just do something. What is the inherent objection to trying.
- Have you ever performed a Mitzvah?
- Who was your best summer girl or boyfriend?
And for fun…
What was the weirdest thing you ever passed out while wearing? I once passed out in drag.
by Cheryl Mathis on May 16th, 2008
Living consciously in your own body, the one you are stuck with, takes some energy. So many of us live in our heads. We read and we write, we watch TV and talk to friends, we eat. All done with our heads for the most part. But what we do above the necks has a direct effect on our bodies, either from what we’re thinking and talking about, from what we’re watching and reading, and certainly from what we’re putting in our mouths.
I encourage all of you to start living in your body again. Feel it move, the muscles ripple, the joints pivot and creak, heck… even feel the fat jiggle. Let the bliss that happens when you feel a soft breeze across your skin sink deeper and really feel your body move. Notice the bounce you get in your step after you’ve shared some good belly laughs with a friend. Sense the quiet and calm in your body after you spend some time reading and meditating.
This week should be frisbee week. Bring a frisbee to a park and toss it, fling it, skip it, chase after it. Move your body in response to what the frisbee asks you to do — crouch low to catch it, stretch out your arm to send it flying, and sprint where the wind blows it off course.
If you don’t have a buddy to throw a frisbee at, don’t feel embarrassed to do it on your own. I used to spend hours outside playing by myself when I was a kid. You might feel like an idiot at first, but you might get someone to feel sorry for you and join you out of pity. You’ll be doing them a favor, and you’ll be interacting with other citizens in this great city of ours. I don’t see a downside.
by Cheryl Mathis on May 16th, 2008
The other day when I was pushing my children around the neighborhood in a stroller, I stopped and stooped next to my two-year-old son in the front seat.
“Look, Ben! Dandelions!”
I carefully gathered a toddler-sized fistful of the yellow bits of sunshine and presented them to Ben for him to explore and admire. A quiet “wow” look spread across his face, and then he stuck one in his mouth, quickly pulling it out, disgusted by the taste.
I was lost in the sentimentality of dandelions. I remembered my first fistful of dandelions lovingly plucked by Mikey Rogers when I was five as we walked along the railroad tracks by the old Wausau East. That made him my boyfriend, and I tried holding his hand. I think he regretted not giving them to his mom instead.
So pardon me that when dandelion season comes, I get a little misty recalling the bundles of mama-had-a-baby-and-the-head-popped-off flowers I gave to my own mother who displayed them proudly in a coffee mug by the kitchen sink. Forgive me if I spend a few minutes during the day, blowing the dandelion fluff into the breeze, watching the tiny parachutes carry the seeds across the neighborhood.
Today I noticed my next-door neighbor home from work early. In shorts and a nylon jacket, he crouched over his lawn, intent on something. I try not to judge the eccentricities of my fellow man, so I went on with my gardening. Later, when I passed by his yard on one of my ubiquitous stroller walks, I was absolutely horrified to see that he had been pulling out all of his dandelions, leaving them scattered on the grass to pick up later. I honestly had a little frown on my face as I walked past, ruminating over the emptiness of the man’s soul.
What sends me on a charming trip down memory lane is an eyesore to my neighbor. Perhaps if I had any notion of the blessings of a perfectly manicured lawn, I’d feel differently, but I love the dandelions and little purple flowers that shoot up through the grass. They’re like little happy surprises, way more attractive than boring old grass.
Do you hate dandelions and heartlessly call them weeds? Or do you enjoy the yellow balls of happiness when they arrive? Be honest. I won’t think you are a monster, I promise.
