December 23, 2004
Oh, my, a Christmas Miracle already. The LA Public Transportation system got me to the Parole Office and back in 2 hours. I actually have time for a last-minute blog before packing and heading off to Duke City.
I really like my parole agent. She’s very sweet. But honestly, if another agent in the office asked you what your e-mail address was, would you say in front of a parolee "I have no idea?" These are your taxpayer dollars at work, people.
On the train I witnessed three "homegirls," two with babies, talking motherthis and motherthat, doing time at county jail for fighting and packing heat and dollops of the n-word all around. I just wanted to shake them, and point to their children and say: "Do you see those? Those are EARS!"
At the Western/Wilshire stop, in Koreatown, a group of evangelicals were angrily singing Christmas Carols, in Korean. "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" came out soundling like "Deutchland Uber Alles." Then they started haranguing us that a) Jesus Loved Us and b) We were all Going to Hell if we if we didn’t Repent. NOW. This would be comical if it weren’t so scary. We export hate in the form of fundamentalism and then it gets re-imported. Talk about trade deficits. How about love deficits?
As I got on the bus, I flashed my day pass, and noticed the "23" on it. It took me a second, but I remembered this is the 8th anniversary of the death of my father. His last years were not the happiest, but the years before life had its share of compensations, chief among them my mom and their 5 kids. And one thing I can say about my Dad, is damn, he could parent. Really well. So here’s to you Dad. Forgive us if this Christmas, we will be toasting you with rum-free eggnog. But you go ahead.
And because, of course, I can finish no entry without a dash of redemption, (art mirroring life, of course) I leave you with the sweetest most angelic smile I received from a Madonna and Child on the same bus, right before we got off at Fairfax. There was so much love in the way that Mamacita stroked her little one’s hand, and truly, can you get any more of the Spirit of Christmas than a simple gesture like that?
I got mine. Hope you get yours.
MCO 2004
