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DaRk AnGel : Why Home : July 2006 : Substance and Sustenance - Part 1

Substance and Sustenance - Part 1

She rushed home and tore her clothes off as she hurried towards the shower. On the way she noticed the maid had picked up her check, stacked the mail where she told her to, and had polished and set out all the wine glasses. Each perfectly aligned with the ones around it. Everything had to be just so.

In the shower she wondered what she should wear. She wondered what the BlahBlah sisters would be wearing. She wanted to look good, but not too good. Outshining ones friends too much was a no no. To look too good, well it bred resentment. As she dried her hair and applied her make up she never saw the wrinkles that had crept up on her. It was just not something she cared to notice.

All the clothes she chose had known labels. All were pressed perfectly. She checked the temperature of the chilled wines. Mindlessly she opened the reds to let them breathe. Thoughtless actions continued readying the premises for approval of all.

It was another evening get together. The usual group. The usual wines. The usual cheeses and the usual hor d'eorves. There would be the usual talk, either about politics, California's latest earthquake or about each other, while the other was out of ear shot. Wine and xanax would deaden what little feelings any of them were capable of and soon forgotten would be the fact that they did not matter one bit in the course of the world.

They were defined by distraction, self indulgence and keeping up with everyone else.

That was fun. That was their life.

A million worlds away a 8 year old black kid name Blane was not sure what was going on in his world at that moment. A 53 year old white guy in a van for the disabled had gotten him from the group home. It was supposed to be an afternoon out. What kind of fun would an old man who could barely walk be?.

Blane heard the barks of the dogs as the van door opened at the house at the end of the long driveway. His eyes widened.

"Those your dogs?" he asked.

"Yup" I replied. "You afraid of dogs?"

He thought for a second and said, "I'm not sure I have never been around one for long."

I explained to him that these were very big dogs. And that they would not hurt him. At least they would love to romp and play and have him throw the ball for them.

We entered the house, I led and Blane was pressed up against me. Sera bounded for us and then did her zoomies around the house. Jezebel sat back and watched her long tail whipping from side to side. When Sera finally slowed down she came and leant against me.

"When a dog leans against you it means they accept you into their family", I told Blane. Then I took his small hand and put it on Sera's head. I moved it back and forth. Sera smiled a doggie smile. Blane smiled a kid smile. Jezebel smiled a smile of wanting to be next. My heart smiled.

Blane never noticed my slowly sidestepping out of the way. Pretty soon it was he and Sera, doggie kisses and giggles. Jezebel came over to me, happy just to have some time with me and her. The old people had a moment together.

"You always keep your house like this?" Blane asked.

"Like what?"

"Well messy." I laughed. I knew the group home was run more like an army boot camp than a child's home.

"Yeah, I do?" I replied.

"It ain't right though." He commented.

I smiled. I liked the kids wanting and willingness to say what he thought. It was one thing we had in common.

"Blane, each place has different rules. This is my place and I get to make up the rules of what is right and what is wrong for me. One day you too will be able to make up your own rules."

He listened and then I could see he was thinking he had maybe hurt my feelings.

"I wasn't saying it was dirty or anything."

"I know Blane. The most important thing in life is to say what you see and feel. And if it hurts someone's feelings, then they need to examine why. You're ok in my book kid."

I opened the back door and let him and the dogs out. He saw the half deflated basketball and raced towards it. Sera beat him and was gone in a second. I closed the door, as they ran circles around the old oak. Laughter had not been in my yard in a long time. It was good. It was the right kind of laughter. From the heart.

Blane is one of my latest projects. His mother was a crack whore. He was born addicted, and unwanted. He has spent most of his life in a foster home or group home. No one seems to want him and many others.

This really is out of my comfort zone. I am used to walking up to strangers on the street in distress. Approaching a stranger is just natural to me. It is what I do. I do not know why. It has always been that way for me, if someone hurts or needs and I can help, I do.

But this is a kid. I have always been afraid of kids. They seem to love me and are drawn to me. I confess now that I have never held and infant for fear of dropping him/her. I know how kid hurts can never go away. And I did not want to replicate what my father has done, or what his father has done.

I always wanted a daughter. It didn't happened. I always envisioned spoiling she and her mother. And of course tormenting any that dared to court her. I love to give when I love.

I had been thinking about what I could do more in the way of volunteer work. Already I spend one afternoon a week at the hospice here. I wanted to do more for someone who could use more done for them. I saw a piece on the news about the kids and the next day I was on the phone.

A few days later I met with a counselor and we went through an hours worth of forms and questions. And in the end she asked what type of kid would I be comfortable with.

I laughed…

"The one no one else wants."

That is how Blane and I got to be.

We had hot dogs and cokes on paper plates. We talked a lot about little. The deepening of our conversation will come in time. I was comfortable. He was comfortable.

As we rode back, he kept asking about Bentley. He seems more excited than I am. And the last thing he asked touched me.

"Can I call Friday to see how he is?"

I told him he could call anytime. Even if only to say hi.

Across the world the wine was good, the conversation the usual, life was what life was to those who live only for themselves.