Good Samaritans

I woke up early today for I had great plans. I knew it was going to be a long day, and I was excited about it. The first thing I had on my agenda was cooking lunch for Jan as promised. As I usually took a really long time, I had to give myself at least two hours to cook. I was going to make four things like we do in Sri Lanka. I had decided the night before that I was going to make white rice, a yellow potato curry, a lentil curry, and green beans with garlic and coconut milk. I got up to the familiar music of my cell phone, quickly brushed my teeth, and washed my face. I was very efficient, and uncharacteristically fast. I made everything in an hour! Highly pleased with myself, I made my regular breakfast: oatmeal with peanuts and raisins and a touch a of organic maple syrup. Yummers!

I neatly packed everything into my backpack and got dressed. I was rather tired, so as I had a few minutes before the bus, I lay down for five minutes with ankle braces and all. It felt good to rest a bit after being productive. Then I took the Blue Line to the Milner library. As planned, I worked on my play for a couple of hours. I must say that the play is coming out really well. It is very intense, of course, but there is quite a bit of comic relief, too. I emailed Don and Phil, and told them that as my speech is better, I could maybe play my part! They haven’t written back, but I’m utterly thrilled at the prospect. As I felt I was getting a little tired, I went to Burgerking to have some coffee. I was back to my usual self. One of the primary symptoms of ms is fatigue, and I somehow manage to battle this symptom fairly successfully. My only issue is that I try to do a tad more than I can handle.

Jan usually has her lunch at 11.30, so I thought I’d take a bus from the Bone Center. I walked over to the spot where buses stopped (right in front of the building in which Health Services is located) and waited a few minutes. No buses seemed to be coming, so I decided to walk so that I could get to the English Department before 11.30. It was a fairly long distance, especially for someone like me, but I persisted. As I was close to Stevenson, buses went past me one after the other!! Three of them, in fact. This never fails to happen, but I didn’t have time to worry about the misfortune. Huffing and puffing, I arrived at Stevenson and reached the fourth floor at 11.29. Phew!

I’m so glad I was able to do this, and Jan enjoyed the food. I did get a text message from Lisa, saying that she was very sick and was in the hospital L We were planning to have coffee, but good God, I hope all is well with my friend. Please keep her in your prayers that she finds strength and comfort to go through mammoth medical issues at such a tender age. I pray that she can return to her usual grace and youthful joy very soon.

After lunch, because my coffee date with Lisa was cancelled, I could rest for a while in the English department. Then I headed over to Carl’s with John for our bible study. It was very productive, and the soft and creamy raspberry ice cream was wonderful. Yummers!

John dropped me at my apartment, and I took a fairly long nap to recover for dinner with Quint and Krista. It was good to see them, and Quint suggested that we go to Chili’s. I had never been to the place before. It was a busy place, and Holy Moses, the food we ordered was DELISH!! I took a number of pictures (they are posted on Facebook) and we talked, laughed, ate, and all in all, had a grand time. I felt, of course, that I ate way too much. I really didn’t in retrospect as I had ordered a Caribbean salad with dried cherries, pine apple, and mandarin oranges (like heaven, it was!), but I had to swim. Krista and Quint dropped me off at the “Y”. I had only thirty minutes before the “Y” closed! I swam super fast and was able to do six laps. When I came out of the pool, though, I was terribly disabled. It was hard to take even half a step without battling imbalance. I took time, getting ready, and was at the front desk to return my locker key and get my own keys. The front desk was closed, and I was wondering how I could get my keys back, when this young kid emerged from nowhere and asked me what my keys looked like. After I told him about the red string, he fished them out for me, and I was on my way out of the “Y,” but my balance was a mess. I knew that the “Y” was only a couple of blocks from my apartment, and I simply had to go up Evans Street. I didn’t know how to find Evans Street, though. At the entrance to the “Y” as I was looking baffled and lost, that same kid who fished out my keys came to my rescue. He explained how to get to Evans Street, but it sounded much longer than I had envisioned it to be. I listened to him, retaining nothing. He was going the other way, but he came back and tried to show me where to go. It sounded like a really long way, and I was almost certain that I was not going to be able to make it. At this instant, another gentleman coming out of the “Y” asked me where I was trying to go. The kid explained, and Terry (as I later learned his name) offered me a ride. Ahhh, the little deeds of kindness. Terry was a Good Samaritan to a T just like that kid. He said I should wait right there while he got his car from the parking lot. I saw him going to his car, and I saw that kid going over to Terry and explaining further how he could get to Evans Street. Two good Samaritans in one day! Maybe they are not Samaritans, but angels. This whole incident was an amazing testimony to the goodness human beings are capable of.

Terry dropped me at the door of my apartment. On the way, I told him that I had ms and I was concerned about the walk. I knew that I was ok as I had my Blackberry and many helpful friends. Terry encouraged me to keep swimming, and when I told him my name, he said he’s going to call me “Las”! Strangely, that’s what some of my best friends call me.

What a day it had been! A good day, though, and I must say that despite the many battles and challenges, I was once again glad to be alive for I was a witness of true goodness… true beauty. Blessed indeed are the pure of heart.

My Spontaneous Date

High time too, right? Well, here goes: it was a cool day. People usually like sunshine a lot, but alas, I simply detest it! Everyone finds this nothing short of blasphemy. Some understand; in fact, I should say many understand. I tend to be somewhat weird. Not scary weird, though J. Yes, the sun wreaks havoc on my body. Every summer, I have to buy new sun glasses. That’s a different story, altogether; I’m quite absent minded.

The morning was very slow. I turned and twisted in bed as I was scared of opening the can of worms my body has become. I tried several times, but instantly closed it. I mean, I went back to bed. I had insomnia last night, so I didn’t sleep all that well. At 7.30, I was wide awake and thinking about numerous doctors’ appointments. I realized that today was a physical therapy day. I had a hunch that it was in the morning and not at two in the afternoon like last time, so I called to make sure. Doh! It was at eight and there was no way I was going to make it; besides, I had told John that it was at 2.00. p.m. So I rescheduled it and went back to sleep, and amazingly, I did fall asleep. I did call john before going back to bed and rescheduled our bible study, and as always, he understood. We planned to meet at 2 instead.  

John was also going to fix my a/c. Today was cold, though. Well, pleasant, I should say, and John came up with this brilliant idea of getting ice cream rather than coffee. So we had ice cream (did not study the bible), and he fixed the a/c. Oh, and it was black cherry soft ice cream! Some people have halos above their heads. John is one of them. I’m just amazed by his selfless goodness. A life dedicated to alleviating the misery of this world. Like Kass… Like Jan… like many people in my life, really. To enter my life, one needs a halo. If you are in my life, believe it or not, you have a halo!

Oh, so I was going to tell you about my spontaneous date! I got distracted. Well, after John left I went to the English department, my second home. I was there for about an hour and Jan gave me a ride home, and before that, Jan took me to Great Clips as I had grown tired of growing my hair. It was an unruly black mop! The stylist was super nice to me, and she said I had beautiful hair, so I gave her a big tip! I’m a sucker for positive reinforcement. Then I went back to bed, and soon after I woke up, there was a little voice inside me. It prompted me to go swimming, so I took a bus to the “Y” and swam five very graceful laps. Just five; I remembered what Kass had told me: It’s important to do something every day. This time I did the breast stroke very gracefully and fully. I took time. I was kind to my limbs. I felt the stretch. I felt the release. I embraced the soothing water like the first tulip in the spring preening to greet the morning sun rays. I felt peaceful in the water. Light. Floating. Free.

Then, that little voice in me said that I should go on a date! A date, yes, a date! I was surprised, but I succumbed. I had my Blackberry with me. I think in pictures now. It was all planned. I planned fast. I was excited in a quaint kind of way. The place that was decided on was Michaels restaurant in downtown Bloomington. I could get off the bus right outside. The soothing music, the friendly staff, the perfect dim lighting... It was just the right place. My date was very decent and pleasant. It was a perfect dinner, even though I couldn’t eat half of it. I paid the bill, of course. I try to be a gentleman. The waiter was a young man who was initially a bit reserved, but soon warmed up and treated my date with joyous courtesy. I didn’t take pictures of my date for fear of embarrassment. There were others around.  I was content. A peaceful, cathartic kind of bliss. I might go on a second date. Maybe a third… Oh, my date’s name? It starts with an L. He uses an adjustable cane and has short black hair as of this afternoon.

Oh, My Iowa…

It was extremely impulsive of me to have registered for the Iowa Writers’ Summer Festival in Iowa City. The session I registered for runs June 12^th through 17^th at the University of Iowa. I didn’t think much; I just registered, despite the bleak financial implications. Yes, writing is my chosen vocation, but Iowa means a lot more: it’s the special place that shaped me into the person I am. It’s a place that became home to me… it’s a place that gave me a second chance at life…. My mind is saturated by delicious nostalgia, and I feel glad to be alive. I have missed Iowa and the many faces that never ceased to conjure up love and belonging, mercy and forgiveness, dreams and the multitudinous hands that helped me pick up shards when those dreams were shattered. I write from these brown hands that once prayed to a power I didn’t know about. I was lost in many ways, and I still might be, but I found a pasture among the rolling hills, among the far-reaching cornfields, among endless blue skies… to rest… to reflect… to rebuild… to start over. Oh, My Iowa…

I remember like it was yesterday how I was looking for sky-scrapers and landscapes dotted with neon billboards when Heather picked me up from the Mason City airport. It was such a little domestic airport that it instantly disappointed me. I was Broadway-bound. At least so I thought. Then I landed at Waldorf like a brown leaf blown by remnants of summer wind. I thought it smelled of cow dung and manure. I thought it was a world away from the glamour I envisioned. And it was. Oh, my Iowa…

The two years at Waldorf changed me so much that I can’t even remember who I was before. Sometimes, when frustrated by the grueling realities of my present condition, I close my eyes and dream of bygone grandeur: the Moses Hogan Festival, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, the choir trip to Europe, the Global Culture Club, Antigone, Beloved Friend, Good Person of Setzuan, You Never Can Tell, The 1940’s Radio Hour, Hamlet, Rozencrants and Guildenstern are Dead,  Smith Theater, The Lobbyist newspaper, The chapel, Global Food Fest, Home Coming 1999, 2000 at the Schmidts’, South Tanner Residence Hall, The Atrium, The Lund Pond, The Viking statue, stew at Mary Beth’s… I can go on forever.  Oh, My Iowa…

I’m coming back. It’s been a long time, and the years have not been extremely kind to me, but I cherish the memories… the love… Oh, My Iowa… I’m coming home…

When days are numbered…

I don’t know what exactly prompted this writing, but whatever it is, I know in my heart that it is towards a good end. I just felt euphoric and wistful at the same time. Maybe I’m bipolar (but then I can’t be feeling opposites at the same time, I suppose). The bottom-line is that I feel my days are somewhat numbered. Well, I’m not planning to give up at all. It’s just an instinct. One of those morbid moments in my exceedingly exhausting life. I have a surge of emotions running through me, and I feel compelled to share. Not much has happened in the last few days that was out of the ordinary. I just feel I take in way more than I was ever meant to. I remember looks, smiles, words, laughs, nightmares, visions, flashes more than I ever have before. Something must be happening to me, and this (writing) strikes me as a way to make sense of this erratic universe of mine – the universe in which you hold a very dear place.  

I’m extremely weepy these days. I cry (at least internally) when I see a beautiful blossom. I cry when I see pain, I cry when anyone is helpless… I cry when I write… like now. I feel there’s so much I can do for this world. Yours and mine. And that I have no way of articulating anything. I feel crippled and voiceless. I feel inadequate. I feel I was not accomplishing what I was sent here for… this earth… this universe. I’m the smiling guy. I’m also the weeping guy. I can feel… a lot more than one can ever imagine.

I’m lucky, though. I feel blessed. I feel fortunate that I have so much less pain than most of the world. I feel unjustly situated. I feel undeserving. That’s what prompts this note. I sometimes wish I could watch my life like a movie. I might get a better perspective then. I’m hopeful, but every single day is slightly worse than the one before. So I pray, and I know lots of people are praying for me. I wish I could do much more. I feel I can only do one hundredth of what I could do. Isn’ t that always the case though?

I went to Stevenson in the morning, even though dragging myself to the bathroom was like a wild parade. I couldn’t see that well, so I didn’t mingle much. I just stayed where I was, crippled by immobility,blurred vision, and inarticulate speech. I had to be there to help my online students if they needed help. Only one student came today, and her eyes when I told her that she only had minimal revisions to get an “A” in the class validated my existence. Ah, the joy of little things. I realized when I was at Stevenson, how imperfect I was. I realized that I was gradually slipping from my overly gregarious self. I felt selfish. I felt like a burden on the world. I felt this. I did. I did.

When I came back to my apartment, earlier than I should have, because I felt nauseous and sick and heavy-hearted, there was a package waiting for me. It was from Em – Emily. Ah, I cried when I opened it, Em. It was a gorgeous portrait that she had painted. Emily is a phenomenal artist. On the back of this beautiful painting, she had written, “I pray for you, everyday.” I have this gorgeous painting on my mantelpiece that doesn’t work. It reminded me of the beauty of this world. The talent of this world. The goodness of this world.

I’m a melancholic. When I was about sixteen, I wrote a poem called “As the leaves fall.” I remember it word for word:

In an autumn eve

The leaves fall

To the golden earth

One by one.

From an open frame

I watch entranced

When memories roll

As the leaves fall.

A solitary bird

On a leafless branch

Sings a strain

That makes me sad.

She complains

Of the earless wind

That robs her friends

As the leaves fall.

I realize

The hopeless hope

That makes us sad

Day by day

When all we know

Is an aimless end

As the leaves that fall

As the leaves that fall…

I feel like this now. Maybe it’s the blues of a semester ending. A year ending, really. I want to gather the rosebuds while I may… there’s no time to lose. I wish sometimes, though, that I could love the whole world. I’m so imperfect, though. I’m so so imperfect. I want to be good. I want to see someone smile. Maybe it’s goodness induced by impending closure… Maybe. I believe, for it makes sense to me. And you can believe what makes sense to you, and I will love you with my whole heart, not just a part. When I go to bed, I think of my blessings. I think of ways I could be a better human being. Ways I could make this a better world. And I cry a little.