Oh, That Funny Pun One!

Children's Hospital Oakland says...

“If laughter is medicine for the soul, then our resident funny man, PUN, is just what the doctor ordered. PUN has been a magician in our hospital for more than five years, entertaining kids with magic and fun! PUN, a former Hollywood game show producer, began volunteering in children's hospitals in his 30s and soon realized that bringing out the love already in the room was the real magic. "I just do tricks," he says, "but when I get the whole family laughing, that's the #magic for me." 

Pun says...

Posted on my Face Book Page with gratitude to UCSF Benioff Oakland for allowing me to witness the resourcefulness and caring of theTeachers, Child Life Specialists, Therapists, and Medical Staff and - most important - the CHILDREN AND THEIR FAMILIES. The pictures remind us that the children can still be children; still laugh and feel loved, even when experiencing challenges to their health and well-being. Whatever difference it might make, there would be no PUN if not for the inherently powerful children and the dedicated professionals who support them during their individual journeys.

Moose says...

So proud of this man who has honed his skills of using JUST the right amount of silly to help kids and their families cope with challenges posed by hospital stays away from home, away from familiar routines. Pun lights up faces, melts hearts, and offers one of the best medicines known to humans...

Laughter.

Thank you, Pun for your humanity and forty-eight years of laughter and tears together, plus all the stuff in between. 

I Love You!

Wendy Bird Has Flown

Harry and Annette Tarsky introduced me to Wendy when she came West for her Junior Year of High School at Belmont, downtown Los Angeles. She'd been to New York for her final year of elementary school years before coming to Los Angeles. Judy's mother, Katie Cool, called Wendy "a Worldly Girl."

When school started that hot September I had a REAL FRIEND on top of the dead-end hill where I grew up in Echo Park. We would slip in and out her bedroom window at the end of a winding path between our two houses so as not to rouse Lord Jim, the huge German Shepard who ruled the roost at the Tarsky's house. AND we carpooled together! Wendy turned sixteen in September, and I in October, 1964. We went to the DMV together and, mercifully, we both passed our written and driver's road tests on the first go. Celebration!

Harry graciously allowed Wendy to drive his huge Ford Econoline Van two days a week and my mom let me have her little yellow Volkswagen the other three days of the week. It was the time of dress codes requiring young women wear skirts or dresses and panty hose. Every Tuesday and Thursday, when Wendy got behind the wheel of that Econoline van, she’d snag the right knee area of her nylons on the damned metal spring that kept Harry’s leatherette and glassine window car registration holder snug to the upright steering column. "Damn!" She’d say. She didn't seem to care about the look so much as to enjoy the feeling of the snag causing the ladder to run all the way down her nylon to her ankle. And she was upset that she didn't remember that it would happen. Everytime. We laughed a lot in our carpool for two. 

Probably we had a few classes together, my memory is not so keen about much in High School, but one class I do remember is Chemistry with W. T. Smith, III. He had an infectious gap tooth smile that made his admonitions against blowing up the chem lab by pouring one beaker full of chemicals too quickly into another beaker full of chemicals seem friendly and not too, well, admonishing. On more than one occasion, the guys in our lab class deliberately tried to "blow things up." Wendy and I got through Chemistry, if not with great interest in the subject, then with delight in W. T. Smith, III and the entertainment of the other budding scientists in our group and the botched experiments we tried.

Coming out of class one day, I was distraught. I'd seen my father at Veteran's Hospital the day before. Dad had cancer of the everything. The doctors thought he'd live about six months before the cancer ate him completely. He lasted only two months. He was getting close to death when school was nearly ending in June, 1965. Wendy and I were walking down the hall. I was crying while telling her about the horrors of the VA patients and my dad being in coma. Someone coming the other way down the hallway waved and shouted "Hi, Mendy & Wendy." I smiled and waved back. Wendy pulled back her arm and slugged me HARD in the stomach. Oooof! "What the hell was that for?" I asked her. Angrily, she said, "Here you are crying about your dad when someone smiles at you and you flash this big phony smile back. That's not real. That's disgusting." I was embarrassed - as much to be seen crying as I was that she was right. I will ALWAYS remember that day and Wendy's earnest teaching, though it didn't stop me right away from being an appeaser and avoiding conflict. 

The day Wendy boarded the train at Union Station Downtown Los Angeles, to head back to Dayton and eventually her home town of Yellow Springs, Ohio, Judy and I accompanied her there, in my mother's yellow VW. We sat with her in that grand old Art Deco station signing one another's yearbooks. We cried and laughed, laughed and cried and melodramatically waved big fluttering white handkerchiefs at her when she boarded and her train started down the tracks. One of us had brought the hankies especially for the occasion. We waved until her hanging-out-the-window form was out of sight. There were real tears. Such was Wendy's impact on us during that formative year of eleventh grade.

Judy and I took the Greyhound bus all the way to Dayton later that summer of 1965. News of the Watts riots followed us across country in the headlines at every bus stop along Route 66. My dad was dead. I felt relief, grief, and anticipatory glee that we were on a road trip to see our dear Friendy Wendy. She picked us up in her blue VW bug and drove us immediately to Glen Helen to see the red rocks and iron-rich yellow water that gave her town, Yellow Springs, its name. For the very first time, I saw fireflies! Wendy opened the sun roof and let Judy and me take turns standing up to catch the soft moist breeze as she whooshed us through this iconically verdant glen. I think I caught a few fireflies in my teeth, as well. I can still imagine I feel that magical moist wind on my face, blowing my hair behind me. 

One night, during our two week stay, the three of us went to the only movie house in town. "Psycho" was playing. It had just been released. In this college town, everyone knew what was going on and when. Wendy took us to the donut house a few doors down from the theater. Fresh baking donuts on a warm summer night smelled gorgeous. We approached the counter to place our order. It was just past midnight. The guy behind the counter pulled a huge butcher knife up from behind the counter with a look on his face very much like Anthony Perkins. EVERYONE in the shop screamed. Judy, Wendy and I screamed the loudest. An indelible memory.

Years later, Wendy went to live in San Francisco. Judy had five-year-old Corbin, I had two-year-old Mosa, and Annet had four-year-old Devon and two-year-old Luke. We were three tired and very grubby moms from L.A. camping out in Big Basin Redwood State Park. The kids invented Chocolate Make-Up and covered themselves completely with the fine rich brown silt mixed with water. As dusk colored the kids golden brown and the redwoods blazed greenish gold in the sunset, up the road came the most welcomed sight we could imagine: Wendy Rae Dallas with a car full of treasure. Dark fell quickly, but we could see by candle light the unimaginable feast she brought to share with us... a whole fresh salmon purchased that very day at Fisherman's Wharf, two bottles of Pouillyfuissés wine, fresh corn-on-the-cob, sourdough bread, real china plates, and real crystal wine goblets. After putting the kids to bed, we came out to find the fish, which she'd wrapped in foil to bake over the fire with lemon and onion, perfectly done, ditto the corn and bread. Each of us tired mamas got down and kissed Wendy's feet. Then we feasted and toasted and laughed and played Scrabble. THAT was the way to camp! I don't recall if Wendy stayed the night. I do remember her on another camp-out climbing up into the pine trees and me following her up. We set up a competition to see who could go higher. Wendy always won. We got up to the tippy tippy top of these graceful old trees in Idylwild. That July and we sang at the top of our lungs, "Oh, Holy night, the stars are brightly shining…."  It had been our ritual over the years whenever we met that Wendy and I would sing and harmonize on that song... falling on our knees and generally acting out the lyrics in silly pantomime to keep from crying a the sheer beauty of our harmonies together. 

When Anne and Wendy met and fell in love and began life together, it was a joyful time for me and Wendy's Angelino friends from Echo Park and Belmont High. She always fit-in, though I don't think she felt that way. Who did in High School?  Her authenticity, humor and ability to create mirth wherever she went, and her vision to see the human inside all of us children of all ages shall linger longer in my memory than will the harder times she faced at the end. 

Thank you, Anne, for being the love of her life and encouraging Wendy Bird to soar.

With so much Love and gratitude for you on the planet. You broadcast love from every pore of your being, Anne!

~ Melinda

January 2020

Crispy Critters Help Us See

Crispy critters in Australia

Billion dead or hurt

Big numbers I cannot fathom

Scorched land cannot feed those left

Still alive but scarred and scared.

Humanity steps forward

But Naught can be done

Without acknowledging

We made this mess

Can we un-make it?

We're frogs in cool water

Industry's turned up the heat

So slowly we’ve not yet jumped

All are being cooked alive 

Too late to jump?

Too late to turn down the temp?

We've known.  Exxon has known 

Suppressed facts. Greedy bastards.

Dupont’s duplicitous

Monsanto’s maniacal

Alcoa ain't altruistic

Shell sells us shit

We drown in it.

Horse blinders in place, we pace

Woe to us, trailing carbon 

With each misstep,

Poisoning ourselves because it’s convenient,

Addictive, this "better living through chemistry."

Let carbon that is in the ground stay there.

Cartoon Pogo said in 1955:

Wanna stay alive? 

"We have met the enemy

The Enemy is US."

Songwriter Joe Henry says Harry Belafonte

Thinks hip-hop is folk music.

Some hip-hop has been co-opted 

Works against its listeners.

Discounting, demeaning women 

Out of anger or angst is to

Demean and discount

The Mother of us all: Mama Earth.

Across the board,

Across all waters, we're angry, hurt, and desperate.

When will we ever learn...

Another folk song...

When will we e-e-e-ver learn?

Krispy Koalas offer us another

View of consequences present,

Consequences to come 

Lest we not jump out of hot water we're in

And race like hell to turn down the heat

Question EVERYthing used, bought, supported.

Question from the perspective of this: 

Is what I'm about to 

Do, Buy, or Use good for the children's 

Children's children's children

To the SEVENTH GENERATION??

If not, I vow not to buy, use, support.

To the best  of my ability.

Untangling the threads of industry,

Chemistry and consequences 

Takes time, takes patience, takes persistence

Not to do that dooms us all

Koalas and Kangas hold for us, perhaps, 

The most iconic rank of cuteness

Will images of them burnt to a crisp melt our hearts and 

Steel our resolve to question Captains of Industry for TRUTH?

If not, what will??

Maybe each of us has a personal tipping point.

What's mine?

Age seven I saw critter bones in oil ooze in Los Angeles

La Brea Tar Pits.

I questioned

At 27, when about to birth my first child

Into a polluted, at war world

I questioned

At 45, I was healing personal affronts 

From my father's unconscious acts of rage

I questioned the raging idiocy of greed

At 63, embarking on hands-on grand parenting,

I questioned more deeply,

Knit Pussy Hats in protest of industry and oligarchs 

Taking over our government, 

Dismantling EPA (Hah! What a joke!)

It has been cross pollinating 

WITH captains of industry since inception.

Revolving door was built between EPA and Monsanto!

Money talks!

They scratch each other's backs as they spin around and

Around and around ~ pulling wool, not pussy hats over our eyes

The friction of it all boosts 

World wide temperatures by 

Geometric proportions

We're cooked. Skewered. Fried

And as vulnerable to burning extinction 

As our dearest, most fragile brethren -

Koalas, kangas, insects we'll never know.

Koalas sleep eighteen hours a day.

We cannot afford to do that.

Guardians/stewards must be vigilant.

Can we grow up and SEE in 2020

Our responsibility? Please?!

2020 Vision

My wish for you and all your dear ones: 

Gracious time to be together with those you love, good friends, appropriate challenges, a place where others may shine their love on  you and appreciate your brilliance, and a place where you can shine a light for others, delight in the natural world, good health, time for deep relaxation, cultural and intellectual stimulation, and success in all your endeavors.

I wish for all humans that 2020 bring us CLEAR VISION 

so we may SEE that 

we are ALL ONE FAMILY, 

navigating a somewhat hostile space 

in ONE lifeboat called EARTH, 

and all we have for setting our course safely are oars and rudder fashioned 

of our civility, compassion, 

and respect for one another and 

for all life, creatures, stones, soil, and waters 

on the planet.

May 2020 be kind to you.

Thank you for checking in with 

My Monday Muse from time to time. 

I write for myself, but I'm happy to share.