Written 20 April, 2007
Yesterday my brother Mordecai Scaggs broke up with his Mistress Maia, and last night Sweetie returned home from a week on the road to find a flooded basement in her apartment and her no-account landlady running sump pumps and dehumidifiers from her electric box—and worse, no internet service, so she could not visit me on the grid. We had another great night on the phone. In fact, we chatted long distance while Mordecai and I played mahjong as he puzzled out just what had happened to his relationship.
I love Mordecai and Sweetie for much the same reasons—they’re heroic. Both are indomitable. I won’t say indefatiguable, because they can be beaten down, but they pop back up like Bobo the inflatable boxing toy, resolute and determined— a little ragged about the edges at first, perhaps, like my windowbox impatiens after a summer rainstorm, but like the flowers, they are blooming like mad a day or two later. My lover, my friend, the flowers, all three have a mad, exultant quality I admire greatly, and which, I hope, somewhat mirrors my own nature.
I can’t begin to say how much I love my Sweetie and my brother and how much I feel for them when the world beats them down. If I can be of help in that brief period between their tragedy and their triumph, I am myself exultant.