Day 12 :: Show them instead
"When he was in Kindergarten, Mitch wanted to bring his mother for show-and-tell. At the ripe age of 38, I had my first tattoo. Mitch wanted to show and tell about the etched pink hermit crab riding on my shoulder. Of course, his teacher couldn’t know where I had been tattooed. Oh, and there’s a chain of phone calls that could result from parents learning about a show-and-tell session with a tattooed mom. His teacher and I decided that tattoo show-and-tell should be shelved. The phone conversation left me grinning and red-faced.
This comes to me this morning, considering my last 37 days. I would show more and tell less. My gorgeous, arrogant, silly, whipsmart, bumbling, sweet, teenaged sons should have more show and less tell. I tell them about the boys in Mexico, playing a rousing game of soccer with a plastic milk jug. I tell them of the women who stare with eloquent eyes into mine as their tiny children translate their needs into English. I tell them about the rest of the state – Wyoming’s rolling mountains, lush valleys, working ranches (more and more dotted with oil rigs), deep forests and one street towns. I tell them what their cousins are doing, converting my brothers’ emails to stories. I tell stories of my youth, of pushing a crippled car off a road, of bowling by candlelight in a storm, of picnics on trespassed properties, of swimming naked at midnight, of road trips and how welcome the sight of a lit diner can be, of petrified trees, of skyscrapers, of symphony halls and lazy, outdoor concerts, of how the Statue of Liberty moved me inexplicably.
I will show them instead. We will pack the car and hit the road. 37 days to see and experience the road trip of life. I think we can pack it all in – the skyscrapers and rolling corn fields, the families translating their lives into American, the myriad changes of politics shown through land, the concert halls and concert lawns, the swimming holes and electrical storms, the aging and the modern, sweet liberty that is tasted and felt, their relatives in native habitat, and, yes, a lit diner or two.
Engine’s started. Want to come along?"
–Shawn Meisl
I will show them instead, she writes. Experience families translating their lives into American.
I love what Shawn wrote. Pack the car and hit the road. Feel and smell and touch life, don’t just read about it. See your relatives in their native habitat. Talk about your tattoo and the meaning behind it.
Shawn invited me to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I have a feeling I’ll make it there somehow. A copy of Life is a Verb is winging its way to Shawn. If you’d like to answer the question, "What would I be doing today if I only had 37 days to live?" email your answer to me. Those posted before the official publication date of Life is a Verb on September 2nd will receive a free, signed copy of the book!
