death but also LIFE

The final room for my grandfather was a carpeted “master” bedroom in Canberra, distinguished from the other rooms by a sliding-door closet and tiny en suite. I was brought in to say goodbye, though no one put it that way, and so I didn’t entirely know what to do. I’m not sure I even hugged him, tucked into his bed in pajamas as though he was off to dreamland. We children shuffled out, and my dad was left there with my grandfather, who wanted to tell him something.

Now, the most important thing to know about our family—we are emotionally avoidant but also determined to keep things cheery. We are “no worries” and also “don’t mind me!” My grandmother apparently wouldn’t get out of the room with my grandfather on his deathbed (we’re nosy, too), making it weird enough for him to say the thing to my dad that there, poised on the threshold, looking back one last time, my grandfather waved it away—eh, nevermind!—and went ahead and died that night. Incredible. Like finding out you never needed a ticket to get on the bus after all. Flying off into transit without a token, the unspoken words in the breast pocket of his pajamas bursting into confetti.

*

Scout and Japhy know that their dad has a giant lower-back tattoo, and they know it’s funny to have a dad with a giant lower-back tattoo. I call Noodles’ tattoo the “New York Times” because it’s a Gothic masterpiece, font-wise. It kerns across his lumbars like he himself rolled through the printing press at College Point, and it reads “LIFE.”

Here it is on the way into Lake George:

Noodles got it around age 21 for humanistic reasons (and not, say, because he was a reformed hitman). When I go to make fun of it, I have to remember whose side I’m on: not death’s.

It’s a nice reminder to sleep next to: life! You mustn’t forget.

*

Just before Christmas, we drove 45 minutes north to see a holiday light show set up in a fairground for paying cars to drive through. It was fine; the kids liked it. On the way back, we came past the Oakwood Cemetery and someone had put Christmas lights on a tombstone. Now that was festive.

*

Japhy: If I live for two eternities I’ll be 28.

[it took me a minute to solve this]

Japhy: Oh, two decades.

*

The other day Noodles asked me in a half-baked way if we should get matching tattoos, and the pre-thought of the LIFE tattoo joke I had to make in that moment that he also knew I had to make in that moment immediately made tears stream from my eyes in silent laughter, before I could even form the joke.

*

Three years ago, I ordered a cardboard cutout of myself, Noodles, and the kids for my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. I asked their friends Nanette and Geoff to receive the cardboard cutout and deliver it on the right day. Geoff (OAM!) was 92 at the time, and wasn’t only game to participate in the endeavor, but voluntarily jumped out from behind us to give the surprise more oomph.

He died recently and when I told Scout, she said that my parents must be heartbroken. I’d say she’s right. We all loved Geoff.

He was very good with kids, the kind of person who can make a baby laugh even once it’s old enough to be a little distrustful. He was in his tenth decade and was the least condescending adult I’ve seen with small children; a skill possibly honed through time with his many grandchildren, but also one you can’t take for granted. We’re not all great at it. He had a brilliant deadpan, liked to offer guests espresso, got excited about a good sourdough boule, and spent his time supporting a youth mental-health program in Port Stephens, Jupiter. His entire vibe was LIFE.

Here he is, one last peekaboo:

My dad will be speaking at the memorial—the other day he asked me for the name of the website that did the cutouts.

at the dinner table the same day the pediatrician asked me if we had a screen-time plan and I said yes definitely

Japhy: We have to get a golden gagu burger from Dubai.

Me, immediately suspicious: Have you been watching YouTube Kids again?

Noodles: You don’t even know where Dubai is. The other day you asked if Los Angeles is in New York.

Japhy: And I’m going to stand on the tallest building in the world.

The burger:

The 24-carat “burj” burger

goodies

this dispatch from a Ladies' Pond in the UK:

“Have you ever flown somewhere for a man who doesn’t love you?” Janique asked, once we were out of earshot. “Yep,” I replied.

For a while after that, we swam in silence. Two upturned Band-Aids float past. They were followed by an elderly woman swimming quickly. Her hair was kept dry by a plastic bag from Ryman, the popular chain that sells stationery. The bag was rigid, poking high above the water like a pharaoh’s crown. She had fastened it to her scalp with duct tape.

Naomi Fry on the tyrannical return of boobs:

At long last, we were back: women once again equalled boobs, men once again equalled hard-ons, order was being restored, decline was being averted, God bless America.

I am once again quoting

Laurie Stone

to you all:

Yesterday, I was the horse moving through the living room, careful not to knock over tables and chairs. I was the horse without a thought about things beyond my life as a horse. Everyone agreed we didn’t know how we were going to live the next four years. It’s looks like I am going to move through houses, careful not to knock things over, then move out to a snowy field, where my horse hair will keep me warm and where I will leave small hoof prints in the snow, as everyone waits for spring.

loved Caity Weaver’s update on Magic Mountain:

Over breakfast (cotton ball of cheese, streak of cheese, round of stale bread, no water), I learned that the Iranian, whose husky voice lent her, always, the luxuriant impression that she was just waking up, was seeking to alleviate symptoms of Type 1 diabetes.

David Lynch on angels

things can go away and they can come back

(We got a tour of Olana Historic Site the other day, and our guide’s name was David Lynch.)

this song:

“Nothing matters but knowing nothing matters” —nihilist prince