Blogging, Walking, Boys and Girls

by Bella Rum

I looked up my old blogs on Blogger. I had four. One was Cul-de-sac, two were named Red Umbrella. Go figure. And the third was name temporary with a lowercase “t”. What? One Red Umbrella had only one post. I’m guessing that I went mad one day and deleted everything? The other Red Umbrella had 442 posts. Cul-de-sac had 411. There were zero posts in temporary. Maybe they were transients, got a hankering to move on, and are now kicking back and sipping a little Jim Beam out of a paper bag in some other temporary blog.

I read a few posts. That was a mistake. I was in a pretty grim place back then. Awful. And as serious as a heart attack. No humor, or what passes for humor here. I wrote about how Dad refused to get out of bed or eat when I was in the hospital with a vertigo episode. It was hard to go anywhere for very long. He was so dependent.

Who knows why I set up a blog called temporary. Maybe I was doing something highly secretive. As I lose my memory, I hope to imagine that I had a more exciting life than I did. There should be some advantage to aging.

We’ve started walking around the neighborhood. This is the perfect time of year for me. I cannot do it in warmer weather. By the time we walked this morning, around 11:00 AM, it was in the thirties. I wore what, when I bought it, I thought was the cutest hat ever, but now it makes me look like Gabby Hayes. At the sight of myself in the hall mirror, I decided to disguise the rest of my face. I donned sunglasses with tiger-striped frames that I found in a drawer, I must have thought they were chic when I bought them, and a scarf that came up over my chin. You could only see my nose and mouth. I sincerely hoped that these precautionary measures would be sufficient to protect innocents from falling into shock and awe at the sight of me.

Anyway, I got out there and took the bull by the horns. I’m pathetic when it comes to exercise, but I have to say, it was a beautiful day. The sky was blue, the air was clean and there was no wind. Yesterday, the wind was so strong I expected to see Dorothy and Toto fly by my window.

On our walk, I saw a mother with two boys about 10-years-old and a little girl around seven or eight. As we approached, we heard the mother saying to the boys, “She’s never going to learn if you don’t let her have a turn.” With that she stretched her arm out in front of the boys, who were barely able to contain themselves, in an attempt to hold them back. She tossed the ball to the little girl who attempted to toss it in a basketball hoop. As soon as the ball left her hands, the boys were on attack. The mother threatened to take the basketball away if the boys wouldn’t take turns.

I couldn’t help but think the little scene was emblematic of the way men and women approach life. Boys are all about competing and girls are about cooperation and everyone getting a turn. Those boys would teach her to play basketball alright. She would get the ball in her tender little hands when she was able to snatch it from their clutches, not one second before. I had to laugh at seeing it so early and so starkly.

Lean in, girls!

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