writing

The Origin of the Tooth Fairy (A fairy tale for Julien)

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Photo by Mimipic Photography on Unsplash

“No!  Not like that.  Gently, gently.  The children will be sleeping and you mustn’t wake them.”

“Why?” Frannie asked her forehead all wrinkled with concentration.

“All I know is what they told me when I was training.  Both you and the children will be cursed from that day forward if the child sees you.”

“Because of teeth?”

“Because they saw the magic. The children are led to believe that we exchange the teeth for money.  Very few of them ever ask what we want the teeth for.  They mustn’t know that we turn the teeth into money. 

“But…”

No!  Stop. I don’t know why. It just is.  Think of it as a rule.”

“I’m never going to be able to do this.  It’s too hard.”

“It is not. It just takes finesse.  Let me show you again.’

Florence used her wand ever so gently to brush the tooth out from underneath the pillow.  She circled the tooth clockwise three times with her wand, and then lightly tapped the tooth. In a moment, the tooth was transformed into a pile of gleaming quarters.

“That’s more than the last one. What’s up with that?” Frannie asked.

“Don’t know. The wand decides how much money.  It’s always different.” Flossie then used the wand to sweep the gleaming quarters under the pillow one by one. ‘Sometimes it’s paper money.  That’s a little trickier to get under the pillow. Most of the time I just use my hand.  Slow and careful like. “

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Is it a mistake if you have no regrets?

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            There’s a Facebook meme going around to the effect of What’s the Dumbest Thing You Ever Did?  And the person answers, “Awfully bold of you to think I’ve peaked.”

Photo by Jeremy Morris on Unsplash

            That would be me. My life is a handstitched colorful quilt of dumb things.  From the men I allowed myself to be engaged to, to the cars I bought, to the multitude of shoes I own.

            I am not a minimalist in the least.  And is my favorite word.  It extends to experiences, things, people, you name it. My house is a depository of keepsakes and memory aids. 

            I remember most of my mistakes fondly.  Sheryl Crow wrote a song with the line “You are my favorite mistake.”

            Some people think the raiding of my retirement account for two blowout vacations was a mistake.  Perhaps.  Ask me when I’m 70 and living on social security. 

            But right now, I don’t think so.  I’m dreadfully strapped for cash these days and inflation and gas prices are not helping, but I have no buyer’s remorse.  I run through possible solutions to solve the cash crisis, but nothing realistic surfaces.  I just need to suck it up and pay off some debt.  But there’s a great big world out there full of things I’ve never seen and never done. It’s a siren song.

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Cloistered II

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The light dominates but doesn’t reach far enough.  It’s the first thing a newborn sees.

Photo by Hartmut Tobies on Unsplash

Light gives us color and shadows – penetrates and reveals. 

There are things that hide from the light. Cockroaches of feelings and thoughts that if brought out might destroy us.  These stay in the shadows bearing witness but silent.  Sometimes rustling so we don’t forget.  A haunting of sorts.

The others reveal themselves – prisms and golden archways to the past, to the future. Sunbeams of insight as understanding dawns.

Should we bring those shadow dwellers into the light?  Would it destroy them or us?  Or are we just repulsed?  Is the unexamined life not worth living? Do we need to get the magnifying glass out for all the firings of our synapses?  Should every memory be put under a microscope?  Backlit and magnified? A hundred times? A thousand?

The cool stone of now, just now, is seductive.  A balm for the mind. Some of us actively seek it trying to escape just for a moment, a few minutes, the clamor of thoughts and scuttling of shadow memories.  Seeking silence and stillness.’

Now is sanctuary.  An absence of worry and fear.  Here.  Just here.  Now.  Breathing.  The light not penetrating.  The slate clean.  A return to the womb where we don’t remember, don’t think, where we only have the nurturing of now.  The peace of it. Protected from the onslaught of the light and things that scuttle in the shadows. 

Cloistered.

Peace be with you.

The book has launched!

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Connie Kinsey, Writer-in-Residence for Museum of the American Military Family & Learning Center

The book has launched! I am awfully excited. The book is a project of the Museum of the American Military Family & Learning Center. Each chapter is anchored by an essay from one of the museum’s two writers-in-residence — one of them is me. The book is a serious look at gender, religion, race, identity, culture, and ethnicity in the armed forces. Active and retired service personnel, their spouses, and dependents were sent a survey asking about these things. Because the survey was completely anonymous, the open-ended questions generated additional stories from the respondents. A number of respondents agreed to contribute to the book. Thus, we have 276 pages of stories, photos, and quotes. A team of anthropologists provided a statistical analysis of the survey and their report is included as well. Though serious, the book is humorous, heartwarming, thought-provoking, informative, and infuriating — much like the military itself. This book will appeal not just to veterans, but to those who love them and want to understand their experiences. Proceeds support the museum and the writers-in-residence program.

You can read the official press release here