Monthly Archives: November 2010

I got an email today from our new head of school. It read in part:

At approximately 9:15 this morning, the body of a 39-year-old homeless male was discovered adjacent to the main parking lot between the south wall of the school and the bushes. The police and coroner came and went without incident. The children are unaware of what occurred, other than some noticed the police cruiser parked in the lot.

Jane was aware. In sixth grade they are becoming aware of everything. Alexander hadn’t noticed that his school was locked down. Same school, same event, two very different kids.

So when I picked the kids up from school this afternoon I was trying to prepare myself for the questions they would have. The kids hopped in the car just after three o’clock and I asked them how the day was.

Alexander had a great day, but Jane said that they were in “lockdown because of a hobo problem”. I gently corrected her, “It was a homeless man, and he died.”

“He did die? See the girls said he died and that they saw the dead doctor [coroner?] at school, but I didn’t believe them, and the boys said that it was probably a fight, and the security guard didn’t tell us anything.” As is customary she said it all in one big breath.

“Wait, what do you mean he died?” Alexander interrupted.

“I’m not sure about the details honey, but this morning a man died near the school. It’s very sad whenever someone dies.” I said.

“Who was he?” They both asked.

“I don’t know” Was my reply.

“Why did he die?” Someone asked. I was white knuckle, driving, hoping they wouldn’t ask me any difficult questions.

“I don’t know.” Was my next honest reply.

“Do you think he was murdered?” Alexander asked.

“Possibly,” I said, “though I hope not.”

“Where will he be buried?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know. If you’re homeless sometimes people don’t really know your name, so I think the city just does their best. Do you have any other questions?” I asked the kids.

“How old was he?” Alexander asked.

I blinked back tears, “thirty nine.” That’s one year younger than I. That’s just not long enough for anyone to live.

I pulled the car over.

And we talked about what a corner does. We talked about food pantries, and how important it is for us to buy good quality food for the pantry each week so people don’t have to decide between food and rent, and maybe they won’t have to be homeless. The kids recognized that he died because of homelessness.

And we talked about how homeless people are just like us, except that even if, even if, and even if a thousand different scenarios happened Jane and Alexander would have a home. A real home. And then I silently thanked G-d because I wasn’t lying to my kids, because with a thousand different bad luck scenarios taking place, my family would always be there. All my kids wanted to know was that they were safe. I could tell them they were. Honestly.

And then we all cried a little. Because Los Angeles is too rich to have people dying on the street.

Buy the book.

One of my favorite charities had some rocky years. Every winter I gave to them generously, and then a few years back they stopped saying “thank you”. Their overall tone had changed, and no one was happy, kind or even productive.

I’d still give, and I’d get the typed up form letter for my taxes. There would be a little hand written note from a board member saying “Thank you so much”. The next year it just said “Thanks. From Helen” and then the year after that nothing at all.

I’d walk into their offices and no one would really look up at me, they’d snatch the check and then return to their typing.

This year something wonderful happened. The same check snatcher was still there typing away, but Helen (the director of development) had been replaced by Joe. Joe happened to walk into the lobby as I was giving my pitifully small check (too many years of insult for me), and he smiled warmly, looked me in the eye and said, “Thank you so much. We can do a lot of good with this.”

I’m going to walk in and double my money today. Just because someone finally said thank you.

This week at Momversation we talked about Bullying, Bullicide and a mother’s responsibility to her kids and the kids around her.

Mindy recently confronted her daughter’s bullies. At school. On the yard.

When Jane was in second grade she didn’t get along very well with another little girl. There was no campaign to harass, there was no ganging up on anyone, it wasn’t bullying, it was just two kids not really liking each other. Jane came home from school, at age seven, freaked out because the little girl’s mother had “talked” to Jane on the yard, telling her that she was mean, that she was going to be in trouble, and that she had to be nice to her daughter.

Jane still hates that kid.

I might have promised the mother that I’d, “shove her Mercedes up her ass if she ever so much as looked at my daughter again.”  or I might not have.

But I think y’all know that I probably did.

With that in mind, here is this week’s Momversation

Used with permission from the US Army and a creative commons license.

I just hung up the phone with Amazon, when I’d given them the AIN number B0049U4CF6, the lady got overly nice and said, “we have stopped selling this electronic book.” She went on to say things like, “We are working on ways to get the whole thing off our site.” and I got lightheaded and giddy when she said, “Rest assured nothing like this will happen again.”

So here I am back to loving Amazon when someone sends me this page marked “preteen”

http://www.amazon.co.jp/gp/search/ref=a9_sc_1?rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acandy+doll&keywords=candy+doll&ie=UTF8&qid=1289452006

Don’t look if you have a daughter my age. It’s hard to see the Internet through tears.

I suppose much like Facebook, Amazon is a site I will continue to use, but not trust.

If you want to buy a nice book, I’ve written a chapter in one. Buy two, one for you, and one for a friend.

This afternoon I picked the kids up from school and I was still in my workout clothes. Alexander noticed (or perhaps smelled) and asked about my day.

ME: Well, I was at the orthodontist, and then I ran to see how Granny’s new house is coming along, and then we had lunch together.

ALEXANDER: [with wonder in his eyes] Oh. How beautiful is it?

Happy Birthday Mom.