I am an excellent father and husband.
A true family leader.
As such, I often find it necessary to call Family Councils so that my wife Rachelle, and our three year-old son, Jones,
can discuss important issues as they arise. These are the minutes from a recent Council:
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Michael: Okay, Council #37 is now in order. I know that Jones has a matter that’s been troubling him. Jones, would you like to take Thor’s Hammer from daddy so that you might air your grievances?
Jones: NO!!! I WANT CAPTAIN AMERICA’S SHIELD!!
Michael: We’ve talked about this Jones, you wave Captain America’s shield when you want to be acknowledged by the Daddy Moderator, and you hold Thor’s Hammer when you have the floor. It’s sometimes hard to keep straight in your head, but it’s very important.
Rachelle: Why? Why is it important?
Michael: You see Jones, Mommy just forgot to wave Captain America’s shield to signal that she wished to speak, so the Daddy Moderator has no choice but to OWWW! Jesus Christ Rachelle! That thing hurts! You do know I’m on blood thinners, right? You know that’s going to bruise. It’s not just against protocol to throw the shield, it’s medically unsafe!
Jones: NO TALK DADDY!! JONES TALK!!
Michael: I cede Thor’s Hammer to Jones.
Rachelle: Jonesy, what’s the matter?
Jones: I want to break a chair.
Rachelle: Because of something daddy did?
Jones: Yes. Daddy did it.
Rachelle: What did daddy do?
Jones: I’M GREEN HULK!
Michael: (Waving Captain America’s shield ) Jones? Jones? Can daddy please have Thor’s Hammer so he can speak?
Jones: NO! YOU LIZARD MAN NOW, DADDY!
Michael: Ha, see?! He wants to break a chair because he’s green Hulk, not because I did anything wrong!
Rachelle: Oh, really? Jones, is green Hulk mad because daddy is always finishing Jones’ dinosaur puzzles?
Jones: Yes!
Michael: You know, I put our Family Council protocols in place for a reason. Without strict adherence to shield/hammer regulation the chain of evidence falls apart! And Rachelle, you should know better than to ask leading questions of a child!!
Jones: GREEN HULK SMASH DADDY WITH CHAIR!
Michael: No! Put that down! I’m not kidding, Jones. Put. It. Down.
Jones: You Lizard Man, daddy, green Hulk smash you face!!
Rachelle: Oh my, green Hulk is so strong, I think Lizard Man had best do exactly what you say and let Jones work on his puzzles on his own, and at his own pace!
Michael: Lizard Man is sorry to have finished your puzzle.
Rachelle: Lizard Man has OCD. He has it bad.
Michael: No. Lizard Man does not. He just thinks that if you start something, it is your obligation to finish it.
Rachelle: Lizard Man thinks no such thing. Lizard Man has seen about five minutes of every show on Netflix, before abandoning them. Lizard Man started driving lessons, but never took a driver’s test, and he’s been on page 36 of The Angel Effect for what? Four months now? Six months? Years, maybe? Lizard man is a liar! It’s his evil super power, green Hulk! You must smash the lies!!
Michael: This Family Council is now adjourned!!
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Friends;
I am sorry for any broken limbs and shattered teeth that my enthusiasms may have caused. It was not my intention to hurt any of you, and you should know that Father Russia loves all of his children.
I must thank you very much for this training session. I needed it. Sometimes, the stresses of a global Alpha can be intense. Sometimes, you must break something or you yourself will be broken!
(Waits for applause to subside)
A man does not have it easy in this world, let me tell you.
But I am not here to speak of the unknowable hardships and cruelties a man such as myself must endure. No, I am here to congratulate Ezio Gamba for the powerful and autocratic judo lessons he has dispensed to the national team! He has made you all super hardcore, and that is the Russian way!
We are too hardcore for the Americans!
(Cheering)
We are too hardcore for the Japanese!
(Cheering)
We are too hardcore all the feminine states of Europe!
(Cheering)
We are hardcore!!
(Waits for applause to subside)
And Ezio, much of that is due to you, and I thank you.
I will tell you something you would not guess, but it is not conducting surveillance operations or gassing protestors where I feel most at home.
No, it is on the judo Tatami. It is there where I am my powerful true self.
I am a master of all flesh in the Tatami. There, in a tight embrace, I can unleash the unmeasured furies of my passion!
When I was a young and confused KGB agent, it was judo that provided me with a safe spot. It was there I could be my masculine self and share my physical feelings with other men, but elders grew concerned at the disorienting and often unsettling intimacies of the matches, and so they set me up to fight with Lyudmila.
She was very mannish looking and a formidable opponent. I did not know she was of the females until much later, after much rough combat. We were eventually paired in matrimony and an off-spring was made in the dark of the Russian night.
The American song Islands In The Stream played, I remember.
Yekaterina.
A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.
Our daughter, it is the one good thing Lyudmila and I did together. She is better than any judo moves we ever made, and I am not ashamed to say I would kill with my hands any man who would think to violate her with his primitive heterosexual urges.
No longer paired with Lyudmila, I was free to practice judo with whomever I liked, and those were glorious times for Vlad. Such beautiful judo! Truly, it is the sport of love.
Anyway, my old female partner has gone on to marry another man, a man 20 years younger than her! How about that?
I could have him killed, but I will not. He will suffer with Lyudmila as I suffered with Lyudmila, and I will continue to be the most powerful Alpha in the world, enjoying judo with as many partners as I choose!
You must eat the pain, comrades!!!
Long live Russia, and long live judo!!
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Heidi head of pack security.
She a natural.
Heidi very fierce, think fast and so quick on feet it make you think maybe ghost in your head. Heidi so mean she make medicine sick. Death jaws can crush full soup cans. You think you can hide from Heidi? Wrong! Heidi smell all. You dig hole to hide, Heidi find hole and dig up hole, Heidi relentless. Heidi kill 6 mice and too many fly to count.
So, so many dead fly.
Chomp.
Fly dead.
Not know what hit them.
Heidi hit them, bro.
Heidi believe in freedom.
Heidi always on guard.
Heidi live free or die.
You should know Heidi pack now larger. Heidi job very important. There was summer litter in den. There is now new two-legger in pack with messy face that always need licking. Small and chubby. Can’t move, just fall forward and make bird sounds. Useless.
Little-legger only cry and bring attention to pack location. Always putting food at risk. Messy face make pack very soft target. Up to Heidi to be extra vigilant and do surveillance at back door. Heidi study shapes and shadow, bark at noise and charge like lion dinosaur to fight all intruders.
Serious stuff.
Biggest threat to security?
Squirrels.
Heidi hate squirrels with fury and passion.
Squirrels think they big shot because can dart quickly and tree fly, but not big shot! Just rat with bushy tail. Squirrel so stupid can’t even wag bushy tail. Just stick tail up in air like surrender flag! Squirrels, filthy, depraved and immoral tribe of cowards who will sneak into pack den and steal kennel or Captain Crunch cereal when napping after long day of guarding, licking and barking.
Heidi would kill every dirty squirrel in world and then wag wag wag tail as she watched them burn in hellfire for eternity.
But just to be clear, Heidi not bigot.
Heidi think all animal equal.
But squirrels evil.
Heidi just know the truth.
Heidi hate, hate, hate squirrels.
You don’t like it, you de-friend Heidi.
Heidi don’t care.
This squirrel on Heidi Most Wanted List.
Very, very fat squirrel. He grey, the colour of giving up. Heidi never give up. Heidi black like eternal night and tan like good suede. Heidi stare at squirrel. Mean, death stare. In this picture, taken by surveillance camera just before Heidi was about to attack, disgusting squirrel have boner. So gross and creepy! Squirrel boner worst thing in world!! And then squirrel begin to interfere with self!! So gross-out Heidi turn away to vomit, and when she do, fat boner squirrel go into Heidi den and steal Macadamia nuts from pantry!! MACADAMIA NUTS VERY EXPENSIVE!! Heidi don’t want to know what else sex offender squirrel do, but Heidi vow to kill sex offender squirrel!! Rip to pieces and make necklace from squirrel claws.
If you see this squirrel, report to Heidi immediately!
Very, very bad squirrel!!
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It’s the hottest night of the year, and everything feels slower and more specific—the motorcycle whirring by, the exhaust from the bus, the distant shouts. Even movement feels weighted, as if gravity had been altered and natural time suspended, all of us now caught living in the space between an ending and a beginning.
In front of St. Joseph’s, broken men in hospital gowns are smoking cigarettes from their wheelchairs. I recently spent a long, uncertain time in hospital, and walking through this scattering of solitary men, all staring off at some internal horizon, I felt the need to stop.
Curtis, who was undergoing dialysis, had both legs amputated at the knee, was missing several fingers and teeth and was covered in tattoos. He didn’t mind being in hospital, he told me, because there were always people around and it was nice to have company. When I told him my wife and I were about to have a baby, his eyes got child-like and wide, “Oh, God has blessed you, sir, God has blessed you!”
We chatted for a bit, and as I was taking my leave it felt like we had both survived the same plane crash, but only one was able to walk away from the wreckage. After shaking his hand, and feeling like something almost holy had taken place, I walked into the hospital and later, at 4:40 in the morning on August the 18th, Rachelle gave birth to our son, Jones.
Rachelle was so strong. When the labour took hold and then seized her, she gritted her teeth, and then face a bright red, she pushed like a viking while k.d. lang played in the background. We thought this was going to go on and on for hours, as did the entire team who had anticipated a slow delivery, but suddenly Jones, whom I had been traveling 49 years to meet, appeared.
Neither Rachelle nor I saw him immediately. The presiding nurse, her face a sudden astonishment of joy, shouted, “Look down, look down!” And so we did, and there he was, glowing and perfect, seemingly illuminating all the faces now staring at him. For us, it was as if Jones was emitting a light that existed beyond sight, something so powerful and clarifying that with his first exhalation all the heavy, gritty air of the city, of the world and our lives, was cleared away.
The next day we all left the hospital– Jones, feeling the sun for the very first time as we carried him to the car in the Moses Basket a friend made for him. We passed through the smoking men who sat smouldering in the heat like rubble, but Curtis wasn’t amongst them, and so we continued without pause, taking Jones home. Home, an idea and memory that the boy and then the man, will forever be circling. And right this second this home is taking form, his mother rocking him in her arms, his father and dog watching from the sofa, a perfect and imperishable moment that one day Jones will close his eyes to summon.
(Photo courtesy of Donna Lypchuck)
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Rachelle, my wife, had to work and was unable to make it. These are the text messages that she sent me over the course of the evening:
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Rachelle: Pickle, tell me, how’s dinner going?
Rachelle: Really? You’re giving it a C minus, maybe a D?
Rachelle: That’s strange.
Rachelle: Really? You’ve lost a lot of respect for the family?
Rachelle: Did they call you out for bringing half a bottle of wine again?
Rachelle: You have to stop doing that. It’s embarrassing!
Rachelle: It is.
Rachelle: No, I’m not embarrassing, you’re embarrassing.
Rachelle: Oh, I think I know what happened.
Rachelle: What did you wear out?
Rachelle: You wore your black turtleneck and that jacket, didn’t you?
Rachelle: I know you think it makes you look like Carl Sagan.
Rachelle: I know.
Rachelle: But I still don’t understand why you think that’s a good thing.
Rachelle: Look, I don’t hate the cosmos.
Rachelle: Or space exploration.
Rachelle: Just bad clothes.
Rachelle: Now come on, just tell me what happened.
Rachelle: Oh, sweet Jesus that’s hilarious!!
Rachelle: So, just before everybody was about to start dinner, Marston said, “Edgy Pastor, would you please lead us in grace?”
Rachelle: I love that girl.
Rachelle: No, she’s not full of herself.
Rachelle: She’s so clever, and she’s right, when you wear that outfit you do look like an edgy Pastor.
Rachelle: Yes, you do.
Rachelle: Yes, like some white dad who’s going to rap Genesis or something.
Rachelle: Oh honey, I would never get in the way of your relationship with God!!
Rachelle: There’s more?
Rachelle: Hannah said, “It looks like a jacket you mother might have bought you.”
Rachelle: It’s like that girl is my daughter.
Rachelle: And then she added, “At a store called For Your Son.”
Rachelle: “For Your Adult Son.”
Rachelle: Oh Lord!!! Tears are streaming out of my eyes I am laughing so hard!
Rachelle: And then Marston said, “And she paid for it with a coupon she clipped from a newspaper?”
Rachelle: Oh Pickle, you really are defenceless in the face of those girls!
Rachelle: So what did you do?
Rachelle: Oh.
Rachelle: Do you think that was a good idea?
Rachelle: Well, it’s just if you’re always pretending to have an asthma attack, people might not be very responsive when you actually do, that’s all.
Rachelle: See? I told you!
Rachelle: That is just too funny, I love that they all held hands and prayed for the edgy Pastor during your fake asthma attack!
Rachelle: Did you end up saying grace?
Rachelle: Well, I think you should have embraced the persona and rapped it!
Rachelle: Yes, your life is nothing but a series of missed opportunities.
Rachelle: Oh, I’ve got to go, work calls!
Rachelle: Well, my edgy, little Pastor, I’ll see you in two hours, may you walk with the Lord!
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And trailing behind us were two women, one young, the other middle-aged. They were in conversation and occasionally, when the dog idled, some of their words would come into focus.
“It was like everything I thought was real wasn’t, and I was sure I was crazy.”
“Well, they said I would have remained hospitalized but for that one thing.”
“I will never forget the look on his face when I opened the door and saw what was happening.”
“I can’t’ describe to you how sad I’ve been.”
The older woman, attentive and silent, was a witness. She was looking right into the still shocked eyes of her companion, determined to walk with her and listen for as long as it took– the movement bringing the story to the surface and freeing it, if only for a moment.
Further along a little boy held a pile of leaves and twigs in his hands, declaring to his father– who sat on a bench in front of a coffee shop– ” Making a nest is hard!” The father became a necessary expert, “Yes, it is, but birds are very good at it!” His wife, beautifully sunlit and scarved, rolled her eyes and smiled, “Your father’s nickname in college was The Birdman, did you know that, Alistair? He was famous for his nests!”
A middle-aged, maximally bearded man wearing a sweatshirt with something accidental on it, jogged along. He had an easy gait and appeared naturally athletic, but as he loped closer to us and then past, I could see that his smile was wild and uncontrollable and he was muttering to himself. His clothes filthy, he clutched a beaten five dollar bill in his long, thin fingers, and ran straight to the liquor store.
On our way home the dog bounced through the leaves, and an elderly woman in a wheelchair, still wearing a poppy on her blazers, smiled at us, “She looks so happy!” she said. I shouted back that it was a beautiful day, and the woman nodded crisply, “I will grant you that,” she said, before gearing her chair forward and buzzing across the street.
* (Photo of leaves courtesy of Debra Lary)
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My cat Frito would love it here!
My cat Frito would like to take it from here, Simpson!
Somebody here isn’t eating a balanced diet and if they’re not careful they’re going to get the gout!
I wouldn’t be so pleased with myself if I were you, one day you’ll get yours, and let me tell you, it won’t be nice!
Old Macdonald’s drinking caught up with him and he died two years ago. He had cirrhosis of the liver and then was taken by pneumonia. Just too weak to fight.
You, you’re just another good-time Charlie, you’re not getting the eggs for free from me, buzz-off!
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