Not Calm (dot com)

45/37x365:Bruce

I made your coffee when I was a teenaged barrista, I waited on you in my twenties at the four-star café where I used to work. Ran into you at the market yesterday, finally learned your name.

this is part of x365

44/37x365: Paul S.

Oh you and your completely cryptic handwriting.  I practiced and practiced until I could write like that too, until I could read your notes.  But I could still never figure out whether or not you liked me. 

43/37x365:Robert W

(back after a SHAMEFUL hiatus)

The one photo I have of you is from seventh grade. Standing by your locker. Smiling. Funny glasses. Years later I drove you to work early one morning. I can still see that sunrise, hear the radio.

visit x365!

42/37x365: Gilbert

My good friend the actor, who waited tables with me. Had a small part in a film where he got to serve Robert De Niro a cup of coffee. Robert fuckin De Niro, Jen! He said, Wow, so cool.

Won't you join x365?

 

41/37x365: Jenn

I ordered my latte (soy milk) from you and couldn’t remember if I should ask for large or double or what. So, I just held up my hands to show BIG. We both cracked up. Love. You.

I'm participating in x365 -- and so should you

 

40/37x365: Dr. R.

You said “His eardrum’s red from crying so much,” and then proceeded to tell me all the ways that I’d spoiled my eighteen month old.  Your back to me, I flipped you the bird.  You saw.  HA

I'm participating in x365 (but in a half-assed way)

38/37x365: Von H.

You always called me Tilly Lipshitz (I have no idea why) and you were an architect.  There’s a restaurant I drive by all the time that you designed, but it’s changed names and themes dozens of times. 

This is part of x365

37/37x365: Catherine

you wrote the best stories in our short fiction writing class.  All of them tense, set in cramped apartments complicated by drugs, bikers, conflicts and redemption.  They were good because you’d lived them.  Not fiction at all. 

this is a part of x365

36/37x365: Maxine

In second grade you sponsored me for my school’s reading fundraiser.  I think you signed on for a dollar a book.  I read stacks of them but when I went collecting, you’d moved away.  How could you?

go and check out x365

35/37x365: Penny C.

I babysat your kids, maybe only once.  You were so kind.  Authentically kind, not just because you’re supposed to be.  My mom said that yesterday your entire family got up and sang for you at your funeral. 

I'm participating in x365

34/37x365: Tom

You grabbed me in the parking lot and wouldn’t let me go.  It hurt.  I’d been sure not to meet you alone.  It was that damn Kundera you were reading when we met, it clouded my judgment.

I'm participating in x365

33/37x365: Tony

You worked a lot of crossword puzzles.  I remember you describing your girlfriend’s breakfast one day while we had lunch;  something like oatmeal with wheat germ and molasses.  Food is fuel to her, you said totally dumbfounded.

I'm participating in x365

32/37x365: Tom

You took me on my first ever date: The Winchester Mystery House, your parents and younger siblings our chaperones.  Things were okay until that bit at the end where you told me how big my nose is.   

I'm participating in x365 and feeling really glad I kicked Tom to the curb.

31/37x365: Everett

You drove your ice cream truck down our street every summer afternoon.  You lost your arm above the elbow in World War Two.  Did you come home and find the gentlest job there is?  Did it help?

join me at x365

30/37x365: Ram F.

There’s something right there, you said, your eyes on my lips.  Embarrassed, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.  Your fingers touched my lips, I see.  It’s two magnets, you said, bringing your mouth to meet mine.

I'm participating in x365

29/37x365: Warren Alan Jackson

We spent a couple of semesters hanging out together at SFSU, comfortable, good friends.  I think you lived in Napa?  Waited tables at Thomas Keller’s restaurant?  That sounds right.  I see you did become an attorney.  Congratulations!

I'm participating in x365

28/37x365: Dave A.

You gave me my favorite nickname: Genoise.  One time you got drunk at a bar downtown and pretended to be a dog, chasing cars down the street.  Much later I went to your Police Academy graduation party. 

Brought to you by the letter G and the number 365

27/37x365: Bart

True, you had that cliché obscenely wealthy thing going on (the red Ferrari, the clothes, the gorgeous girlfriends) but I thought you were okay anyway.  I believed you were secretly down to earth underneath all that money.

I'm participating in x365

26/37x365: Eric

Coke-bottle glasses, skinny, jittery, fried.  You made me a necklace and gave me a tank top that said Skateboarding Is Not A Crime.  You wrote me poems that would have left David Lynch scratching his head. 

I'm participating in x365

25/37x365: Becky

Jenifer! Come Here, I Need You, you shrieked from the back of the store. I discovered you, holding a broom, and expecting me to hold the dustpan.  I already thought you were horrible, that sealed the deal.

I'm participating in x365 and it's daylight savings time adjustment so i didn't exactly miss a day. 

24/37x365: Alberto

You tell my kids (always in Italian) how gorgeous they are, and you tell me that I work hard and look beautiful.  I treasure your kindness, how you always take the time to visit and say hello.

This is part of x365

23/37x365: Kathy B.

You danced with the San Francisco ballet before you became a mother.  I wanted to be just like you.  Lessons five days a week, babysitting reduced my tuition.  Pregnant with your third child, your plies looked effortless. 

I'm participating in x365

22/37x365: Louise

every time I visited my grandparents, you’d come over from next door with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.  Still warm.  When I found out that you kept dough in your freezer, I was delighted by your ingenuity.    

Join x365 and tell me about people from your life

21/37x365: Steve S.

After the screw was removed from your leg, you gave it to me so I could wear it on a necklace.  After high school you married so young and had twins.  Now they’re old as we were.

This is part of x365

20/37x365: Bert

You lived across from my grandparents; the neighbor they looked out for because he was older.  You always had jars of candy for company.  The people who live there now help out my grandmother.  I’m so grateful.

I'm participating in x365 -- and so should you

19/37x365: Mr. Ward

Rumor was you broke a paddle over a girl’s butt for saying bitch. When I asked if the sun already burned out and we were feeling the last of it, you simply sent me to the hallway. 

I'm participating in x365

18/37x365: Mary E.

The best compliment (at least about physical beauty) I ever heard was delivered from my former husband to you: Wow, Mary, you look like the women that bombers had painted on their airplanes in World War Two.

I'm participating in x365

17/37x365: Mr.Rizzan

We rounded the corner at the exact same time, your mug of hot, hot chocolate down the front of my glowworm nightgown.  I was afraid it had melted into me, it stung so badly.  You: flustered, sorry.

I'm participating in x365

16/37x365: Taylor

Our mothers were friends and so we spent lots of time together.  Once you came over for Thanksgiving with your siblings and parents.  Your table manners were so atrocious, I CRIED later.  You totally ruined my Thanksgiving.

I'm participating in x365

15/37x365: Paul Bell Jr.

you made me a State of California Alternate ID in your workshop, I still have it.  Your house was filled with books, newspaper clippings, photos, and stories.  I think about you every time I file my taxes.

I'm participating in x365

14/37x365: Mr. Walker

met with US presidents, a representative of the Cherokee Nation.  Once he sat in the field talking to my brother who was not even five years old.  False books on his bookshelf hiding an eagle feather headdress.

I'm participating in x365 and so should you

13/37x365: Steven

When we were seven, you proved your love for me by biting into a live catfish you caught bare handed.  You used to knock me down, pull out my chair, chase me.  What ever happened to you?

I'm posting daily for x365

 

Okay.  I have to break ranks and go over the 37 words.  Steven went to the same after school care I did in Richardson, Texas.  It was the late 1970s and he had to wear these big old clunky hearing aids.  They frustrated the hell out of him and more than once he flushed them down the toilet.  I hope they were incredibly expensive, because I remember his mom beating the shit out of him one time at pick up when he'd done it, yet again.  He ran away from her across the big field out front where the wild onions grew.  We used to dig them up to protect us from vampires, and when I can smell onions on the wind coming from Salinas or Gilroy or wherever the smell floats here from, I am transported back to my childhood, complete with the swirly effects and do-da-lee-do-da-lee-do music.  I'm kinda not kidding.  We didn't ever include Steven in anything, because he scared us.  He used to chase me and try to kiss me with his slobbery mouth.  He shoved me backwards off a picnic bench one time.  Hard.  Really hard.  The day with the fish -- we went roller skating around Bachman lake in Dallas and there were fish right at the shore.  He looked me in the eye and grabbed one and then bit into it.  I think.  My memory is not so good for things long ago.  I do remember that he had red hair.  I can see his face.  I know he bit the fish, but maybe it was already dead in the water. 

It's really amazing how much things have changed.  If Steven were a kid now, at least in our school district, he'd have pretty great services and his mom wouldn't get away with wacking him -- at least not publicly like that.  He'd have a hearing aide that wasn't so awful and embarrassing.  I can't think of a good reason for not just hating his guts, because he really did hurt me and scare me, but I never did.  I remember when he left the after school care that I was sorry to see him go in some ways. 

I hope he ended up an okay adult.  It's hard to imagine that he could have, but then people are funny that way.  You think someone has everything they need to be okay and they just aren't, while the ones who should have no reason to be kind sometimes just are. 

12/37x365: Tim W.

sat next to me in biology class until he killed himself, supposedly leaving a note blaming everything on Matt, who sat next to me in art.  I took Tim’s chair down from our desk the next morning.

I'm participating in x365

11/37x365: Joe

is probably sixteen.  I saw him talking to his dad outside the martial arts studio as I left yoga class. He was looking down, shuffling his feet on the sidewalk,  Dad, it’s not that kind of party.

I'm participating in x365

10/37x365: Dennis

said goodbye to his wife, left for work every morning, his unemployment a secret.  One gorgeous blue San Francisco day he jumped from  the Golden Gate bridge. My mom and I there hours earlier, just by chance. 

This is part of x365

9/37x365: Marcella

was from Argentina.  She worked with me at a coffee shop, while she and her boyfriend saved to go to Oregon. A customer once asked her how she liked America.  I AM AMERICAN she spat at him.   

I'm participating in x365

8/37x365: Mr. Ford

was Missy’s dad.  I was twelve, in junior high, when he showed me how to mix White Russians (only for him, not us) and how to shoot empty coke cans from the end of a leaf blower.

Brought to you by x365

7/37x365: Kevin

was a smooth operator  Eight years old, putting the moves on all the girls in after school care.  We played Happy Days; he was Fonz and talked us into lining up to kiss him.  Cool, he’d say.

I am participating in x365

6/37x365: Caroline

We met on the sidelines, watching our brothers play soccer.  Not long after, you were walking on the beach with your family and a wave took you out to sea. I wanted to go to your funeral.   

x365

5/37x365: Maria

I remember the stripe of grey in your long black hair, though you were only ten.  You were the most talented dancer in a class of girls all hoping to become ballerinas.  Your poor older sister, green.

I'm participating in x365

4/37x365: Ginger

You were the cool neighbor two apartments down – a late seventies teenaged girl  with stick straight brown hair. I remember the day your dog Patches was run over by the mailtruck. You cried and cried and cried. 

3/37x365: Ernesto Tomasini

  Ernesto 
  Originally uploaded by jenijen

Angels jealously pout in the corners of their clouds when you sing.  You were so kind to me when I was nervous and it’s not fair how photogenic you are.  I wish the light had been better.

I am participating in x365

2/37x365: Victor

Victor helped me bus tables at the coffee shop where I worked seventeen years ago.  He brought his own towel.  His spine bent him forward, his ears made him yell.  I think he was homeless.  Maybe not. 

I'm participating in x365

1/37x365: Craig Morton

You were my best friend Becky's boyfriend.  You were funny and had blond hair.  In fourth grade, you moved away to Florida, but first you wrote in my autograph book: Craig Morton NOT of the Denver Broncos.

I'm participating in x365