Today is a big day. At 8:30 this evening I will host an open mic poetry reading in memory of my friend Jennifer Diskin. She died in December. She fought cancer for something like 15 years.

I will stand up and welcome people and keep all the readers moving along and organized. My friends will be there for me. Except for my friend Jen.

What did I learn from Jen? Besides how to write poetry and read it in public? Besides how to pursue what you want no matter what the odds?  Besides how to be yourself no matter who wanted to push or pound or shove you into their box?

I learned how to say, "If I were Jen what would I want?" If I were in a wheel chair and it was hard to get out would I want somebody to come and take me to the writers group? If I were in a nursing home and only 35 would I want to go out? If I were in the hospital not getting better would I want a visit?

I learned from Jen. I'm not tooting my own horn, as my mother used to say, or trying to make anybody feel bad for or with me. I'm just saying that now I know what the golden rule was really about.

Will I be able to visit someone else in the hospital? I sure hope so. Will I be able to stand up and honor Jen tonight? Sure. I'll just say, "What would Jen want me to do?" And maybe I'll be able to imagine what that will be.

What I Learned From Owynn Oatman

I attended a party the other day where everybody knew the Oatman family, our hosts, but everybody didn’t know everybody else. We limped along making small talk, a little awkward, but mostly okay. 

Except for a quiet man who just sat in the corner of the couch and let his gregarious wife do the work.  She made eye contact and spoke to everybody in the room. He didn’t quite look anyone in the face.  I thought he must be counting the minutes until he could get up and go home. 

Until Owynn approached him. 

Owynn is nine months old, has a winning smile and cute little chubby cheeks that just don’t stop. She wobbles now instead of walks or crawls. She pulls herself up and then reaches for an adult hand. She’s sure one will be there. Then she wobbles forward a step or two until she reaches the couch. 

She did this several times with the Gregarious Wife, but then tried it when she wasn’t looking. The Quiet Man leaned forward and extended his index finger. 

Owynn grabbed it and did her wobble to the couch. She smiled at him and, you guessed it, he smiled back. He couldn’t help himself. He had a gentle warm smile and it took Owynn to show it to us all. 

Stay child-like little Owynn, and keep those sweet, chubby cheeks.