listening to love
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Acting Happy
“How did you get into acting?” asked an aficionado of Howling V recently (I played the pink-sweatered sweetie in the movie). The smart-ass answer used to be, “I’ve been acting happy my whole life.” But I was also enthralled with the performers at the Agoura Renaissance Faire when I was a kid. The costumes! The…
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Bat Signal
I bought the ring after Emmett died. When you pressed the button on the side, the Bat Signal lit up. It was hugely satisfying. John and I used to tear around the house with towels around our necks, fighting crime. Nanananananananana – Batman! I’d snagged the window seat on a flight to Oakland. The plane…
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Existence
Neither your cruelty nor your kindness have anything to do with me. I can stop trying to please or ameliorate or grovel or lie or be grateful or tiptoe. I don’t have to hide or avoid or ignore: I can speak up. I can question. I can disagree. My opinions matter. My feelings matter. I…
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Fish Friend
Green, silver, tiny, and in my face. Quick fish darts to my mask: once, twice, three times. It is possible to laugh through a snorkel tube. I’ve seen at least 25 species of fish this morning. This one’s about an inch and a half, if that, two-tone: mottled green along the top half, silver along…
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Ireland
Mimi and Pappap took us to Ireland when I was eleven. Great-Aunt Maude had died — one of my favorite relatives of all time — and left enough for the five of us to tour the island. It was fabulous. There was an Irish wolfhound at a castle that allowed my five-year-old brother to ride.…
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Severing Ties
I recently accepted the sad decision to sever ties with a brother. I will no longer tolerate his atrocious behavior. He has lost the sister who sang him his first song ex-utero. He has lost the sister who helped raise him. He has lost the sister who loves him beyond measure. It was not an…
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Backlash
“Donate a share of your inheritance to my daughter promptly,” demanded James, and I laughed. It reminds me of his “great idea” in 2018 to hand over my brand-new 4Runner. No matter that I was 2000 miles away, trying to reconcile with our mother. Whenever I start a creative project, inevitably there is a backlash.…
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Memory Problems
My father seems to have memory problems. He forgets that his only daughter loves him and means him no harm. And so he writes venomous missives. The first time this happened, I’d just published “Free Love Ain’t” in a national anthology of essays by folks who’d survived so-called counterculture parents. Back then I read and…
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Turning Toward
Turning toward love is harder than it sounds.
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4 Months in a Jetta
Nine years ago, at the recommendation of a doctor, I evacuated my home in Olympia, Washington. It was terrifyingly difficult to breathe, and she suspected long-term black mold toxicity. I could not keep any paper, fabric, wood — my life’s work, basically. Wearing a hazmat suit and mask, I sorted through my belongings, setting cast-offs…
words & art by shé 