Tag Archives: family

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Brothered

Brothered

I have no living blood siblings. However, I have five brothers. And a sixth, who is mean, so we won’t count him.

One is my neighbor from Alexandria, Virginia, from when I was 14.

Two others are from college: I lived with the family, old friends of my parents, for a year.

The fourth is my Danish exchange brother.

The fifth is my brother out-law, my niece’s father.

I am very well brothered. Three are mixed Caucasian/African American, one is Chinese American, and the other is Danish. I have a very diverse group of brothers.

My brother out-law owns a bike shop. I took him the t-shirt pictured, boxed in a beer six pack box. He is very pleased because he runs a bike shop. The t-shirt won’t fit him but he promptly hung it up. The t-shirt is a hand me down from my daughter to me and now to him.

I am blessed to be so well brothered!

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Mitochondrial envy

Just think if Dr. Freud were alive today.

He’d be studying mitochondrial envy.

After all, the sperm have no mitochondria. Only the egg has mitochondria, so the mitochondria are matrilineal, from the mother only. And it is from mother to daughter to daughter that they are handed down.

I have a photograph of my mother’s mother’s mother. Mary Robbins White. She is looking straight at the camera, no smile, serious. Her thoughts are contained, her eyes give nothing away. I have photographs of my mother’s mother, my mother, me and my daughter, all with the same expression. On guard.

The mitochondria are the powerhouses of the cells as well. They may have been a separate cell that moved in and made a deal with a larger cell: you take care of me and I will power you. An exchange. A bargain. A treaty. Sounds like a sensible female move to me.

My son has my mitochondria. His children, if he has them, will have his wife’s mitochondria. I think he has chosen well. I like her very much. I hope to see grandchildren.

Perhaps mitochondria are the magic that early hominoids worship when they make the earth figurine, the stone figure with generous breasts and belly and hips. The nurturer, the fecund mother, the destroying hungry mother who swallows her children and will not let them go.

I am reading Joseph Campbell, Myths to Live By, 1972. I wonder what he would say about the matrilineal mitochondria, the second set of genetic material in each cell, the part that comes from the mother only. I think he would be fascinated and he would be writing another book.

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Dinosaur dreams

Dinosaur Dreams

The problem
With Intelligent Design
Is those old bones
Those dinosaurs

Also that of 10,000 dreams of creation
One would be right
And the followers of all the others
Consigned to hell
If so, I go gladly, clutching
Dinosaur bones to my chest
And will enjoy the diversity
Not the narrow heaven with a narrow
Small-minded deity

But is evolution right?

Well, I think it’s on the right track

But wholly done and all correct?

After all, think how often
Medicine has been wrong
Think of tobacco and vioxx
Think of Galen, over 2000 years ago
Thinking that evil humors built up in the uterus
Causing hysteria
External pelvic massage was the cure
For over 2000 years
For old maids, widows and nuns
Who had no male to cleave unto
Massage was a treatment into the early 1900s
And now we wonder about prozac too

Evolution is an evolving science

I think of when my son was four
And he watched “Jurassic Park”
Against my wishes
Because I thought it was too violent
He studied it carefully many times

One day he asked me, anxiously,
“Mom, is DNA real?”
To check that it wasn’t another of those Santa stories
I was able to reassure him
Yes, I think DNA is real
He was pleased

A few days later he announced
That when he grows up
He wants to be a plant and animal scientist
Extract DNA from amber
And grow those dinosaurs

A laudable ambition
For any four year old

If God left the dinosaur bones
Around to fool us
And they never lived
She has a nasty sense of humor
And my son and I will not forgive

I believe in evolution
And dream of dinosaurs

written in 2009

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adult doll house

When mom leaves in the car with the kids, dad gets trashed on beer and destroys the living room. Yes, there is an enormous black panther in the background. Will it eat dad? Maybe it will wait until some of the alcohol wears off. He won’t taste as good drunk.

_______________________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Tiger.

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Hurricane Ridge

This is my mother’s biggest watercolor painting. I have it hanging in my guest room. It is huge and gorgeous, nearly the width of the double bed.

I miss her. Helen Burling Ottaway. I will put more of her artwork up. She died in 2000, but I still have the art.

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out of the ooze

Over the winter holidays, my daughter and I flew to see family in Maryland. We stayed in a very small circle of people. It snowed and the Smithsonian was closed for a couple days, but I went in on my last day before returning home.

I like the confusing reflections in this picture. Maybe the skeletons are confused about being on display too.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: ooze.

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acoustic bicycle

Over KwanChunChrisSoliday, we discuss bicycles. We now have a plethora of electric bicycles, so we need a phrase that describes the “old” style bicycle. We came up with acoustic or analog. I like acoustic bicycle, because it sings.

My friend B-from-Arlington (BfA): “But they don’t make noise.” He didn’t approve of either idea.

“Well, we had spoke bells, and playing cards. My bikes make noise.” Sometimes it’s me making it.

We are riding on a rails to trails path in Northern Virginia. Seven of us and me on oxygen. It’s only my second bike ride since March 2021, when my lungs fell apart. We are all on acoustic bicycles.

I feel pretty strong for most of it, 14.5 miles. It seems flat, though it is a very gentle downgrade, until the last 0.5 mile, which is gently up hill. Oh, my lungs don’t like that bit at all and by now my muscles are saying Why are we doing this? I am relieved when we get to the coffee shop destination. Three of us will stay there, while the other four will ride back and get the cars. I hang out with K-f-A, BfA’s spouse, and their son. Their son examines my phone, asks why it has four camera eyes. I have no idea, so he proceeds to figure it out. We play with the slow motion camera for a while.

We know what a penny farthing is, and safety bicycles and tricycles. The early safety bicycles did not have brakes and had wooden rims and wooden spokes. My brother outlaw has one, from the 1880 or 90s. Another friend collects penny farthings and has one that is entirely of cast iron. It would be a little bumpy and the seat is pretty hard. It is also massively heavy. So now we add acoustic bicycles to the electric ones.

Go, google, spread the word.

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Dang, others have come up with it too. Traditional bicycle sounds too fogey.
https://www.reddit.com/r/ebikes/comments/hp2l30/can_we_please_stop_calling_traditional_bicycles/
https://www.bikebiz.com/what-shall-we-call-the-non-electrified-bicycle/

My battery just exploded
byu/speakeasy-aus inebikes