bright skies of black friday . . .

why do they call it Black Friday? because the stores will go from being in the red to being in the black? the PR departments have done well to advertise this. several clients have mentioned their children begging, pleading, and playing "let's make a deal" to get money to spend on Black Friday.

i did not go shopping. i don't shop. i hate department stores and i only shop when i have to. once out shopping i return as quickly as is humanly possible.

i spend today visiting the campus of San Francisco State University where I met with Senem Ozer, the terrific young relations officer who is working with me on Kyle's scholarship. i also got to meet Joel Kassiola, Dean of College of Behavioral and Social Sciences, who dropped by his office to pick up 1500 letters to sign this weekend for students on the Dean's List. he said that Kyle was only the second student to be awarded a diploma posthumously. and Senem said that Kyle's Scholarship was the first to be offered at SFSU in History/Latin America.

we met at the Malcolm X Plaza and climbed the outside stairs to the top of the Cesar Chavez Student Center, where there is a 360 degree view. the weather was spectacular for San Francisco (i always seem to get great weather when i am here), with a bright clear sky, comfortably cool temperature, and no wind. the campus looked beautiful, and i pictured ky up on top of the Student Center joining his buds for a smoke possibly. i wish i'd spent more time with him on campus.

dear friend (as well as former social work intern and colleague) Lisa D. met Della and me at the campus. she brought a picture of Kyle and Miranda and me standing with her at her wedding in 1996. Ky and Miranda were 11 and 15 at the time. she and Chris have 3 young children now; she shared adorable pictures of them (even Lisa and Chris look adorable). we later went to lunch (at a shopping mall) and caught up on the last 6 years. it's a shame not to stay more in contact with the wonderful people whom we meet in our lives.

and though i shed a few tears, all in all it was a day of peace. i more than survived the return to the city and the university where kyle spent his last 4 years.

You Can Get Anything You Want

recently i was bemoaning the fact that i lost my CD of Alice's Restaurant, which is important for me to play every year. why?

'cause it was MY era.
'cause it was set in rural Massachusetts where i lived as a kid.
'cause we were a VW family, with my brother owning a VW microbus.
'cause my brother actually got stopped (arrested? i forget) by the real Office Obie.
'cause i find it so damned funny and it exactly fits my sense of humor.

last year, not being able to find the CD after looking everywhere, i hunted the radio stations and found one in Los Angeles that played Alice's Restaurant all day long, about 7 replayings. i was in heaven. and i actually didn't delete their all-too-frequent emailers on purpose, so when Thanksgiving came round again, i could hear it. so those of you in LA should google "100.7 KSLX & Alice Restaurant" and you'll probably find the schedule of re-playings.

this year, as i was saying, i was bemoaning the fact that i couldn't find the CD and bemoaning the fact that i was up here in Oakland for Thanksgiving with my friend Della and her new husband Michael and didn't have access to hearing Alice's Restaurant. and then it hit me: GOOGLE IT! god bless google. there's a down-loadable concert version and a UTube version, and a bunch of others and right now i'm playing the UTube version, rerecorded 2005, in which Arlo Guthrie is talking about the event happening 40 years ago.

i foisted Alice's Restaurant on my kids annually and they indulged me, but were never as enchanted as i was. one year we rented the movie, which was a trip but was a really bad movie that didn't quite stand the test of time. and the movie didn't play the song much, but Officer Obie did play himself as i recall, which redeemed it a bit.

another Alice's Restaurant recollection is that my friend Louise gave me an Alice's Restaurant Cookbook in 1969 which had a great chili recipe that i cooked for my kids a lot over the years. in the back was a thin plastic disc-type record. but i was disappointed. it wasn't a recording of Alice's Restaurant. i still have the cookbook.

in all honestly the original recording is the best. the version on UTube has been visited 155,841 times as of this moment, but you can tell Arlo has done this so many times that he's sick of it and has resorted to a little theatricality that i find cloying.

the other thing, is that Alice's Restaurant is best played with a bunch of people who remember it and haven't heard it for a long or a bunch of cynical young people who get it right away. but since it's about 20 minutes long, it's hard to find on Thanksgiving Day the right 20 minutes when maybe the right people are hanging around, cooking but not talking and wanting to listen.

but since You Can Get Anything You Want on google, i hope you will join me in playing Alice's Restaurant. and, at least for me, it will make Thanksgiving almost perfect.

it doesn't matter anymore

that ky didn't like my cranberry chutney

that ky never let us get his teeth straightened

that ky didn't learn to drive calmly

that ky wouldn't let us get a true measurement of his height

that ky wouldn't let me give away The Puss (who has become NICE and affectionate)

that ky left the car full of cans of spray paint

that ky took risks

that ky's good suit was left at the cleaners before we moved (as did the cleaners)

that ky never totally cleaned the soot off the cupboards from his first culinary disaster at the condo

that ky never got complete settlement from his auto accident (NOT his fault)

that ky never got to south america (altho in a reverie--in which i didn't actually hear his voice, he told me "I'm on quite a trip now, Mom")



however, it does matter very much that we won't have our son and brother with us this Thanksgiving.

may you and yours be safe and at peace this Thanksgiving

A Poem on the Underground Wall

Flynn commented on the blog SFSU Class of 2007 that this song reminds her of Kyle. Although performed in the mid sixties, it's clearly the story of a "tagger" and a train.

Thank you, Flynn.

(Also, thanks for giving me a poignant memory. I saw Simon and Garfunkle at Brandeis University December 10, 1966. I was 17 years old. And, although S&G were wonderful, the kids I ran with were so cool we were claiming to be there only to see the Blues Project. S & G had come out with 2 or 3 albums at that point, but as I remember, we claimed they were too commercial or popular already. Secretly, I loved them. And still do.)

Happy Birthday, Miranda

Miranda turned 26 yesterday. I've been a mother 26 years. Motherhood changes us from essentially self-centered beings to loving, nurturing, protective, proud, mother lions.

Miranda has been so easy to love from birth. First, she was beautiful. How's that for great luck. Second she was smart, even greater luck. Third, she was a self-starting, creative, enthusiastic, strong, go-getter of a kid. She dove herself into whatever was at hand: a terrifying spelling bee at the Eagle Rock mall when she was 6, a poetry contest at Dutton's bookstore (won honorable mention) at 8, then swimming, gymnastics, art, and theatre. She mastered everything she approached. And she carried on this way through middle school and high school. I could go on but it would be a brag instead of a blog, and she'd probably hate it. And it would be boring except to me.

What was terrific though, was that that while Miranda was inspired, she wasn't driven. She could have fun while working. She could play while competing. She could party in the midst of studying for SATs or while writing a paper. She loved the chase and the achievement, but kept her feet on the ground and never has been too impressed by herself. In fact, she's always had the normal insecurities we all have, able to be realistic about her strengths and her short comings.

Maybe most importantly, Miranda is a really lovely person. A good person. A nice person. She confesses her resentment of her brother with such honesty, that you realize that resentment only makes one less of a person if you deny it. Miranda might reel off a list of less than stellar qualities, but her insight just makes one admire her more. Miranda, the name, comes from the Latin "to be admired."

We chose the name because Gearey had long loved the character Miranda, the daughter of Prospero in The Tempest. "The sweetest heroine in all of Shakespeare," he said. And we chose her name, because Miranda goes so nicely with McLeod. We didn't think about the Miranda ruling (which requires the police to warn a person who has been taken into custody of his/her rights to remain silent and to have legal counsel) nor were we aware that Miranda is a moon of the planet Uranus. I think we just blocked out Carmen Miranda.

I love the woman Miranda has become at age 26. She's remained beautiful and intelligent and hard-working--a thoughtful being, a devoted friend, and a loving daughter. And now she has grown and become a writer, one with a unique and powerful voice; she is an exquisite observer, who watches for and captures the wonder and the absurdity of day to day existence. In naming our daughter "one who is worthy of being admired," we could not have chosen more accurately.

So, Happy Birthday, Miranda. I love you more than words can convey. I hope this year brings you closer to peace and to fulfulling your dreams.

SFSU Class of 2007

I emailed a lot of you, but I want to announce that Kyle Campbell Whitham McLeod will receive in absentia a diploma from San Francisco State University. Dean Cherny of Undergraduate Studies gave the nod and we will hear more by mail.

Kyle, while having a wonderful brain, after 5th grade became a mediocre student. He had inattentive type ADHD and massive learning deficits in visual spacial memory and v/s organization. He couldn't copy things accurately from a blackboard. He couldn't read a map. An audio-learner, he couldn't take in a lecture, if at the same time, he was trying to take notes. He had a mild dysgraphia, with atrocious handwriting (all the more interesting his quest to master tagging), and we were thankful that he took to keyboarding.

Ky began reading before his 4th birthday. He always carried a book with him. When he went through a comic-book period, I kept my mouth shut and patiently waited until he was back reading books again. His friends' parents were often in awe; I remember one parent definitely linking him up with her kids after she saw him--6th grade or earlier i think--reading Fahrenheit 451.

Ky was truly an autodidact. Every day, starting in high school, he read the news over the internet. ("Mom, did you hear? Le Pen won the election in France!" c. 2002.) He always knew what was happening. No longer could I simply make rash observations about some world event, without Kyle challenging me with actual facts. I've often spoken of how he'd mention a book and then, when I'd ask what class he was reading that for, would answer--with some disdain--"that's not for a class, Mom, it's from the library."

I read letters from his SFSU professors that broke my heart, as they described a young man who was an enthusiastic participant in class, who challenged the students around him, who brought in ideas from his other classes or reading. They also described someone who was not in class "just to get the grade." Homework was not his forte, and clearly stood in the way of higher grades, but I was pleased to learn from a couple of his college classmates that Ky helped write their papers. He was growing as a student and a scholar.

But just as important, Kyle was enrolled in, what we might call, L'Ecole Joie de Vivre. Taking it all in, staying up late, figuring out how to balance studies, a job, and plenty of partying. And then there was his music. He found the time to build a music collection of 9000 tunes. In his wallet were used tickets to a bunch of reggae concerts. I'm so glad he had fun. It would have been so sad if he'd died without having a hell of a lot of fun.

Ky didn't have a 6th grade elementary school graduation because he switched to Polytechnic at the end of 5th. He didn't get a Poly diploma, cause he was asked to leave at the end of 11th grade. Ky went to night school and, though he graduated, he didn't attend any ceremony and the diploma meant little to him.

So now he has earned a college diploma. It's a shame he won't get to hold it and to use it. And a shame he won't have the sense of satisfaction of completing college and being free for once in his young life to travel and to live however he chose.

Congratulations, my dear boy, on your achievement. And bon voyage.

i can't even blog these days . . .

people give me feedback that am handling all of this well. i guess this is true enough. i've been reading Good Grief, a charming tale of a widow, who drives through her garage door rushing home to tell her husband something long AFTER he has died, and shows up at work in bathrobe and slippers. the author did a year of research, so i guess this kind of behavior is common. if so, i am in great shape.

however.
i have had a rough week or so. i am so busy working that i'm crazed and yet don't have too many options to change that (the work schedule). am trying, believe me.

i've been so busy and so tired i can't blog. i feel really bad about that. there are drafts i have started. there are birthdays i've wanted to acknowledge: nephew tim on halloween, nephew william on 11/1, dear niece katie TODAY. there are thoughts i've wanted to share. i'm failing at the blogging. i love doing it, but it has become another thing on my to do list. right after Pay the Over Due Car Insurance!!! shit, must do that today.

and right now i am stealing time from work to blog. isn't that how it always goes? you feel really alive and full of energy to do OTHER things than your work when you are supposed to be working. good news: next week i have jury duty. i can't wait to sit there all day. i'll bring my computer and blog away.

yesterday was tough. i started crying for no reason. yes. there was no cognition prior to the tears. i was driving, listening to the radio. there was nothing coming through the airwaves remotely related to any reminder of ky, his death, children, families. and suddenly i was crying. then later i started crying at work when i got a call from the SFSU woman overseeing the scholarship. it's up over the ten thousand minimum needed, and she said the annual gift can be $400 now. so i started crying. that's a lie, i started crying when i picked up the phone and heard it was her (she's a lovely person, who lost her grandmother in India around the time ky died). and then i had to explain to a psychiatry fellow in the hallway and later a family i saw why my eyes were all red so they didn't think i was a nut case. and basically all day i looked like a red-eyed puffy mess, cause i never really dried up the faucets.

so crying, eating, watching stupid TV, in the midst of work and friends--who are so caring and wonderful. but i may have to high-tail it to a Grief Group. my theory is that if i do a whole bunch of Appropriate Time & Place Grieving, then maybe i'll be able to get through a day without any Inappropriate Time & Place Grieving. of course it will NOT be that simple, will it?

so, i turn another page in the never-ending story . . .

Dia de los Muertos

went to ky's grave early saturday morning. around 9am because i had non-stop clients scheduled and by the time my workday ended, it would be dark. i'm not sure i am up to a visit in the dark; my coyote mightn't be as respectful as last time.

morning fog hadn't quite cleared, but the flower selling folk were out early on forest lawn drive. this day $5 buys 3 quite beautiful roses, a sprig of that dried little purple flower filler stuff, a couple of ferns.

as i enter and drive through Forest Lawn i am struck by all the flowers. hundreds and hundreds of bouquets sprinkle the fields of graves. i pass a Latino famiy sitting out with campchairs, spending a leisurely time with their loved one. i immediately think, "Dia de los Muertos," but i can't remember when Dia de los Muertos is. but maybe it was this week because Halloween was this week and isn't Halloween really All Hallow's Eve? the night before All Saints' Day? this obviously has been a week of serious mourning and i am not alone in my grieving.

ky's grave has greened now. the cooler temperatures. the brief rains. the morning dew. all have contributed. you almost cannot tell it's a recent grave. recent only to me. it will be 4 months soon, but it feels like a few weeks.

i brought a flannel sheet to sit down on. and incense. actually kyle's incense box/holder that Mary Lou gave to him last Christmas Eve. she brought presents for us all: ky, miranda, sallie, and me (i curl up every night on the couch in the soft green throw blanket she gave me). she was unsure whether it was the right gift for kyle, but he loves incense and having a long, thin, handsome box--that doubles as a holder--was a perfect choice. i didn't know how perfect until i found it in the green canvas bag he was living out of when he died.

i tried to light the incense with the car cigarette lighter, but i couldn't get it to stay burning well and by the time i climbed the hill to his grave it was out. but i arranged the flowers in the vase and stuck the incense in there too.

i didn't stay long, needing to get to the office. but stayed long enough to breathe in the cool morning air and to see the fog start to burn off in the hills to the east. and to tell him i loved him and missed him. and to ask him to let me know he is okay. and i stayed long enough to tell him that Courtnay and Nadia had just returned from their interfaith trip to Istanbul and Israel, where they prayed at the Wailing Wall--for him and for peace.

with love and peace for the dead and for the living . . .

Kyle's Computer: A Treasure Trove

This is my first Sunday without Taxes to finish or Contract Job deadline. And I got an extra hour (godbless Daylight Savings) since we fell back last night. I slept in, spent an hour on the phone with a friend. And then went into the Kyle Vault. Actually Sal called me into her room/Ky's room to show me the slide show that seemingly randomly starts up on her/his computer. Loads of images, some taken by Ky, some downloaded, some sent to him by others. It's easy to get swallowed into the experience. Hypnotic slow rhythm of pic after pic after pic. Lots of graffiti, a bunch of internet downloads, occasional gems--like the pic of Ky above, a self- portrait I think.

I search further and find Notepad documents. Many college homework assignments and a couple of diary type entries. My heart and breath stop as I read. I still keep learning about my son.

This one Kyle called:

Terrible

sparked the blunt
that i copped in the park
for a nick, its skinny, i save half for the dark
in the evenin, when the sun goes down
when aint nobody home and nobodys around
turn off the lights i write and burn trees
reach new heights of introspection, every day a new question
constantly guessing, dont look, jump, hold your breath
maybe it'll be cool, maybe might mean death


I know it's not cheery, but for me: finding it is like digging up buried treasure.
Thanks, Kydie.