jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


I am so excited I can hardly draw a full breath. At last year's marathon one of my neighbor's kids stayed by my side all day, and together we identified all the various originating countries of the runners, calling out France! Italia! Aruba! Can I tell you what it was like to stand on the edge of the projects, at the edge of Bed-Stuy, and introduce this child to the world streaming by? And to show him how to interact with the runners, to get them to give him a low-five, without getting in their way, and then he teaches all the other kids around us, and suddenly I realize I am in the middle of a ring of kids, and they are cheering, clapping, the runners are touching their hands, and just thinking about it I need a Kleenex.

This year I am ready. I am ready to multiply joy. I have a bag filled with tamborines, claves, rattles, maracas, a cow bell! I'll be the woman with the whole percussion section of random eight years olds, the one with the huge smile on her face, the one with eyes blurry with tears of wonder. I can hardly wait.


Post a Comment

<< Home