Due to a variety of illnesses experienced by Steven and Ravi, yesterday was the first time we were able to enjoy our son and grand daughter in several weeks.
I’d meant to introduce the brilliance of Martin Luther King’s leadership skills to seven year old Ravi until my mind was sidetracked, because we’d seen so little of each other for so long that we’d not yet celebrated Steven’s birthday, together, or Chanukah (which having come early, began during Thanksgiving weekend). And by the time our family’s lunchtime, belated celebrations wound down, my energy gave out, and the only thought that processed clearly through my wearied mind was—I need to lie down—asap.
During the aftermath of three life-saving surgeries, I’ve grown practiced at ‘listening to the needs of my body”, so I blew masked kisses to Steven and Ravi while they continued to enjoy generous slices of chocolate birthday cake, which would have been forgotten had Steven not seen the cake box (on the kitchen counter) through the Arcadia door, suggesting that with a paucity of oxygen intake, a bright actively engaged mind becomes as lucy-goosey as a ball player, hoping to homer by swinging at the pitcher’s fast ball with a huge wet noodle … and if you ask why that’s so, I’d reply that within an hour and a half of social interaction, my brain depletes of energy and since my brain is my body’s engine, I feeling like a car that’s run out of gas, seek out my refueling station, which happens to be my bed, so that’s where I’d headed without delay.
Just as we’d cared about welcoming Ravi’s participation in our family’s traditional celebrations (belatedly), my choice to honor the remarkable life and timeless legacy of Martin Luther King’s peaceful marches for liberty, freedom, and equality (in hopes of assuring justice for all regardless of race, creed or color) by engaging with Ravi’s thirsty young mind at a time when my mind, being fully oxygenated, functions much less like a limp noodle, much more like a well rested think tank releasing insights, which have been known to coach the younger generation to keep an eye on the ball, run the bases and make it home with plenty of time to cuddle with Gramma after choosing from my library of children’s books, many of which showcase biographies of national icons, men and women of great importance, having courageously devoted their lives to causes that benefit one and all.
And so, will the biography of a great man, tragically assassinated by a bigot in the prime of his life, be chosen to read aloud and discuss with Ravi, the next time we enjoy each other’s company on our patio—safely masked with N95’s, energy fully charged and minds open to soaking up wisdom passed down by sages through the ages, and in this way will a spotlight highlight the sage who’d had a wondrous dream inclusive of all human beings, and if, having spent time with her gramma, Ravi is asked to name this specific sage, her nimble young mind will surely reply, Martin Luther King (Jr. )
Annie
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