6.26.98

    Well, Sonia and I did go out to Old Town Pasedena and had a nice enough time wandering through the chi-chi shops and sipping Jamba Juices. I thought that, by virtue of the name, I'd see more rambling architecture, alleyways and remnants of some sort of heyday. Not so. If there ever was something old about that town then they build right over it.

    Traffic was glorious on the way home since not too many people are headed toward the city at rush hour so I was spared my claustrophobia. Unfortunately, I got home with just enough time to change, grab the boy and head out to The Derby. That would have worked if I hadn't left the headlights on and killed the battery. I had a slight hissy-fit which I attribute to the Jamba Juice being my only source of nutrition up to that point. T. is a man of immense patience and understanding. So, I had a PB&J sandwich and vegged in front of the tube. In all actuality I was wiped from my day and I would've needed coffee in order to move my limbs at The Derby. Dancing has been rescheduled for Sunday.

    On the way to work everyday I take an onramp which leads me around like a slingshot onto the 405 heading North. The beginning of the ramp is one lane as is the end. If you want to be smarmy then you shift over to the right hand lane and try to beat everybody to the finish. Somedays I just cruise around this curve, high in the air, glancing over at the city if I dare and vroom onto the 405 with a practiced merge. Other times I have to stop and inch.

    I inch with all the others and allow people to get in line in front of me. Sometimes I discriminate against those on cell phones or young businessmen wearing gold watches. Sometimes I only allow clunkers in front of me. Either way, this inching allowed me to notice something.

    There's this wall separating the highway traffic from the urban neighborhoods. It's about 10 feet tall and designed, I'm sure, to keep the noise level down for sleeping babies, to keep cars from launching onto second floor balconies and to keep perverts from doing nightly drivebys.

    Over this wall has crept masses of ivy. It lies in clumbs along the top and spills down the sides. It's pretty. At the bottom of this onramp where I have spent many mornings inching and creeping my way onto the 405 is a crack in the wall where the ivy has crept through. As spring turned into summer flowers bloomed in this patch. The first time I noticed those flowers I thought that it was a bright, nylon jacket blown up against the wall.

    A brilliant, blue-violet, the flowers brightened my every morning. I know it's silly but I looked forward to catching a glipse of the flowers, bravely raising their heads to the polluting cars. Just today, I noticed that they are gone. All that's left is a heap of brown leaves on a tangle of stems. It appears that somebody cut off the ivy from its parent. I don't know why anyone would do this. Perhaps the ivy creeping was affecting the integrity of the wall.

    Whatever the reason, it's depressing. There are no other blooms on the ivy. It's as though it knew that it had weaseled its way into a forbidden space and then naively boasted with flowers. Look at me! Look at me!

    I have in my bookcase a paperback of The Shorter Bartlett's Book of Familiar Quotations. It's yellowed and ancient and the binding is held together with tape. The pages smell like an attique and it is no older than 1964. The cover price is 75 cents. It belonged to my mother and at some point she went through and marked all the passages about love. Perhaps it was when she was a nurse in Portland and had just started dating my father. Perhaps it was earlier. Perhaps she was working on wedding vows. Anyway, I really love the book.

    One of my favorite quotes I found by perusing Bartlett's. I can't remember who penned it and I can't seem to find it marked right now. Even a search at the online Bartlett's wouldn't turn it up. I think the reason why I so looked forward to seeing the blooms can be encapsulated with this quote:

"But, in the muck and scum of things
there alway, alway something sings."

    I think that is so true. You only have to look for that small thing and then appreciate it.