Mr. Rubik

I think about time. I think about thinking about time.


Uncle Herbie was taken to the hospital by an ambulance. I have not completed my "to-do list" task of calling Kensico Cemetery to "place an order" for his burial plot. I don't want to.



I am turning time over and over in my mind, and wondering when it will be the right time to make this phone call. Time is not a Rubik's Cube. It will never line up.  I know this, and yet I turn the little blocks as if they might fit into place. I use the mental Rubik's Cube as a model for options. Maybe the movement gives me time to process the information and settle on a specific alignment of Rubik's Cube-life that is appealing, or at least more tolerable? Rubik's Cube is a powerful playmate for me - and you know how I feel about good playmates.



Once I complete my work, all the cousins will have to be called and they will have to sign the grave-site release. They don't know that he has asked me to do this. It is a character issue for me: am I cold enough to get this done - which is what he wants - and not worry about my cousins? Perhaps there is never a good time for discussions about the practical realities of death.


Hah! I just googled Rubik's Cube, and it was designed by an architect named Rubik in 1974. Of course it is an architect's design! Yes, I am Bob's daughter, and I will never second guess my fascination with Rubik's Cube again. Time to make a phone call - yah - you know where I am calling...

xoxo,

Emily
AKA Bob's Daughter

Color and Control

I stood on the playground, under an oak tree
and wanted to scream.
The lawyer, holding her one year old,
fast asleep in her arms, just told me that at the Waldorf School,

"You know, they don't want you to wear black."

As I was about to respond, another mother sitting on the geodesic dome said,

"I'll give you an example of why they feel that way. My son was in kindergarten and he came home upset and said to me, 'My teacher always wears black! I want to see color!'
Kids just really want color around them."

I stood paralyzed.
The phrase, "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all" came to mind. I was silent, standing there in my black v-neck t-shirt, black underskirt with an over-skirt of black, white and gray mesh.

Finally I said,  

"I guess I just don't feel that way.
I teach art history and it's all part of a spectrum."

"Do you teach kindergarten?" 

"No, I teach college."

"Well then, black and gray are appropriate for that."
She looked at my clothing and smiled.

WOW, my brain was spinning.
I wanted to say that "The colonization of the body should not be encouraged and the fact that your son is taught to believe that he has the right to decide what his teacher should wear is inappropriate. A five year old is in school to learn."

Instead I looked at her, acknowledged her opinion with a nod and looked away. I felt like there should be a big bubble over my head saying, "one if these things is not like the others".

This is when it became even more interesting...

A friend of mine from graduate school had invited me to the park that day
and she jumped in, sensing the tension.

"Emily doesn't discriminate against colors. All colors are important for her."

This seemed to placate everyone or at least give us all a chance to move on.

I can't stop thinking about this sentence, "Emily doesn't discriminate against colors."

It could be the early 1960's on the same playground and instead of wearing black
I might have a black friend? I need to think about this more.

Respectfully,

Bob's Daughter

Linked

I am not against search engines
that reunite or introduce people.
I merely think that it is prudent that the service tell you if the person is living or deceased. It is a matter of good manners. Or best business practices.

Facebook has set up memorial pages for people who have died.
This seems wise, though I wonder how long a time they maintain the page?

I have done something strange.
Some of you may be laughing because this entire blog and topic is strange...
something strange - even for me...

I googled "Linda Caigan", discovered that my mother is on LinkedIn, tried her usual password, and visited her page as Linda. She has one contact and one invitation to connect.

I considered taking it down, just canceling the account.
Then I had another idea.
We have already paid over $5,000 in death notice fees, perhaps this is another way to let people know that Linda has died?

I added a summary to her page regretting to inform people of her death.
I have no idea if anyone has read it.
LINDA CAIGAN at LinkedIn


xoxo,
Bob's Daughter

Khem thinks that my humor on this blog is somewhere between Charles Shultz (Charlie Brown creator) and Morticia Addams.The best part of this description may be that one is a character and the other is a human. I always loved the play Six Character's In Search of An Author by Pirandello.

xoxo,
Bob's Daughter