2000

The ice swirls awkward circles in the cocktail glass. I wait for the cool liquid to settle and then take a drink of my Tanqueray and tonic. Standing at the kitchen window, I look out to see the wind pushing the branches of the sumac tree into myriad directions, resembling what much of my life had been like over this last year. To be honest, my life has actually been like this for a long time.

I was fifteen, dressed in black polyester skirt and an orange-red polyester zip-up-the-front shirt-like jacket. It was June, and I was ready for work. My job was serving in the snack bar at Oakwood, an upscale Jewish Country Club. Kids, my age, came into the snack bar and ordered whatever they wanted to eat. Then they charged it. That was always a bit of a mystery to me. My father loved to brag that his children went to Catholic School by working at the Jewish country club.

I am not sure how many times I have given clear, precise thought to the business of living and dying. I mean the actual thinking and knowing that death is a part of my life in an imminent manner.

All of my stories have escaped me. I used to have marvelous stories to tell of new beginnings, new friendships, travels and adventures of distant lands. Even everyday occurrences had a ring to them, a great story to be told. My life read like the glossy photo filled pages of National Geographic, now I can barely manage a life worthy of a National Enquirer tale.

Although frequently tendered as an entertaining children's story, Green Eggs and Ham is much more. When viewed from the psychologically critical point of view, Dr. Seuss' simple tale of Sam-I-Am's promotion of a unique dietary delicacy can be interpreted with relative accuracy as a social criticism. The story, Green Eggs and Ham, is actually a commentary on the societal pressures of conformity and one individual's attempt, though futile, to usurp the will of the society.

Accusations filled the air. She stood before me pointing her finger directly at my chest like a sword ready to pierce my heart. She claimed I formed judgments without accurate information balking with a clenched rage, "You condemned me. You have no understanding of my life. I see it in your looks and gestures. I hear it in the tone of your voice." The barrage of statements lasted for what seemed an eternity and yet I can't even recall the details. All I remember was my fury.

I'm late. I took the wrong way to get here, don't remember the name of the obscure airline she's booked on, and am sketchy on the city she flew from. I finally arrive at her gate after having embarrassed myself by admitting to several ticket agents that, "I seem to have lost my friend." I'm not just late, I'm 45 minutes late. At this point, I'm muttering to myself, swearing periodically at my stupidity, knowing that she is a nervous traveler and that I should have been better prepared. She will be angry and will let her annoyance ring clear. As I stride up to her gate, a flight attendant tells me her flight is just arriving. Relief.

Purple Cornflower
Echinacea
Black-eyed Susan
in a different
skirt.

"OH, NO! OH, NO!" she writhed in turmoil, only it was all on the inside. Mustn't let anyone notice her agony, she couldn't call attention to herself in any way. However, now that she was settled in her desk before class, she would have to get up and go out again, something she'd never done.

I was livid when she phoned me... only I8, having a baby. I felt the tension building inside me as my hands clinched into tight little fists. My jaw tightened and I felt a grinding of my teeth. She had already confided in other family members. As the cliche goes, I was the last to know. My reaction had been anticipated, and she had waited until time was more her enemy than I was.