Life As an Afterschool Special

My cell phone is turned off.

Because my accounts are frozen my automatic bill pay could not go through, and the phone company turned my cell phone off.

How sad.

Me without a cell phone is like Batman without Robin, Yogi without Booboo, Simon without Garfunkle, Calvin without Hobbs, Baskin without Robbins…

I need my cell phone. I love my cell phone. It completes me…

It had me at hello.

Never the less I will survive.

On Saturday Greg picked me up and took me to the science museum and out to lunch (I see dead people… no really… we went to Body Worlds)

Later Kim picked me up and bought me dinner and took me to a movie. Afterwards we went to red dragon and drank wondrous punch (its wondrous I tell you).

We had a good time, laughing and drinking and being catty.

SO.MUCH.FUN.

We started naming the people we were talking about…

Mr. Math Club, Mr. Frizzy Hair, Mr. Dinosaur Jr, and my favorites the Rasta’s (although Kim said that wasn’t nice)

We talked about our weeks and I told her about how I had gotten free lunch.

On Thursday I went tanning for lunch time.

And when I got out of the tanning salon I walked the skyway and I noticed that the Radisson was hosting some sort of conference.

Everyone was in the conference room, but the left over badges were still out.

And so was the lunch buffet.

AND there was no staff around.

Oh yes. I did.

Kim called it stealing. I called it “creative borrowing”

(and for the record my friend Susan agreed with me. She said I was just helping them not let food go to waste. And since you can’t take leftover food like that to the homeless shelter (at least in NC), she thinks a girl who has her assets frozen thanks to an asshole is the PERFECT person to have it. And she is a DOCTOR. So she knows all about ethics)

After the talk of my “creative borrowing” we got on the subject of my Tiffany lamp. I told Kim that my friend Andrew had given it to me.

She asked why.

I rolled my eyes and said he gave it to me because I wanted it.

Kim started to laugh at me and recall all the times when people buy me things and give me things and fix things for me and bail me out.

I do have a history of getting what I want, especially from men.

She said maybe my accounts being frozen was karma.

I started to laugh and ask her what she meant. (this is why I love her. Total jerk)

She said after years of getting things free “the universe called… it wants it stuff back”

Sometimes life just happens faster than you can keep up with, and all you can manage to do is tread water and hope to keep your head afloat. You get so busy doing… working and living and fixing and planning… that you forget being. Being still. Being small. Being thankful. Being real. Being loved.

And thoes are the moments when you need something or someone to reach into your busy life and remind you to slow down, to laugh, to breathe deeply and just be.

It has been such a long time since I have been truly inspired to write, but someone completely unexpected just reminded me to laugh, to smile, and to capture a moment.

I worked all day today and then ran four blocks in heels to catch my bus home. As the bus pulled up my feet ached and my mind was racing with sales and numbers and goals for work and everything I needed to get done tonight and tommorow and the day after that. I feel like I never have any time. My personal life is a mess and professional life is moving faster than I can keep up with.

The man sitting to my left on the bus was in a wheelchair. He was an older man, in his 50’s or 60’s and had on overalls and a John Deer hat. He only had one leg and his overalls were pinned up. I studied him for a moment thinking he looked like a character out of a book, sitting tall and humming to himself. He looked over at me and smiled, and I gave a half hearted smile and turned back to the window. I was tired. I didn’t feel like being friendly.

His voice, old and deep and suprisingly warm, jarred me from my self pity.

“I bet I can make you laugh” he said.

“”Excuse me” I said turning to him.

“I bet I can make you laugh” His blue eyes twinkled and deep lines etched around his eyes as he smiled.

I was taken off guard. I thought in that moment that he had the most beautiful warm eyes I had ever seen. I smiled despite myself.

“I bet you laugh you easily” he remarked. I sighed and answered “Usually”

He began telling me a story about how he has been fighting bone cancer for over 20 years, and a year ago doctors had to cut off his leg and his groin. His eyes continued to twinkle as he told the story.

“That isnt funny at all! That is terrible” I exclaimed.

“I haven’t got to the funny part. When they removed my leg that also removed half my butt. Now I am officially a half assed man” He let out a hearty laugh at his own joke and slapped his leg in merriment. I laughed with him. I asked him his name and he told me it was Pat.

And then Pat continued. He told me that he used to be very very angry. He was angry at the world, and very angry at God. He wasnt a very nice person or a very friendly one. He said he went to see a pre op plastic surgeon before they took his leg last year, and after the doctor told him the grim news about what would happen and what it would like Pat broke down and cried for the first time in years.

I held my breath as he told me the story, memorized by his eyes and the warmth in his voice as he spoke. He said that doctor put a strong hand on his shoulder and quietly asked him if he could pray with him, and for the first time in years he prayed. Pat said in that moment everything changed. He said he understood for the first time in his life that God had a plan for him that had nothing to do with his plan for himself. And that has given him hope and peace ever since. Even as a half assed man. He gestured to a little toy frog hanging from his wheelchair and said “Someone gave this to me. It says fully rely on God. I look at it and remind myself of that all the time. Because in the end what else is there.”

I smiled and felt connected to him and comforted by his simple story. Even his cheesy use of the frog seemed so genuine and not at all contrived. He spoke with warmth and compassion and joy, not as if he wanted to sell me religion or win me over. He used simple words and a soft tone, and his eyes never lost the twinkle. His honesty was captivating.

Then Pat looked me deep in the eyes and said “People walk around on two legs all the time too busy to even notice God. They feel sorry for themselves because things arent happening the way that they planned. And never take a moment to thank God for the plan HE has”

The bus pulled up to the station and I said goodbye and bent down and gave him a hug. I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. And I wanted to write. I needed to a minute out of my day and write. I wanted to sit down and tell the story of Pat and how he reminded to be just be.

Be still still.

Be thankful.

Be real.

I was thinking today would be a good day to tell a classic Jamie story….

I was working at Metro V Athletic Club teaching swim lessons.

The Athletic Club is on a road that is U shaped, and last summer there was a classic car show being held at the opposite end of the road as the club.

I taught my lessons and got in my ex boyfriends 1983 rusty Honda. I mean it was a falling apart piece of beauty.

I waited at the driveway and there were classic cars that kept going by but no one would let me in. I tried to edge my way in but that didn’t work.

So I got a little impatient and tried to wave and smile my way out of the driveway, but that didn’t work.

So I mouthed to the other drivers that I would like in, and that didn’t work.

So I yelled out my window that I would like in, and that didn’t work either.

I was thinking “what kind of jerks drive classic cars anyways”

Getting frustrated, I finally honked my horn and smiled sweetly as a Rolls Royce let me in in front of him.

Finally.

So I was in the middle of these classic beautiful cars in my rusty old 83 Honda, and as we turned the corner of the U I see people lined up on the sides of the road.

You have got to be kidding me.

In typical Jamie fashion, I just honked, smiled, and waved myself right into the middle of a classic car parade, driving my rusty 83 Honda.

I mean there are Rolls Royces and Corvettes and Caddys and me…

So I did what any reasonable person in my situation would have done….. I turned on some “I got friends in low places” as loud as I could on my radio and waved to the crowds like I owned them.

just another day in my life as an afterschool special.

I hate scary movies. HATE THEM. I am not like my roommate Amy who says she hates scary movies and the proceeds to tell you about SAW and SAW II and the Grudge and the Ring and every other horror movie she has seen. I actually hate them and dont watch them. I think life can be scary enough, and I have lived through some pretty terrifying things. So I have absolutely no desire to recreate thoes emotions via a movie.

I do however, have pretty vivid memories of a scary movie my mom made me watch when I was little. My mom rented Hitchcock’s “The birds” for my sisters and I one night. I HATED it. And ever since I have hated birds. No really. I kinda hate them. I think they are creepy. I also think they are horrible pets. I mean they are supposed to fly. That’s the whole point of a bird. So why take a creature whos purpose is to fly and then put them in a tiny cage and watch the sit there. Its creepy. But I digress.

As the weather changes more and more birds cluster in the trees that line my streets and along the buildings of downtown. They just sit there watching you with their beedy eyes and their pointy beaks waiting to kill you. Trust me, I know. I’ve seen the movie. They want to kill you.

The other day I walking downtown and a bird came swooping down from a building RIGHT AT MY HEAD. Apparently it had seen the movie too. It wanted to kill me. I literally screamed, ducked down and covered my head and the bird flew right past me into the windows of Kinkos and died.

Thats right. It died! And then I laughed and took a picture. An old woman gave me a horrified look and then crossed the street. Clearly she had missed the memo. The birds are EVIL. They want to kill us. Just ask Hitchcock.

Thinking back I can admit that perhaps it was a little morbid to laugh and even more so to take a picture, but I felt a sense of victory. In fact, I think I will hang the photo from the trees in front of my house as a warning to the other birds… mess with the best, die like the rest. Bwahahahahahahahahaha.

I hate birds.

(I read this to Amy before I posted it. She said I am one strange scary little girl. And that is the stuff scary movies are made of.)

What color is Jesus? Does the color of his skin change his message? Does his heritage change our inheritance? Or is the message of hope in the Bible universal?

These questions have been rolling around in my head for the past few days. I was walking downtown last Friday when I heard angry voices amplified on the city streets. I heard the words, but what they were saying didn’t make any sense to me. The voices were quoting Bible verses so familiar to me I could recite them along with the speaker, but they were saying them in a context I have never heard before.

I turned the corner and came face to face with the voices. They were coming from angry black men, dressed in white robes with a red insignia sewn into the cloth. I had never seen anything like it. I thought they were the black Ku Klux Clan. They were members of the Nation of Islam.

One of them held up a famous picture of Jesus. He pointed to it and yelled, “If this is who you think Jesus is, if this is the picture of Jesus in your head or in your house, you are worshiping an idol. You are worshiping the devil. Jesus is not white. Jesus is black. Jesus hates whites”

My breath caught in my throat and I stared the men down. I know enough about the Bible to not believe Jesus was a Caucasian male, but I also know enough about the Bible to know Jesus doesn’t hate whites either.

The man with the microphone continued. “If you are not black you are condemned to hell. God hates you. He hates you for enslaving my people. His people. God’s people are the Jews, and who are the true Jews? Blacks. Blacks are Jews. Blacks are Gods people. But you put the chains on his people, and now he hates you. He hates you and has condemned you to hell” then he took out his bible and misused scripture to prove his point.

I was so angry I began crying. They looked at me with hate in their eyes as they continued to condemn and lie and shout, but I didn’t look away. I looked into their eyes and cried.

This was MY God they were screaming about. This was MY Jesus who had died for my sins, and for theirs, that they were lying about. I felt the anger that can only come when you know someone is hurting someone or something you love very much.

Finally I could take it no longer. When everyone else was walking away I marched up and looked the leader in the eye. With a shaking voice I spoke up.

“Shame on you.” I said.

He just looked at me. I continued.

“Shame on you for telling lies about the character of God. Shame on you for making Jesus into something he is not. Shame on you for taking the Bible and twisting it into lies. You took something that is beautiful and pure and true and made it into something ugly. Shame on you”

His lips curved into a cruel smile. “You are saying that because you are condemned. Because you are a woman. And you are white”

I reeled back from the sting of his false words. The truth is, as a white upper class woman, I haven’t ever been truly discriminated against. I felt angry and helpless and pity all at the same time.

“I don’t understand,” I cried. “I don’t understand how you can stand on this street corner and spread such lies and hate. God loves. The Bible says God so loved the world that he sent his son while we were still sinner. It says we are fearfully and wonderfully made. It says there will be no Jew or gentile. That we are brothers and sisters” I started to cry again. “I just don’t understand”

He looked at me with hate and said, “You never will.”

I had so much more to say but I could tell it was falling on deaf ears. I looked the man sadly, said I would pray for them, and walked away with tears streaming down my face. I felt the way Jesus must have when he discovered sin at the temple and overturned tables in his anger.

I had to process. I had to talk it out. I called a few friends and finally got a hold of a friend who was home. I sank down on a bench and told him the story. He listened, and reminded me that I was angry at the sin, but not the men who were sinning. Truthfully I was angry with both. I thought, “I know Jesus loves them, but I still think they are jerks”

But over the fast days I have thought a lot about that confrontation. And I am sadder at the lies these men believed about Jesus then the fact they were so vocal.

The truth is no matter what color Jesus’ skin was, his promise is the same for all races, all nations, all generations. It isn’t a message of anger and hate, but one of love and forgiveness.

One day we will all face judgment, and we will be separated. It will not be the color of our skin that divides us, but rather our faith in the one true God. The Bible says whoever believes with their heart and confesses with their mouth that Jesus is Lord will be saved.

It is a hope that transcends racial and economic barriers.

It transcends nations.

I took Spanish for one year in highschool and one year in college. You would think I would be far more fluent than I am, but instead of working hard and studing the language, I dated my TA and got an A. YAY! Now I can flirt in spanish.

Tu es mui guapo! Toca la guitarra? Tengo gusto de músicos!!Usted desea besarme?

Heh.

Despite my utter lack of bilingual skills, I LOVE watching telemundo. Maybe its because they flirt enough for me to have a tiny clue into what they are talking about, but more than likely its because they are so deliciously dramatic.

Seriously! Have you ever watched a Spanish soap opera? They put english versions to shame. Men get angry and break chairs and tear off their shirts in anguish and woman cry and fall to the ground and beg the men not to leave them almost every show. I love it!

My roommates make fun of me because they often come home to find me on the couch glued to a television program I cant understand. They ask me what is happening and I answer “That man who just crushed the glass in his hand and is now bleeding is angry, and the woman who is crying is very sad”

Oh the universal language of drama!

But I have a new favorite game and it makes telmundo even better (as if that were even possible)

Now I watch with the volume turned down low and make up my very own lines. Amy came home the other day and heard me talking in living room. I was by myself, but I was playing all the characters of telemundo at once. Like this:

Angry Spanish Man: How could you do this to me? After all we have been through? After all I have given you? Look at this house! Look at all we have (throws the chair) This chair means nothing to me now. NOTHING!

Crying Spanish Woman: Please. Please. That chair is from Ikea. Do you know how hard it was to get it past customs?! We can work it out. I didnt mean to sleep with your twin brother but it was so dark I didnt know it wasnt you! I didnt know. (she falls to the ground and grabs his leg) Dont leave me!

Angry Spanish Man: You whore! When I found you broken and begging on the streets who was it that came and rescued you? Who was it that gave you a life and a home and furniture from Ikea? It was Me! ME! And this is how you repay me? How could you do this to me? (man throws open door) Get out! Get out now! I never want to see you again!

Crying Spanish Woman: You cant throw me out. I love you. I love you! (woman continues to grovel at mans feet. Suddenly she looks up and dramatic music plays. Close up of her face)

*I just wanted to interrupt to say this is my FAVORITE moment of telemundo. The dramatic music followed by the close up of a characters face. You just know a shocking secret is being revealed*

Crying Spanish Woman: How dare you judge me! No one is perfect! Not even you! We all have secrets. Even you. I know what you keep locked in the attic. (more dramatic music and close up of mans shocked face)

END SCENE

See! Isnt that just the most delciously dramatic fun game ever?! You should play it sometime!

Telemundo, cómo te quiero! Tendría sus bebés.