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Posts Tagged ‘Shakespeare’

“Up & down, up & down,
I will lead them up & down…”

~ Puck
Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream

Would that it were a midsummer’s night!  Oh, how we upstate New Yorkers suffer when Spring officially arrives, because in reality She is always late here, and it all feels like some cruel joke.

Late March teases us with a day or two at 48 or 55 degrees; once in a while we’ll even get a 70 degree day (though not so this year).   Winter always manages to beat Spring back, dragging the season’s whole inevitable death scene out in a maudlin, uncouth fashion of day after day in the windy teens, the grey-skied twenties, the only-tolerable thirties.  I remember three damn different April Fool’s Day snowstorms in the last decade or so.

Enough is enough.  I want to go outside and feel warmth, see some green pushing its way up through sun-softened soil.

Jonah doesn’t care much.  He’s uncomplaining about cold or hot, except when it comes to his bath; like his mama, he wants the water at a temperature most people would consider near-scalding.  Mom and I visited Sunday this week, and Jonah was cute and good and funny.  We’re trying to teach him that he’s a different age now.

“How old are you, Jonah?” one of us will ask.

Using the language only people used to him can understand, he answers:  Um-twelll-yee-ol.

He never just says the number.  Always he adds “years old” to the end.

“No, silly,” I say.  “You had a birthday!  How old are you now?”

Evidently 13 is much easier for him to say because plain as day he answers, “thirteen.”  And without adding the “years old” part.

So much for always and never.

Jonah is Puck, leading us up and down through his challenging, “changeling” behaviours.  He has been attacking at school.  He has been fine at school.  He has been aggressing at his residence.  He has been good at the residence.   Tick, tock.  Yin, yang.  Up & down.

Is it puberty?

Regular teenager outbursts, “on steroids” because of his autism?

Questions.

How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?

Why does no one realize that the Alphabet Song, Baa Baa Black Sheep, and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?

Can you be a closet claustrophobic?

How many licks does it take to get to the middle of a Tootsie Pop?
(The world may never know.)

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Digging his car ride.  I watched with pride as he dressed himself after bath time and deftly pulled on his coat, put on his hood, and zipped up.  Then I thought about how very strange it is to be so happy my 13-year-old boy can do something most 5-year-olds can do.  This strangeness will always be inside me, watching Jonah’s progress at its terrapin pace.

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He asks for “train on computer” and needs help getting the computer on and surfing over to You Tube, but once he’s there he’s getting better at selecting different videos on his own.  And when he can’t figure something out he’s super-excellent at asking for help:  I want help please? in his cute little voice.

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My handsome, capricious teenager.

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“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”
~ Corrie Ten Boom

On Saturday Boo was his reliable, predictable self, and yet he never ceases to amaze me.  Andy had taken him overnight and so he was there when we arrived.  He had been asking for “grandma” and “mama” all morning, yet when we arrived he was more interested in the food my mother had brought him.  This time she’d added a new item:  a small container of mini-Oreos.  Jonah’s not the type to eat things in what others might consider a “logical order” – food, then dessert.  His banquet must be presented all at once, and though he did eat most of his sandwich, the Oreos were a big attraction.

Jonah enjoys the stuff in the middle — the meat and cheese inside the bread, his fingers first tap-tap-tapping against the sandwich and then, usually, discarding the bread altogether to get to whatever is the middle.  It was no different with the Oreos.  He held each mini Oreo carefully in his little hands and pulled it apart, scraping the creamy white stuffing out of the middle, then discarding the two outer cookie pieces.

cookie fun

cookie fun

He gleefully attacked his lunch with fervor.

cookie mouth

cookie mouth
YAY!

YAY!

We are waiting for warmer weather but offered to take him to the park anyway, or the train, or the Poet’s Walk.  When we asked him if he wanted to do any of these things he answered “no,” sweetly but firmly, to each one.  “Transfer station?” he asked, which is a recycling facility where Andy takes his paper and cans, etc. every Saturday.  It is car ride Jonah wants, and he almost always says “grandma stay here.”  I think it’s because he wants the whole backseat to himself.  So my poor mother is stuck watching QVC and Fox News on Andy’s TV until we return for a bath and then another request for car ride.

I found out about an open swimming program at Bard College on the weekends, but Andy seems reluctant to take him, lest he throw a fit.  I want to try, though.  Perhaps M will come down with me some Sunday and we can take him.  Jonah loves the water so much!  I was ready to book a 3-night stay in Cape Cod this summer, to take him to the ocean with Andy, to watch him frolic in the waves, to hear his little voice cry gleefully for ocean!  It is a word we do not use, for if we cannot take him it would be mean to plant the idea in his head.  Now it looks like I may be hard-pressed to take him at all.  I will find a way, for I am a determined mom and want to give the gift of ocean to my Boo.

I would like to end this post with some quotes and passages upon which I have been reflecting.  There are discoveries to make, and self-improvements to make, and faith to build.  There is self-awareness and I am attempting to step away from myself and see myself as others see me.  I am looking deep into a metaphorical mirror to ensure I can remain true to myself and to everything I have ever wanted to be…a great mother, a loyal friend, a good person.  Most of all I am seeking to be kind to all I encounter, to forgive, to understand (and not only to be understood),  as in the prayer of St. Francis, perhaps my favorite prayer/hymn.  I am praying it with everything inside me and turning things over to the certain God in which I believe.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

Oh Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

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“Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn.”

~C. S. Lewis

– – –

Matthew 5:44-45 says, “But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.”  Thus, now go on your knees and pray for the person who has hurt you.
– – –

“To enjoy good health, to bring true happiness to one’s family, to bring peace to all, one must first discipline and control one’s own mind. If a man can control his mind he can find the way to Enlightenment, and all wisdom and virtue will naturally come to him.”

~ Buddha

– – –

“Silence is one of the great arts of conversation.”

~ Marcus Tullius Cicero

– – –

“To thine own self be true,
and it shall follow, as the night the day,
thou canst not then be false to any man.”

~Shakespeare

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“Thanks to Shakespeare’s indelible dramatization, March 15—also called the Ides of March—is forever linked with the 44 B.C. assassination of Julius Caesar, and with prophecies of doom.” ~ Brian Handwerk

I have to admit I don’t particularly like Shakespeare, unless I get to see it as intended, as an audience member watching very good actors on a stage.  Reading Shakespeare for me is like trying to translate something you’ll never quite understand.  And we won’t even talk about Chaucer and his bullshit middle English.

But I love to hear my boo talk, no matter how hard to understand or decipher.  When he is happy he fairly chirps – sometimes screams and screeches – and laughs until his tummy hurts.  My God that child can laugh.

Sometimes he’s just giggling but other times he just cracks himself up, or something strikes him as hilarious, or he just is filled with joy.

Tomorrow please God let it be E and J who come to meet me at Jonah’s appointment with the rheumatologist.  I am excited to see Jonah.  I hope he wants hugs and kisses.  I’ll bring bubbles.  Everything will be fine.

There was a beautiful rainbow this morning, and I went in and dragged M outside to see it.  He came out and we stood at the end of the driveway at 7:20am and looked and looked.

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