TheBanyanTree: Life Stories 190

[Tobie Shapiro]

March 27, 200000000007


Dear Sources of Knowledge,

	Feyna is going to Mexico, just to Tijuana, for a day on the 
third of April.  She will fly down to San Diego and then walk across 
the border with her friends, Alex and Natalie.  Word has it that Alex 
lived in Mexico for five years.  He speaks fluent Spanish.  He 
insists that the water is fine to drink in Tijuana, that the place is 
clean now and there are none of the problems that existed in the 
past.  I find this hard to believe.  Feyna is so convinced that Alex 
is right that she's threatening to go down there and drink water from 
the tap because she trusts him so much.  I need to know from any of 
you who might have good information what the truth of the matter is. 
Give me your news, your knowledge, your experience, your huddled 
masses yearning to breathe free.  Site your references.  She's 
adamant.  I'm scared.  I know the tourista won't kill her, but it 
could make her very sick.  Or am I outdated?




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Coffee/Cookies

	By the time Meyshe was two and a half, he'd taught himself to 
read and write.  He couldn't write letters to the editor, or read 
Ulysses, but this was the vehicle for simple communications.  In 
particular, when we embarked on our morning errands and pleasures, I 
would make up a list for Meyshe.  I'd put it on a piece of yellow 
lined note paper and separate the items on the list by at least one 
line of blank space.  This was to keep the items distinct for him.

	The note would look something like:

1)  Coffee cookies

2)  Bank

3)  Playground

4)  Food store

5)  Home

	What the list did was to organize his world.  Without the 
language nailed down and handed to him, the world was a jumble of 
confusions, events whipping past his ears and eyes, while he reeled 
from the surprises.  He needed order.  When he could see what the 
sequence of events would be, then he could predict and follow along, 
knowing the places and activities.  Everything was correct, 
manageable.  As we went from place to place, I would cross out the 
event completed and point to the new one.  I'd read it and he could 
follow along.  Feyna, without a list, was fine with the meanderings 
of the day.  She heard the language and took events as they came. 
What she needed to do was examine everything on the way.  Just what 
are those bugs on the sidewalk doing in front of Peet's?  What is 
that little mark on the wall in the bank?  In the meantime, Meyshe 
was in his usual hurry to get through things, rushing from the spot 
where he was put down to the distant disappearing point on the 
horizon where all the lines converge in perfect perspective.  For 
him, there was no difference between the sidewalk and the street.  I 
suspected that he simply couldn't see the cars going to and fro. 
They were imaginary giants, too big to focus on, and too much in 
motion to see.  He'd grip his list and refer to it, silently taking 
in the directives, knowing what was happening to him.

	One morning when the first item on Meyshe's list was, "Coffee 
Cookies," I drove the car to Peet's and couldn't find a parking place 
in the lot.  This meant we would have to approach Peet's from an 
entirely different direction.  We would be diverging from Meyshe's 
visualization of the points on his list.  As soon as I parked the car 
on the street and fed the meter, Meyshe went crazy.  This was not the 
orderly description of happenings.  It confused him utterly, and he 
started to scream.  I pointed to number one on the list.  "Coffee 
Cookies," I insisted.  "Coffee Cookies.  See?"  I pointed at Peet's 
standing there half way up the block.  Feyna had already dropped down 
to the pavement to experiment with an ant.  Meyshe took off from the 
moment I let go of him and ran hysterically up the street, noticing 
nothing on the way.  I looked at Feyna having her inspection and 
decided I had to leave her there while I rounded up Meyshe.  I caught 
up with him, handed him the list and repeated, "Coffee Cookies". 
Meyshe threw himself on the sidewalk screaming, discarding the list, 
kicking and fighting the air.  Feyna finished with her ant and 
wandered toward us.  I leaned over Meyshe and tried to soothe him.

	I thought the only way to calm him down and start afresh 
would be to get him in there to Peet's, stand in the line he was used 
to, get him a cookie and show him how things were actually going 
according to plan.  I could cement the concept of Coffee Cookies with 
an actual cup of coffee and an actual real life cookie.  I dragged 
both of them into Peet's.  Meyshe fell on the floor in front of the 
counter, jerking his arms around, hollering undecipherable syllables. 
I ordered coffee and two cookies, and stood there listening to the 
screaming as I waited for the prompt and friendly service.  Feyna, as 
she was so many times, was left out of the scope of my devoted 
attentions.  I told her that Meyshe was having trouble and I was not 
forgetting her.  But of course, she could see where my attentions 
were focussed, forgetting or not forgetting her.

	He flailed and fought, shrieked and tossed his head around. 
I knew that if I could just show him that, "Coffee Cookies," was 
taking place just like usual, just like it said on the list, he would 
be able to make sense of things, verify it with his list and go on 
with life.  I needed that cookie.  That cookie arrived and was handed 
to me by the nice employee.  I'm afraid I snatched it from her 
without a smile and held it in front of Meyshe's eyes.

	"Look!  Coffee," I showed him my cup of coffee, "Cookies," I 
showed him his big round cookie.  He reached for it.  Just then, I 
was interrupted by knowing citizen number one who glared at me and 
with a sarcastic sneer said, "That's right.  Reward him for his 
tantrum with a cookie.  Good job, Mom."

	All hell broke loose within me.  I turned on the man who 
hadn't counted on rebuttal.

	"What do you know about my son?!  Just who are you to tell me 
how to raise my children?  Your mother did such a fine job on you 
that you can't keep your mouth shut, you're so sure of your damn 
self.  You know nothing about what's happening here.  Go back where 
you came from and grow up!"

	I couldn't believe these words came out of me.  Usually, 
polite to a fault, trying to please everyone.  Oh yes, everyone 
should like me.  But that all went out the window when I was 
defending my children.  I felt the fury rise inside my throat and 
settle after I'd unleashed it on the shocked and arrogant idiot who'd 
dared to come between me and my mission to save my son.  The man 
slinked away, his mouth shut.

	Meyshe ate the cookie.  I showed him the list.

1)  Coffee Cookies

2)  Bank

	He read, "Bank," and headed outside to the car.  Barely past 
number one, and I already looked like a tsunami had flattened me.  I 
brought my twins to the car, lifted Feyna up and carried her, kissing 
her cheeks and her head as we walked down the street.



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-- 




Tobie Helene Shapiro
Berkeley, California   USA

tobie at shpilchas.net