10/16/2026
"Keep politics out of business" — Will not. Go vote.
When you find out you’re telling a story two jam-packed days before the event and thus break out in Type A hives and quickly pen something, the ink still drying as you arrive…
[Update: didn’t die; much cheer]
—
Giddy for trick or treating at age ten, I beamed at the bottom of my friend’s stairs in a half-man/half-woman costume Mom had sewn.
The beret, men’s slacks, button-down shirt, and tie were thrift store sourced. Same for the earrings, loafers, and high heels, of which we only needed one each. The woman’s blouse and skirt were of random material from Mom’s fabric drawer. My shoulder-length hair, which I had attempted to straighten but succeeded only in creating a frizz triangle, was down on one side and hid beneath the beret on the other. My female face had bright red lips and blue eyeshadow, my male face a mustache; neither Mom nor I knew how to apply makeup, so I looked more clown-like than lady-like.
It was exactly what I had envisioned.
But just like when Mom would make mac and cheese with egg noodles, fresh oregano, and just grated cheddar instead of the blue and white Kraft box, the “above and beyond, made with love” gesture died in the arms of someone who craved convention.
“Nice costume.” Maureen and her new friends from her new school snickered from the top of the stairs. The types of giggles you giggle when an adult is near and you can’t be full-on mean but you want to make clear—there’s you and there’s us.
Message received.
But it was garbled. I didn’t understand. How we went from being inseparable the year prior to her no longer wanting to have anything to do with me. How I became a you and she an us. I was the same person.
A-ha.
Standing at the bottom of those stairs, for the first time, I self-loathed.
Stupid mom and her stupid fabric drawer. Stupid me and my stupid creativity. Stay safe. Stay in the shadows. Strive for sameness. Ignore any bubbling of “Ohhhh, this might be fun to try…” Trying leads to ridicule. Speaking up makes you a target.
Eyes down. Head down. Volume down. Which is how I would remain through young adulthood.
[➡️ for the rest…]
