Repairers of creation
James and I went to our first film in the theater yesterday. We took the G train to BAM to see the documentary about Mr. Rogers. I cried through the entire film but James seemed philosophical. When the lights came up, he turned to me and asked what I thought about the movie. I did not want to implant my impressions on him so I turned the question around to him. I think he felt the film failed to a degree. I agreed--Mr. Rogers is a huge topic and seems impossible to place inside a bioptic package. We were grateful Rogers died before Trump.
Afterward, we were overwhelmed by the new buildings that have grown around BAM and made a pit-stop at a Whole Foods that was opened in the basement of a new residential high-rise that dwarfs all the structures surrounding it. It was depressing.
Sigh.
On a positive note, we arrived too early at the film so we walked around the neighborhood and visited Greenlight Bookstore. Our friend Dan Kaufman's book was on display which made me happy!
Mr. Rogers was a religious and superstitious person. His weight remained 143 pounds for a large part of his life. He took the numbers to represent "I love you" for the number of letters in each word. James and I appreciate that sort of magical thinking.
Mr. Rogers was lured out of retirement to make a comment about 9-11. He felt exhausted but managed to impart the concept of Tikkun Olam, from Judaism which means literally "repair of the world." James and I believe strongly in working towards positive creativity in these difficult times. Creative in the strong sense of the word--to make.
James is starting to catch me in the pool. A friend from the neighborhood invited us to join him in the morning lap swim at the pool and we agreed to wake in time to do it. We needed that outside push to get us out of bed in the early hours of the day and it was great for James to see his friends swimming in the fast lane. At one point, the swimmer group had paused in their sets and we waved over to them. One of James's friends was completely surprised to see him and leapt out of the water to walk over the deck to give James a hug in the slow lane. James was beaming.
We decided that his hair was far too Karl Ove Knausgard and needed a trim. I was slightly concerned that a hair cut would expose his surgical scars and perhaps, make him appear unhealthy. I was enjoying the slightly mad professor aspect of his white mane. We have been referring to his hair as Karl Ove, as in, maybe it's time to cut the Karl Ove. I agreed today and we made the walk to the barber as our first outing without the aid of his rollator. The sky was looming dark with threats of thunder and lightening.
We chose the newish hipster barber around the corner from our house. James looks good--respectable, almost as if he could be working in some horrible tech company in the meatpacking district. I am grateful.
James and I have also named the corn that appeared on one of his toes. We christened it "cornholio" from the old Beavis and Butthead series on MTV. Trying to keep cornholio at bay has been a daily ritual before putting on his shoes for our walks.
James may not start his out-patient rehab until September. We are experiencing delays with a response from Rusk. It is frustrating. It is impossible to prepare ahead of time due to the bureaucracy of the healthcare system. I am approaching it as a lesson in patience for myself. I have a tendency to become instantly angry and want things completed in a linear way. That is not how life works though. So, it's a step at a time and I am treating everything as a mediation. It is a healthier more constructive way to be.
James and I have a ritual for preparing for our swim--not unlike Mr. Roger's change from street to tennis shoes and zipping up his sweater. James sits down on a bench just inside the gateway of the pool. We take of his walking shoes, hat, and eyeglasses. I place on his water shoes and I send him on his way to the men's locker rooms. I say, "See you on the other side." I quickly walk to the women's locker rooms to stow away our things and meet him on the deck. After our swim, I guide him back to the bench and tell him to wait for me. I return quickly and give him a snack to eat while I take off his shoes now wet water shoes to street shoes.
While I remove his wet shoes to change into sneakers, I often recall changing Imogen's shoes when she was small--the impatience I would experience with her squirming or wanting to complete the task. I also think of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. I slow down and enjoy those moments. I place James's foot on my knee to dry it throughly before placing his socks on. This afternoon, a pair of small children were watching me change James's shoes--they were transfixed. I had to ask James to remind which foot had cornholio.
James and I discussed the future this morning regarding his return to work. I am trying to be very cautious about setting his goals. His psychologist at Mt. Sinai warned me that it was important to set our goals high to keep his spirits up and positive. The 92nd Street Y needs to plan for the upcoming semesters so there has to be a dose of sober reality about his capabilities while thinking about the concrete future in the Spring. It is a fine line to walk with James right now.
I hold my breath. He's very confident now and seemingly strong. I do see cracks now and then, especially with regard to his short-term memory. I told him today that if he wants to meet his goals, he has to maintain his therapy. James is a little obsessed at the moment with organizing photographs from Imogen's early childhood. I think it is a positive project but it is extremely time-consuming. He's finding a comfort in the project, one I recognize from his past mediative work that he would do in the studio--making collages, creating mixed tapes--it is part of his process. He does not have the capacity to prioritize and his energy is limited. I think my role as a sort of manager or coach is necessary.
I am repairer of creation on a small scale by helping James to recover. The world needs him.
Afterward, we were overwhelmed by the new buildings that have grown around BAM and made a pit-stop at a Whole Foods that was opened in the basement of a new residential high-rise that dwarfs all the structures surrounding it. It was depressing.
Sigh.
On a positive note, we arrived too early at the film so we walked around the neighborhood and visited Greenlight Bookstore. Our friend Dan Kaufman's book was on display which made me happy!
Mr. Rogers was a religious and superstitious person. His weight remained 143 pounds for a large part of his life. He took the numbers to represent "I love you" for the number of letters in each word. James and I appreciate that sort of magical thinking.
Mr. Rogers was lured out of retirement to make a comment about 9-11. He felt exhausted but managed to impart the concept of Tikkun Olam, from Judaism which means literally "repair of the world." James and I believe strongly in working towards positive creativity in these difficult times. Creative in the strong sense of the word--to make.
James is starting to catch me in the pool. A friend from the neighborhood invited us to join him in the morning lap swim at the pool and we agreed to wake in time to do it. We needed that outside push to get us out of bed in the early hours of the day and it was great for James to see his friends swimming in the fast lane. At one point, the swimmer group had paused in their sets and we waved over to them. One of James's friends was completely surprised to see him and leapt out of the water to walk over the deck to give James a hug in the slow lane. James was beaming.
We decided that his hair was far too Karl Ove Knausgard and needed a trim. I was slightly concerned that a hair cut would expose his surgical scars and perhaps, make him appear unhealthy. I was enjoying the slightly mad professor aspect of his white mane. We have been referring to his hair as Karl Ove, as in, maybe it's time to cut the Karl Ove. I agreed today and we made the walk to the barber as our first outing without the aid of his rollator. The sky was looming dark with threats of thunder and lightening.
We chose the newish hipster barber around the corner from our house. James looks good--respectable, almost as if he could be working in some horrible tech company in the meatpacking district. I am grateful.
James and I have also named the corn that appeared on one of his toes. We christened it "cornholio" from the old Beavis and Butthead series on MTV. Trying to keep cornholio at bay has been a daily ritual before putting on his shoes for our walks.
James may not start his out-patient rehab until September. We are experiencing delays with a response from Rusk. It is frustrating. It is impossible to prepare ahead of time due to the bureaucracy of the healthcare system. I am approaching it as a lesson in patience for myself. I have a tendency to become instantly angry and want things completed in a linear way. That is not how life works though. So, it's a step at a time and I am treating everything as a mediation. It is a healthier more constructive way to be.
James and I have a ritual for preparing for our swim--not unlike Mr. Roger's change from street to tennis shoes and zipping up his sweater. James sits down on a bench just inside the gateway of the pool. We take of his walking shoes, hat, and eyeglasses. I place on his water shoes and I send him on his way to the men's locker rooms. I say, "See you on the other side." I quickly walk to the women's locker rooms to stow away our things and meet him on the deck. After our swim, I guide him back to the bench and tell him to wait for me. I return quickly and give him a snack to eat while I take off his shoes now wet water shoes to street shoes.
While I remove his wet shoes to change into sneakers, I often recall changing Imogen's shoes when she was small--the impatience I would experience with her squirming or wanting to complete the task. I also think of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. I slow down and enjoy those moments. I place James's foot on my knee to dry it throughly before placing his socks on. This afternoon, a pair of small children were watching me change James's shoes--they were transfixed. I had to ask James to remind which foot had cornholio.
James and I discussed the future this morning regarding his return to work. I am trying to be very cautious about setting his goals. His psychologist at Mt. Sinai warned me that it was important to set our goals high to keep his spirits up and positive. The 92nd Street Y needs to plan for the upcoming semesters so there has to be a dose of sober reality about his capabilities while thinking about the concrete future in the Spring. It is a fine line to walk with James right now.
I hold my breath. He's very confident now and seemingly strong. I do see cracks now and then, especially with regard to his short-term memory. I told him today that if he wants to meet his goals, he has to maintain his therapy. James is a little obsessed at the moment with organizing photographs from Imogen's early childhood. I think it is a positive project but it is extremely time-consuming. He's finding a comfort in the project, one I recognize from his past mediative work that he would do in the studio--making collages, creating mixed tapes--it is part of his process. He does not have the capacity to prioritize and his energy is limited. I think my role as a sort of manager or coach is necessary.
I am repairer of creation on a small scale by helping James to recover. The world needs him.
Was going through my very full google drive and saw some photos of Imogen. Crazy and fun to see the huge difference from 3rd grade to 5th... will send you some!
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