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Monday, June 4, 2012

Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining



Carson (my son) and I helped a friend yesterday. Well, we attempted to assist, but the boon doggle turned into a comedy. Sometimes being me is a bit cloudy.

Bob is my friend for twenty some years. He has a gruff voice. In 2009 he bought a condo for his x-wife (not out of legal obligation he has paid in full and then some). She had been unemployed for more than two years. Bob paid the bills for the condo and supplemented her income saying, “I will never allow the Mother of my children to fail.”

The x-wife decided to move east and found employment leaving the condo, unfortunately due to economic times, underwater. Rather than sell the condo for a loss, Bob decides to rent the unit. His new tenant does not want the refrigerator she left in the unit.
I’m handy, I have a refrigerator dolly and a teenage son who is strong. We volunteer to help move the refrigerator from the second story and give it to the Habitat for Humanity house being built in San Juan (thus offering assistance to several people as the Habitat house is being donated to an injured Marine and his family).

We load the dolly and strapping material in the back of my car and go pick up Bob. He fuddles around trying to locate the keys for twenty minutes.

While we are waiting I come up with the brilliant idea of the day, “Let’s move the refrigerator first to the downstairs garage before we go and rent a truck to move it.”

After an hour of shuffling the refrigerator we come to realize the thing is not going to make it down the narrow, freshly painted stairwell. (This is discovered with the three of us half way down and the right side gouging the drywall). We vote to move the box back up. In doing so I see my iron dolly is all rusted on the bottom and we have tracked rust shavings all over the carpet and stairs. Now it is time to go drive back home, get the vacuum, patch the wall, call the ex-wife to find out how that refrigerator ever got up the stairs and make new plans.

Hours later we come to understand, the only way to get something this large on the second floor is with a lift over the balcony. New tenant can keep this refrigerator upstairs and install his own double wide one in the downstairs garage. The cost to rent a lift far exceeds the value of a silly ice box. I call the Habitat people and tell them, “no gift.” They happen to have the equipment to solve the problem and will do it for free.

Every cloud has a silver lining, or thank heavens we didn’t rent the truck before we found out the dang thing can’t make it down the stairs. Hope your day is happy.

Monday, May 14, 2012

http://www.marcopoloartsmag.com/#Lost-Angeles
My poem Lost Angeles in Marco Polo Arts Magazine












Lost Angeles

Adam speaks now.

In sentences, not only pointing, expressing hunger or the need to potty. The moment happened in between answering emails, and smelling meatloaf. A divination performed without a rod.

“Is it still edible, or goes to the dogs, or will it bring bad omens?”

A kite found.

I am no expert at flying, you have the pilot license, my wings clipped. A parakeet hops on the granite countertops tossed aside. My lost angel wings from Halloween sold in the garage sale.

“I determine to glide the thin hawk.”

Adam speaks now.

“Mom ’les go to Crestwood Hills Park. You run fast.” He brings the string wadded up, “No stroller, I’m a big boy.” It’s a simple kite, not a tetrahedral box of infinite variant. I cut messengers arcs of origami pieces of lavender paper. Neat slits in the centers thread holes. The string slides through to the prayer button.

“ ’les put a note to Dad on them.”

A respectable height.

We count slug bugs. Adam waves at the man with cardboard sign: Maps to Stars homes. The smell of summer dirt mixes on Adams hands and pocket rocks in the washing machine. Los Angeles County court system does not adjudicate to the best interests of children.

“I am blessed with hours never to be replaced by ghosts or movies.”

Adam speaks now.

“Mom, mmm peanut butter. My kite’s great.” He pats the thin frame before my dash. Down the hill, I sail pulled by the framework towards heaven. Catching wind chants my parachute propelling on L.A. Westside air. My breath blows night blooming jasmine, “Jupiter and Venus dance together in the sky.”

We lift off.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Drive in Writing Your New Life

This white canvas represents the remainder of your life.
Please fill in the blanks with important information.
Tell me about how it feels to hold your only child,
 share the fading sorrow of losing your first goldfish,
dare to try something, and fail horribly; then get up,
smile while we work until our legs cramp at night.
Create stories to make us
stay up all night with a flashlight.

Together
we can fix it.
Ask me,
I will pray
for your courage,
wisdom and
a little fortune.


Copyright Caroline Gerardo 2012