For three days now, off and on, I have been listening in my head (involuntarily, mind you) to Elton John’s “Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart”. Except it’s not the Elton John and Kiki Dee version. It’s not even the Elton John and RuPaul version. It’s the version performed by Runt and Foxy Loxy over the end credits to that doggedly mediocre Zach Braff vehicle, Chicken Little. My brain hates me.
After talking about Halloween costumes – you want to be Captain Hook, but a good Captain Hook, not a bad one. I suggested “Captain Goodhook”, and you were on board.
Anyway, after that,you told me that you really wanted to be a wife when you grow up, and that you could be my wife and I could be your husband. I explained that your mom is my wife, and that I’m not going to be anybody else’s husband. You said “oh”, and were quiet for just a moment. Then you excitedly said “Luke could be my husband!” I said yes, he could be. Then you: “but Luke wants to be a pumpkin. Pumpkins don’t have any legs!” I couldn’t argue with that.
Here are a few pictures from this past Saturday morning. It was the last day of your gymnastics class, and they gave out medals at the end. You were pretty psyched. Plus, there were two grandmas and a grandpa in attendance, which was a hamming-it-up opportunity too good to pass up. I would have more pictures from swimming, but I had to hurry because I was breaking the “no parents on the pool floor during lessons” rule.
So you’re still saying “wormaid” instead of “mermaid”, and it still cracks me up inside. But I figure that if I don’t intervene, you’ll get your feelings hurt one day and wonder why your mom and I didn’t set you straight. So I have resolved to tell you that it’s “mermaid” at the next available opportunity.
But when will I get that opportunity? You believe in your own ability to order reality by fiat, so I’ll need some authority to support the change that I’m asking you to make. And I have been meaning to tell you about the existence and importance of Latin. But that’s a task only a fool would take lightly. Yes, we will need to break out the chalkboard, because before we talk about Latin, we first need to establish that there are other languages. And that will entail talking about “words” in a more precise way than usual. (I do think we can elide the distinction between the Latin “mare” and the middle English “mer-” — I’m not trying to confuse you, after all.) So I really don’t know when we will get around to this.
We went for a walk on Sunday through Inman Park and Cabbagetown. You took your camera along. I’ll post some of those pictures soon. Here are a couple of mine.
We went to a They Might Be Giants show today, and you loved it. It was pretty much the same as a grown-up TMBG show, right down to the puppet-to-human ratio on stage.
This evening, in the car:
You: If you see a blue light, say “aaaahhh! there’s a blue light!”
Me: [Seeing some blue in a nearby neon sign] Aaaahhh! there’s a blue light!
You: No, a round blue light.
Me: Oh, I don’t see one of those.
You: They’re on the red light and the green light. [Probably-accurate translation: there are traffic signals with blue lights about somewhere.]
Me: Ok, wait. If a red light means ‘stop’, and a yellow light means ‘the light is about to turn red’, and a green light means ‘go’, what does a blue light mean?
Is there any doubt that, had just a few things in history played out differently, this would be available for your mobile phone today? I wonder whether there is an equivalent for the GLBT crowd or fat people. (I’m thinking of more-or-less accepted forms of outright bigotry, not suggesting that blackness is like fatness.) This ad ran in the June, 1961 issue of Ebony. Here’s the text:
TRAVELWITHOUTEMBARRASSMENT
No More Embarrassment • No More Discrimination KNOWBEFOREHAND:
• Where You Will Eat • Where You Will Relax & Play • Where You Will Sleep • Where You Will Be Welcomed
TMCGUIDE’S 87 pages of cheerful and helpful information will give you TRAVELPIECEOFMIND. Your trip will be a happy one. TMCGUIDE covers U.S.A., CANADA and CARIBBEANISLANDS. Lists over 4000 Hotels, Motels, Resorts and places of interest. You will be delighted with this wonderful GUIDE. Complete list of States which have Civil Rights Laws.
Send $2.00 postpaid (Sorry, no C.O.D.) to:
WALTER L. LOWE, PRESIDENT, TOURISTMOTORCLUBINC., 6 E. GARFIELDBLVD., DEPT. E-6, CHICAGO 15, ILLINOIS
ATTENTIONAGENTS—1 doz. travel Guides cost you $12.00. Can sell quickly for $24.00—100% profit—Order Now! We pay postage.
The fact that this existed within my parents’ lifetime is kind of amazing. I went looking for more on the Tourist Motor Club, and found this from the September 25, 1958 issue of Jet:
Chicagoan Publishes Book He Hopes Will Die A Chicago businessman, who publishes a new travel guide to help Negro tourists avoid Jim Crow restaurants, hotels and public travel accommodations, said he hopes for the day that no one will buy the book. Walter L. Lowe, prominent South Side insurance broker and president of the Tourist Motor Club, said the TMCTravel Guide, 1958-1959 lists establishments in the U.S. and abroad where Negroes can be served with dignity, courtesy and warmth. Mr. Lowe said he hopes a need for the book will soon disappear.
For $20 a year in 1957, a black family could join an organization called the Tourist Motor Club. What they received in return was a list of hotels and restaurants where blacks would be allowed inside the door, and a guarantee of $500 in bond money in case they found themselves being arrested for making the wrong choice. “Are you ready for any traveling emergency–even in a hostile town?” the Tourist Motor Club asked in its ads, and not unreasonably. “What would you do if you were involved in a highway accident in a hostile town–far away from home. You could lose your life savings–you could be kept in jail without adequate reason. You could lose your entire vacation fighting unjust prejudice.”
We have been reading the Jungle Book for the past few nights. Despite coming to the book after repeated viewings of the Disney movie, you insist that Shere Khan is female, and you correct me every time I say “he”.
We’re only reading a few pages per night, because you have lots of questions and there are no pictures to distract you from asking them. So we’ve only just reached the hunting-song of the Seeonee pack. It comes only a couple of pages after the pack’s tiger-corrupted youth rise up and drive Mowgli out, and when the song is read in the kind of voice you use when reading to someone who is 18 inches away, it sounds lean, angular and dangerous.
You had me read it twice more after the first time through, and you would have had me read it again if I hadn’t insisted on moving on. You acted like you’d never heard anything like it. And maybe you hadn’t.
Hunting-Song of the Seeonee Pack
As the dawn was breaking the sambhur belled
Once, twice, and again!
And a doe leaped up, and a doe leaped up
From the pond in the wood where the wild deer sup.
This I, scouting alone, beheld
Once, twice, and again!
As the dawn was breaking the sambhur belled
Once, twice, and again!
And a wolf stole back, and a wolf stole back
To carry the word to the waiting pack,
And we sought and we found and we bayed on his track
Once, twice, and again!
As the dawn was breaking the wolf pack yelled
Once, twice, and again!
Feet in the jungle that leave no mark!
Eyes that can see in the dark—the dark!
Tongue—give tongue to it! Hark! O hark!
Once, twice, and again!
Today I discovered that you already know at least two things that I had thought you might learn from me. First, you can point out which rectangles are squares and which are not, although you have not so far articulated what the difference is. Second, you know the Peanut Butter Jelly Time song. I’ve been meaning to share that with you for like a year, and just never got around to it. But it’s like in Jurassic Park—the Peanut Butter Jelly Time song will find a way.
