We skipped autumn and went straight to winter. This isn’t an uncommon leap for Washington, but it is a harsh reality. It’s so cold that an iced mocha spilled on the cement becomes a death trap in less than a minute. Scarves transform to masks and gloves are as much a part of our bodies as skin. The sun itself glitters behind a layer of glazed ice. It’s merely a reminder of the warmth it once held; beautiful nonetheless. I find that in these frozen months relief, comfort, and immediate gratification are much more easily found. I can throw on a wool coat, scarf, and thermals to gain these rarely satisfied pleasures.
During my early promenade to lecture this morning, I fished two quarters and a penny out of my front pocket. As I walked, my boots clacked step by step, echoing through the frosted rose bushes and atop the surface of the gargantuan frozen fountain. I slipped my right glove off and grasped a quarter between my thumb and pointer finger. I pulled my arm back and lobbed the coin up at the sun. It gleamed against the rays like a star during the day and came down spinning in more perfect form than a figure skater. It met the ice of the fountain with a tinny clank and bounced a couple of times. The sound was so satisfying that I did it again with another coin. And again. The bouncing, frozen wishes were somehow legitimized by the cold. What normally would’ve been a vacant, meaningless action became a real wish. I’m not superstitious but this ice, this abrupt winter freeze, has somehow made me believe in the unbelievable. That was the best 51 cents I’ve spent since I could buy Double Bubble for that price.
As if to defy the way of the world, I’m blossoming in these winter months. My petals are extending their reach and requesting the gentle nourishment of the bumblebee. I’m giving and receiving, coming out of a dense hibernation. I’m learning to love and be loved, and not to give too much. I’m learning that the cold is not a time to solidify, but a time to use the ice as a lubricant for progress. As much as Pam hates ice skating, I’m afraid there’s a time when everyone must lace up their skates and take advantage of this opportunity to skate over our lakes of trouble. The ice may crack, but taking that risk in return for the effortlessness and grace of the skate is something I’m willing to do. During the summer we’re forced to swim and fight the waters, the winter offers a less common way of overcoming adversity. But build a safety net. It’s okay to fall through the ice so long as someone sees it happen. They’ll call up a team of expert-trained firefighters to pull your curdling blood up from the dark waters.
I recently walked into a store, “The Greenwood Space Travel Supply Company.” If you cannot identify my intrigue, I can offer you no more evidence of it. I stepped in with Pam after a pleasant bite at Mr. Gyros. Once in the door, I froze. I looked up, down, left, and right. Tiny metallic objects, books, freeze-dried food, canisters with chemical labels, pens, pencils, robots all lined the walls.
At the counter was a woman. “What do I do now?” I asked her. As if the question was one she receives often, she replied without hesitation. “You find any and all of your space travel supply needs.” “What if I don’t have space travel supply needs?” “Well…we’re actually a front for a non-profit youth writing and tutoring center.” It all began to make sense. The atomic teleporter at the back of the store wasn’t actually a teleporter, it was an elaborately designed door that led to a classroom where tutoring sessions were held. All of these products weren’t really for space travel, they fund an organization with more valiant of a cause than NASA could ever hold claim to. Pam looked at me with the eyes of knowing. Her gaze said, “Danl, you need to volunteer for this shit immediately.” It’s the culmination of recent revelations. Of my need to help others, of my need for purpose, of my need to write, of my need to impart encouragement and support to a group so troubled by the aspects of growing up.
As the quarter wraps up, December closes in, and the winter grows harsher I intend to do just the opposite. I’m going to volunteer at either 826seattle.org (The Greenwood Space Travel Supply Co.) or some like-minded non-profit place that involves both the upbringing of youth and a culmination of the arts.
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