Begin (Again)

Someone asked what five movies I own...

Field of Dreams
The Interpreter
About a Boy
Babette's Feast
Remains of the Day

All worth several views. And I want to buy Lars and the Real Girl and the Bourne series.

I own four movies. I'm going to buy this one:

http://www.larsandtherealgirl-themovie.com/

Humor me and watch it if you didn't see it in the theater. It's absolutely incredible.

For those of you who don't know, Dr. Lasseter died on May 12th. Been thinking of him this morning, and how I wish I had known about his funeral in time to attend it. Helen Lasseter wrote that his last audible word was "love." Fitting, to say the least. I was with my grandmother when she died and her last words were "I love you," spoken to my sister, Teresa.

Here's something Dr. Lasseter once wrote on a paper of mine:

Love is a "Theological Virtue"--as such it is a gift of Grace as well as willed--and acceptance of it is dependent on accepting faith (trust in the Good) and Hope (the Good is possible for me too) before Love (Good for others) can bloom--but it comes suddenly, spectacularly, like fireworks on the Fourth.

Adoption news: we're waiting patiently. The expression is "no news is good news." I'm not sure it applies to this situation. But we have plenty to do and don't feel anxious as of now. I have a strong conviction that we're going to be matched with the momma and baby that are right for us. So there's no rushing that, right?

It's been six years and two months. I've been feeling fine about it for the first time since he died. The markers of healing are different for everyone. For me: about a month ago, I put his picture on my bedside table instead of in the study because it was good to look at the picture, it didn't make me sad anymore. Ash Wednesday didn't make me cry. I've been thinking about burning the flowers I took from his grave the day he was buried, because they're disintegrating and there's no good place to keep them.

And then I'm doing this completely mundane, inocuous thing: buying a Valentine's day card for Nick. I'm in Target standing with a mob of  bemused looking people in front of the cards, wondering why I bother to look because I know I won't find one that isn't disgustingly sentimental. And you know those cards that play songs when you open them? A man next to me opened one of them and all the sudden I and everyone else standing there in silence are hearing the Isley Brothers song "Twist and Shout."

There's only one thing this song makes me think of: Johnny and his best friend, Stu Leafblad, banging it out on the piano in the playroom, standing not sitting on the piano bench, singing the lyrics terribly and dancing too, while us little kids are laughing and laughing.

All the sudden the visceral pain came back, the feeling of being detached from the earth. I'm dizzy and my stomach hurts and I don't know where I am or why I am. This from trying to buy a Valentine's card.

We had our first homestudy meeting this morning. In a might-have-been-bad fashion faux pas, Nick and I realized when we arrived at the adoption agency that we were both wearing casual clothes and tennis shoes. People are always saying we look like we're eighteen. So I'm thinking--now we REALLY look like we're eighteen and the social worker is going to think we're kids, unaware of what's appropriate or not. She'll think, I'm not giving a baby to people who don't even know how to dress appropriately at the most important meeting of their lives...

She was wearing tennis shoes.

I was telling my sister yesterday I wasn't nervous about the adoption process. So instead of admitting that I'm terrified of being scurtinized and screened and tested by people who don't know me, I get nervous about my shoes. A note to other too-proper-Southerners: people in the North really don't care as much about proper clothing as we do. Revision: the entire world no longer cares about proper clothing.

The meeting went well, though it was sort of awkward. How would you answer these questions? How did you first meet? How has your relationship changed? What would you change about your spouse? What do you argue about? How do you feel about infertility? Why haven't you undergone IVF? Artificial insemination? Controlled multiovulation? Surrogacy? AHHHHHH!

But it was okay. She said it won't take long at all for the baby to arrive. Minimum: two weeks. Maximum: six months. (Need I mention that this is equally thrilling and terrifying?) Our time frame is cut down by two factors. First, our youth. Most people on their list are at least ten years older than us, and moms generally choose younger people. Second, our openness to any ethnicity. Or, to be honest, openness to African American babies. There just aren't enough homes for African American babies in the United States, although almost everyone is open to children of Asian heritage and many people open to babies of Hispanic heritage. Think on that for a while.

I went to get my hair cut the other day and was talking to the stylist about the adoption. Instead of engaging in the usual questions and cliches, she monologued about crack babies and people who "shouldn't get pregnant." For the gist of her position, reference the following remark:

"I mean, these women are on their fifth or sixth baby and shouldn't they know how to avoid pregnancy? I mean, God, tie their tubes when they're not looking. It's like not spaying your dog."

WHAT??????

Leaving aside her outrageously ignorant vision of moms who choose adoption, do I look like someone who would support a state regulated eugenics program?

I was too wimpy to disagree, as she was wielding scissors about my ears. I'm assuaging my guilt over the matter by posting this.

I went to DC twice this month to help my sister with her newborn baby. The second trip, I booked a seat on Amtrak instead of driving so I would have time to study. On the way back, I stowed my books, listened to Nick's Ipod, and watched the Eastern seaboard pass by. There's something about riding on a train that makes me happy.

When I was a kid, we passed a trainyard in Fort Worth on the way to mass every week. I liked the way the tracks crisscrossed, but I remember thinking it was an ugly place. Industrial spaces--trainyards, factories, water treatment plants--never fit into my aesthetic as anything worth appreciating until I looked at the photography of a man who lives in Charleston, the husband of a friend of mine. I remember especially one photo of train tracks, taken right before twilight from a bridge. The steel tracks look like golden threads. After that photo, even highway overpasses are beautiful to me.

And I remember riding on a train from Rome to Orvieto with my friend Emily. We sat knee to knee, opposite one another. I have this image of her, beautiful, reading a book.

We created an adoption discussion forum on Google Groups. Please tell anyone you know who may be interested in adoption or who has adopted a child. Here's a link:

Thinking About Adoption

Visit this group

So what I really want to say: I have good news to relay. We started the adoption process. First homestudy meeting, February 1st!  There are four meetings altogether, during which a social worker interviews us about anything and everything they want

I've been drawing all sorts of comparisons between adoption and pregnancy. Is announcing your semi-pending adoption like announcing a pregnancy? Will the first meeting with the social worker be like the first prenatal visit? NO! Because doctors aren't there to ask questions like, "How would you describe your childhood?" and "What are your marital problems?" and "Will you abuse your child?" 

We chose a wonderful agency that's been facilitating adoptions for 150 years. My mother-in-law was the director of an adoption program for 10 years, so she was invaluable in giving us information about the kind of agency we would want to work with. Sometime I'll tell you about it. Turns out there aren't a lot of ethical agencies. Surprise, surprise. Whenever huge amounts of money are exchanged, Ethics is locked in a dark closet.