The truth of the matter

I'm working at the computer when I hear an unfamiliar familiar sound.

It's the strange dropping swoop of a Facebook Messenger notification.  Years ago, I read on a internet security blog that it's unwise to have a Facebook Messenger app, due to the fact that you have to allow it an alarming amount of access to your personal information.

This means I can only access Facebook Messenger from my computer or laptop.  It also means that if I'm being contacted this way, it's usually someone who doesn't know me well enough to have my email address or my phone number.

Glancing at the name, my heart sinks just a little.  It's someone from my high school, who only gets in touch when a) she's planning a high school reunion; or b) she's lost track of someone she really wants to talk to -- I have a reputation for knowing where people are. 

It's a bit of both.  I supply her with an address, and she politely expresses the hope I'll be able to come.  I am courteously noncommittal.

"I don't know if you know," she texts, "but Buck Rogan died."

I did, of course.  As I've mentioned, I know where people are.  Buck is, presumably, in heaven.  

I've cudgelled my brain, but I have no memories of him, although I remember him.  He was one of the jocks, and I don't recall his saying a word to me.  

That's okay.  His obituary has a reasonably long list on online tributes, as is usual with one who dies before his time.  Clearly those who mattered to him, and to whom he mattered, are grieving.

I've kept in touch with those who matter to me.  I trust I matter to them as well -- although I may be mistaken.

This is the reason I don't go to high school reunions anymore.  I don't tell my correspondent that, because it might sound as if I don't care.  I wish I didn't -- which is also why I won't be going.

Quiet desperation

The day after we learned that younger daughter's school had winked out of existence, things got just a shade more surreal.

I was in a crosswalk, en route to meeting Demeter at the public library, when a series of frantic texts from the Resident Fan Boy started arriving.  I got to a safe place on the curb to decipher them:

Just got back from town.  Younger daughter has disappeared with the Accent Snob.  Didn't take her phone and left the door unlocked. Crap.

Panic at a three-thousand-mile distance is even more futile than hysteria at close quarters, so I aimed for a light and jocular tone:

Learning curve!  Do you want to look for her?  And take some poop bags?

Looks like I have no choice.  She often does this to let him out to pee.  Oh damn

Obviously that's what she intended this time.  So what happened?

She could be anywhere and now she'll come back to a locked door.  Oh God.

I decided a phone call was in order. The Resident Fan Boy, a Virgo who had just flown in from Victoria the night before (a twelve-hour journey due to glitches and delays), had decided that it was imperative that he get to a downtown bank to pay a bill.  He had informed younger daughter before going out.  He would have been gone about an hour.  When he returned, not only did he find both his daughter and his dog gone, he found her purse containing her house keys and phone, and also discovered the Accent Snob's harness hanging up, which meant that she had attached the lead to the collar. We do that only when letting him out for a quick spot of relief. The RFB was now pounding the pavement, but unsure of the direction to take.

Maintaining my outward calm, I reminded him that younger daughter is familiar with the house alarm, and advised him to return to the house and set it, if he couldn't lock the door.  I also told him to phone elder daughter, who had accompanied younger daughter on dog walks the previous summer and could advise him on possible routes.

Hanging up, I proceeded to the library for my rendezvous with Demeter, not daring to tell her what was going on three time zones away until I knew more.  When she set off in search of a book, I darted into the children's section, where I could watch for her return while phoning the RFB for an update.

"Nope, no sign of her."

"Could she have gone to the park?"

"For heaven's sake, she'd never go that far!"

"How long has she been gone?"

"I dunno!  Half an hour?  The thing is, she's obviously taken him out front for a pee ---- and something happened...."

Painful pause.  From my hiding place, I could see Demeter returning from the book check-out.

"I guess you'd better call 911, then.  Keep me posted."

I set off with my mother in search of a place to drink. Demeter was suddenly thirsty and undoubtedly puzzled and hurt by my short replies and lack of suggestions. I was imagining booking an early flight home, and fought to keep my mind free of other imaginings.

At a small cafe, I texted while Demeter picked up her lemonade. The Resident Fan Boy was describing younger daughter to the 911 operator, who was almost as relieved as the RFB when younger daughter walked with the Accent Snob.  

She had taken him to the park.

Messages from the Spectrum: lost in the cloud

There is little wonder that one of younger daughter's favourite songs is "Over the Rainbow". She lives on the spectrum after all - the autistic spectrum, that is.

Last year, not long after she turned 19 and hence became an adult in this province, we decided we needed to start taking steps to greater independence before she broke free in frustration. So we got her a cell phone.

What became immediately evident is that this young woman, who struggles a bit with processing language and is often left tongue-tied when put on the spot, is a natural texter.

The past year has given us glimpses into her world: some startling, some warped, some touching, and most, eloquent.

I've been transcribing her messages to keep them safe "in the cloud". Maybe I should reach over that rainbow now and then to share a nugget from the pot of gold.  (Her texts are in bold; my responses in regular font.)

April 21st, 2016

There was a working dog at church today during the service!  It turned out there didn't appear to be any Sunday school because one of the little boys with blond hair wasn't there!  His name is Emery, which is kinda a very unusual name for boys and some who are his age!  He's probably like five years old or something rather!  Anyway, Dad finally got to announce your birthday and my sister's 24th birthday and the queen's and William Shakespeare's!  However, I didn't quite get to announce my 20th birthday that's coming up on the 10th of May!  Then we got a lift to where we live by one of  the gentlemen who goes to the church!  I can't remember his name!  Anyway, we are at the Second Cup and we believe you and the 24 year old know what you want from there!  I'm sure I can get the chance to announce that I just turned 20 in May!

April 30th, 2016


My eyebrows are done!  They are beautiful now!  Jessica is going to be away because she's going to have her baby!  I hope it's a cute and handsome boy!  Anyway, Jessica has hired a nice lady named Linda to do my eyebrows and I hope she knows a lot about eyebrows but she'll figure it out!  I hope she's as lovely as I am!  Anyway we're at Cora's!  See ya soon! :)

You like boy babies better than girl babies?  I'll look forward to seeing your lovely brows - all ready for going out tonight!

I know! And I think a boy baby would be the best that Jessica should get pregnant with!  I hope he's born soon!  Anyway Cora's is getting noisy because of a few ladies roaring and cheering and even screaming because of a birthday party they're celebrating or something!  They were even clapping loudly!  But that's the end of that!  OTG!


I'm glad it has quieted down a bit, so you can enjoy your lunch!  It's going to be *very* loud at Jennifer's house after she has had her baby!

My brow employee's name isn't Jennifer!  It's Jessica!  That's the name I typed in!  "Jennifer" has two "n"s, two "e"s, an "f" and an "r"!

"Jessica" has two "s"s, one "e, a "c" and an "a"!

It is going to be at her house!  Much louder than today at Cora's!  Because in life, a woman has to yell and scream a lot when her baby is about to come out of her!  The doctor or nurse has to tell her to push until the baby's born! And when it is, it cries and coos a little!  I remember sounding like that when I was born!


May 1st, 2016


We are late!  It is all the bus driver's fault for not show up on time!  Now we've missed out on the opening hymn!  We also missed out on the cantor hymn!  Even the beginning of the gradual hymn!  There's also no Sunday school again!  The cute little blond haired boy is not here!  Not even any other little boy with a different hair colour!

Alas, while I was transferring these messages from the document to which I'd been saving them, that document disappeared into cyberspace.  Now I have to start saving them all over again.

The clouds, to paraphrase Joni Mitchell, are always getting in my way.