how blue is you

George Winston’s ‘December’ is good background music this Friday morning.  Anthony Doerr’s ‘All the Light We Cannot See’ is a momentary escape;  Werner repairs the German officer’s radio, Marie-Laure and her father flee the city.  Life has been so hard for so many for so long and yet if I didn’t read the news I’d think all was ok, suffering doesn’t exist because I don’t tune in to it. 

Who is accountable for the suffering we know nothing about?  And when we know, are we somehow then accountable?  Aren’t we supposed to act in defense of the suffering when we know?  I have only one tool, one weapon, against suffering and prayer changes nothing.  Suffering continues.

Gandalf exorcising Theodun is one of the best scenes in the Fellowship trilogy.  With all goodness and righteousness he restores the King’s power and sanity.  If only prayer were like Gandalf’s staff.

After last night’s class a student asked for advice.  He can’t answer the questions quickly and he says it’s been a problem for him his whole life.  He graduated from college with a BS and works for a marketing firm but he is always a step behind and fears he cannot take the timed TOEFL exam and pass.  I am no psychiatrist, I tell him, but I suggested he do his work without the clock in hand and relax, learning the strategies and the ‘how to’s’ instead of the meanings of the text.  And then I gave him my copy of ‘Of Mice and Men’ and said read it in the spirit of good literature.  Enjoy reading and learn to relax.

Younnis doesn’t have much to do on this Friday.  He sits in the cellar watching tv.  The cellar is no cooler than the rest of the building otherwise I might go there.  He hasn’t turned on the solar switch and we slowly sizzle.  I think, I hope, he is waiting until the late evening when he can turn it on for sleepy time.

I made pasta with cashews, garlic, and I used the last wrinkly cucumber and gave him a bowl of it.  He said thanks.  A few minutes later he gave me a chunk of bread.  His look was one of reluctance but he had to, a tradition is a tradition.  I ate some of it and will keep it for a late snack.

Fezel arrived around sunset and agreed to take me to get milk, cereal and juice.  The only shop I’ve seen carrying the Iranian milk and the honey cheerios is not replenishing its stock.  Maybe I should buy the four remaining boxes. 

And I picked up my new Afghani digs.  I look okay in blue cotton.  The pants don’t have pockets, which I had hoped and should have asked for some, but the top has two deep pockets and a chest pocket.  I didn’t say anything when the tailor was measuring me but I noted he didn’t measure my waist.  The pants are a size 85, good thing I suggested picking up a few cotton belts.  And yes, they were tailored down so the leggings fit fine and are not size 85 baggy bell bottoms. 

So, tomorrow I’ll greet my morning class looking like an Afghani, smelling like an Afghani and talking like a Detroiter.  Such is life.