You're all welcome to read this post, too, but this is really just a shout-out to my dear sis, who has had quite a wild ride of it recently. Not just the usual air-conditioning-breakdown-just-as-it-gets-really-beastly-hot, but also (I'm not kidding) managing hazardous waste cleanup in her own home.
All with three small (and delightful) children.
So, instead of nattering on about how we're trying to get ready to go and it's only two weeks from Tuesday, or about the two major musical endeavors that seem so close to completion but just aren't quite done, I will instead present this poem that I've been meaning to send her.
Hang in there, sis. I love you.
The Lanyard
The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the pale blue walls of this room,
bouncing from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one more suddenly into the past --
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sickroom,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift--not the archaic truth
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hands,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.
Billy Collins
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4 comments:
I first heard this on the good ol' Writer's Almanac. Garrison can read a poem better than most of 'em.
If you need anything, Mrs. C, you let us know. Not all of us are abandoning you. xoxoxox
Your sister loves this entry. I've read it several times now. I am the lucky recipient of many lanyards. I dust them, occasionally. And I love them. I believe you, dear Uncle Bum, were given a lanyard this very evening! Enjoy your homemade eyeglass case and lens cleaning cloth. Happy birthday! You are loved and will be missed, very much missed. If anyone reading this knows what to do with a bag of mercury-contaminated items here in NOLA, sing out!
this link is what the LA dept of environmetnal quality has to say about mercury:
http://deq.louisiana.gov/portal/tabid/2083/Default.aspx
it includes a phone number. the info looks good and they will probably be able to direct you to a good disposal company or community drop-off day.
there is some other info on the DEQ site. mercury and HazMats are under "programs" and then "recycling"
if all that fails, call your local government (easier said than done in NOLA, I know.)
Hey there, 8yearoldsdude. Thanks for the help. The EPA told me to call the DEQ. I called the LA DEQ and was told I can put the mercury stuff in my trash!!! That our landfill is lined for such problems. I said that I thought the issue was vaporization, and was told there just isn't enough of it to matter, basically. The DEQ directed me to the LA Dept. of Health and Hospitals because they (the DEQ) were worried that some of the mercury fell on unfinished wood. The Dept of Health & Hospitals and I have decided that we're okay, but it was a tense afternoon. I had called the City days ago and was told to contact a local group, the Green Project, who told me that they can't deal with such issues and wish that the City would stop sending them. The DEQ and the Green Project both mentioned the potential amaziningly terribly problem of mercury in broken compact flourescent bulbs. At this point, I'm hanging on to my hazardous trash and am looking for a household hazardous waste drop off (the Dept of Health and Hospitals is helping me look) that will take it. Spread the word to all you know: get rid (properly) of your mercury oral thermometers today! Again, thanks for your help.
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