i take my fiance wherever i go--mr. clark (f2fb #60)
i spent yesterday acting a little like a chihuahua huddled up under the sofa during the thunderstorm. the skies were clear, there wasn’t a peep from the heavens, and all was right with the world . . . except for my house.
i had a day long anxiety attack thinking about going to california. there will be friends–allen, jose, candice, howard, and others. some people i’ve known for a long time, some i haven’t seen in forever, and some i haven’t ever met. it will be fun. it will be crazy. there will be surprises.
and i’m scared. i think the hypnosis has worn off. so i will put into place my emergency airplane ritual:
1. cardio exercise until i am exhausted
2. meditation
3. beer
repeat as necessary.
still, there was one person i could see today that would put me to rights: markie carlson gekas is a toy and gift shop owner i have known for nearly fifteen years. we shared a lunch outside and talked about our children, our mutual friends, and our aspirations. she has a business that has done well, but this economy has taught her that she will not be able to retire. i shoved away the worries i have about my future. this has been a difficult year for EVERYBODY.
still, i noticed i relaxed enough so that i could come home and pack the bag. including the lucky flight plan, the fiance, two rosaries, and one evil eye protector. it’s a wonder i have room for my laptop and a change of clothes.
question is, what happens if i freak and can’t get on the plane?
sandra bullock gets asked at least twice a day “does anybody tell you that you look like arlynn presser?” she must be very flattered. stammers. maybe gets hives. i get the same thing just people asking me about her. we’re similar to the eye, although possibly also to the ear: i’ve been told that my laugh ends with a particular nasal sound that . . . oh, just go to netflix and get miss congeniality and you’ll see what i mean! we’re twins. in a way.
i once was in an airport and signed an autograph because i was baffled.
but i met my psychological twin last night when i had dinner with ben gonzalez (f2fb #140) and marissa durbin (f2fb #141). we were outside in their backyard. it was as the landscape architect frederick law olmsted imagined american life should be–several different families came out of their houses, sat for a spell, waved as they passed, hung out, checked their cell phones. okay, maybe that last part was not olmsted’s vision. marissa and ben have an adorable seventeen month old desmond who is the playboy attracting admirers. olmsted must have anticipated desmond.
the next door neighbor came out of her home. she was wearing green capri pants and a white t-shirt. i was wearing. . . it must have been a black dress. but we were still indistinguishable. she hovered, she chatted, she was so sociable, but when asked to sit down with us, she declined. disappeared and returned. when i asked her to sit with me a second or maybe a third time, she said “i can’t. i’m very antisocial. i have agoraphobia.”
i asked her about her anxiety attacks, which roughly track mine–meaning that she can negotiate zones of safety and outside of that, it’s too terrifying. she has recently lost her job (a safe zone) and her home (the safest zone) is being foreclosed upon. she has sent her sons away in the hope that if they aren’t living in the house, the bank will not go after them. she had her first anxiety attack on the block near her home just a few days ago. there is a closing in of the boundaries just as the “safe” zone is going to be taken away from her. and her sons–whom she is trying to protect–are not there to help her.
i wanted to say “come with me!” i have laid out a track of junkets–i’m off to california on sunday whether i like it or not! i’m in ohio the week after. new york, rhode island, boston. . . i have two friends in alaska and damnit i have a friend in hawaii who is moving to turkey (no slur on turkey)
i will assume i am having a near death experience every step of the way just like my twin has just found out that she will have every time she goes to the bus stop on her block.
i have tried everything to stop panic attacks. therapy. every prescription drug. some nonprescription drugs. acupuncture. hypnosis. alcohol. meditation. prayer. nothing has worked. but this year i’ve done things i never would have thought possible.
flying on a plane. being in a different country. boxing with a ukrainian middleweight. driving a car in that direction. and the other direction. popping open a champagne bottle with a sabre sword. watching a funnel cloud form over my head. seeing people i would never get a chance to see if i stayed in my house and bought the requisite seventeen cats that being my age requires.
but i couldn’t say “come with me!” to ben and marissa’s neighbor, my twin in the green capri pants. because i’m not even quite halfway there. i may fail. i think odds are i will.
so she said i have to go back home, i have facebook, i have other sites, my back aches from being in front of the computer, and i said “pleasure meeting you” and what i want to say is “at the end of the year i will come back for you”
the real focus was marissa and ben. i met ben initially because his uncle–a renown photographer and author–did my portrait four years ago. i happened to be nude at the time. i love the picture although i’m not sure you’d know who it was and you might mistake me for sandra bullock. ben and marissa were just friends for the longest time and then. . . .
i am planning out the california, ohio, new york trip and yeah, i will be scared. i am home now. safe zone. but the train keeps riding. . . .
downtown kearney, missouri--the odd fellows building named for the tradesman's union
if your house catches on fire, i’m sure it will be of great comfort to know that i am a first responder. . . . if you live in kearney, missouri, that is. fire chief larry e. pratt swore me in just before i cleared out of town–taking my tornadoes and thunderstorms with me to illinois.
larry pratt has devoted his entire life to service in kearney. his father before him and his sons after him have been part of the police and fire departments–and larry is a keen preserver of kearney history. i wrote a history of kearney and larry made my job so much easier that my able assistant made a charm out of a picture of me and larry at the firehouse.
one of the forty four charms is of me and larry working on the book about kearney's history
i leave kearney realizing that i have yet to meet a rude person while there. i mean, there’s a lot of cities, i won’t name any except for one that goes by the initials of new york, where you can easily find someone who will cut you off in traffic, tell you to commit abominable acts upon your own person, or budge ahead in line at the deli–but you can’t find those people in kearney. that’s what i love about the place. i think kearney is what i would like for my family or as my home.
i just have to work on that teleportation system so i can be a first responder!
the hottie you dated all four years of school and broke up with and dated and broke up with and it would have kept up like that for the rest of your life if one of you hadn’t graduated and moved to italy. the roommate who always had someone sleeping over (awkward!) but who came down to the police station to bail you out for that unfortunate incident and so you didn’t have to tell your parents. everybody from your soccer team, the choir, the band you started in the basement of the hardware store. you knew their names, their favorite beer, and whether it was wise to copy their homework. before facebook, these people disappeared until the tenth reunion and then it was a competition as to who was fatter and who had a better job.*
some people you went to school with are now part of your friends list but they aren’t the same people you would have put on the friends list at the time.
i’m not sure which one made the friendship request but mike coglan (f2fb #137) and i were in the same graduating class at north central college. the entire student body was less than a thousand so i figured i had to know him. i was pretty sure he was the dude who sat behind me in economics for three semesters. on facebook, we exchanged a few stories of the good old days, compared notes on what we had been doing for the past twenty five years–mike is a minister in kearney, missouri and i raise my sons and write books in winnetka, illinois–and then we got down to business–
online scrabble. i’m addicted. mike’s better than me.
at one point, mike mentioned that the economy was heading south, fast, in kearney. a lot of his parishioners were hurting. i suggested help in the only way i know how–what if i wrote an arcadia publishing company history of kearney and mike’s congregation sold the books as a fundraiser?
three short weeks later, i drove eight hours to kearney with my assistant f2fb #20 charlie seymour. at kearney’s rotary club i spoke about the book and about how i was looking for help from the community to find old photographs, documents, papers that would help me develop a complete picture of the town. charlie sat in the back taking notes and leaned over to mike.
“what was arlynn like when you two were in college?” charlie asked.
“i have no idea,” mike said. “i don’t remember her at all.”
i was ready to pack my bags that night! we finished the book**.
mike and his family opened themselves up to me. mike and i still play scrabble. he also talks to me about his relationship with God and my relationship with God. if someone were to ask me where i go to church i would most likely say that my congregation is the kearney covenant church and that i don’t go to services often, which is to say i have only been once.
but mike and his wife laura (f2fb #138) prayed and talked with me one morning this week. laura asked me to consider how i would feel if one of my children–joseph or eastman–came to me and said “i want your love, i have you say you love me, but i feel i am unworthy of your love”. wouldn’t i feel such pain for them? when i thought about that, i started to cry and so did she. mike made himself busy with finding tissue paper and said that under no circumstances was he crying too. God’s love is a gift and it hurts Him to have someone not think themselves worthy of taking it. thi
laura, me and mike coglan
as i got ready to leave the coglans, the entire family–mike, laura, ian, and brenna–had me sit down. each of them put their hands on me and each of them made an individual prayer for my safety, health, happiness, and progress on this year’s journey. four distinct prayers that i might be BOLD and unafraid. that i would take the chances i have spent so many years being afraid to take. and they asked for God’s PROTECTION that i might be safe and confident of my safety.
when i got into the car i felt transformed. and i had only one last thing to finish up in kearney before i could clear out–i had to get deputized by the fire chief. after all, i have a lot of talents to offer this town!
*romy and michele’s high school reunion is such a great movie! i think i have to get it on netflix right now!
melinda morgan (f2fb friend 134) will help me get back on my feet with her sound financial wisdom.
she could make money off her looks, but melinda’s rejected modeling contracts from kansas city and new york. she could quit her job at gino’s restaurant in kearney, missouri where i first met her–but she was there this afternoon waiting to see me before her shift starts.
melinda has a packed schedule of work, going to college, and trying to find time to spend with zack, her boyfriend of four years. i noticed the promise ring on the finger. i think the word “fiance” is just heavenly!
she asked me how i was doing and i said that the two boys were away, that i was doing this project, and that i was trying to sell my house but i was afraid it wouldn’t yield a price greater than the mortgage outstanding on it. a lot of people are in my position. some even worse, with foreclosures at an all time high in this country.
“i don’t believe in mortgages,” she said.
“you can’t buy a house without a mortgage,” i replied.
“i already have.”
it’s a small house to be sure. but melinda saved every tip she ever got at gino’s and she bought a twenty thousand dollar cottage in nearby excelsior springs. she is putting in a driveway this summer. and a shed. she likes fixing up the house, with an eye towards increasing its value.
she plans to sell it in a few years if the market is better and then use the proceeds to buy another house. if the market is terrible, so what –she stays in her house. either way, a bank is not the boss of melinda morgan. i asked her what her major is because not many twenty year olds seem quite so assured of themselves.
“accounting and business administration,” she said.
“will you be licensed to do tax returns for people by april?”
“yes.”
“meet your first client.”
we shook on that.
a postscript:
yesterday i forgot to credit courtney m who works with darrell at the hair salon. and a photo credit to emily eldridge.
i like that french existentialists came from france. because all the space, the nothingness, of america would freak jean-paul sartre and his posse of intellectuals. there’s just way more of that nothingness here than in france. driving along i-80 across iowa and into nebraska, i was aware of the nothingness but also of the being. . .check out the windmills–
windmills were planted earlier this year
for hundreds of miles there are windmill farms.
this tractor is ready to harvest windmills. . .
coming out of cedar rapids, i headed for council bluffs because according to my trusty spreadsheet rodger gerberding (f2fb #131) lives in idaho. the two letter postal code for idaho is id) i was really excited because in messaging each other i understood he would be in council bluffs iowa for one day. in iowa (postal code ia). i didn’t know that i had screwed up on the spreadsheet. it’s ia not id. still, i got to see rodger. i was a little nervous because rodger and i have only one mutual friend, my father justin (f2fb #30). rodger was a friend of my grandfather fritz leiber (as well as a fan of fritz’s work).
rodger is an actor, writer, artist. . . and he had a wonderful story to share:
i left rodger and blew into omaha, nebraska. across the street from the hotel was a riverboat casino. i thought women in evening gowns, gentlemen in tuxedos, an atmosphere of glamor, intrigue. . . . i did what any gal would do–i spritzed the angel perfume, put on a little black dress, pulled the bright red lucite heels from the back of the car and headed over there.
only to discover row upon row of slot machines. with galpals in sweatpants and “world’s greatest grandma” t-shirts. dudes sporting polo shirts tucked in and hearing aids firmly in place. i looked like an underage hooker and i did get my share of attention from the security staff. i sure hope las vegas is more uplifting. . . .
and tomorrow, onward to blue springs to have a facebook visit with a label executive. do you think i’m too old for to put out an album?
mobiles homes cause tornadoes. this is my contribution to meteorological science. after all, anytime there’s a report of a tornado there’s usually an accompanying report of mobile homes being plucked from their moorings or collapsing under the weight of falling trees.
as i entered the state of iowa, all radio stations reverted to the emergency broadcasting system. the radio announcers were plaintive and earnest. “you must go to your safe place,” they repeated. ominously, several added that if you were traveling along i-80 “we implore you to pull over and get to safety.”
well, to an agoraphobic, that means one thing: return home forthwith because home is the ONLY safe place. i wanted to turn around. because there is no other safe place other than home. the outside world is, by my definitions, a scary place. but i had made a commitment to be in cedar rapids to meet f2fb friend #139 bruce nesmith and his family.
bruce and i went to college together. he wanted to be a radio newscaster. he ended up becoming a political science professor at coe college in cedar rapids and, because of his acumen, he is frequently called upon to be a “talking head” on radio and television. so he has some of the makings of a perfect life.
the sky blackened and the announcers were tracking three different tornadoes and telling people in solon, north liberty, johnson county, “you need to be in your safe place NOW.” their natural iowa reticence was being tried. since i didn’t know where i was in relation to any of the tornadoes i did what they told me. after, hail was being tossed on my windshield like eggs in the hands of an angry god. the tornado sirens wailed. the little farmhouses, red barns, the moo cows gave off the vibe that they could at any moment rise up in the air, spinning and twirling and bringing up with them flying monkeys and wicked witches. i pulled over to a convenience store and waited out the storm. hands shaking. hives rolling up my neck. my inhaler in one pants pocket, my backup inhaler in the other.
but trying to play it cool, leaning against the vending machine as the store filled with people who watched the television coverage of the storm warnings. just, you know, another tornado. . . i went outside. that’s when i got to see the beautiful moment when a cloud starts to spiral. . . . and then it dissipated.
i traveled on to cedar rapids. the house was a gorgeous center hall colonial. bruce’s wife jane and their two sons welcomed me with bright smiles and a bit of curiosity about my new year’s eve resolution to meet every facebook friend. jane freelances both as an adjunct professor of writing and as a journalist for a local newspaper. their two sons robbie and eli did their best to make me feel like an honored guest. . . and as someone sort of cool. or at least not embarrassingly uncool. robbie is in marching band. eli is graduating eighth grade in a week,
bruce and jane met when they both sang in a methodist church choir. they are comfortably suited to each other as they approach their twenty second anniversary. religion is an important part of their lives–we sat down to dinner and opened with a simple, but familiar prayer of thanksgiving. God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food, amen.
i told the nesmiths about my experience with the nascent tornado. they weren’t quite as impressed as i was. i think you have to be pretty tough to be from iowa. but i think bruce nesmith has created for himself the perfect, perfect life!
i left the nesmiths after a tour of coe college and continued west. . .
so phyllis and i shared a man. it’s true i was unconscious of what we were doing for most of the time, but phyllis knew the score.
i drove a little over three hours to get to phyllis and we met at a culver’s which is known for butter burgers and cheese curds. i had both. i don’t need to repeat the experience.
here’s my new friend mr. culver–
phyllis worked in winnetka until a few months ago when she left her husband and relocated with her older sister who is still mourning the loss of her husband two years ago. when i talked to phyllis earlier in the week, she said she was applying for unemployment. when i got to culver’s, phyllis told me her unemployment application was denied.
i thought “her life sucks so much” i showed her a private shout out video i had made of her former colleagues at the dry cleaner in winnetka. i also asked her if she’d like to be introduced to f2fb friend #128 thomas shea bulger II with whom i had shared a meal just the day before. thomas is a friendly guy, living on his own, retired, spends a lot of time riding his bike and volunteering both with aa and with elderly people. he’s a sweet guy.
this is going to be tom's profile picture since he doesn't have one!
see, here i am meddling!
phyllis doesn’t see a glass as half empty or half full–she just drinks in the experience! phyllis has already landed a job since finding out she won’t be receiving unemployment benefits, has settled her sister and herself into an apartment and has found love. on the internet. he’s from north carolina and will be moving to illinois. i asked her if he would be moving into the vega apartment and phyllis smiled mischievously. mr. wonderful and phyllis will be taking it slow.
meanwhile, as the singer carla kosak sings “i don’t want your man” both phyllis and i don’t want that man we shared.
phyllis (f2fb #129) noticed that this man was posting flirty stuff on my wall and, since he was doing the same thing to her, she got suspicious. she tracked down what his real story was and then she laid it out in front of me. we both defriended him. thank you phyllis, for watching my back!
we hugged, said goodbye, and i skedaddled towards cedar rapids, iowa. where i meet f2fb #130 bruce nesmith and his family. right after i meet the tornado.
i was surprised that carla kosak even said yes. after all, she’s a star. she’s hot in all the senses of the word.
facebook friend gilbert gottfried blew me off earlier this year. celebrity facebook friend elmore leonard is probably a no go. and alex beh, who used to babysit at the redmond house when eastman would sleepover on a saturday night, has recently broken up with jennifer love hewitt and has such a busy schedule as a writer and director. . . . but my new year’s resolution is to meet every one of my facebook friends before year’s end so i messaged carla.
i figured the best i’d get would be an autograph and a chance to watch her record her third hit–the first two being amongst the top ten downloaded tunes by radio, the can’t stop yourself from dancing “don’t want your man” and the fresh “get pumped up”. i met carla because she loaned her talents to vince p.’s music video for “girls in da club” which–don’t even ask–i wrote and directed.
i drove a long way to find carla. as a star, she naturally protects her privacy and has a home that is nearly impossible to find. but i had my trusty atlas and this trip turned out to be the first time i didn’t actually get lost! when i arrived, she answered the door herself. and wow! imagine aphrodite dressed in sweatpants and a tank top but still the most beautiful goddess. i suddenly felt quite sweaty, old, fat, tired and in need of a mascara break.
and this is what she looks like when she’s just hanging out at home with the love of her life. . . her two year old son!
we headed for the park. carla’s son is bright and so polite it makes me want to redo all my parenting. i went down the slide with him. he wanted me to push him and then he wanted mom to get him out of the swing. carla and i talked relationships, careers, and her incredibly busy schedule. i’m honored she spent time wth me. i’m looking forward to my nine day road trip beginning on sunday because i’ll be seeing john hill, a music entrepreneur who is interested in carla’s career!
carla has enough energy to be a mom, a star, and to keep a day job (that last only for the moment). i loved her son. and, just like mom, he’s a natural entertainer.
so–WORLD PREMIER HERE!!!–the acoustic duet of carla kosak and her son!
and here’s a link to the version of “don’t want your man” she performed on the night i worked on the music video for vince p. this gal is amazing!
i first opened a facebook account when mark zuckerberg allowed regular folks–i made friends with my two sons joseph and eastman. and then suddenly, the friend requests started coming in. i was popular! which certainly wasn’t the case when i was a teenager. i accepted promiscuously. the guy who worked at the hardware store. the mom of the girl that eastman went out with in eighth grade. the gal who might have sat behind me in freshman world history. . . or maybe i’m confusing her with someone else. and then there were people i didn’t even know–aawagdy hakim. i had no idea who this guy or gal is. all of the profile is in arabic. but still, i get requests from aawagdy to play pirates versus ninjas, then mafia wars, then farmville. my facebook new years resolution to meet all my friends is certainly going to be as much of a surprise to aawagdy as it already has been to me!
doug nash and i went to high school in naperville (although i, of course, dropped out). i might remember him. he might remember me. we probably have confused each other with somebody else. but we’re facebook friends. in fact, i am exactly half the population of doug’s facebook friends list.
that’s because apparently i persuaded him to open up a facebook account because i said it was a good way to monitor what his children were doing. they’re young but if he already has an account, they can’t very well tell him he’s not allowed to have a facebook presence and he might even have the moral high ground to demand that they let him be their friend.
two rules for parents who are facebook friends with their children:
1. never comment on a status or a public post
2. don’t look at photos your child has posted or is tagged in. it will only upset you to see your little darling passed out with a four loko drink in her hand and “slut” written across her forehead.
doug and i live in adjoining towns and run into each other a few times a week. we sat down and talked about the upcoming end of the world, what our families are doing, the wonderful story of how he met his wife shelly, and his job, which is to read. doug is a trader and spends three or four hours a day reading the news, looking for how the market is going. he can do it in his pajamas at home. lucky guy.
doug is f2fb friend #126. i am doug’s f2fb friend #1.
“you only have one other facebook friend,” i pointed out. “who is aloha lester?”
arlynnpresser 
