Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Highly Improbable Moments

Which moments?  Every moment of your life.  And here’s what I mean.

Think about that time when you last ran into your buddy that you haven’t seen for a while at the hardware store, or you turned around to see your high school gal pal at a market that you hadn’t planned on going to that day.  Or, think about, sadly, the last accident you saw on a street somewhere.  And, think about when someone…anyone, wins the lottery.  Jackpot!

Those are all occurrences that are obvious to us and are unlikely to happen in each of our days.  They do happen, but just not that often.  But I submit to you that every moment of our lives is very unlikely.  Take the most banal event:  With the side of your arm, you accidentally brush an ink pen off of the counter at the auto mechanic where you’re getting your oil filter changed.  The pen lands in “that” specific floor tile.  You pick it up, and then put it back on the counter and you don’t think any more of it.  Why should you?  But I do.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

A Staged Event

A friend of mine who lives in San Francisco told me of something that happened to him recently that I found interesting to hear and think about. 

His name is Craig, and he works in graphic arts in the city there and puts together visual pitches for advertiser clients.  He was apparently shown a pamphlet of a musical play at an equity waiver theater not far from his work.  Since his wife and wife’s sister had planned to spend the evening together seeing the sites of the city and shopping, Craig decided to attend the show.  He likes to explore what’s up in the city. 

As Craig approached the theater, he saw that there was a small line of people getting their tickets, and after a few moments, he made it to the front of the line.  A ticket salesperson asked Craig if he was on the list of guests, and he said, “No.”  She responded, “Oh, so many people who are coming tonight were invited by crew members.”  He smiled cordially and got out his credit card, which she swiped through one of those phone credit devices. 

He then headed into the theater, seeing first a blockage at the entrance of people who were trying to figure out how they could squeeze in because the theater was mostly full.  Craig felt fortunate to be solo, slipped past the bottleneck, and headed up the bleacher graded seats to the back section.  He saw two empty seats, one of which ended up being saved.  So he asked a white haired man next to the seemingly only remaining seat left if it was taken. “Nope!” He said in a welcoming voice, “Looks like you got the last one!” 

Saturday, November 7, 2015

Dalton Trumbo's House

Me With Dominic Holding One of Dalton Trumbo's Oscars

During the time that I was very young, after I was adopted at age five to about eleven years old, I became friends with a kid named, Dominic, who was one year older than I.  He was the son of a psychotherapist that my mother, a child development specialist, worked with.  My mother, Marcia, became good friends with Nikola, or Niki.  And Niki was the eldest daughter of Dalton and Cleo Trumbo.

So, as a child, when Niki needed to go do something such as attend some meetings or clients and I happened to be at Dominic’s house, she would turn us over to Dominic’s grandparents, Dalton and Cleo.  I remember running in and around the house, as Dom and I were wont to do wherever we were, and Dalton would be puttering around in his old age, usually sort of off on his own.  I perceived even at the time that he was constantly either reading or looking for something, maybe reference books, around the house and keeping himself busy with his own projects.