Adopting Little Olga

 Kent, Washington July 27, 1994

Dear Friends and Lovable Krazies,

We are back from Siberia, bonding and getting to know the new addition to our family. Olga (pronounced Olya) talks a lot. I wish I new Russian so that I knew what she was saying. This adventure is wrought with symbolism and coincidence. There is a very strong resemblance to the adoption process with Bonnie. We were going to go get both of the girls (eight years apart, of course) in the winter, Russia, like Korea 8 years earlier, temporarily froze the adoption process. Both girls came home in July. There was a family reunion taking place then and now. We spent a few days visiting a different city prior to arriving at the city where the girls were to meet us. (Tokyo at Bonnie's, Moscow at Celeste's). Both girls had very short hair. Olga had big ribbons in her hair. We took each girl with us the day we met them. We had time in the respective city with each child. Both girls sang in their language often. Both girls were about the same small size. These two have bonded very quickly. Celeste is infatuated with her big sister. And Bonnie just loves her.

THE ADOPTION ADVENTURE

I was upstairs at the computer paying the bills as Denise was putting the last of the luggage in the car before we drove to the airport to visit the California family for Xmas. The phone rang and the person on the other end of the line identified herself as Mrs. Claus. This was the 23rd of December and I was trying to figure out what a Mrs. Claus was trying to sell me or what charity she wanted me to donate to. I was in a hurry to get done so I could go to the airport, after all. As I listened, her voice became familiar. And when she said that she had just received our Xmas letter, I realized who I was talking to. Have you ever wondered what Mrs. Claus's first name is? Ever wonder what Mrs. Claus does when she's not out helping Santa? Well, her name is Donna and she runs Rainbow House International, an international adoption agency. I yelled out, "Hey Denise, Donna Clauss is on the phone." Donna told us that she had just received our xmas letter in which we said that we were back in the adoption process again and looking for another little girl. She told us that there was a little girl, who looked like me, who had just become available two days prior to the arrival of my letter. She was from an orphanage in Siberia, in a city called Chelyabinsk. She gave us a little information about her and said that when we got back from vacation we could call her if we were interested. I told her that we were obviously interested now, and could she please send us some information to Grandma's house in Long Beach.

So, on Xmas eve, we got a package from Mrs. Clauss. The package contained a video tape and three photographs. Olga did look like she could be our biological daughter. She and I had similar eyes. The dress that she wore in the video and on one of the photos had a little mushroom house applique on the front. These photos and the video were taken nine months before Rainbow House knew we were in the adoption process. Needless to say, I was hooked.

Denise and I spent the next couple of weeks convincing our rational side what our hearts had already decided. We researched what we could find about Chelyabinsk. This city had been a "closed city" during the cold war because of its production of war machinery. We had been in the process to adopt a local Washington State orphan. Previously, we had decided not to consider overseas adoption since it had become so expensive and cumbersome. The Siberian adoption was going to be an expensive process, just in the transportation alone. It was our intention to take the whole family to Siberia. This little girl must have a very powerful guardian angel who was able to find her parents on the other side of the world. (If you look on the globe you will see that Chelyabinsk is on the other side of the world from Kent, Washington.)

We called Donna up and said we were going to adopt Olga. We hurried at neck braking speed to fill out and send the needed paperwork to all entities involved. Then we waited and waited and waited again for our INS to respond. I was expecting to be in Siberia in the middle of winter when it was 28 degrees below zero. Finally we got a letter from the Embassy in Moscow telling us that INS had finally completed its portion of the pre-adoption process. We excitedly called Donna to let her know so that we could buy our tickets and be on our way. We bought winter clothes for Olga and ourselves. I was even willing to give up my Birkenstocks (sandals) to go. BUT, we were now going to have to wait again. This time for Russia. The Head of the Ministry for Education in Russia stopped international adoptions until a new law was enacted that standardized the international adoption process nation wide.

Orlando, in the meantime had applied and was accepted to go on a People to People tour of Europe. The tour included visiting France, Germany, Switzerland and Spain. He was gone for 28 days. He left on the 3rd of July. On the 4th of July we got a call telling us to pack our bags, we received the needed invitation and the new law was in place. Orlando had a dream that he would not be going with us. We left for Russia a little more than a week later. Olga's birthday was the 6th of July. She was told that she had a new family and a new name - Celeste. What a groovy birthday present - a whole family.

I worked a little on Thursday morning, the day we left. We packed our belongings and some clothes for Celeste. We received a call from the Airlines telling us that our flight was delayed 3 hours. We expected to leave Seattle by 9:30 pm. We finally left at 2:30 am. The Aeroflot flight was uneventful. We were in the back of Russian jet full of Camel smoking Armenians.

I sat next to a retired Russian Math teacher. I introduced myself. In true math teacher fashion, he gave me a math problem to figure out. I thought about it and solved it. But when I went to tell him the solution I found, the big grin on my face melted away as I noticed that my Russian math teacher was sound asleep. He did eventually awaken and he congratulated me on my superior mathematical skills. My head grew a little.

We landed in the Moscow airport under the cover of darkness. Denise and I had been warned to keep a very low profile. "Do not speak loudly or draw attention to yourselves. It is dangerous in Russia." we were told. We waited to go through customs in a very dark area next to Baggage pick up. We followed the group of Armenians through customs. As we waited we noticed a cat in the baggage claim area. When the carousel started to move the cat walked on it as if he were walking on a treadmill. We picked up our luggage and made it through the custom gate quickly and uneventfully. We noticed Tanya (the Coordinator for the Rainbow House, the adoption agency) who was holding up a MONTOYA sign. She recognized us from the photos. She scurried us through the doors and told us that Boris was bringing the car around. We were still trying to blend in and not look too American. Boris drove up in a Toyota Camry. He got out of the car, wearing a US Navy Seals tee shirt.

The drive to Lena's apartment in Moscow, was dark. The street lamps barely gave off any light. I noticed some signs on our way. Some of the signs that were lit or could be seen from the road said, "Malako or Myasa" (Milk or Meat) in Russian letters. I impressed myself by what I could read in Russian. The road was rough. There were not many cars on the road for such a big city. When were arrived at Lena's apartment we were hurried in secretly it seemed. We met Lena who told us where everything was and said she would be back in the morning to make us breakfast after we called her. Lena would make the most incredible meals, you just wouldn't believe it. I told her that if I was married to her I would be fat. She laughed. Lena's apartment was built in the 20s. It had 3 meter high ceilings (10 feet), two sets of double doors for the entry. She showed us how to lock the doors when she left. Our hosts were being VERY protective.

We were now very tired from our 10+ hour flight and we were 11 hours off our normal time frame. Bonnie had her own bed and her own room. She became the evening meal for the Moscow mosquitoes. Denise and I slept in the end room in a fold out couch. I heard the mosquito but it never bit me. Finally morning came and we called our hostess. While we waited for her we took a shower. The hot water came from an "on demand" water heater above the tub. My shower was hot and cold and hot and cold and hot and cold. I survived. Bonnie figured out how to make it a constant temperature. Soon we heard a knock on the door and Lena came in a cooked a great breakfast. I told Lena that I saw many books in her house and that dealt with astrology and related subjects. I was about to tell her why that interested me and she said that she used the Tarot cards and already knew that I was the Magician. She wanted to know more about us. She really took a liking to Bonnie. Lena is married to a retired Russian diplomat. They worked at the Embassy in Malaysia. He had a heart attack and his whole outlook on life changed. We never met Nickolai. He was in the hospital recovering from some illness. He painted with water colors. Lena brought some paintings home that he painted at the hospital. I noticed one of a candle that had just been blown out. I told her that I liked it. She said that I could have it. I turned it upside down and noticed that the candle and holder were a mushroom and that the smoke lines formed a babies face.

Tanya and Boris took us touring Moscow and a nearby town called Lavra. In Moscow, we visited the Kremlin, Saint Basil's Cathedral, Lenin's tomb and a crown jewels museum. While in Lavra we got to see the Russian Orthodox "POPE". There was a lot of excitement. I reminisced about my days in the seminary. Nice memories were conjured up. The country roads were much better than the Moscow roads. The country side was beautiful. Lots of trees and farm land.

The next day we went to the American embassy to turn in paperwork and set an appointment for processing the adoption. The person who helped us was our Legal paper translator. She looked like a younger version of my mother. Lena, looked like a younger version of Denise's Mother. This was an odd, though pleasant realization.

On Tuesday we flew to Siberia. Tanya and Boris took us and acted very cautiously. Once again we were told not to look like Americans. Tanya went with us through the airport and to the final boarding area. There we waited quietly trying not to look American when we noticed a tall very American looking woman who was traveling alone. We invited her to sit with us. She works with a church teaching Christianity in the public schools. She had been in Chelyabinsk a year and had gone home to extend her stay. We boarded the plane to Chelyabinsk. Denise changed her aisle seat after it collapsed all the way back into the seat behind her. After the plane leveled off, the cabin attendant brought little Tupperware bowls filled with a variety of soft drinks for the passengers to choose from. She later returned with a two tray stainless steel cart. The cart was full of plastic bags filled with bread, cheese, sausage, chocolate candy and a mustard that tore Denise's sinus's out of her head. The sky beneath was covered with a plucked cotton blanket. The blanket was pulled away just as we arrived in Chelyabinsk.

I looked out the window. A group of well dressed people, holding some roses, were waiting near the bottom of the mobile airplane stairs. As we reached the bottom of the stairs I realized that those rose holding people were waiting for us. We were greeted with hugs and hand shakes that extended from smiling Siberian faces. Our interpreter, Julia, escorted us to two cars. Bonnie was put into one and Denise and I were put in the other. Yuri was our driver. I attempted to put on my seat belt and he gave me an emphatic, "NYET!" (no). He thought he was doing us a favor. Yuri obeyed no traffic law that got in his way. His driving brought back memories of riding a Taxi in Sri Lanka.

Julia told us that we would be going to the Dacha (summer house) since the orphanage was being repaired and prepared for winter. The Dacha was an orphanage on a lake, out in the country side. The roads were very very muddy. I wondered if we might get stuck. When we arrived at the main gate Yuri got out to open it. He was told to go the back a different way since the gate was locked. When we stopped the cars our greeter told us that Olga had been put down for a nap and she apologized. In the meantime we got a tour of the facility. It was old but clean. By the time we made our way to the room where Olga was supposed to be sleeping in, other older children had shown up. One boy about 14 years old asked, "How are you?" and laughed when I responded. He spoke a little English. They told us that we could peek into Olga's room and see her sleeping. We looked and discovered many sleeping children and one empty bed. One of the adoption workers told us that apparently Olga was too excited to sleep. They were dressing her and she would be out soon. We were soooooooooo excited. Sletvana, Celeste's primary caretaker brought her out. She was crying and she had her head down. Julia told us that they were happy tears. They looked like scared tears to me. Maybe they were a mixture, a rich blend of emotions causing the tears. Julia told us that earlier in the day Celeste was going around telling all the children that her parents had found her and they were here to take her home.

The children have their own myth at the orphanage. The myth is that they children were lost in a market when they were very young. They believe that their parents will eventually find them. So when Celeste saw us she believes that we are her birth parents who lost her. This myth is partially responsible for the quick and tight bonding that has taken place among us. She was told the truth that we did not lose her in a market. But that did not seem to diminish her belief that we are her REAL parents.

The tour continued to a main building where we were escorted upstairs to a room with a long table set with plates, flowers, and Champagne glasses. About 20 people sat down to a light meal. Olga sat between Sletvana and Denise. Bonnie was offered Champagne. She drank a little but did not like it. We had a beet soup that was very good, considering I don't like beets. We were toasted and we made toasts. We were truly "honored" guests. After the meal we went down stairs and I saw Celeste catch a fly with her hands and throw it outside. I was impressed. We went back to the building that had her sleeping room. The rest of her "sibling group" had been readied for us. As we took photos of Celeste and her group, we could see that Celeste was very proud of herself. This was her day and she knew it.

We finished taking photos and we were taken to an office where we had the opportunity to ask questions regarding Celeste's past. We did not learn much that we did not already know. On the way there I got to talk with the older boys. I shot them with the video camera and let them look at the replay. One of them asked me if I had a dollar. They had heard of dollars but had never seen one. I showed them one. They inspected it with great care as if it might break if it were dropped. I liked the boys and wished I could stay with them and be part of their lives. We took a small nerf football with us but did not get that chance to give it to the boys. Next time! Olga was given a box of candy to give to the other children. We told the staff that we brought things for the orphanage children to have a going away party for Celeste. They asked us if we wouldn't mind leaving the party items for another time. We agreed with a little sadness not fully understanding their request. Julia said that sometimes the children left behind are sad. So we left. This time I volunteered to be in the car Bonnie came in. As our driver backed out he smashed the rear of the car into a post. No fatal damage. He was embarrassed by the commotion. The bigger boys ran over to see and point. He drove away as soon as he realized he could. He drove us into Chelyabinsk.

Unfortunately the driver's misfortune wasn't over yet. Once we arrived in Chelyabinsk he parked illegally in a parking lot while we waited for Denise to buy Celeste's ticket home and to change our flight. We were told that the flight was sold out. Julia ran into her best friend whose father just so happened to be in charge of the office. In short order we had tickets. In the meantime, Olga was eating a lot of chocolate, drinking Coke and getting to know Bonnie while our driver was getting a parking ticket. The driver was trying to fix the damage to the car. The car will need an autobody repair job.

We were taken to the "executive suite" in a factory workers’ sanatorium. It was on the 9th floor. We had two adjoining rooms, a refrigerator, two bathrooms and a TV. We had no cold water. No one did. That part of the city's steam heating plant was down for repair and maintenance. The first morning's shower was very cold. By the second day we learned how to use a water heating wand. Denise and I bathed in less than 2 gallons of water. The sanatorium provided us three meals a day. I'd never had herring for breakfast before. It was good. The food there was not tasty. I suppose it would need much to spice it up. There was a color TV in the main lobby which was always being watched by a crowd of children and adults.

On the first evening alone with our new daughter we played a game of catch with her little rubber animal. We played a game tossing and animal and calling out who would catch it. At one point, Olya dove off her chair, head first onto the very thinly carpeted concrete floor. She had a black eye. Good Grief!!! We hadn't had this child to ourselves for an hour and already she was bruised. Denise and I felt a little embarrassed when our hosts arrived after having had their dinner.

Chelyabinsk is a nice city. Up until two years ago it was a closed city that required permits for entry. It manufactured military weaponry. But Chelyabinsk is no Sparta. It's Athenian quality can be seen in it's people and in its architecture. Because they (the adoption agency folks) knew I was an architect, a very wonderful woman named Tamara arranged to have the city deputy architect meet with me. He initially said that he would give me twenty minutes. He gave me all the Pepsi I wanted and a three hour tour of the city. At Denise's request he even took her to see the jail. He laughed about that saying that a jail is not something he would normally show a guest. He topped off the tour by taking us to the Organ recital hall. It was a church in a previous life. Now it housed a great organ. The hall was closed when we arrived but our host got us in anyway. The walls were covered with local stone that looked like marble.

After our city tour, we dropped off the deputy city architect and we were taken to Tamara's apartment where she had been entertaining Bonnie, Celeste and a few other children. I asked about her frog collection and told her that Eda Bea, my wonderful mother-in-law also collects frogs. Tamara had a small but rather nice collection of frogs. Toys mostly. She gave us three to give to Celeste's new babushka (Grandmother). I was so pleased with Tamara at this point and so taken by her that I told Celeste to say "das vidania" (good bye) to aunt Tamara. At which point Tamara, with a grin that could melt the coldest of hearts, said, "Nyet! Nyet! Babushka Tamara" (Grandma Tamara). She picked up Celeste gave her warm hug and a kiss. I don't really remember much about Tamara's apartment except that it felt warm and inviting. I felt at "home" in her apartment. There was a warm summer light coming through the windows. The ceilings were tall giving this rather small apartment an illusion of something much roomier.

We were whisked back to our room to eat dinner and to take a rest. We were too late for Dinner. No harm done. After a short rest Julia and Yuri came to take us to a house filled with loving warmth and live music. Tamara had arranged for us to spend the evening with a family whose 14 year old son had been in international competitions with the violin. We climbed to the fifth floor. There were no elevators. I wouldn't want to bring lots of groceries up five flights of stairs. I'd be much thinner if I lived on the top floor. No cigar smokin' fatties live on the top floor. We were very warmly greeted by his parents and asked if we would like some vodka and some treats. The mother apologized for the "lived in" worn look of her apartment. The apartment's living room was covered in red wallpaper which looked like it might have had velvet many years ago. The red walls gave the room an old honky tonk hotel feel to it. I liked it there. It, too, felt warm, inviting and very much like "home".

The family dog greeted every one as they came in. The cat, in typical cat like fashion, acted as if no one was there. He kept hopping up on the window sill and walked out on the ledge to wait and see if one of the night birds would become this cat's desert. I wondered if the cat had ever fallen off of his five story high perch.

Next to the window the family had placed a bunch of very pretty goodies. The goodies more than made up for the fact that we missed dinner at the sanatorium. There were little sandwiches, sausages, cheeses, veggies and fruit. Bottles of vodka, Champagne and wine glasses filled with apple juice. After we ate and drank a little, Julia told us that we were going to watch a video of Feilia's ( the violin playing 14 year old son) last competition which was held in the organ recital hall we had been in earlier that day. I have to assume that Feilia had no intention of performing for guests whom he had not invited. He stood and watched with a very critical eye. Feilia's violin teacher was there and he, along with Feilia's parents, watched the video with obvious pride. As the video ended Feilia's sister came in from swimming at the local pool. She acted slightly embarrassed, greeted everyone briefly and disappeared into another room. She reappeared wearing a black formal "performance" dress. She sat at the piano and asked Faliel to accompany her. Feilia obliged and the duo performed very well. Now that the ice had been broken, Feilia played a few solos. He tried to get Bonnie to play. Bonnie was so awed by his talent that there was no way she was going to get up in front of this group after his performance. That didn't stop Tamara. She got on the piano and played a pleasant piece while she smiled from ear to ear. Her charm more that made up for occasional missed key.

Julia told us that Feilia's sister had just graduated and she had taken her last exam today. She was getting her degree in music. Voice was her specialty. The violin teacher's wife took Tamara's place at the piano while Sasha sang a few aria's. She was very loud in this small little apartment. I was busy videoing this private concert as she sang. Her mother looked very proud and happy as her daughter sang. I was proud of her too. For one song they lit the candle on the wall and turned out the lights. As she sang the piano player started to laugh because she couldn't read the music. So they turned the lights back on.

After the song a cake was brought out along with fruit and more stuff to drink. The proud mother gave Denise and I tea in some very nice tea cups with matching saucers. The cups were delicate blue porcelain with a pretty flowery design. The handle was thin and delicate. As we drank, Julia explained that the set was over 150 years old and that it was a family heirloom. Denise and I drank our tea very quickly. As we drank we prayed, "Oh please dear Lord don't let me break these cups." God listened.

I heard that Feilia collected coins so I gave him a set of American coins. His father quickly produced a set of Russian coins. He then invited me into Feilia's room where he kept his collection of stones from the Ural Mountains. As he opened the wooden boxes he would look in the nooks and crannies until he found a suitable stone. He would admire it then give it to me. Julia stood by and interpreted. By now it was quite late, we had been there 4 hours. We felt very honored and very much like long lost relatives that finally got the chance to come for a visit.

They tried to get me to play the guitar and sing. I declined but promised to come back and sing a Russian song. I intend to keep my promise. We left around 11pm. We were tired and happy. I felt like I was leaving my brother's house rather than leaving a house of a family whom we had just met.

The following morning we awoke to the morning light. Denise and I took a minimalist shower. We put the heating element into the 2 gallon bucket. The element looked like a large scale coffee cup heating element. It worked very fast. We used a small pot as a water ladle to pour the water over ourselves as we took our minimalist shower. We then got Bonnie and Celeste up and got them ready as I watched MTV (in English and Russian) on a little black and white TV.

Once we were all ready, we went down the hallway to the other end of the building. We pushed the elevator button and as the doors opened we all piled into a very small elevator. It would stop on its way down to the sight of unhappy would be elevator riders. I would notice the signs at each floor 7 etasz, 4 etasz, etc. Finally we would arrive at 2 etasz. We walked out of the elevator turned the corner into a dark passageway and down the hallway to the dining room doors. The dining room was a tall room with dark wooden floors, Chandelier hung from the ceiling. We had a table near the first column on the left. It was our special table. No one else ever sat there.

Breakfast was interesting. I had somehow expected to be stared at, we Americans who were visiting the Siberian city half way round the world from Kent, Washington, USA. I had never had herring for breakfast prior to my visit to Chelyabinsk. We ate cheese and great bread, butter and other neat stuff. The table behind me was occupied by British gentlemen who were there working out a joint venture of some sort. They were not too eager to talk business with me. Maybe they thought I was the competition. They were nice and courteous, acting happy to speak to someone who didn't speak broken English.

We were told that Olya was a good eater. She did not bear that statement out, however. She ate her veggies and cheese but she did not care much for meat, rice or anything else. After breakfast we returned to our room. The elevator only holds about 500 pounds. Even if there was enough room for more people, the "lift" would go nowhere. Sometimes people would try to get on as we descended only to get off again because they were Too Heavy.

Soon after we arrived at our room at the end of the hallway on the 9th floor, Julia and Yuri knocked on the door. It was shopping day. We hopped into the car and Yuri drove into the main part of town. We stopped in front of what looked like one of those typical apartment houses. We got out and we were greeted by Tamara. She guided us into the store which sold jewelry, cast iron figurines, candle holders and things cut from stone. It was a small store, smaller than a double car garage. We purchased some cast iron figurines, a wooden plate and maybe something else. We left that store and Julia directed Yuri to take us to a store that was below the street level . It was not open yet. However, Julia managed to get the shop owner to open. This store was more western style. It had a long display case along one wall. The workers were behind. They showed us their jewelry. There was a cat running loose in the store. Bonnie, Julia and Olya played with the cat while Denise and I perused the jewelry and cut stone. We bought some earrings and some candle sticks. I wish we had bought more.

After our little shopping escapade, Yuri drove us to the adoption offices. Denise was taken into a room where she signed papers. I waited with Bonnie, Olya, Tamara and her grandchildren. Soon we were taken into the Director's office. The staff had prepared a table with Champagne, flowers, cookies, chocolates and air of an important event. We talked about the adoption, and how this adoption was helping, in its small way, mend the wounds of the cold war. We were all given Champagne, including Bonnie. We made a toast and so did they. The director suggested that maybe we could get a sister city affair going with Seattle. I am working on that. It was a joyous event. We all shook hands and we felt very honored to be there. Denise took photos. We will be sending copies to them.

We went back to the "penthouse" to get our things and go to the airport. On the way Yuri talked about how excited his daughter was at the gift of Barbi shoes that we had given her. She slept in the shoes the night before. He pointed out where he lived as we drove past his apartment, which was on the outskirts of town. Yuri drove fast. He did not obey most traffic laws. In fact, if he wanted to make a left turn and there were cars in front of him, he made a "new" lane and turned left in front of the cars ahead of us. On the way to the airport Yuri was stopped by the traffic police. He got out of his car and in what seemed like seconds, he was back in the car with a big smile on his face. It looked to me like he gave the cop a “tip.” As we left the cop and turned left toward the airport, I saw a couple in a horse drawn cart filled with loose hay. I bit of the past was merging on the highway with modern Russian traffic.

The Chelyabinsk airport is small like Long Beach Airport. The security check of our baggage consisted of the guard feeling the outside of the bag. He smiled and Julia said all is well. We hugged everyone and said a tearful goodbye. We boarded the Aeroflot jet and buckled Olya in for her first plane ride. She cried a little. I felt like crying for her too. I was happy and excited to finally be a "family" on our way home.

Be Aware of the Present Moment

  Everything is changing.

When we suffer, we hold on to a still photo of that moment and we forget that we are in motion.

Nothing is permanent. Life is changing. I am changing. I am not the same as I was as a child, although I am the same person who had those experiences. I do not remember every detail of my childhood. Yet, I am still here. My awareness of self is still intact.
The Earth, the stars, everything is in motion and everything is changing form. Energy changes to matter and matter changes to energy.
Only this moment exists. And in this moment change is taking place. Our bodies are not the bodies of our youth. Every cell has changed with whatever our body had eaten and absorbed. Thus it is with every thing that exists. It is so obvious and so simple. Everything is changing. Time is our noticing changes. A flower blooms. The petals change and fall. The flower blooms again and again and again and it changes again, and again and again.
Everything is changing. When we suffer, we hold on to a moment, a still photo of that moment and we forget that we are in motion. “This too shall pass” goes unnoticed. Change is still taking place, whether we notice it or not. It is just that our awareness has been stilted as we focus on a past moment or a perceived future which we base on a no longer existing past moment.
Awck! Words can’t convey the way music, or swimming or being in the immediate present can. When I move my awareness to the immediate present and intend joy, I become aware of only the immediate present and I can not suffer then.

Easter Mass When I Was Six

     My parents took my two-year-old brother and me downtown Albuquerque, to the Sears department store to buy new Easter clothes. My mother held my little brother’s hand so he wouldn’t grab things off the shelves. He tried several times but she always pulled him away.

        My mother pulled some black pants off a shelf and told my dad to watch my brother while she took me into the dressing room. I could hear my dad threaten to spank my little brother. He must’ve tried to run away from my dad. The pants were too long. My mother pulled the cuffs inside and then she put her hand in my waist. “I can sew these pants to make them fit you for now and then I can let them out as you grow.” She never bought me new clothes that fit. They were always too big.

When we got home, she sewed my new “dress up” pants and a “dress up” shirt to wear to church on Easter Sunday, and every Sunday after that. It was not only traditional, but it was also expected. People acted as if Jesus would be upset, coming out of the tomb, and seeing children dressed in anything other than brand new Easter clothes. I didn't like receiving new “too big”  dress up Easter clothes because I knew that meant I wouldn’t be getting any toys until Xmas. And that felt like forever.

Easter Mass was always a high Mass. I didn’t like going to a high Mass because we would be in church for a long, long, long time. The adults would be doing a lot of kneeling and standing, and I couldn’t remember when we were supposed to kneel or stand. I was too little to see anything. The people were too big. I could only see their butts, their shoes, and their backs. I could hear the priest talking in Latin and the choir singing in Latin, too. But I only spoke Espanol, not Latin. High Mass was long and boring, especially when we had to kneel. We knelt for so long my knees hurt and my mom wouldn’t let me stand up.

My dad told me the priest gave the same long sermon with the same boring story he told us last year, and the year before that. How come superman didn't fly to the tomb and roll the stone open? How come Wonder Woman or Super Girl didn't chase the Roman soldiers away? That would have been a better story that would've kept my attention. I was only 6 years old 70 years ago.

What if Moby Dick swam into a cave under the tomb and helped Jesus escape? That would've been a terrific story that I would’ve loved. Can you imagine listening to a priest read from the Bible about how Moby Dick swam into a tunnel in the ocean and smashed through the floor under the tomb? Wouldn’t it be cool if he swallowed Jesus alive and helped him escape to an island? And when Mary Magdalen came to find him he was gone. I saw the Moby Dick movie at the drive-in theater with my parents when I was 6 years old. That was an exciting movie.

Resurrection is not miraculous to little kids. We watched cartoon people and animals get killed and then resurrect every Saturday morning. Listening to a priest go on and on and on telling the same boring story every Easter about Jesus coming back to life is not interesting.

I was only 6 years old and bored. I still think if Moby Dick busted Jesus out of the tomb it would have been a far more interesting Easter story.

Alone In the Mall

 by Mushroom Montoya

 

The light in my eyes drips out

As I put one foot in front of the other.

My ears cringe from the sound of

Too happy voices basket balling

against the shopping mall walls,

Along with their tippy-tappy thunking

Of new shoes slapping

The shopping mall floor.

They carry their packages,

These throngs of people stampeding

Unaware that their grins are impeding

And biting the heels of my broken heart.

 

Their bodies swarm around me.

They brush against me

With their cruel laughter and

Haunting grins.

 

Their words collide

With my world that’s died

Deep Inside Of me.

I want to go home.

 

But first I must roam

In this damn shopping mall

Looking for a Christmas present

For my spouse who is usually so pleasant.

 

I can’t find my wand

That magically turns back time.

Back to before, long before

Our son had died.

 

The light in my eyes drips out

As I put one foot in front of the other

My ears cringe from the sound of

Too happy voices laughing together.

 

While I cry inside,

Wanting to hide,

Feeling so very much alone
in this overcrowded mall.

 

 

Our son, Jeremy was hit on his motorcycle on the 17th of October 1992. That Christmas I walked the malls trying to find Xmas gifts for my spouse, Denise. The malls were packed with happy people, and I felt so alone.

Holidays Can Be Painful

The holidays can be painfully difficult for grieving parents. They can be hard for anyone who is grieving. Be jolly and gregarious,

but please don't pressure grieving parents in feeling joyful. Their joy will return when it is time for them. There is no time limit for grieving the loss of your child.

Nude Sheep

Poem by Mushroom Montoya
Photo by Kate Joyce

I would love to be there

Moments before

The sheep arrive,

Feeling happy to be alive,

Standing in the middle of the causeway

As she sheep begin to bray

And flock their way

Across.

I would sing to them 

A silly song

About a giraffe

To make them laugh.

I would make up songs

Without drums or gongs

About getting sheared

And getting smeared

with bright red paint

While running around the countryside,

Unashamed, 

Completely nude,

Knowing it's not rude,

But perhaps a bit shrewd

And slightly lewd

For sheep to be nude

In the Irish countryside.

Coyote at Starbucks

 I have a story to tell you about a magical Coyote who teaches me marvelous and wise lessons. 

Click on Go to this Sway to listen to my story.

Coyote at Starbucks

Go to this Sway

Salvation: Death Is Just Another Word for It.

Salvation: Death Is Just Another Word For It
By Mushroom Montoya

Doom cast its heavy net,
Shrouding winter in mournfulness.
Death slunk in and snatched two uncles
And then crushed my grandmother’s heart
So hard it stopped, forever.

 I stood in a foot of snow,
Wearing my sandals
In stockinged feet,
Watching the third coffin descend.

“That’s my salvation,
Death is just another word for it,”
Said my mother,

A skeleton tightly wrapped
In lost wishes for a full recovery,
And in skin whose tenderness got bleached out
By her ever-present cancer.

She winked at me
with an impish smile,
Wishing she had the strength
to play.

She tried when we arrived home.
We pulled out our tongues of fire.
But hers fizzled out too soon
Giving me the unfair advantage
Of strength and youth.

I returned home to Albuquerque
Failing to imagine her
Not skinny,
not almost dead.

Death’s eye was watching me too
When I left work
To go home the following day.

The light turned green
I drove My motorcycle
Into the red light runner’s car,
Speeding through the intersection

Just in time
For me to collide,
Fly,
And break pieces of my body
On the hard, black, gritty asphalt.

This was not my salvation.
Death was not the word.

Although the thought crossed my mind

As I flew upside down.

I lay on the couch,
Listening to Lady Chatterley’s Lover,
Recuperating,
While my mother was dying
800 miles away,

Hoping her salvation
Would come 
While she was still at home
And not in a hospital bed.

My mother would’ve washed out my mouth
With soap
If I had used the naughty words
In Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

The phone rang,
“Mom’s in the hospital
She won’t last two weeks.”
She won’t have her salvation at home.

I stood in front of her coffin
Wearing my well-worn sandals
Holding a brush and some paint
To create a butterfly

A graphic representation
Of her Death
Of her salvation.

I left her grave wondering
If she had ever read
Lady Chatterley’s Lover.