College

Tonight during Johan's bedtime routine, one of the books he chose was Toy Story 3. Yes, it's a book too.

Well, in TS3, Andy is going to college. As such, Johan likes to talk about college. Tonight he told me he can't wait for college. I told him college is great and he will love it. And then he told me he wanted me to come with him to college.

I snuggled closer to him and said that I would bring him there but that when big kids go to college, mamas don't stay. He pouted and insisted that I stay at college with him. "We'll talk about it when it gets closer to the time," I said.

It makes me feel happy and sad at once to think of it. It's so far away but I know that one day I will wake up and be writing a letter to him as he graduates from high school reminding him of when he made me promise to come to college with him.

Then, for Johan's last bedtime story of the evening(it's not TS3, but I do my best), I told him a story of some very good friends who went to college together in a sunny place where the huevos rancheros were spicy and the political marches were passionate and the learning was deep and the fun was never ending. And I started to miss those friends something fierce and felt profoundly lucky to have them (even though they are far away now) and I got very excited for my upcoming long weekend with them in just a month.

College. Oh, Johan, you don't even know. It's going to be so good.

IG

I have seen the Indigo Girls in concert a cool 9 times since age 15. For awhile, I was steady at once a year, but both being abroad and being a mom have kept me from some shows.

This summer the IG are playing at the Minnesota Zoo Amphitheater. I found this out in April and marked my calendar for the date tickets went on sale. They will be at the Amphitheater just 2 days after my 30th birthday and what a lovely way to start off a new fiscal year.

This is where the sabotage begins. The tickets were supposed to be on sale starting 10am on May 4th. When I checked on May 2 in the early afternoon just to be absolutely sure, the date had changed! Yes, it changed; I did not misread. Tickets were already on sale and I tried to get to Ticketmaster to order mine. Addie tried too. She even called Ticketmaster. No tickets. All sold out.

Seriously. Weak.

There are tickets available on stubhub but are prices at 2-3x the face value of tickets. I think my mom would call that highway robbery. And just because I'm almost 30 doesn't mean I have become any less of a tightwad.

I was a proponent of repealing the anti-scalping law in Minnesota. This was effected in 2007 (or 2008), I think, and I agreed with it. I suppose I still do. If I agree with a law (or lack of law), I need to maintain that position even if it negatively impacts me. Trying to not be a hypocrite is so boring sometimes.

And even though I can't curse the scalping process, curses on those people that bought up all the Indigo Girls tickets leaving none for a soon to be Dirty Thirty girl. Amy and Emily would not approve.

Holding the Twisted Triangle

Yeah. More discomfort. This time because I didn't cite check before re-posting the partially fabricated quote in my last post.

Apparently, the first line of it comes from one Jessica. How much you want to bet she writes a book now?

Here's an article that I think deals nicely with the fake quote issue.

I'll leave it at that and move on, still pushing myself outside my comfort zone. And still refusing to celebrate the death of an enemy. And that's for real.

Choosing the Uncomfortable

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." --Martin Luther King, Jr.

I have repeated this meditation to myself again and again over the past several hours. There is a certain amount of vindication I have felt at OBL's death. But that is not an emotion I am proud of. On the contrary, I do not want to celebrate death. In fact, in the days after 9-11, I think I was the ugliest I have ever been in my life. I tapped into hate that I didn't know I could find within me, and I don't ever want to find that again. I have no desire to return to a place of hate, and seeing the images of 9-11 repeated on the news reminds me of how I felt and how I was in those dark and scary days.

I am not there now. I believe in love. But I must remind myself of that. I feel disturbed by the chants of U-S-A and #1 and the sports-like atmosphere. This is not a national championship or a Super Bowl victory. It's war. It's human life and human death. How can I profess to denounce state-sanctioned killing and teach my child to vehemently oppose the death penalty if I do not also refuse to celebrate OBL's death.

It's not natural to take that position, maybe, particularly with regard to such a vile enemy. I can certainly see how, in pain, people may find themselves feeling empowered in vengeance. But I have to resist that path. Similarly, it's perhaps not natural to work my body into a twisted triangle or frog pose during yoga practice. It can be uncomfortable and difficult. It can push me outside of my comfort zone. It can make me have to use all my strength and willpower to hold the position. But I choose that road. And like Robert Frost says, that has made all the difference.

As for my family and me, we choose love. And we will not rejoice in the death of another, even an enemy.