The Carpet Bagger's Journal — moving from NYC to Mississippi

April 20, 2010

Live, why don’t you?

Anyone who cannot manage a smile during Spring in Mississippi simply isn’t paying attention.

A cloud of blooming daffodils in my back yard!

My back yard has blue and white wild flowers, daffodils, and unidentifiable exotic hot pink bushes, white wisteria, red blooms, and it is green, violently green,a green of life demanding to burst forth out and everywhere.

It is as if everything is screaming the imperative “Live! Live!  Live!”

Only when I would plunge into the Atlantic Ocean in New York — which I would do often, living as I did in Brooklyn with access to a private beach — that I would hear the Earth screaming to me to live.  So I lived.  Despite many set-backs and sorrows, I  lived.

Right now, in the midst of all this living, I cannot remember the set-backs.  They are foggier than this bad picture of daffodils which come, I swear, up to my waist, they are so hardy and so determined to be daffodils.

I am increasingly determined as well.  You call this living?  I do.  Live!

I have a new husband.  I have a new back yard in my new home.  I have two new stepdaughters.  The eldest has, thanks to her father, a new car.  Here she is:

My step-daughter Alissa with that new car smell in her nostrils

She’s a sweetheart.  She and her fiance came here and put together my new Ikea cabinets in my new kitchen.  We went to church together for Easter.  Yes, a Kinder, Kirke, Kuche moment, despite fascist implications, and we are living, living I tell you!

My step-daughter has a new job, too, thanks to her dad — well, he made a phone call or two, but she is the charming person who got the new job through the interview process.  You see, he has been in touch a lot with his attorney’s office.  It came out that they needed a process server — and just look at her face, would you?  Would you suspect she was carrying bad news?  Neither would I.  She works for them now handing out bad news.  If you see her, particularly in  her new (well, slightly used) car in the photo, driving up your driveway, you might want to lock the door, or you’ll get served, baby!

Speaking of baby, thanks to my step-daughter, I have a new dog.  She is a character, a yellow lab with lab-attitude, Baby.  I think of Katherine Hepburn and Carey Grant singing the Fats Waller tune to a leopard.  She needs that kind of corralling, too, but she is a darling.  I would add a photo of her, at the risk of cliches busting out all over, but she is in some kind of witness protection program, and I cannot divulge her image on the Internet.  You see, her former owners gave Alissa an ultimatum — take Baby off their hands or they would take her to the pound.  In fact, that’s sort of what happened to Alissa herself over there.  It’s sort of what is happening to her sister.  There are ultimatums, saber-rattling, and soon, we’ll be taking another of God’s children out of harm’s way from that place over there.  Who knows?  Alissa may need to drive in her new car up to the front door with some bad news for those folks.

But I ramble.  It’s lovely outside.  It is far too green and fabulous to think about all these indoor thoughts.

Live!  The trees shout on my way to school and work.  Live!  The back yard shouts as I let my new dog outside in the morning.  Live!  Alissa and her fiance’s life of new beginnings shouts at me like a headline from The New York Post.  Live!  Shouts the Earth.  So Live, why don’t you?

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