Moss: Part III

We hiked The Porcupine Mountains, the collective crew of Counselors in Training--big and small, blistered and bouncing. I was afraid to go on the trip because what if I didn't hike fast enough? And I had to carry the pots in my pack. And I hadn't gone to REI like the other girls for those special swishy trail pants. And we weren't supposed to wear t-shirts. Well how was I supposed to know?! I had been wearing a t-shirt for literally occasion of my high school life!

On the third day we made it to Lake Superior. It was too cold to swim, but the water brought a newness. A sense of accomplishment and a marker that we were halfway there (oh-oh-livin on a prayer!) and the trip couselors could use a break too so they basically went to bed as soon as we had put out the fire. Tee, Rench, KHo and I were up, determined to get on that lake if not in.

We wobbled atop a path of rocks just peeping from the water's surface. Tee pointed down at a very mossy one. "Slick," she said. I stepped as delicately as I could but I still flaked for a moment before sticking the landing.

The sun was setting and Rench listed all the schools she visited and which she was applying for and the ones her friends were going to which were just short of disgusting. Rench was the cabin dum-dum but she had a million polos and chacos in the way that made it seem her intelligence would have little to do with where she ended up at school.

"Where are you guys going?" In the distance a tiny boat squatted just under the pinking clouds. KHo came from money too. She pressed her. "I don't want to talk about it." KHo said. "Can't this be the one time in our lives we don't talk about it?" The orange floated away, we tip-toed to shore.

You May Be the Most Important Person in the Room

I. Wall and I sat in the back row of the megaplex watching TransAmerica for free because she worked at the theatre. We were high school seniors. I didn't know any trans people, so the story was very novel. I added it to my list of favorite movies on FaceBook later that night.

KHo was the friend I was never supposed to "get." We were opposites in all of the on-paper ways--jock vs. drama club president, party animal vs. introvert, hates to read vs. wants to write. We truly didn't have basically any of the same tastes, and I'm sure--especially as a freshman in college--internally I did a fair share of judging her love of pop punk and Bend It Like Beckham. I saw a copy of Trans at Target for sale one day we were hanging out. Felicity Huffman's face hologrammed from man to woman. I told KHo that's the movie I loved last spring, but she probably wouldn't like it--contemporary social issues and family drama etc. etc. Almost to spite me she bought it. We watched it, and I was right in my prediction. She took it in without much joy, and at the end I was like, "See? You didn't like it. I knew it." She was like, "Yeah, maybe I would have if the character had been anything else besides 'trans.' The movie was just about the fact that she was trans." And she was really remarkably right. It was boring. There was nothing to it. It was a glimpse into a world that's intriguing for most--but a cardboard cut-out of that intrigue. I looked at KHo who wore baseball caps and Nikes like a uniform. Grew up a tomboy and truly never got into a makeup. Perhaps she had better thoughts about the way society makes a fuss over people who do or don't wear this or that etc. etc. It didn't matter I was the one who was generally more liberal, artistic.

II.  Shells and I were supposed to hang out one weekend, but I felt like I should go to a classmates one-man show. She said she'd take me to this thing--even though she hates plays and pretty much just went because I promised it wouldn't be longer than an hour. It was about being a young black person. He played several characters. There was a talkback. Shells just sits in talkbacks miming a gun to her head and blatantly checks Instagram. People asked about process and craft but also the issues. Finally, my friend left the stage, and Shells' car keys were in hand. As we walked to the car I asked, "So, another play to add to your list of 'didn't like.'" She was like, "Yeah, well, maybe if the kid had gotten to college any other way besides basketball. I've already heard that story a million times. And why did the half-black girl keep talking about her hair? If you're half-black that's the last thing you would ever do. Black women think you're bragging and white women get uncomfortable." It occurred to me how boredom might not be the only thing Shells was feeling as a black man represented her onstage--especially as the only black woman in the audience. Yet she said nothing! She was at that talkback! I asked her why! Why not say that, any of that! "Because I don't do theatre. I don't know," she said. But, no, you might be the most important person in the room.

Breezeway

2003 was my favorite summer at camp. There were twelve of us in the cabin of Breezeway. They were all my dear friends—each one. Each one. We all—as a collective, with no additions or subtractions--came back two more summers. These were my sisters. And it began in Breezeway 2003.  We lip-synced to “I Want You to Want Me.” Our bathhouse duty was to Windex the mirrors and sinks. KHo would spray and I would paper towel.  The second to last night of camp we slept on the beach in sleeping bags. We took so many pictures, and when summer was well-over, when I was back in AP Euro and doodling around the sophomore locker bay, I got them developed—lots of up-close blurry eyes and braces glints.

This summer I counseled the young women of Breezeway 2013. Eight completely unique forces. And from the beginning I loved them. I’ve said I have loved children before, and I meant it. Kind of. Like, everyone “loves” the youth in their experience. But, these ones, they were at times challenging, asked the tough questions, appeared not to listen, absorbed stories and repeated them, sang, asked me to get the mail even if I was sopping wet, cheered for one another, grew impatient with everything, were grateful infinitely for hot cinnamon scones. And I love them. I would do anything for them.

And in the night, or, heck, in the day, sometimes my sisters were there too. Their presence. KDunt was on staff this summer—repping our clan hard. The rest? Well, some I saw at the October wedding, some in college, one not since our last year as campers. But. I feel their lessons and love with me. They carry me on and up. When my kids giggled, so did every Breezeway girl through the years. The rustles around us, the gentle clouds. The sandy wood floors. The lake. This was once my home, now again. There, in the back right corner, that’s where I slept and where all those daddy long legs attached Marns and there, on the back stoop, that’s where I watched the first sunset of the summer with Slou. We told each other all the freshman year secrets.

My campers wrote their names on the walls with black Sharpie and pointed out where mine had been written in red a decade earlier.  I walked the cabin one final time, closing down after they had gone. Excited to be a real person again. Genuinely missing the kids. Tired. I found in a teeny corner: “Alice S_______ is the coolest.” My throat clenches. My heart rises in my chest, overflows.

Let's Hear It For Science!

When I walk down the garage staircase of the Museum of Science and Industry, I think of all the times I've peered out with the tiniest spark of excitement onto the bright white cavern of a ticketing center and gift shop. Field trips, on a half day with my middle school besties, with Wiz when she visited, with KHo on Spring Break of 2007, with immediate family, with distant family.

I intended to go to S&I last Monday morning for bite of nostalgia--see the Swiss pinball machine, the chicks, maybe buy a postcard and head out. Right before leaving the apartment, I wondered if maybe I should just get some work on my new play done. But, I figured, I could be brief. I stayed for three hours.

Because! Because! Once I was there I was suddenly hit with all the things I love there. The circus exhibit! Omg the model train! Historic Main Street USA for goodness sake! I had forgotten my old friends, and this was the first time I was ever alone with them. I soaked in every signpost about Barnum and Bailey, every turn in the miniature tracks, every brick in the faux road.

And, then, I was captivated by new things! Like you're supposed to be at a museum! I wanted to know about the greatest inventions of today--like a printer that prints edible paper that tastes like what it looks like! Like seeing "What if you could send a hug in the mail?" on a wall next to an ugly sciencey sweatshirt. Because I had gotten in free for being an IL resident, I splurged and bought tour tickets to the Smart Home. Wow eco-homes! The future! The future!

I felt overwhelmed with love for mankind, hope for the future, and a heightened sense of passion for education. I prolonged leaving and stopped in to finish basking in the feel of one of my favorite Chicago spots at the tiny cafe. They had just started serving pumpkin lattes.

It was the best way to spend my morning. I can't believe I almost missed my own life.