Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009



It's a thing I relish. I am not a person who embraces change and habit is my own personal talisman against chaos.

There are very few constants in life, however. So I tend to cling to those that present themselves with special fondness and ferocity.

Every morning, as I return from dropping off the elementary kids at school, I am greeted by the sight of a gangly young man child sitting on the corner. He waits for a bus to take him places I will never go.

Always next to him is an enormous back pack. His hair is clipped short in a utilitarian style. His clothing is very tidy; tightly buttoned and neatly tucked. His face has the guileless look of a child, though his upper lip is fuzzed and his cheeks stippled with acne.

Sometimes he paces, sometimes he skips. But mostly he just sits, with his angular legs crossed upon themselves and his jutting elbows resting upon his knees.

He smiles and waves to all the passing cars.

By that time, the suburban rush hour exodus is in full swing, and it's a prodigious number to be sure. But he never tires. It's as if he considers it his personal duty to ensure that everyone starts the day with a cheerful send off.

I always wave back to him. And always, his smile widens, though he beams so broadly, that scarcely seems possible.

I can't remember a time when he wasn't there. Unlike other children, he will not graduate and leave home. He will be sitting on the corner waving long after my boys have started lives of their own.

It's as if he is suspended in time somehow, and I with him. We will wave to one another for many years to come. He will age but not mature. I will grow old in both body and spirit.

But still we will wave to one another. And smile.

That comforts me in a way I can't quite describe.

Good day to you my talisman man. Safe journey and safe return. I'll see you tomorrow and every tomorrow after that. Save for me your brightest smile and I will save for you my most majestic wave.

Both are in endless supply.

They are...constant.


  • At 11:07 AM, Blogger Miz Q said…

    beautiful! I hope he's there for years and years. I love that you wave back!

  • At 6:19 PM, Blogger Middle Girl said…

    It's been said that the one constant is change. Here's hoping for zero changes for some time to come.

  • At 7:38 PM, Blogger Shelley said…

    What an absolutely lovely post. You are so right - it is so important to seek out our touchstones. They make the everyday world a little more sacred.

  • At 5:42 PM, Anonymous notty_girl said…

    This was a beautiful post. I hope it remains constant. I don't know if its the crap *boys 2 men* my daughter is listening to or your blog entry.. but I got tears in my eyes, and I like it. Hope your tailsman man stays a constant.. perhaps one day you'll introduce yourselves.


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