Tag Archives: little things

Righteous riffs, The Girls

A Deliberate Consideration of the Larger Body of Evidence

Our printer’s been broken.

The past couple weeks I’ve been going to Office Max to print out the letters I send (I type ‘em, owing to how horrible my handwriting is).

Couple Sundays ago I didn’t make it before they closed. So the next morning I decided to email my daughter the letter I meant to send.

I had a hunch that her Monday might appreciate a flotation device.

Probably because I knew my Monday would appreciate a flotation device.

“I needed this today,” she wrote back later that night, acknowledging a few of the unexpected life and health plot twists that have been ganging up on her.

But then she wrote this …

“I’ve recently taken solace in the fact that this is a just a week in the season of college. Like all seasons, it is temporary. It is also a privilege. The rainfall of spring is yearned for in August and winter hungers for summer’s heat. There’s a lesson in that I think.

“So, it would seem, it is not All Bad.

“Barring tragedy, a month from now I will be leaving for Ireland, having survived the midterms and late-night rehearsals and daily small annoyances and whatever other pileups on I-76 happen between now and then.

“Our only job is to stay afloat in the interim, holding on to as many small, wonderful things as we can.”

She signed off with, “Loquaciously yours.”

Meet my new favorite writer.

“I needed this today,” I have found myself thinking pretty much every day since.

I keep coming back to the same nine words like a campfire.

“So, it would seem, it is not All Bad.”

Such tender stitching across those nine syllables.

I love the commas so much.

Technically speaking they’re not necessary.

But I also think that’s what makes them essential.

Humble stakes in unsettled ground … to mark a deliberate consideration of the larger body of evidence.

The commas give “So” the space it needs to fulfill its destiny as a stunt double for “Therefore.”

I think I love “it would seem” even more.

How it stops just short of certain, while daring the reader to draw a different conclusion.

And the capitalization of “All Bad”?

It’s so good.

Puts it on a pedestal so the reader appreciates it’s not worthy of so lofty a perch.

In no way does it dispute that ‘it’ is, in fact, bad.

That bad exists.

That there will always (always) be bad.

It just doesn’t allow bad to hog the middle seat arm rest.

For the past couple weeks, those nine words have been sharing morning coffee in my heart with Philippians 4:8, which a friend recently gifted to me, and which I recently scribbled in my horrible handwriting — in all of St. Paul’s Comma glory — on the inside cover of my journal.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable … if there is anything worthy of praise, think about such things.”

Under which I scribbled Em’s loquaciousness.

It’s my experience that the small things do indeed make for the best flotation devices.

Like typed letters meant for the mail but broken-printer emailed on a Monday morning.

Needing only nine syllables to stitch wisdom worthy of stone tablets.

Humble commas that aren’t necessary, but show up for the protest anyway.

Capitalizing things to put them in their place.

Saints who remind us of the job description.

And scribbled journals in our messy handwriting … to help us, in the interim, hold on to as many small, wonderful things as we can.

LY,

Pete and Emma

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Postcards

Small Things ….

Paused for a coffee on my way to a morning medical appointment. 

Got in line behind a guy in the middle of picking out a bunch of stuff. 

“Gimme a couple of those, and one of those,” he said, pointing at the pile of yesterday’s pepperoni rolls they keep on the counter, and the breakfast burritos warming in a case next to the register. 

Looked to me like he was being spontaneously thoughtful. Like it had just occurred to him to pick up some goodies to surprise whoever his peeps were.

I’m a sucker for spontaneous thoughtfulness. 

After confirming that he meant ‘two’ for ‘a couple,’ the young person behind the counter reached for the pepperoni rolls.

After she picked one up, I heard her say softly to herself, “Oh, that one’s small,” then watched as she put the pepperoni roll she had in her hand back … and pull another out from the bottom of the pile.

The guy didn’t see her do it. 

Had already skooched to the side to wait for his stuff.

Struck me as both the smallest thing and the biggest thing.  

When it was my turn in line, I told her I appreciated how she put the small one back. 

She smiled. 

“Yeah, I can’t help it,” she said. “I always think about what I’d want, you know?”

I wanted so much to say, “Me too!” 

Because that’s how I think about things … though I don’t sell yesterday’s pepperoni rolls for a living.  

“Even when I pick something out of the case, I try and look for the ‘good’ ones,” she added.

What I loved about how she put it is that I knew exactly what she meant, without having any idea exactly what she meant.

Just that it had nothing to do with whether anybody else noticed.

I don’t know why something so small that wasn’t meant to be seen moved me so much. 

I mean … if they keep sellin’ like yesterday’s hot cakes, somebody might eventually get the pepperoni runt, … so does it even matter? 

I dunno. 

Maybe because it’s been my experience that how you do the small things is how you do the big things. 

Or maybe I just need reminded sometimes that there are others out there trying to look for the good ones, too. 

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