Wow, I kind of don't know how to start this entry as things have gone a bit pear-shaped around here. Don't panic, don't panic. I didn't have a huge bust up with my parents, such that I am now posting this blog from the relative safety of squidlette Ev's ancestral abode. What happened is this: last night my grandparents disembarked from their plane and were immediately taken to the hospital - my grandad had what British Airways reps called a cardiac event and almost the minute he arrived at Jamaica Queens Hospital he had a massive heart attack. Dad and I went to pick them up at the airport but pretty quickly found ourselves at the hospital. It was pretty grim for a little while. At some point, a doctor/nurse/?hospital attendant handed my grandmother a pocket Torah and my inner vibe sensor went pretty negative. However, however, however my grandad is nothing if not a tough old goat and after an emergency angioplasty he seems to "be headed in the right direction" as the doctors put it. He was amazingly lucky - what with there being a doctor on the plane, who insisted the airline aspirin wasn't strong enough and prescribed some of my grandma's, the BA people being all over the situation and getting emergency services to the airport to meet them, the police man who drove the ambulance so that all the EMTs could look after my grandad, and the brusque but capable doctor. The next few days are pretty critical, but things might be okay. I am cautiously optimistic. After a weird/unnerving night in the OR, I think the worst may be over.
Well, I know that we ain't a bunch of believers up in this joint. But we do have a lot of love in our aquatic hearts and you know, if you could spare a minute in your day and send a little love my grandad's way, I would appreciate it. Who knows if it will do anything, but your support has helped me so much that maybe, just maybe it will help.
Other than that things have been going swimmingly here in nutmeg country (seriously that's what it's called). I blew in with the attitude that I would talk to my parents and my brother like I talk to my buddies and so far it's worked. There's an ease that has crept back in the house that had been missing for a while. My dad said he was getting used to me keeping pretty much to myself and that he was glad to see the giggly, explosive kid I used to be come back.
I told my dad about the ole huff puff and he told me about his weed cookies. He also told me about his six person flat at university and we talked about my plans for the future. I talked to him about squatting and collectives and he told me about my cousin Anne who apparently "has some similar proclivities, so it must be in the genes." I talked to my mom about my distaste for capitalism as we know it and told her about the ritual. She told me about how she felt that the American dream has been quietly crumbling and promised to take me to synagogue on Friday because it sounded like the ritual shared some the congregations common themes. (See here http://www.romemu.org/about/
I find my brother to be incredibly tall, fantastically perceptive, as always warm, and pretty normal. It looks like he's heading in a fairly different direction than I was at his age. He's gonna have a pretty standard high school experience and is likely gonna be pretty much a dude - but he's still got Silberblatt genes, so I'm not worried. It's kind of great to be so different and so similar to him and I have to say, when need be we make a pretty good team. We're scheming about getting him out to Chi sometime in the near future.
Wow, that's a lot. I want to write about my relationship to the woods here, but I think that's for another time. I miss you guys and I'll be glad to see your faces in a few days.
P.S. I found some noise makers in the basement that I'll be bringing back with me.
hi tamara,
ReplyDeletelove and thoughts your way.
zee
may your grambam's heart be always encased in baos
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