August 18th… I always look for reassurance from the Universe on that day~ August 18th is a day that my only child Sam, was in a fatal car cras. He was only 14. Killed by a troubled recidivist-I feel awkwardness from so many people when they see me. Mostly, parents still… it will be 10 years this August 18th… I often wish people would meet me in what is. As opposed to the awkwardness of trying to say the perfect thing, or pretending… I made a promise to myself/Sam. That this’ is the year that I don’t care take others’ awkwardness… That I choose to be open honest and most importantly Joyful in my TRUTH. This may look’ weird. I may laugh/cry…OPENLY. It’s they remaining in a tight bud that feels constricting. I’ll make a promise to DANCE on August 18th. Jon’s song Freedom helped to crack my heart open. The Isolation Journals serve as salve for my broken heart. Thank you both…🙏🏻❤️🔥🌀🦋🤍❤️🩹
Here is an old story “awkward moment” that reveals a core “me-ness” and definitely worth a good laugh. In high school I was following my family expectation to play a musical instrument in the school band. The band teacher was a friend of the family. My brother and two sisters played their chosen instruments well, read music, and carried on the family tradition. Even as a younger child I couldn’t make sense of reading music and playing, in that case, a clarinet as expected. Rumor has it that I bent the clarinet around a tree because it “wouldn’t play as expected”.
A few years later, the band needed a baritone(euphonium) player. I joined the band, improvising and faking(I still couldn’t make sense of reading music). The rarity of players for this instrument led to my being chosen for “all-city band”. One day at rehearsal a band leader from another school stood behind me, stopped the rehearsal, and demanded I play from the sheet music. I couldn’t. At the end of rehearsal a student from my school passed me and said “I hope you know you’ve embarrassed the whole school.” Needless to say that ended my band playing career. I put down the baritone, picked up a blues harmonica, and continue to this day improvising. Now, I play flutes in hospitals. Create music videos using my own photographs, flutes, and Garageband compositions. That awkward moment had become rich compost for a different garden, one of my own making. That cosmic force that generates creativity guides me with such Beauty and compassion. Improvisation is itself a lovely form of laughter. Ongoing, forever. 🏮
Sometimes the Universe smiles and maybe laughs throwing a second chance in our path. Two Catholic schools kids who spent everyday together in the same homeroom for twelve years. Go to the senior prom together. Date a bit while attending two different colleges. He joins ROTC to pay for college (and hoping to see the world.) It is the early ‘80s. No social media or instant communication available. They drift apart. He off to do hard things around the world in the military and in a challenging marriage. She finds herself unexpectedly pregnant and marries, hoping that she can make it all work.
Forty years pass. He is now a widower. She finding herself after 25 years of marriage and divorce. He gathers the courage to send an awkward note through FB Messager. Leading eventually to awkward 60 year olds realtime encounter. He tells her that their senior prom was the worst night of his life. She spent more time with her girlfriends than with him because he refused to open the car door for her. So much awkwardness. The Universe smiles. The second chance is given and taken. A simple Zoom wedding takes place April 25, 2020. Now the two 65 year olds gently (and still sometimes awkwardly!) find their way forward together with persistence and courage.
I have one. I did IVF for the first time in 2010 in NYC. I’d been a physician for ten years. And I was nervous as heck to get it all right. The big day came to transfer the embryos. I couldn’t think right. The instructions said to drink 150 milliliters or some such, so that I’d have a moderately filled bladder for the ultrasound. I drank waaaay too much water. And I was afraid to pee before the transfer. Dr. Stern did some BS look at these embryos implanting in your uterine lining- unnecessary “look at this” that’s just for show. My husband Frank was in the operating room for the transfer. Then the room emptied to just me and the Nurse with me lying on my back in that cold operating room for 45 minutes, cold in a hospital gown, dying from trying not to pee. Finally I was crying because I had to pee so bad. The Nurse asked me why I was crying? That question was much bigger than she meant. The existential answer was I’d tried so hard all my life, and this baby wasn’t coming and all that sea 🌊 of hopelessness was swallowing me. The immediate answer was my bladder was about to burst from needing to pee. So I begged her could I get up and go pee. She said “No,” and brought me a bedpan to slide under me as I was still lying flat on my back. And the bedpan wasn’t that big and my urine overflowed the bedpan like a flood, pouring onto the operating table, running onto the floor. And I was apologizing through tears 😭 for making a mess and messing up the operating room. The nurse tried to brush me off lightheadedly saying “It’s not a big deal,” she laughed. “They’ll clean it up.” Her reassurances didn’t help. I kept thinking “It’s not a big deal to you cause you’re not lying on your back half naked.” It wasn’t a big deal to her. But it sure as hell was a big deal to me. And now I just laugh at the absurdity of it all. I’d go on from Roosevelt to Cornell where they don’t do the big show ultrasound, thank goodness. I kept trying IVF for the next few years trying and trying and trying again, and now I can see- I was so eager, so obedient, trying way to hard. And now I just think of Charles Bukowski’s tombstone 🪦 saying “Don’t Try.” He was right, that drunk bastard.
Love this: “perseverance: knowing you might fail at something and still having full faith that you can see it through.”
My father used to tell the story about going to a Broadway play in the early 1960s. During intermission, he found himself standing next to Groucho Marx. Excited but a bit dumbfounded, he turned and blurted, “I know you!” Without missing a beat, Groucho said, “Tell me your name and I’ll know you, too.”
Thank you for sharing your prayer: "May I be awake enough to notice when love appears, and bold enough to pursue it without knowing where it will lead." When I read this words I thought--that's it--those are the words to use in so many situations where I'm praying for guidance--May I be awake enough to notice (fill in the blanks) "opportunities when they appear...and bold enough to pursue them." Thank you so much for this, and for your beautiful work.
“Glorious Awkwardness”! Omg. 😂😂😂 “I done fumigated the Queen.” I needed this gem of glorious laughter. Thank you. Gotta fly! Working today. May you, Jon, and your beloveds have a day of wonder, rest, and giggles. Be well.
University of Maryland, 1982 and I am looking for "The North Gym." The campus is a small city. I end up lost and on a farm! The Ode de Manure was strong on that August day. I was in tears, and I flagged a farmer down on his tractor. He dismounted, ambled over in his well worm overalls, a smile on his face and before I could say a word, he kindly offered, "You must be one of them students. This is still the campus. It 's where the Ag. majors do their real-life studies. Now here, wipe your eyes." He handed me a bandana he had in his back pocket and I stupidly handed it back, filled with my snot and sorrow. He pointed the way to North Gym, I thanked him profusely and kicked myself all the way for a. getting lost (I have no sense of direction and get lost all the time) and b. for troubling a farmer doing his job. The campus has grown exponentially since then, and the farm is but a little part, surrounded by new science buildings, but it's still there. It took me years to not die of embarrassment from this story, and now I cherish it so dearly as part of my life. Thank you, Jon, for your sweet honesty and dear Suleika for daring to send up a prayer and trust.
Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm starting my 9th graders with a project called First Person from KQED and we've been viewing 60 Second Docs to see the kinds of stories people tell, but I was struggling for a transition for Monday and this is PERFECT. It's also eerily apt since I was already using Jon-Baptiste's Freedom video as a metaphor for our class culture as we move into sharing our thoughts in discussion and writing. Serendipity is weird and wonderful.
Aug 13, 2023·edited Aug 14, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt
It was sometime in the mid 80s, I lived in West Virginia, in a relationship that I call my practice marriage. There was a town, Fayetteville,-(I originally said Lewisberg but it was Fayetteville), near the New River Gorge that I regularly went to because of an antique store, Red Door Antiques.
I was a regular participant in a yearly quilt show in Beckley and they had a category for antique quilts, and I had stopped at Red Door to return a vintage red and white quilt that the shop owner had sent to be displayed in that show.
As I was getting out of my car, I came face to face with James Earl Jones who was there filming the movie Matewan. He was exploring the area and had just come out of the antique shop.
In my blundering, babbling way, I said, “It’s you!” He replied, “Yes, it is.” I then said, “I, um, I…you know me! I mean, I know you! You’re…you are…” And he said, “James Earl Jones.” My mortifying reply? No, you’re thinking of somebody else!” He was most certainly James Earl Jones. He knew it and I knew it.
I apologized, and said, “Of course you’re James Earl Jones.” He gave that hearty laugh, as only he can, shook my hand, and walked away leaving me star-struck and speechless on the sidewalk.
I found out on my next visit that he had returned and purchased the quilt that I was returning on that day, when I thoroughly lost my ability to participate in a coherent way with one of the most incredible human beings on this planet.
It was reaffirmed to me that we’re all just people. He was gracious and kind and I drove home with gratitude for having crossed paths with this remarkable man.
Sometime close to a witching hour, I woke up and thought of the littles in my life. I have some of their ashes which will go along with me. I went upstairs and thought of them. Sent with deep appreciation of Sunday Morning in a Zone.
What a pair you are together! How powerful you are individually! Dance to Jon’s music every am for my exercise and read, read, read Suleika’s wisdom! My awkwardness and fails on so many acting auditions--some I truly sucked at and other auditions, when I thought I was great--I would get a polite “ thank you”. Acting is a hard and sometimes wonderful and sometimes awful journey, but I never give up, and all of this lead me to standup storytelling--this is what I was meant to do--creating my own words, true stories of moments in my past, and now feeling like the stage is home--this is what I was mean to do!
Before I begin I want to say I remember all too well, the night it was announced that Jon was leaving the Stephen Colbert show. I was really bummed but I understood why it had to be and how busy he was.
Now, my memory of awkward moments are full. So many, which one to mention. Taking a deep breath haha! I don’t tell many people this and mostly family members know. I was out with female friends at our monthly dinners at different restaurants. We all had a drink or two. I normally have one because I drive home. Someone said something about having two marriages under their belt. I bluntly said I have been married 5 times. Silence!!
I decided to explain. When I was 18, I met a guy who was in the army. He was quite the charmer. We ended up eloping and I moved to Oklahoma where he was stationed. Less than a month later he said he changed his mind and wanted me to go home. I said I could not drive across country alone and he said leave the car and I will pay for it and your ticket home. He had planned it all along. I got a divorce. The next husband is the father of my children and after 17 years I divorced him. He was very abusive. #3 was a charmer as well and a womanizer. I divorced him after 5 months. #4 was a wonderful man I met through work. We were married 16 years when he died of brain cancer. My husband now is #5 and will be my last husband. He is truly my soulmate.
My friends don’t mention it to me anymore. But they loved it when I told them my story, that I now have told you.
Loved the fantastic/cringeworthy tale of “stanky Jon” brushing greatness with Music Royalties! 😂🤩😂
August 18th - great anticipation of listening to World Radio!! My husband Scott and I were JB fans before I even knew of Suleika. My dad was born on that day , which was also the day that ratified the law allowing women the right to vote! Now I will also remember Peg who lost her beloved boy, Sam on that day.
Isn’t that a picture of the cosmic soup of life? August 18th holds anticipation, grief, celebration, victory and loss ... one thing holding it all together is love! Grateful for “the soup” so well represented by this amazing community 🤩❤️
Awkward moments? Let me count the ways! I was a sophomore at Boston University studying music in 1971. Mose Allison was performing in a small jazz club on Boylston St. I didn't know about cover charges or drink minimums (I was 19 in 1971!) and I just walked in. A kind bouncer let me in and gave me a seat behind a large concrete pillar. I felt very conspicuous yet grateful and decided it was appropriate for me to leave after the first set. I thanked the kind bouncer and climbed the stairs to Boylston St. and practically bumped into Mose at the top of the stairs. 'Hi Mose, you were really good,' says I. Seriously? Like he didn't already know that? I should have genuflected and been on my way. What I learned from that small, insignificant experience is that musicians are generous and people are kind. Take the risk. Thank you Jon and Suleika.
August 18th… I always look for reassurance from the Universe on that day~ August 18th is a day that my only child Sam, was in a fatal car cras. He was only 14. Killed by a troubled recidivist-I feel awkwardness from so many people when they see me. Mostly, parents still… it will be 10 years this August 18th… I often wish people would meet me in what is. As opposed to the awkwardness of trying to say the perfect thing, or pretending… I made a promise to myself/Sam. That this’ is the year that I don’t care take others’ awkwardness… That I choose to be open honest and most importantly Joyful in my TRUTH. This may look’ weird. I may laugh/cry…OPENLY. It’s they remaining in a tight bud that feels constricting. I’ll make a promise to DANCE on August 18th. Jon’s song Freedom helped to crack my heart open. The Isolation Journals serve as salve for my broken heart. Thank you both…🙏🏻❤️🔥🌀🦋🤍❤️🩹
Here is an old story “awkward moment” that reveals a core “me-ness” and definitely worth a good laugh. In high school I was following my family expectation to play a musical instrument in the school band. The band teacher was a friend of the family. My brother and two sisters played their chosen instruments well, read music, and carried on the family tradition. Even as a younger child I couldn’t make sense of reading music and playing, in that case, a clarinet as expected. Rumor has it that I bent the clarinet around a tree because it “wouldn’t play as expected”.
A few years later, the band needed a baritone(euphonium) player. I joined the band, improvising and faking(I still couldn’t make sense of reading music). The rarity of players for this instrument led to my being chosen for “all-city band”. One day at rehearsal a band leader from another school stood behind me, stopped the rehearsal, and demanded I play from the sheet music. I couldn’t. At the end of rehearsal a student from my school passed me and said “I hope you know you’ve embarrassed the whole school.” Needless to say that ended my band playing career. I put down the baritone, picked up a blues harmonica, and continue to this day improvising. Now, I play flutes in hospitals. Create music videos using my own photographs, flutes, and Garageband compositions. That awkward moment had become rich compost for a different garden, one of my own making. That cosmic force that generates creativity guides me with such Beauty and compassion. Improvisation is itself a lovely form of laughter. Ongoing, forever. 🏮
Sometimes the Universe smiles and maybe laughs throwing a second chance in our path. Two Catholic schools kids who spent everyday together in the same homeroom for twelve years. Go to the senior prom together. Date a bit while attending two different colleges. He joins ROTC to pay for college (and hoping to see the world.) It is the early ‘80s. No social media or instant communication available. They drift apart. He off to do hard things around the world in the military and in a challenging marriage. She finds herself unexpectedly pregnant and marries, hoping that she can make it all work.
Forty years pass. He is now a widower. She finding herself after 25 years of marriage and divorce. He gathers the courage to send an awkward note through FB Messager. Leading eventually to awkward 60 year olds realtime encounter. He tells her that their senior prom was the worst night of his life. She spent more time with her girlfriends than with him because he refused to open the car door for her. So much awkwardness. The Universe smiles. The second chance is given and taken. A simple Zoom wedding takes place April 25, 2020. Now the two 65 year olds gently (and still sometimes awkwardly!) find their way forward together with persistence and courage.
I have one. I did IVF for the first time in 2010 in NYC. I’d been a physician for ten years. And I was nervous as heck to get it all right. The big day came to transfer the embryos. I couldn’t think right. The instructions said to drink 150 milliliters or some such, so that I’d have a moderately filled bladder for the ultrasound. I drank waaaay too much water. And I was afraid to pee before the transfer. Dr. Stern did some BS look at these embryos implanting in your uterine lining- unnecessary “look at this” that’s just for show. My husband Frank was in the operating room for the transfer. Then the room emptied to just me and the Nurse with me lying on my back in that cold operating room for 45 minutes, cold in a hospital gown, dying from trying not to pee. Finally I was crying because I had to pee so bad. The Nurse asked me why I was crying? That question was much bigger than she meant. The existential answer was I’d tried so hard all my life, and this baby wasn’t coming and all that sea 🌊 of hopelessness was swallowing me. The immediate answer was my bladder was about to burst from needing to pee. So I begged her could I get up and go pee. She said “No,” and brought me a bedpan to slide under me as I was still lying flat on my back. And the bedpan wasn’t that big and my urine overflowed the bedpan like a flood, pouring onto the operating table, running onto the floor. And I was apologizing through tears 😭 for making a mess and messing up the operating room. The nurse tried to brush me off lightheadedly saying “It’s not a big deal,” she laughed. “They’ll clean it up.” Her reassurances didn’t help. I kept thinking “It’s not a big deal to you cause you’re not lying on your back half naked.” It wasn’t a big deal to her. But it sure as hell was a big deal to me. And now I just laugh at the absurdity of it all. I’d go on from Roosevelt to Cornell where they don’t do the big show ultrasound, thank goodness. I kept trying IVF for the next few years trying and trying and trying again, and now I can see- I was so eager, so obedient, trying way to hard. And now I just think of Charles Bukowski’s tombstone 🪦 saying “Don’t Try.” He was right, that drunk bastard.
Love this: “perseverance: knowing you might fail at something and still having full faith that you can see it through.”
My father used to tell the story about going to a Broadway play in the early 1960s. During intermission, he found himself standing next to Groucho Marx. Excited but a bit dumbfounded, he turned and blurted, “I know you!” Without missing a beat, Groucho said, “Tell me your name and I’ll know you, too.”
Thank you for sharing your prayer: "May I be awake enough to notice when love appears, and bold enough to pursue it without knowing where it will lead." When I read this words I thought--that's it--those are the words to use in so many situations where I'm praying for guidance--May I be awake enough to notice (fill in the blanks) "opportunities when they appear...and bold enough to pursue them." Thank you so much for this, and for your beautiful work.
“Glorious Awkwardness”! Omg. 😂😂😂 “I done fumigated the Queen.” I needed this gem of glorious laughter. Thank you. Gotta fly! Working today. May you, Jon, and your beloveds have a day of wonder, rest, and giggles. Be well.
University of Maryland, 1982 and I am looking for "The North Gym." The campus is a small city. I end up lost and on a farm! The Ode de Manure was strong on that August day. I was in tears, and I flagged a farmer down on his tractor. He dismounted, ambled over in his well worm overalls, a smile on his face and before I could say a word, he kindly offered, "You must be one of them students. This is still the campus. It 's where the Ag. majors do their real-life studies. Now here, wipe your eyes." He handed me a bandana he had in his back pocket and I stupidly handed it back, filled with my snot and sorrow. He pointed the way to North Gym, I thanked him profusely and kicked myself all the way for a. getting lost (I have no sense of direction and get lost all the time) and b. for troubling a farmer doing his job. The campus has grown exponentially since then, and the farm is but a little part, surrounded by new science buildings, but it's still there. It took me years to not die of embarrassment from this story, and now I cherish it so dearly as part of my life. Thank you, Jon, for your sweet honesty and dear Suleika for daring to send up a prayer and trust.
Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm starting my 9th graders with a project called First Person from KQED and we've been viewing 60 Second Docs to see the kinds of stories people tell, but I was struggling for a transition for Monday and this is PERFECT. It's also eerily apt since I was already using Jon-Baptiste's Freedom video as a metaphor for our class culture as we move into sharing our thoughts in discussion and writing. Serendipity is weird and wonderful.
It was sometime in the mid 80s, I lived in West Virginia, in a relationship that I call my practice marriage. There was a town, Fayetteville,-(I originally said Lewisberg but it was Fayetteville), near the New River Gorge that I regularly went to because of an antique store, Red Door Antiques.
I was a regular participant in a yearly quilt show in Beckley and they had a category for antique quilts, and I had stopped at Red Door to return a vintage red and white quilt that the shop owner had sent to be displayed in that show.
As I was getting out of my car, I came face to face with James Earl Jones who was there filming the movie Matewan. He was exploring the area and had just come out of the antique shop.
In my blundering, babbling way, I said, “It’s you!” He replied, “Yes, it is.” I then said, “I, um, I…you know me! I mean, I know you! You’re…you are…” And he said, “James Earl Jones.” My mortifying reply? No, you’re thinking of somebody else!” He was most certainly James Earl Jones. He knew it and I knew it.
I apologized, and said, “Of course you’re James Earl Jones.” He gave that hearty laugh, as only he can, shook my hand, and walked away leaving me star-struck and speechless on the sidewalk.
I found out on my next visit that he had returned and purchased the quilt that I was returning on that day, when I thoroughly lost my ability to participate in a coherent way with one of the most incredible human beings on this planet.
It was reaffirmed to me that we’re all just people. He was gracious and kind and I drove home with gratitude for having crossed paths with this remarkable man.
Sometime close to a witching hour, I woke up and thought of the littles in my life. I have some of their ashes which will go along with me. I went upstairs and thought of them. Sent with deep appreciation of Sunday Morning in a Zone.
This union is of 2 wonderful soul shakers gift makers and all of us Love both yo stuff - PapaRuss
What a pair you are together! How powerful you are individually! Dance to Jon’s music every am for my exercise and read, read, read Suleika’s wisdom! My awkwardness and fails on so many acting auditions--some I truly sucked at and other auditions, when I thought I was great--I would get a polite “ thank you”. Acting is a hard and sometimes wonderful and sometimes awful journey, but I never give up, and all of this lead me to standup storytelling--this is what I was meant to do--creating my own words, true stories of moments in my past, and now feeling like the stage is home--this is what I was mean to do!
Before I begin I want to say I remember all too well, the night it was announced that Jon was leaving the Stephen Colbert show. I was really bummed but I understood why it had to be and how busy he was.
Now, my memory of awkward moments are full. So many, which one to mention. Taking a deep breath haha! I don’t tell many people this and mostly family members know. I was out with female friends at our monthly dinners at different restaurants. We all had a drink or two. I normally have one because I drive home. Someone said something about having two marriages under their belt. I bluntly said I have been married 5 times. Silence!!
I decided to explain. When I was 18, I met a guy who was in the army. He was quite the charmer. We ended up eloping and I moved to Oklahoma where he was stationed. Less than a month later he said he changed his mind and wanted me to go home. I said I could not drive across country alone and he said leave the car and I will pay for it and your ticket home. He had planned it all along. I got a divorce. The next husband is the father of my children and after 17 years I divorced him. He was very abusive. #3 was a charmer as well and a womanizer. I divorced him after 5 months. #4 was a wonderful man I met through work. We were married 16 years when he died of brain cancer. My husband now is #5 and will be my last husband. He is truly my soulmate.
My friends don’t mention it to me anymore. But they loved it when I told them my story, that I now have told you.
Loved the fantastic/cringeworthy tale of “stanky Jon” brushing greatness with Music Royalties! 😂🤩😂
August 18th - great anticipation of listening to World Radio!! My husband Scott and I were JB fans before I even knew of Suleika. My dad was born on that day , which was also the day that ratified the law allowing women the right to vote! Now I will also remember Peg who lost her beloved boy, Sam on that day.
Isn’t that a picture of the cosmic soup of life? August 18th holds anticipation, grief, celebration, victory and loss ... one thing holding it all together is love! Grateful for “the soup” so well represented by this amazing community 🤩❤️
Awkward moments? Let me count the ways! I was a sophomore at Boston University studying music in 1971. Mose Allison was performing in a small jazz club on Boylston St. I didn't know about cover charges or drink minimums (I was 19 in 1971!) and I just walked in. A kind bouncer let me in and gave me a seat behind a large concrete pillar. I felt very conspicuous yet grateful and decided it was appropriate for me to leave after the first set. I thanked the kind bouncer and climbed the stairs to Boylston St. and practically bumped into Mose at the top of the stairs. 'Hi Mose, you were really good,' says I. Seriously? Like he didn't already know that? I should have genuflected and been on my way. What I learned from that small, insignificant experience is that musicians are generous and people are kind. Take the risk. Thank you Jon and Suleika.