Entries

27 hours. No rest stops.

Kite left Monday morning. Twenty seven hours later, the phone rang.

Sage Hello?

Kite Hi! I’m in Memphis!

Sage Memphis…Tennessee?

Kite Yes. And I am off the bus. The roads were just terrible, icy the whole way. Tell Paul that at one point everybody had to get off the bus to push it out of an ice patch.

Sage, incredulously Push it?

Kite Yes! And we got it out! We were very proud of ourselves. Well, it meant we got to go outside.

Sage So, are you heading home, or…?

Kite Tomorrow. I missed my connection – okay, that’s not true, the ticket lady said if I hurried a different bus was leaving in five minutes, and I just stared at her and finally said, “Um, I’ve been on the bus a long time already.”

Sage How long?

Kite Twenty seven hours. No rest stops.

Sage Geez.

Kite So I’m going to see the sights in Memphis, then head home tomorrow.

Sage Did you hear about the earthquake?

Kite No, what earthquake?

Sage Giant earthquake, tsunamis, it shifted entire islands. Twenty thousand people have died.

Kite My god. Well. That puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?

Later, Paul and I were trudging home over the icy sidewalks.

Sage Did you hear about the big earthquake?

Paul No, what big earthquake?

I know longtime readers are sick of hearing how we don’t own a tv, but every once in awhile an event of such tremendous magnitude happens that I feel I need to mention it, so that new readers aren’t sitting thinking, “For God’s sake, do you keep the child locked in a closet all day, or what?“

So. We don’t own a tv, and we tend to listen to our own music instead of the radio, and Paul is smart and doesn’t read the newspaper vending machine headlines as we pass them.

Sage describes the earthquake

Paul Are we going to have a tidal wave?

Sage No. We’re nowhere near the ocean. We’re near a lake, which is entirely different.

Paul Phew.

Sage It’s strange to think that all of that suffering is going on on the other side of the world, and here -

Paul And here it’s just the same was it was yesterday.

I remember when 9/11 happened, I thought the same thing. That it seemed incomprehensible that my world had changed so dramatically, but there were people who knew absolutely nothing about it – and, in fact, might never find out. And yet, here we are, getting up in the morning and eating breakfast just like we did yesterday, and having our own little dramas and small hardships while on the other side of the world it must seem like the Apocalypse.

We walked in silence for awhile.

Paul We should do something for the people who had the earthquake.

Sage I like that idea.

Paul Let’s send them a card, and a donation.

Sage I think that’s an excellent plan.

When we got home Paul sat in front of a blank piece of paper for a long time. “I don’t know what to write,” he said.

“You could draw a picture of something happy,” I said, “Something to cheer up the person who sees it.”

“Oh, I know, I’ll draw a picture of Peter!”

I giggled inwardly; apparently we both think kittens are cheering.

He drew a picture, then said, “I want to send them a song.”

“What sort of song?”

“Can you print out the lyrics to Macavity, from Cats, for me?”

I tried to picture a child in Tamil Nadu opening the card and finding the lyrics to Macavity (” Macavity’s a mystery cat, he’s called the hidden paw /For he’s a master criminal who can defy the law / He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair / For when they reach the scene of crime Macavity’s not there!”) comforting. I tried. No luck.

“Um, those lyrics are pretty…long. Maybe something a little simpler, like, ‘We’re thinking of you,’ or…’We’re sorry for your loss’…no, that’s stupid. I’m not really sure, actually.”

Paul thought and thought, and just as I was sure I’d have to come up with something myself, his eyes brightened. “I know!” He wrote furiously, then showed me the card.