A little taller

A tune rambling through my mind this morn:

Elizabeth & the Catapult’s “Taller Children”

Gulp II

So maybe the Big Gal (that would be God to many), is saving me from myself. Spent the evening bonding with 31-year-old (and older) court documents last night. Much of it reaffirmed things I already knew, which, at times, comes as a relief when some of my childhood memories seem like stray strips of celluloid — those random scenes that, once upon a time, fronted a movie reel before the feature film started.

I’m not sure what unnerved me more: discovering that I was case No. 189,929 to San Diego County, or that a report generated for that case number was received into evidence by a Los Angeles Superior Court judge and then ordered sealed. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to view its contents. Maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. Nowhere in my stack of documents is more than a passing mention of my mother’s one-time boyfriend — and not by name. It’s difficult to look up a chap without his last name. So I may never have the opportunity to look him in the eyes and ask: “What in the fuck were you thinking?”

-Christy

Related post.

Gulp

Ask, and you shall — eventually — receive. Just received a thick manila envelop from the LA County Superior Court. Documents that I requested in September. Now to summon the strength to open, read and absorb. Yes, this is for my memoir project.

-Christy

The Boss (of poetry)

In homage to the Arctic blast that has moved in, unpacked and ruined the neighborhood in the Portland / Vancouver area, “Icicles” by poet Todd Boss — along with “Don’t be Flip.”

Brrrr… (At least one local young man had a flag pole / tongue bonding experience, courtesy of the Arctic blast.)

-Christy