If we were children I would bake you a mud pie
Warm and brown beneath the sun
Never learned to climb a tree but I would try
Just to show you what I'd done
Oh what I wouldn't do
If I had you, babe, I had you
Oh what I wouldn't do
If I had you, babe
If I were old, my dearest, you would be older
But I would crawl upon your lap
Wrap a blanket 'round our frail little shoulders
And I'd die happily like that
Oh what I wouldn't do
If I had you, babe, I had you
Oh what I wouldn't do
If I had you, babe, if I had you
So lace your hands 'round the small of my back and I will kiss you like a king
I will be your bride, I'll keep you warm at night
I will sing, I will sing
It was now and we were both in the same place
Didn't know how to say the words
With my heart ticking like a bomb in a birdcage
I left before someone got hurt
Oh what I wouldn't do
If I had you, babe, I had you
Oh what I wouldn't do
If I had you, babe, if I had you
Mark asked me what the Holidazzle Parade was and so I thought I'd show him. It's a Minneapolis tradition and even though I've been back in my hometown for the past several Christmas seasons, we've not made it downtown to see it since I lived there. Maybe I will go this year, assuming it's not several frigid degrees below zero or I can find a nice warm spot in the skyways.
Holidazzle Parade - Meet Minneapolis photo
Originally uploaded by meetminneapolis
Where I work, we're engaged with guiding low-income families through the nation's blighted education system. As you might expect, we often toe the line between cooperation and condescension. And this morning I caught myself in a quietly awkward situation. In quoting a parent we work with, I considered writing "[sic]" three times — in just three sentences. No one was around to witness it, but my shame was thick and immediate.
Don't get me wrong, I know I'm luckier than most. I pass homeless men and women wherever I go in this city, and I've faced no adversity worse than my parents' divorce. But I don't like to see myself as above or better than anyone else. When I volunteer at a local SRO in the Tenderloin, I see the occupants as just people without enough family or education to work through their broken psychology. I'd probably be right there with them, if not for my sisters and a high school diploma. My inclination to skirt the blame of grammatical errors, though, was different. I truly felt uncomfortable publishing a double negative without calling attention to it as not my mistake. And once I realized what I was thinking, it was like suddenly noticing just how far away the ground is from the saddle of this horse.
Perhaps there is no such thing as equality. We strive for it, we fight wars for it, but even a bleeding heart like me can't achieve it.
I enjoyed this more than I thought I would...and I really enjoyed the last third as all of the seemingly disconnected bits came together. I haven't read a book this strongly about "identity" since the Auster binge I went on about 15 years ago. (Speaking of which, his new book is next up in the queue...)
- 13:50 twitgoo.com/53fk3 #
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