Beautiful Saturdays

I suppose it is days like these that can make life worth living. I woke up at the expected time, ca. 9 am, showered like a responsible adult, made myself presentable to the world, put on some comfortable clothes, packed up my computer and clomped over to my local cafe for some iced coffee. On my way there I picked up a pack of smokes and drank some orange juice in another futile attempt to convince my body that, despit my other activities, I did care about it's well being. This may not be actually true, but its not too much to make a gesture.

At the cafe I read the paper, completed the Saturday crossword, as per usual. A delightful woman sat down beside me and engaged me in conversation. Sha had sat beside me in the cafe before but I hadn't found occassion to open a dialog. I had noticed however that she was studying Arabic. Today she informed me that she's actually studying medieval Arabic literature. For those of you who know me, that's enough right there to guarantee a full-blown crush. She's also attaractive.

So we traded jocular comments for a while, I engaged in some actual work, then she departed to make a phone call while leaving some things behind for her eventual return. Since I also had to leave to attend a meeting at Columbia, I wrote a polite note inviting her to coffee sometime and included my email. I slipped it into the text she was studying. Who knows? Perhaps something may come of it.

I neglected to mention that, prior to that woman's arrival, another attractive woman with whom I have a very minor prior acquaintance stopped by for some coffee on her way to a gym and said hi. Unfortunatley she did not stick around long enough for a real conversation as I wouldn't mind getting to know her a bit better. All I know now is what I discovered last week: that she works at the same august institution as I though our paths are unlikely to ever cross there. She is also a friend of a friend of a friend...or something like that.

I went to my meeting and both coming and going took unreasonably long due to a disruption of regular train service. I will not bother recounting details here. Suffice to say that when I was halfway home I got out at Union Square. A friend from Boston is in town for the five-borough bike ride tomorrow and we had planned to have dinner and drinks around 5. The problem is, while not daffy or dizzy in any way, plans with this friend are always up in the air until the absolute last minute (which is why I am writing in this blog right now instead of enjoying her company.)

So in Union Square I found I had time to go home. But meanwhile I stopped by the farmer's market and located a woman there. I met her at my local spelling bee and I find her absolutely entrancing (though very young.) I said hi to her as I had expected to see her at the recent spelling bee championship but was disappointed. She is planning to spend three months on various farms in Sweden where, through a program, she will receive free room and board in exchange for labor. I can see how that might be quite an adventure. She leaves May 25th. Nonetheless I got her email (and gave her mine in return.) This is a rare accomplishment for me. I might invite her out for a drink before she leaves; I really have no idea if she would agree, but it will be fun, at least, to correspond in some way to a pretty girl in Sweden.

Then I came here, to Pete's, figuring I could enjoy a drink and take advantage of the web connection to write sprawling blog entries. The place is more occupied than I had figured due to the running of the Kentucky Derby today. But its not too crowded that I feel guilty occupying a table. I am finding my mint julep quite tasty as well, though I think I prefer mojitos. I am put in mind of the Derby party I attended last year, at the end of my unhappy and near-daisastrous year in New Haven. The party was fine, but I prefer not to dwell on that time in my life.

I should mention to that this morning I had a very pleasant exchange with my ex-wife. Any communication is becoming rarer but I sent her a note because she had performed a small nicety this week for me and I wanted to express my gratitude. It all felt very emotionally healthy.

You should know however, that I am talking around the important news of the day. That last night my Mother calleed me near 10pm. The timing automatically sets off alarm bells. The news was that her brother had died suddenly and mysteriously. He was 52, attending a conference at the Mayo Clinic in St. Paul (he's a family practitioner and that's in Minnesota for all you northeasterners). After a week's stay, the maid staff noted that he had not checked out by four as is custom....and they found him dead, fully dressed, in his room. He leaves a wife and five children, ages 8 to 19.

Although I have not been close to him as an adult, he was a fixture of my childhood, inasmuch as, only then in his early twenties, he was always around the family farm when we visited. He still took a boyish pleasure in playing with us kids--wrestling, rides on motorcycles, etc. I still remember Brownie, the last heifer he raised for the state fair as part of 4h. It was the only time in my life I have helped milk a cow and I must have been younger than six. He attended my wedding and gave, as a gift, a check for twenty-five dollars. That gift is no insult, rather, it is entirely typical of the hard-scrabble farmer milieu my mother's family is from.

My mother and her sisters were all very close to him though he was twelve years younger than my mother and six years (at least) younger than the youngest sister. I don't know if this is typical, yet my ex-wife and her three sisters are similarly close to their similarly younger brother. My mom described him last night, when her voice was still quaking with despair and shock, as a good, good friend.

It is the stereotypical moment to regret the relative distance in the relationship. I will not dwell here on those things. Despite that though, I feel compelled to attend this funeral, and look forward to seeing all my extended family again (or at least those who will come). Many I will not have seen since my wedding. I have reflected before that this is preciely what weddings and funerals are for, any why it is important to attend.

Attendance, of course, necessitates a very expensive plane ticket, a tiresome journey and a too brief visit. The town is Wahpeton or, more precisely, Wahpeton/Breckenridge, since the town sits astride the Red River. It is that same river that splits North Dakota from Minnesota. The town is sixty mile south of Fargo (again, the precise name would be Fargo/Moorhead). and neither possesses the lush beauty of Minnesota or the spare, desolate attraction of the Dakotas. I have not been there in twenty years and I regret that fact. But I have had opportunity to visit and opted out so I can only really regret my pigheadedness.

To conclude, I can only presume that the interesting, positive, interactions I have had today must derive, in some way, from the emotional state that has descended on me upon hearing the bleak news of my uncle's death. Has it made me more free? More self-confident? Less self-conscious? Are the events wholly disconnected? I can only ponder this possible series of coincidences.

Meanwhile the Kentucky Derby is about to be run, my drink needs refreshing and I require a cigarette. My uncle's name is Dr. Eugene Evans. He will rest in peace.