Tell me a story... (11/10/08)

once upon a time, and then and then and then... until the end (and then i guess i am a better listener than teller is what we just learned)

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My mother had an affair for 10 years with a married man, a handsome, rugged dock-worker with broad shoulders and a beautiful smile. They were still involved when she died of a sudden heart attack at the too-young age of 43. He came to the wake with his wife and six of his eight children. When my four siblings and I saw him, we burst into tears, my older sister sobbing in his arms. At that moment the whole room full of my mother's grieving family and friends figured out what had been going on. Or perhaps they'd known all along.

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This all happened on Cyprus, at the end of July:


Ballad of the Goddess of Paphos


Came to the desert near the sapphire sea
And hills of asphodel
There we heard the taut gut ring
Upon the wooden bell

And old women wail the Cyprian girl
Who rode the oyster shell
But little grey lizards reigned in the ruin
Of her temple on the hill

Grey as these dust shroud stainéd stumps
Grey as this Paphian air
Grey as the ash heap of Adonis’ pyre
Grey as the memory of Myrrha

And we stood in dust before broken stones
Where Cinyras once was throned
With a pomegranate rotting at our feet
And dogs fighting over bones

We’d come there to worship the oyster girl
With obsidian in her hair
But all that we found was the memory of lies
Even the blue sea was bare

But then we climbed into the hills
Above the sapphire seas
Climbed through silver olives twinkling
And dangling carob seeds

Climbed through pomegranate groves
To find the sacred prayer
Climbed through fields of summer grass
As copper as her hair

And when we found the secret stair
We tumbled to a spring
Beneath the twist of ancient fig
Where the old women sing

And genuflect and bless themselves
And dip bony fingers in
The water from an old stone bowl
Forever bubbling

And old men came with jugs and jars
To fill them at the well
So revive passions with draughts of love
For the foam born Celestial

Then innocents danced the shaded stair
Passion blind and writhing
Amid doves moaning cicadas crying
And their own blood's groaning

And they ran to the old green bowl
To drown in passion's water
And wash themselves in tears of love
Tears of the blue sea’s daughter

Then hush as floating down the stair
The goddess Aphrodite
In her boa of sheer pink foam
And oyster shell bikini

With bald gold-chained pot-bellied Hephaestus
And three white Pomeranians
Dancing in circles and skipping like kids
And whining like spoiled children

We found the Goddess alive and well
Beside the wild asphodel
The myth we sought was in the flowers
And its making always ours

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Once upon a time there was a rebellious nation who (though shockingly imperfect in their own conduct) fought desperately for their independence. This nation had a great belief in freedom and held it in the highest regard. This nation protected each individual's right (again, quite imperfectly) to their own beliefs and values.

The founders of this nation believed that freedom was worth risking life and limb. They believed that if their ruler was not upholding freedom and justice, that it was up to each person to protest. They would take to the streets to defend their vision of freedom.

Somewhere along the line, after decades of rulers who were dishonest at best, murderers at worst, the nation started to fall into indifference. As this nation's freedoms and equalities disappeared one by one, its citizens started to believe that freedom was a hopeless cause.

The citizens of the nation truly believed that nothing could be done to change the future and that they were destined to be ruled by people who did not hold their beliefs and wishes sacred. This nation had forgotten its original ideals and began to overflow with cynicism and apathy. It had given up hope.

It was at just this time that a great leader appeared. He was strong, balanced, saw the reality of the nation's problems clearly, but also had a vision for the future. This leader showed the struggling nation that black and white thinking was not a viable option, that things could change for the better, and there was indeed hope for our future.

The nation seized the opportunity to NOT rest into the easy comfort of "the devil we know," to reach out for this leader and more importantly, what his presence at this precise time represented, something completely new and long forgotten - freedom.

A joyous outcome, true, yet the future of the nation remains to be seen. Though its citizens magnificently arose to greet the dawn of a new era of freedom, if things do not fall into their preconceived notions of great leader and great nation, will they fall back into hatred and indifference?

Let us all rise up to greet this new era of freedom. Let us shout equality from the rooftops and not let our leaders forget that they are defending our very lives. Let us take this opportunity to never go back to cynicism and apathy, but to seize the rising sun of freedom, shine brilliantly with hope - and take action!


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Once upon a time there was a little girl named Serena*. She had several brothers and sisters, and her parents worked very hard to feed and clothe such a large family. Serena was the oldest of the girls, and helped her mother a lot with the cooking, cleaning, and child care. Serena was very bright and did well in school. She also loved music and learned to play the piano. People often heard her singing as she went about her daily chores; she loved to sing and had a beautiful voice. However, Serena was very shy and had a difficult time making friends. It took her a long time to form friendships. When Serena grew up and went to college, she no longer lived at home with her family. She HAD to learn to make friends - or be very solitary. She learned how to break out of her shyness, little by little. She eventually learned that a drink at parties made it much easier to dance and talk and have fun. Unfortunately for Serena, that drink turned into many, many drinks. She and her friends would go to the opera and symphony, but they always had a drink or two during the intermissions. Serena almost always nodded off during the final act. Drinking became a necessary evil in Serena's life. Eventually the friendships faded and she drank alone at home every night. So sad. One day Serena "hit bottom" with her drinking and ended up in a 28-day spin-dry place. She learned that drinking was only a cover-up of many things she didn't want to face. She learned to face those issues and to deal with them. She is productive at work during the day and seldom home in the evenings. Life is now full of joy and friends and service. Serena had to travel down a dark path to find the light. *Name changed intentionally.

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Once upon a time, there was a little black girl growing up in the Brewster Project of Detroit, Michegan. At age 15 she was spotted by an Ebony/Fashion Fair talent scout and her modeling career took off. She traveled the world wearing the finest designers. Pucci, Gucci, and Florucci.

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Life Story in 5 words:

genius poet went for laughs.

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That's not really a question, is it?

Anyhow...Once upon a time there were three little girls who went to the Police Academy. And they were each assigned very hazardous duties. But I took them away from all that and now they work for me. My name is Charlie...

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once up, on a time
i did something
something happened
the something kept happening
i waited and waited to do something again
but i knew that i shouldn't
until i could
so i did
while i waited
i watched
what i had done wasn't what was happening
it thought it was god
i knew it wasn't
but i loved it so i didn't want to ruin it
until it almost did
so i did first
that's the second thing i did

i didn't ruin it

i just wait until it stops
it does
it doesn't want to
it still thinks it's god
though it knows it isn't

then i stopped a bullet from entering into my head
and spent two months enjoying the solace
of creating the very chess match i had to 'lose'
knowing that i would only win

the third thing i do is up to all of you

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"HI Heather," the voice said. It was high-pitched and hinted of excitement,young and earnest, a note so many have forgotten. Heather looked up from her book, smiled and waved. The door was open to her shop and would be for a few more hours. No one was inside. The voice ... well, it belonged to a young boy who was gripping his mother's hand, about to be led up past a gate, up the stairs and into his home.
Home. Where he would read about magical lands suffused with dragons and knights and maidens and superheroes, enraptured by their daring deeds.
Work. Where Heather was, immersing herself in a tale from outer space, a tale set in the future, feeling nothing like the present. Lights shone outside - and in - but closer to earth than the words on the page. She flipped and turned the pages as the hours went by ...
The boy's head hit the pillow first. Later in the night went Heather's. They both dreamed contently.
Tomorrow came, as it's wont to do. Heather and the boy walked towards each other on the street. Hellos were exchanged. And then they stopped - the boy resisting his mother's pull, Heather fighting the ticking clock on her wrist. The boy saw Heather garbed in silver, holding a lance. Heather noticed the boy was garbed in a spacesuit, looking to the heavens. For a moment, time froze. They smiled at each other.
And then they went on their way.

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A boy was given to the wrong parents (whether intentionally or by accident isn't verifiable). He thereby was deprived of the trappings, adventures, and experience ordained by the pedigree rooted in his DNA. Instead he led a perplexing then simple life. It was the best thing for everybody.

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And mine...

I'm hearing so many wonderful stories right now, I can't pick just one.

Except:

Once upon a time things were very different and I never thought they'd change. Then they did change.