A Pinch of This- A Dash of That

The Human Condition

I’d like for this to be the last time I spew out my despair over what I’m seeing around me. I highly doubt that anyone who, in my humble opinion, needs a verbal ass-kicking would be reading this anyway.

So I’m sitting here sounding like Charlie Brown’s parents and getting nowhere.

Fine.

What I’m going to say is this- My mother loved Lord Vader, and not simply because he had the coolest duds. My mother spent years insisting to me that Vader would be redeemed. She was positive he had what we call “good” buried in his heart. She was certain that before the end he would find that nugget inside himself and embrace it.

I thought she was crazy.

I’m not going to go into whether or not Vader’s redemption was appropriate story-wise, or if it was hackneyed or anything like that. I don’t care.

I remember him (I’m talking about in the theater now) struggling to his feet, waiting, grabbing Palpatine, and pitching him over the rail. I remember my mother turning toward me and saying, “See? I knew it!”

My mother has always had faith in the inherent goodness of people. I have not. I’ve taken after my father. A person needs to SHOW me they’re good before I believe it. My mom assumes they are until she sees otherwise.

Or that’s the way it was, anyway. These days? My mom’s faith in humanity is starting to crack. I find it depressing. I always wanted to be like her. She never wanted to be like me.

People are behaving Very Badly. I know I’m supposed to hate the action and not the person, and I do try, but come on, folks. Burning down an Islamic center and Mosque being built in Tenessee because, ‘It’s not a place of worship, it’s going to be a training ground for terrorists?’

Only allowing white children to serve as class presidents in a school in Mississippi?

I have no words for this.

And, um, anyone remember that little accident in the Gulf? The one they barely discuss now that the well is “sealed?”

I’m exhausted by it all, but even more than that I’m deeply disappointed.

So here’s what I’m going to do.

Ask you to Watch This and marvel over the fact that the other day 77,000 people tried to get onto this website at once in order to donate and pledge money for random acts of kindness to be performed all over the world.

Let you know that they’ve found a protein that destroys HIV, and they’re working on making it useful for human infections.

This truly kickass guy did something spectacular. He started his own online “university” where, for free, anyone can watch videos on almost any possible subject and learn, learn, learn.

The awesome outweighs the shit, you know. It’s just that the shit-slingers are louder.

Let’s change that.

“I Happen to LIKE the Roller Coaster, Okay?”

Sometimes.

Gimme the facts.

Gimme information.

Don’t make me wait without any, because I’m not good at it.

When they found a shadow on my daughter’s heart during my 18 week ultrasound they said it might be a marker for Down’s, or it could be other things, or it could be nothing. It was hard to tell.

When she was born they declared her healthy and awesome.

The night before we were going to take her home the nurse listened to her heart and told me she was concerned about something she heard. Said it didn’t sound right. She took Livvie to the nursery to wait for the pediatrician to make her rounds, and I paced for hours. I paced my room. I paced the hall. I hovered by the nursery window, just watching her and wanting to hold her. I didn’t know what was wrong. I didn’t know if anything was wrong.

When the doctor came around and listened she didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary and gave us the go ahead to take her home.

She’s had a murmur ever since.

Wednesday the doctor listened to her heart and told me he wanted an echo done of her heart, “just to be on the safe side.”

Ok.

Yes, I quietly came apart at the seams, holding it together until the kids were in bed, and I could finally start crying.

That’s all I ever really need to do, you know. Cry over my worry, cry it out, and let it go. I went to sleep and woke up the next morning feeling far better.

Thank you to all of the Twitter peeps, and you know who you are, who held my hand for a few hours. You’re wonderful friends.

I especially want to thank Ron Earl Phillips for taking the time to email me with tales of his own experiences. It helped. A lot.

Livvie’s ultrasound is Tuesday morning at 840, and I’m going to have to get her on the road by 730. Wish me luck.

In the meantime- perspective is always a good thing. I’m sure “it’s probably nothing,” but that doesn’t matter. Reminders are good for the soul.

And Last-

(Spoiler Free)

Get your Needle yet?

I did.

This issue kicks ass. I loved the first one, and this one does not disappoint.

Chris F. Holm’s novella, The Hitter, at the end whupped my ass. Needle had posted a teaser on their website, and the story was fantastic. Chris is a great guy with a sublime sense of humor, and if you haven’t toodled over to his website do so.

I had a moment of feeling as if I were some craptastic cheese-metal band scheduled to perform after Van Halen in 1980 when I saw my story was placed immediately after David Cranmer’s “The Sins of Maynard Shipley,” because Cranmer is all awesome and shit and created the faboo Beat to a Pulp, but once I swallowed my bile and dove into his story-

Holy smokes.

I am now simply feeling thrilled and honored about being next to him in this magazine.

I haven’t read a story yet that hasn’t been fantastic, and these Needle folk know their stuff with the selection process. I will always be completely humbled that my first published piece of fiction (and the first written since I was a teen) was in this issue.

One word of caution- Sarah Weinman’s “Mirror Image” is one of the best skeeves I ever read. Prepare to shift around in your seat while reading it.

So, yeah, if you don’t have your copy, and you want a copy (you’re missing out if you don’t)- make with the clicky on the image on the sidebar there —-> and order one.