The Visible Woman...March 15, 2003

Dad and I are up pretty early. Around eight we are pumping gas near his old house. Then we are driving down good old Buckner toward Mockingbird, a trip I made a zillion times in the old days, when my cousin Bob calls my cell.

We meet Bob at Café Brasil on Central Expressway between Mockingbird and Lover's. It is a 24-hour Brazilian place. Some cell traffic to other cousins reveals that only the three of us will be here, others are getting free breakfasts at hotels. Bob's cell rings again and it's someone trying to hire him.

"I'm having breakfast with my uncle and my cousin," Bob says. "I'll come by later and pick it up."

"My offer letter," he says. "Some steadier projects, less travel, more money." Bob is an architect. My mother and both his parents were teachers, educating themselves and teaching their way out of poverty. (Dad, of course, never got a degree but farmed and worked almost thirty years as a hospital attendant.) Bob's brother is an engineer. I became a software developer. Only Bob's adopted sister became a teacher. Our aunt Dottie was a teacher, too. One of her kids became a software developer. A couple nurses. Can you say, "More money?" Do you wonder why people don't teach? Can you say, "Pay stinks, lots of education required?"

They have a coffee bar with all these choices, but nothing really lights my fire on the coffee front. However, I have a spinach crêpe and it is pretty fine. Same thing I had the other time I came here.

We go to Bob's. People are drifting in, waking up. I read a little of the paper and decide to take another walk. I loop around east a little and take off south through the SMU campus. I stumble on the Meadows Museum and look at the sculpture outside and go inside and ask the hours.

After my walk, when I arrive at my cousin's house, my uncle says my aunt is disappointed that I'd wandered off because she wanted to see the antique store I mentioned in the neighborhood.

"No problem. It's only eleven. And it's really close."

It is only two blocks away. We walk over and I walk around it with her and she makes me see different things. She collects hat pins and she buys a couple.

The idea was to celebrate my aunt Sally's 80th birthday. Yesterday was actually her sister Dorothy's birthday, something between 75 and 80. We had given her cards and gifts. Sally's birthday isn't until June so I'm sure she will be surprised!

We eat barbecue. This barbecue (Sonny Bryan's) tastes great and always reminds me of my other aunts, Dad's other sisters who are now gone. They used to buy it for family gatherings at their house in Oak Cliff. After the main course, people start cutting the pie and having various desserts and then there are birthday hats and a big birthday cake and presents for Sally. She is surprised. But this was the best chance for a big gathering of family.

After the meal, the old folks (sans my wise uncle E.C.) plan a trip to the 'old home place.' My male cousins have been recruited to go with them. Before they take off in a seven passenger van that Larry has, we go to the little park across the street and take a big family picture. The witness protection program comes to mind. We use a timer for some shots, but one of the girl's boyfriends took this one with my digital.

With the old folks off on their journey and some of the younger gals off to shop with my cousin's wife and the other younger ones doing computer games or chatting, I get my cousin Larry's wife to go on a walk and back to the museum. It is a mile or so over there, not far. There is a special show of some modern sculptor that has an entry fee but there is a collection of Spanish art from ten centuries that is free. We do that. I notice for the first time that some pieces showing dead Jesus not only show his wounds but show that his lips are blue and he, um, looks like a corpse. Why haven't I noticed this before? Is it particularly Spanish? There are wonderful wood carvings that are from the fifteenth centry, there are Miros and a Picasso. Nice show.

We go through the gift shop, use their toilets and head back. Good timing because a minute or two later the shoppers return and then in ten or fifteen the old folks. The young boys have been playing a Sims game where they try to make these Sims happy. (Sims games are funny because my cousin's surname is Sims. I'm easily amused.) Rather than have their couple raise a child, the kids have raised one separately and are trying to introduce him into the family. It isn't working.

We do leftovers and games and the usual family discussions. We say 'goodbye' to everyone but my one aunt and uncle...we'll meet them for breakfast.

			surprise Dad and I are up pretty early. Around eight we are pumping gas near his old house. Then we are driving down good old Buckner toward Mockingbird, a trip I made a zillion times in the old days, when my cousin Bob calls my cell. We meet Bob at Café Brasil on Central Expressway between Mockingbird and Lover's. It is a 24-hour Brazilian place. Some cell traffic to other cousins reveals that only the three of us will be here, others are getting free breakfasts at hotels. Bob's cell rings again and it's someone trying to hire him. "I'm having breakfast with my uncle and my cousin," Bob says. "I'll come by later and pick it up." "My offer letter," he says. "Some steadier projects, less travel, more money." Bob is an architect. My mother and both his parents were teachers, educating themselves and teaching their way out of poverty. (Dad, of course, never got a degree but farmed and worked almost thirty years as a hospital attendant.) Bob's brother is an engineer. I became a software developer. Only Bob's adopted sister became a teacher. Our aunt Dottie was a teacher, too. One of her kids became a software developer. A couple nurses. Can you say, "More money?" Do you wonder why people don't teach? Can you say, "Pay stinks, lots of education required?" They have a coffee bar with all these choices, but nothing really lights my fire on the coffee front. However, I have a spinach crêpe and it is pretty fine. Same thing I had the other time I came here. We go to Bob's. People are drifting in, waking up. I read a little of the paper and decide to take another walk. I loop around east a little and take off south through the SMU campus. I stumble on the Meadows Museum and look at the sculpture outside and go inside and ask the hours. After my walk, when I arrive at my cousin's house, my uncle says my aunt is disappointed that I'd wandered off because she wanted to see the antique store I mentioned in the neighborhood. "No problem. It's only eleven. And it's really close." It is only two blocks away. We walk over and I walk around it with her and she makes me see different things. She collects hat pins and she buys a couple. The idea was to celebrate my aunt Sally's 80th birthday. Yesterday was actually her sister Dorothy's birthday, something between 75 and 80. We had given her cards and gifts. Sally's birthday isn't until June so I'm sure she will be surprised! We eat barbecue. This barbecue (Sonny Bryan's) tastes great and always reminds me of my other aunts, Dad's other sisters who are now gone. They used to buy it for family gatherings at their house in Oak Cliff. After the main course, people start cutting the pie and having various desserts and then there are birthday hats and a big birthday cake and presents for Sally. She is surprised. But this was the best chance for a big gathering of family. After the meal, the old folks (sans my wise uncle E.C.) plan a trip to the 'old home place.' My male cousins have been recruited to go with them. Before they take off in a seven passenger van that Larry has, we go to the little park across the street and take a big family picture. The witness protection program comes to mind. We use a timer for some shots, but one of the girl's boyfriends took this one with my digital. With the old folks off on their journey and some of the younger gals off to shop with my cousin's wife and the other younger ones doing computer games or chatting, I get my cousin Larry's wife to go on a walk and back to the museum. It is a mile or so over there, not far. There is a special show of some modern sculptor that has an entry fee but there is a collection of Spanish art from ten centuries that is free. We do that. I notice for the first time that some pieces showing dead Jesus not only show his wounds but show that his lips are blue and he, um, looks like a corpse. Why haven't I noticed this before? Is it particularly Spanish? There are wonderful wood carvings that are from the fifteenth centry, there are Miros and a Picasso. Nice show. We go through the gift shop, use their toilets and head back. Good timing because a minute or two later the shoppers return and then in ten or fifteen the old folks. The young boys have been playing a Sims game where they try to make these Sims happy. (Sims games are funny because my cousin's surname is Sims. I'm easily amused.) Rather than have their couple raise a child, the kids have raised one separately and are trying to introduce him into the family. It isn't working. We do leftovers and games and the usual family discussions. We say 'goodbye' to everyone but my one aunt and uncle...we'll meet them for breakfast.

	the Ball family...never losing its capacity for silliness outdoor sculpture garden frames something older near SMU "On several occasions I have actually read parts of my diary aloud to someone. But too much 'publicity' is destructive to a diary, because the diarist begins, unconsciously perhaps, to leave out, to tone down, to pep up, to falsify experience, and the reason for the undertaking becomes buried beneath posings." Gail Godwin, A Diarist on Diarists
	JUST TYPING Family. Is a funny thing. Automatic friends. Lasting through the years. Blood bonds. A reason, a duty. To stay in touch.

Saturday, March 15, 2003