How to "Get Acrost"

Did you read "The Grapes of Wrath," you know, that Great American Novel by Mr. John Steinbeck? It's Bookgirl's favorite. Alternately, it's the only book I've ever thrown across a room.

Don't worry, I wasn't throwing it at anybody.

The pen may be mightier than the sword but I've never used a book as weapon. I just chucked Grapes for the sake of the chucking because, seriously, it needed it. I had to get through it one page at a time, like the drunks do, and I only managed that because I kept promising myself that it would improve.

Improvement no happen. Chucking do.

I'm not saying don't read Steinbeck, I'm just recommending "Travels with Charlie" on account of it's not quite the same kick in the head. And while we're at it, I should probably mention, in case you haven't already learned it the hard way, "Of Mice and Men" isn't exactly a joy machine, either.

There's a point that I'm taking my sweet time getting to and if you are familiar with "The Grapes of Wrath" you might also be familiar with the following quote:

The fambly hadda get acrost.

As much as I needed to throw something to relieve my feelings over those sour grapes, I have to admit, this quote gives me a good deal of pleasure. It actually lives over my desk in the collage pictured in the upper left hand corner of this post. Just look south of the Pez-wrapper sun and west of the foil-based mountain range.

Ah.

My dear friend made me this collage and it has lived everywhere I have lived since 1992. This collage is made up of old homework, dance tickets, receipts, and bus passes. And, of course, a pez wrapper. The resulting hodge-podge is pulled together witha few water colors. Blue and grey mostly. But the sun is yellow: Pez-wrapper yellow.

Beautiful.

There are a lot of quotes out there that resonate with me but this one ranks pretty high up there. Because a lot of days, that's what I do, what we all do: get acrost.

I'm a person who worries. Sometimes I have big worries and sometimes they are little but it's a strange day when I am not worried about anything at all. I'm an experienced worrier. Some might even say prolific. I churn out worry the way Stephen King churns out stories. Only I'm not getting any personal satisfaction or huge payouts for what I do.

If worry is the secular form of prayer, then I'm kind of a worry monk whose taken a vow of poverty. Or a nun. You could even say I'm in the habit of worry.

So, by my very nature, I spend a lot of time just trying to get acrost.

I've got this way, that way, and the other way of managing my ever-flagging mojo. But my favorite way, the easiest way, is to remind myself that I just have to get acrost, and whatever I'm facing, I'm still better off than the Joads.

I mean, it's not like I need milk for the baby or anything.

Lately, it's working. It's more than working. So many things seem bright and shiny and new that it's hard to remember that just a week ago I was resigned and cynical. Everything seems possible. I feel so euphoric that I believe I could sing my way acrost.

Of course, there's Obama. Of course. But there are other things, like laughing until little anime tears squirt out of the corners of my eyes (mostly at cakewrecks and engrish, hanging out in step-in-time as of this post), and Secret Lulu finally pulling language (and other things) together in a way that seems to promise that we will, indeed, get acrost to fluency sooner than later. And everything.

Everything.

Because some days I look at that picture and I see a mantra, or a wish, and sometimes, even a threat (because what if they don't?). But today I see a promise.

I'm getting acrost. We're all getting acrost.

And right about here is where I leave off to sing Kumbaya, which translates to "come by here." Which is another way to say get yourself acrost.

Comments

[Alice]

I'm putting Grapes Of Wrath on my library list.

[j]

I hated that book almost as much as the teacher who made us read it. I can't remember her name, but strangely I can still picture her face.

[Polly Poppins]

Alice, I seriously recommend against it. There are better books for people who don't want to lose their will to live.

J, Mrs. Gagnon? You really hated her? Do you remember when you referred to monogamy as monotony? Because that is my all-time favorite Freudian slip ever.

[Diosa]

Never read The Grapes of Wrath, but I did like East of Eden.

The habit of worry, too funny.

[j]

Was that her name? Short, dark permed hair? Yeah, hated her with a passion undefined.

And who says it was a slip ;) ?

[Polly Poppins]

J, I think Mrs. Gagnon was her name. And the look on your face said it was a slip.

[j]

how can you even remember that? I can't remember what I had for lunch...today!