Adventures with Dr. Lady Cutie Troublemaker

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Image from Time Magazine’s “The Last Days of Martin Luther King, Jr.”

Last night just after midnight, I remembered on my own that it was April 4th, the day Dr. King was shot. I always remember it because of the line in the U2 song “Pride (In the Name of Love)” off their Unforgettable Fire album. It came out when I was in high school, and I remember U2 coming to town to see Coretta Scott King when it was released. The line is:

Early morning, April 4. A shot rings out in the Memphis sky. Free at last. They took your life. They could not take your pride.

My senior recital at Oberlin was April 4th, 1992. It was easy to remember that date because it coincided with King’s death. Growing up in Atlanta and attending Atlanta Public, Dr. King was always in the curriculum. The King Center for Nonviolent Social Change is in Atlanta, and I spent a winter term during college working in the media department there. I got to meet Coretta Scott King in person in her office. I was pretty star struck, actually. I couldn’t believe I was in a meeting with her. It was surreal.

I was born in Memphis in November 1969. I always thought it strange that the man who had such an effect on my life and the society in which I grew up was never alive at the same time as me. There was this story my dad used to tell about how he was chief resident on call at the emergency room in Memphis when King was shot. I was sitting here trying to remember all the details when I had the genius thought: I bet Dad blogged about it today. I was right. Here it is: His telling of that day in Memphis, April 4th, 1968.

I was an Intern at the City of Memphis Hospitals on this day forty years ago. We had a shortage of Residents, and I’d been temporarily promoted to “admitting resident” for the day. I was proud to be asked, but had spent the day terrified I was going to make some fatal mistake, send someone home who died or create some indelible medical catastrophe. That evening, I was sitting alone pondering the day, glad that both I and the patients had survived, when I got a call from my wife that Dr. King had been shot downtown.

It wasn’t an easy time to be in Memphis…

Read the rest of Dad’s story: Link

I lived in Memphis from August 2004 – August 2005. I’m not sure why or how it happened, but it seems that the fruits of the Civil Rights Movement never really “took” in Memphis. It’s like there’s a black cloud over the city. I’ve heard other people describe it in similar ways. While there are many wonderful things there, the color line and the poverty line seem to be identical. The gap between rich and poor, the haves and the have-nots. It feels huge. Maybe it’s because I was working with victims of domestic violence and abuse and in the Memphis Public Schools, but I certainly felt while living there that Memphis was a city that was still in need of healing. What a burden to bear. If you ever get there, go to the Civil Rights Museum. It it housed in the Lorraine Hotel, where Dr. King was staying when he was shot, that fateful April day.

At a party on Sunday, I heard someone say, “You know what they say around here. If you don’t like the weather, wait 24 hours.” What’s funny is this is something they have said in a few places I’ve lived. I think it was the most true in Bloomington, Indiana – where it would go from cold and snowing to hot to tornadoes. You really never did know. The other places I’ve lived have been so much more predictable. In Boston, you can expect it to be cold a lot of the time. In North Carolina, the sky really is blue a lot of the time. There are general patterns that happen.

This all got me to thinking about the differences between people who have spent a lot of time living in the same place and people who have moved around a lot. I’m obviously in the latter camp. I’ve lived in Memphis; England; Atlanta; Athens, GA; Oberlin, Ohio; Boston, MA; Atlanta again; Bloomington, Indiana; Memphis again; Boston again; and Raleigh. What I don’t have is this inner sense of the cyclic-ness of a year. I’ve always assumed that this is because of my ADD brain. I mean, I have no regular sleep schedule, no regular eating schedule… I never have. I seem to lack these cyclical rhythms that other people have. But it’s definitely been made worse because of so much moving around.

Living here in North Carolina for over a year now, this is really the first chance I’ve had to spend quite a bit of time around many people who are truly locals for longer than a year. While I lived in Bloomington for 7 years, I knew very few people from Bloomington – or even Indiana. My closest friends there were from Chicago, Michigan, India, England, Ohio, Texas, etc. We all shared years together, but our yearly cycles had much more to do with the academic calendar than anything else. It’s the one thing we all shared.

The people who come to mind first are Shannon and Andy. They both have very organized, properly regulated internal cycles, and they have both spent a lot of time here in Raleigh. They know that it’s almost time for the state fair and the best places to park when we go. They know what the fun things to do are at any time of year and what is coming up next. They have advanced organizational and navigational skills, honed in one place. They have been around the same patterns for years, and they have been paying attention. It’s really fascinating to me – Me, a person who sees every day as brand new, every trip to the store as time to look up directions yet again.

As a result, I’ve learned to just trust that things will all work out, that I’ll find my way, that something fun will happen. Because it’s my only option. Yes, we will end up somewhere. When we get there, I’m sure we’ll see what is fun. I bet we’ll meet some nice people and see some cool stuff. Whatever it is, I’m game. I trust my navigators. I trust the Universe (with a capital U) to get me to another adventure, because generally, I have no idea what to expect. And I’m kind of OK with that.

For me to get around as they do, I rely on GPS, calendars, and todo lists. They help me to function as if I have clocks and compasses of my own. I call them my external hard drives. I guess my gift has always been the ability to find these technologies and befriend these kinds of people. I’m so grateful for the linear thinkers around me. Those that know the best way to navigate. Those that have internal clocks and compasses. I’m lucky to have them in my life.

Spoke to my ex-husband earlier today. It’s his 39th birthday. He asked me when I started my new job and how it was going. I said I’d sort of started last week. I sort of start this week, and I am DEFINITELY started next week. Only a few meetings this week, but lots of things to work on. Cases will start to come my way, and there will be hopefully a slow and steady buildup. I need to get the office in order, organize everything to work there and and home. While I’m messy at home, I’m usually pretty organized in my work space. I’m starting to realize that I really have done a lot of helpful pre-marketing and pre-networking for this job all year long. Next time you see me, I will hopefully be traveling with my new business cards. OK, off to bed. I’m trying to get on a slightly better schedule. Slightly. I’ll get there as I need to.

In other news, I’m definitely having wrist surgery to remove the Ganglion Cyst. Apparently, it’s in pretty deep. I hadn’t noticed it for all the time that it’s been hurting because I naturally have kind of bony wrists. It really doesn’t look like there’s anything there if you just look at one wrist. It’s only when you compare it to the other bony one that you can see the difference. Leaving the cyst there won’t hurt anything, but since it’s been there so long, we’re assuming it’s not going away on its own. And since it’s caused problems for so long, I’ve decided to go through with the surgery. It’s done in the doc’s office. I just get the whole arm numbed. I’ll wear a small cast from knuckles to a few inches above the wrist for four weeks. Little to no physical therapy expected.

If you haven’t seen it yet:

I’ve been making this sandwich for probably 7 years now. I found the recipe on the internet way back when, and I’ve been loving it ever since. Periodically, I’ve tried to find the original recipe online. For a long time, I’ve come up short. This morning, I once again found it – sort of. The original version had bacon rather than smoked salmon and capers. Must try this other version, too. This photo is from the bacon version I made earlier this week.

Recipe: My Favourite Sandwich by Antony Worrall Thompson