Lucia Frangione

A little pal Nora had a sleepover with has lice. We just found out. The poor mother sent out a mortified email. The Dad immediately shaved his head. Nora was at school when I read the email and I called the receptionist and she assured me there was no need to pull her out. They’d watch for an itchy scalp. I told Michael, he didn’t seem worried either. Okay. I’m not a spaz Mom. Lice like red heads best anyway. Right? I checked my own head haphazardly and then had to buzz off and clean a wealthy New Zealander’s apartment….

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My Uncle, like a father to me, got bad test results pointing to a cancer spread, likely fatal. I can’t even go there. There are just some people you cannot lose. Well, it turns out there was a mix up with the test results. They’re wrong. They’re not his. He’s fine. He was giddy on the phone! We are flooded with relief. How can that be? Within a few hours I open up my messages and a dear friend posts a picture of her handsome partner of – what – three decades? He’s leaping barefoot and brown legged along some…

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I have been taught to write around tension and explore conflict. I am  with my family at my mother’s house and there is simply nothing but kindness and peace, well behaved children and an incredible mountain view. Doesn’t make for great reading, does it? But it sure makes for good living. I’ll be back on Monday with more stories, unless somehow my family starts acting up, then I’ll write sooner.

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“I don’t have a single Exceeding Expectations! I lost my E in reading! I don’t understand, Miss Ikeda told me I was one of the best readers in the whole class, I have lots of expression! I’m fast, I’m clear, I understand. I’m doing everything I POSSIBLY can! How did I lose my E?!” Nora bursts into big splashy hot tears in the back seat of the car after looking over her report card. She is eight years old. I sigh and I do her the respect of not dismissing her deep disappointment. And I most certainly do not clarify…

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We have tried every trick in the book to oust the mice and it just isn’t happening. I see at least one rodent a day and it’s never ever a dead one. Pest control have been in here twice, a carpenter covered holes around pipes, I’ve put in a number of delicacies in a number of rotating traps, we have sticky boxes that the mice wisely avoid and poison that is also avoided. My walls are supported, in part, by steel wool…and still…we are over run. Nora and I have picked out a Craigslist kitten. It’s a black and white…

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Oh Great Sadness. How long have you been nipping at my heels and how long have I been running from you? I had a good think today, cleaning out someone else’s kitchen drain. (there’s a reason I chose a job cleaning up other people’s messes) I’ve been running from you, Great Sadness, for probably nine years. When Dad died the day before my first year wedding anniversary, while I was six months pregnant. I couldn’t face you then. I was afraid you’d seep into the baby. I had to wait to grieve. Normally I am strong and take you head…

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My Cross Fit club has a fundraiser for their kids at risk fitness program that my coach heads up. It seems like a worthy cause, I’m just up the street, so I decide to slip into my Ralph Lauren magenta cocktail dress and black pearls and make an appearance. I enter and swish around, looking terribly terribly interested in the silent auction items because I don’t know a soul in the room. I am gregarious on the page but in person I prefer to be the quiet observer and let others hold court. I will step up if the room…

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I’m studying ancient Rome right now, specifically 45-35 sort of era: Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, Marc Antony, Herod, Octavian and Octavia. Because Chris Britton played Caesar in the Julius Caesar I starred in as Portia, he has been the one galloping through history with his laurel leaves and purple robe in my mind.   I’ll have to stick to a cast of two though: Antony and Cleopatra – so  I can tour it. Marc Antony I’m writing for Aleks Paunovic. Seriously. Can you think of anyone more perfect to march the Roman empire into Parthia? I’ll probably have to get a…

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Today is my second day at Cross fit. Peacock struts by and Charlie asks him how old he is and he shouts with pride, “Fifty two”. But something tells me he’s lying. That’s okay. It’s probably hard for him to say fifty two, let alone sixty two.   I warm up beside Charlie’s apprentice. I didn’t catch his name but he’s Puerto Rican in military gym strip: could be a rapper, could be a soldier, could be a hip YWAM. Whatever he is, he’s a believer. He helps me with my form, nice guy, and I ask him how long…

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How does a person keep the faith when they are in prison for twenty-seven years of their life? How do they emerge out of that dark pit of injustice and brutality and go on to rule a nation successfully through very difficult years with temperance, reconciliation and relative peace at the age of seventy one? How do they keep this activism up well into their nineties, particularly regarding humanitarianism and AIDS? It is never too late to do something remarkable. Nelson Mandela is the first face of peace for me, and perhaps for my entire generation. What an honor it…

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