Summer School

     My big sister had to go to Summer School the year I was 9 or 10.   In my limited experience, "summer school" (along with just being an abomination, kind of like Saturday Catechism for "publics") was for dumb kids who would be "held back" if they didn't spend their precious vacation getting their shit together.  But my sister ?    No way, man.   I decided that it must be different for high schoolers.  A bunch of her friends were going to Summer School, too, and they all seemed smart enough.  If nothing else, in my family, we were most of us smart and excelled academically.  We weren't much for "trading down".   I still believe that if you can't keep up, move the hell to the perimeter of the pack.  Seriously.
     Backtracking a bit here : there was a period of time during which this particular sister took me out with her.  A lot.  Dates, movies, her boyfriend's house - and now, Summer School.  At the time, I felt pretty cool and somewhat flattered : she was  so...old, and I was a potentially pesky little sister.  But I was smart, had mad observation skills, and, above all, I could keep up.  An alpha-in-training.  As it happened, I was apparently good company.  Who knew ?   In the light of today, I now understand ( which is different from acceptance) that I was being babysat.  Nothing more.  Possible perk for her : I was cute and precocious.  Either way, I got to go out a lot.  An A-Lister at a tender age.
     One of my sister's boyfriends in particular dated us a lot..  He was very nice to me, and we always did interesting things.  Like the time he made a cake at this house and only added water to the mix and I said "hey, what about the eggs and stuff ?"   He said it was some kind of "Army issue" cake mix and the manufacturer only has people add eggs and oil so they feel like they are actually baking.  Wow.  Army issue.    How cool is my life ?
    There was one time when the 3 of us were tooling about town in his VW Bug (Christ - I think all of her friends had a VW bug : one with a Day-Glo painted soup can with a coin slot that said "gas, grass, or ass - nobody rides for free".  Don't rattle that can at me, flower child - I'm a kid.  I ride free.)   Then, without warning,  my dates proceeded to spark up some doobage - and I found myself right smack-dab in the middle of some home-grown reefer madness !  Pot panic !  What the fuck ?!   Had they lost their God-damned minds ?!  Smoking marijuana with me RIGHT THERE ?!    I was speechless, and imagining a life of drug addiction and hard prison time.  Since they were seemingly oblivious to the absolute peril that had dragged me into - I was forced to take matters into my own chubby little hands.  I slammed my eyes shut tight, held my breath, and tried desperately to plug my ears simultaneously.  I'd be Goddamned if one scintilla of pot smoke would infiltrate me and/or kill me dead.   No sir.  War is hell.
     But, oh - did the potheads LAUGH at my well-intentioned attempts to stay off drugs.  They tried to explain that my extreme measures were unnecessary.   I was "safe".   Yeah - safe like a fox.   Fuck that, hippie boy - pop open the sun roof before I start hallucinating and claw my skin off.
     Once again, I find myself automatically and almost unconsciously irritated and exasperated and dismissive with them - as you might be with a fat cousin you see once a year.  The adults around me often have this effect .  What the hell is wrong with these people ?!  I think this a LOT during my formative years - as I sift through all of the intricacies that make adults somehow..grown ups.  Try as I might - I just can't shake my skewed view of people who... know better . Am I grown up ?   Nah - I still sport baby teeth.   Maybe I am a midget.  I roll my eyes, let out a dramatic sigh, and aim for giving them one of my best 'exasperated-beyond-my-years' expression.  One of my time-honored "go to" looks.  Oh, and I believe we DID open the sunroof, thank God.  Score one for the Just Say No crowd...
     Okay - enough of drug-addled boyfriends - we have Summer School still to finish.  It continued on : we had perfect attendance, and we did pretty well on most tests.  I was strategically seated between my sister and...the correct answers.  I insisted upon, and received, a test paper for each exam.  This wasn't so hard - why couldn't these big kids have handled this during the course of the regular school year ?  Jesus Christ.  But then, I might have missed out on some cool and serious fun.  (Never mind that I sat in a math class in this SAME bungalow at the same school 7 years later...not in summer...)
     Finally - last day of Summer School !!  Bittersweet for my social calendar - but all of our hard work finally paid off.  Of course, there would be a celebratory picnic in The Park - it was San Francisco in the 1960's - we had daisy-chain hair wreaths.  Although I don't recall being in on any planning for a pot-luck (pun so not intended) - damned if there wasn't a full spread at the Arboretum that afternoon.  I'm sure Mom would've baked something if we'd asked.  There were a lot of big kids there - some, not even from our class.  Dogs, guitars, flowers - you name it, it was happening.   Maybe even A Happening.
    This part of the Arboretum is like a tiny amphitheater nestled in the woods.  I still like to go there.  It was a little...dell, hidden by 12-foot tight green hedges.  There are rows of benches carved out of big trees, and a podium.   Like a secret church.  A clandestine meting place for weird groups.  A quiet reflective place.   Good for pot parties on a sunny summer afternoon.  
      Yes - something about my mere presence seemed to draw the demon weed to me.  Marijuana ?  Again ?  Still ?   Here we go again.  Sigh.  Only this time, I would freak out quietly.  At least we were outdoors, using God's ventilation.   This drastically reduced my chances of coma and/or hospitalization.
This isn't my first rodeo, guys... I'm getting used to the sweet smoky smell of addiction and death.
     I somehow ended up with some food, and had been forced to eat standing on a bench because someone named Penny's dog was bothering me.   Some party.  And speaking of Penny - here she came with a plate of home-made brownies !   Be still, my picnic-loving heart !   Dessert - that's what this party was missing !!    Maybe it was Army issue brownie mix.   She whirls around in her gauzy hippie skirt - delivering treats and humming some mellow shit.  Lovely.   She approaches the bench (no, not with a sidebar)  - and I reach down to the platter.  In a flash, she snatches them out of my reach  : " None for you !"   I'm sorry - none for me ?!
     She must be high, denying a child a chocolatey treat at a celebratory summer picnic.  Oh, wait - she IS high - and dammit,  I would like a brownie, please.  I hop down off of my dog-free perch and pursue what I feel is rightfully mine.  Then, I see the brownies.  For the love of God - there is what appears to be all manner of greenery : grass seems to be sprouting out of the brownie sides.  Goddammit - these are fecking POT BROWNIES ?!   I look for Candid Camera.   Why me ?!   Uncanny, really.  Give little Trudy strength.
     I guess, points for Penny for keeping the baked heavy drugs away from a child.  Now, if she'd just get her smelly-ass beatnik dog the hell away from me.  Suddenly, I am bone-weary.  From the inside out.  Summer School is over.   I am tired of this party.   I'm tired of a lot of things.  Maybe I'm just  tired.
              But, I'm up for it.  Whatever it is I'll be doing next.  I'm so up for it.

Babies and Gentlemen of the Court

     The actual firstborn is now irretrievably-tethered to society.   She's choking on protocol, coiled in red tape, a slave to her civic duty.  Awash in responsibility.  She was summoned to Jury Duty.  Someone has the temerity to summon my child.

It's like that TV ad where the dad is giving his 20-something daughter last-minute driving instructions, and there is a 4 year old little girl at the wheel.        How very comical Missy will look in a court of law - that is, after someone lifts her up into her chair in the jury box.  Her blindingly-blonde wispy little-girl hair (clipped in place with several colorful plastic barrettes and a headband).  A ponytail of sorts reaches down her back.  The parts of her long hair that hang in front kind of...stick out : I tell her that will happen when she stuffs a bunch of it in her mouth and sucks on it the way she does.  Who eats their hair, Your Honor ?     Feet swinging back and forth in their bright pink plastic jelly sandals.  One sock sticking out the front - it slid down again !  The other sock, sandy and twisted up her tiny leg.  Purple cotton leggings, making her little stems look like popsicle sticks, and a (different shade) purple sweatshirt with white kittens on it.  A flowered dress on over the leggings and under the sweatshirt.  Pink flowers.      Please note (I'm sure the Judge will pick it out right away) the lavender Pocahontas watch with authentic elastic pastel Indian patterned band.  Colorful Lisa Frank backpack (pinks and purples and cute (?) animals.  I hope the D.A.  asks her about the time she joined the Lisa Frank Sticker Club - and was concerned about  how the meetings would work.)  Permission to approach the bench.    Should she opt to eat lunch in the Jury Room, she'll open up her pink Snow White lunchbox and dine on : turkey sandwich - dry.  Apples, sliced and peeled.  Cookies (a 'sweety').  A chip item (a 'salty') Maybe some Barbie Fruit Snax.   Either a juice box, or she can pay for a carton of milk in the cafeteria.  Bedtime's at 8.    I know she'll raise her hand if she needs to.  On her first day of kindergarten, Missy sat in the back of the car in her little booster seat, clearing her tiny angelic little throat.  Over and over.  For blocks and blocks, she did this.  Great, I thought : sick on her very first day of Big School.  "Missy, what are you doing back there ?"  "Mommy, I'm clearing my throat in case I get called on!"    Now, it seems as if the world wants my Missy to be available to help decide someones fate as they  runs afoul of the law.  They want her to see the scales of justice and what they really do.  They want her to pass through a metal detector every day.  Jurisprudence and stuff.    I object.    I hope they break for snack time. This is what the texts looked like this afternoon.  I another time and place, it might have been a phone conversation. Trudy : You got called for Jury Duty ?!  Seems like just yesterday you had solid food (Gerber Rice Cereal) for the first time.... Missy : I did ?  wtf  when. I'm like ten c'mon. Trudy: Dude, lemme open it here... T: Christ.....Monday MAY 9 Missy : Well that doesn't work too well considering that's my last week of class before finals what do i do ? T : Superior Court.  More interesting than Municipal and Civil. T : Looks like there is a postponement number to call.  5 business days ahead of 5/9. Can postpone, but they will nail you after a postponement. M : Actually, exams end that week, and isn't mothers day the 8th?so id be home already T : Actually, yes !  And in this town, it's a "one day, one trial".  You can hope for the one day, but you could just go to court that day.  You can postpone in the courtroom, too - if needs be. T : Unless they allow you to be way specific...like, any time between school move-out and job beginning ?  You could say you live away At College and give a block of time ...? T : Can also postpone with this form, it looks like... M : I should show up drunk.except then I might get a MIP. T : Good plan, overall.  What's a MIP ? M : Minor in possession T : Wow you're so...Dog Chapman and s*it M : I think I'll take it to get it over with. T : You want this summons, or just wait till you home ? T : So, do you want me to mail it to you, or do you mean you'll just show up in court ? M:  Show up. T : Gotcha.  The laugh will be on His or Her Honor when they see that you are 10 years old and/or still teething.  Hah ! Congratulations, Missus Sanders, it's a jurist !

I Can See Clearly Now (3/11)

Johnny Nash, '72 -     The rain is actually gone in some ways -  but that's me in the corner, that's me in the spotlight - losing my religion (REM, 1991)  Which leaves ample room for the fog (Sandburg, 1916) to set in.   Ooohh, life (REM again, '91).    Not only is it a bright, bright sunshiny day (also Johnny Nash, '72), but the sun'll come out tomorrow (Annie,1977) , too !   Asking "have you ever seen the rain ?" (CCR, 1970) seems silly at this point in a long, soggy month.  Last night, after midnight, (JJ Cale - 1966) I heard, once again, the riders on the storm (Doors, 1971).  Our house, in the middle of our street (Madness, 1982) withstood the stormy weather (1933 - Lena Horne). I figured it must be raindrops..so many raindrops (Dee Clarke, 1961).  It seems as if the wise man did build his house upon a rock (1939 - Child Bible Songs), for we didn't have to send out an SOS (Abba, 1975).  Imagine that - Mama mia (also Abba, 1975)  !     We had a few sundrops earlier, making for a true rainbow connection (Kermit The Frog, 1979) as I saw a double rainbow (estd.1976) followed by a third.  As I drove through the park, I remembered the old playground in my mind (Clint Holmes, 1973), and bet if I followed somewhere over (Judy Garland, 1939), I would find it at the end (Doors,1967 and Beatles,1969 ).     I decide to see how the beach has fared, and I first notice that the tide rushes in (Righteous Brothers, 1965).   Kind of like fools (Ricky Nelson, 1963).  I wish I wasn't driving in my car (Madness, 1982), as I want to feel sand between my toes (Peter Frampton, 1975)  I want to be a beach baby there on the sand (First Class, 1974).  Then, I see Surfer Joe (Surfaris, 1963 a-side) off in the distance, and I cringe as I see him wipeout (Surfaris, 1963 b-side).     I can no longer resist the call of the wild (Jack London,1903) so I make a u-turn (Usher, 2001) and pull up alongside the ocean (Led Zeppelin, 1973) where I see what looks like the creature from the black lagoon (Dave Edmunds, 1979) peeling off his skin (Rascal Flatts, 2004) and standing naked (David Sedaris, 1997), like a virgin (Madonna, 1984) - his diamonds sparkling in the sand (Tower of Power, 1976).        For a hot second, I think he is hitchin' a ride (Vanity Fare, 1969 and Green Day, 1997).  It's just my imagination once again (Temptations, 1971) - as he looks to be headin' out on the highway, looking for adventure (Steppenwolf, 1968).  As I eat his dust (New World Pictures, 1976), I ease on down the road (The Wiz, 1978), and begin walking on the sand (Shangri-Las, 1964) - I look up and duck, as here comes a flock of seagulls (1982), and I am afraid they will shit on me (Rehab, mid-1980's). Bird guano on my head will just about ruin my day trip (Beatles, 1965) - so I scamper over to where I see the tide is high, ( The Paragons, 1967, Blondie 1980, and Atomic Kitten, 2002) and knock on wood (Eddie Floyd, 1966).  I am lucky (Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat, 2009).       Now that I'm on the beach (Nevil Shute, 1957), I feel I can start to relax (Frankie Goes To Hollywood, 1984 and Mika, 2006).  Take a load off (The Band, 1968).  Take it easy (Eagles, 1972 and Mika again, 2006).  I took the ribbon from my hair (Kris Kristofferson, 1970), dropped my pants by the sand (Cat Stevens, 1970), and made footprints (Stevenson, 1936) all the way down to the water's edge (Seven Mary Three, 1997)   Child of nature, friend of man (Sugarloaf, 1970).  That's me.  The seaside always fills up my senses (John Denver,1974).  My life...is the sea. (Looking Glass, 1973)  I have to live by the sea, the beautiful sea. ("For Me and My Gal", 1914) )   Even if I don't see it for a while, I need to know (Tom Petty, 1978, and Marc Anthony, 1999) that it is there.  But I don't really want a hot beach.  No Malibu beach nightmare (Rocks Hanoi, 1983) for me.  I like it best when it is a little cold, maybe windy (The Association, 1967).  Sunshine (Traditional, 1939, Katrina and the Waves, 1983) optional.  Walking on the dust in the wind (Kansas, 1977) in a hazy shade of winter (Simon and Garfunkel, 1966, The Bangles, 1990).  That's life.  (Sinatra, 1966)   If I keep walking, will I end up, like in the South Pacific (1958) ?  The lost horizon (James Hilton, 1933) looks far and flat, but for all we know, (Carpenters, 1970)  we won't fall off.  Nor will we back down. (Tom Petty, 1989)  We'll just go around in circles (Billy Preston, 1972).  Aint that peculiar ? (Marvin Gaye, 1965)    We will save that for another time (Chambers Brothers, 1967)  If I can turn back time (Cher, 1989), I can retrace my steps and get back (Beatles, 1969) to where I once belonged.  I got here in my car (Gary Numan, 1979), and now it's beginning to look a lot like (traditonal Christmas, 1951) I'm on my way home (Beatles, 1970) Home (Simon and Garfunkel) again, naturally (Gilbert O'Sullivan, 1972).  The minute I walked in the room I could tell (Sweet Charity, 1969)  that my feet were on the floor and not the shore. (Dinah, 1916-1994 ).  Sand stipples the carpet, and I am glad not to be among the landlocked (Bright Eyes, 2005).  Ain't that some shit ? (Ceelo, 2010)     To Ocean Beach, I do declare (Smokie, 1975) : I want to thank you for giving me the best days of my life. (Dido, 1998) tsanders, 3/11 ed. note : I wrote this over a period of a few days, inspired by the first sunny day in a month.  Once I had Johnny Nash in my head, I thought : what it it was all lyrics ?  MInd you, I Googled AFTER I wrote...which is to say this all popped up in my head and then I checked for dates).  Not to take away from the United Negro College Fund - but a mind IS a terrible thing to waste.  Word.