Tag Archives: trust

The Passport Office part 2

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To say there has been “clamoring” for the second part of the Passport Office would be an overstatement. However, I am very gratified that several folks said they would prefer to see part 2 sooner rather than later. I’m not completely sure, but the day described in this chapter may be the most surreal of my life. Also, it was the first time I was faced directly, full-frontal, with Lee’s not-to-be-denied state of delusional mental illness. This day unfolded just a few months before her first arrest and hospitalization. Thank you for reading.

The scene: Boar’s Head Inn, Charlottesville, VA. (This picture is the right era, circa early 1980s.)

The Passport Office Part 2

Scene VI

In car heading south on Rt. 29.

LEE has her eyes closed and is leaning back against the headrest. Vanessa reaches for the stereo to turn the music back on.

STEREO (loud)

Love from the bottom to the top
Turn like a—

Vanessa quickly reduces volume

STEREO (faint)

 …wheel—(he’s alright)
See for yourself (the Lord won’t mind)
We’re gonna move (right now)
Turn like a wheel inside a wheel

Scene VII

The car is pulled over on the side of the highway along with seven or eight other vehicles. Several State Troopers are issuing tickets. VANESSA has shut off the music again.

VANESSA

(Looking around.)

I don’t get it. Why did they stop us?

LEE

(Looks horrorstruck—her eyes are huge, mouth opening and closing around words she cannot muster. It looks as if she’s gasping for air. Suddenly, she pulls herself together. Making a decision, she opens her car door.)

VANESSA

(Reaching for her mother’s arm to pull her back)

No! Mother, you absolutely cannot get out of the car at a traffic stop!

LEE

(Looks at VANESSA over her shoulder and hisses)

We’ve done nothing wrong!

VANESSA

Don’t get out of this car! It’s totally not okay!

LEE

(Gets out of car) 

Excuse me! (Imperiously, gesturing at nearby trooper)

Cars speed by on the highway just feet from the pulled-over cars and troopers. The neckline of LEE’s beige silk blouse flaps in the wind. She holds it closed with one hand and slants the other hand over her eyes to shield them from the lowering sun. The trooper sees her and walks briskly to her.

TROOPER

Ma’am, please, get back in your vehicle.

LEE

(Talking over him)

You need to let us go. We can’t be late.

TROOPER

Ma’am, get back in the car.

LEE

Why have you stopped us? And all these people?

TROOPER

We will get to you as soon as possible.


LEE

But we did nothing wrong!

TROOPER

(clearly exasperated)

You were driving in an HOV lane.

LEE

What is that?

TROOPER

Ma’am, please get back in your vehicle.

LEE

How can you pull us over for driving in a lane we don’t know about?

TROOPER

The HOV lanes are well marked, Ma’am. High occupancy lanes are for carpoolers during rush hour. A driver and at least two passengers to utilize this lane.

LEE

(Flicking her hand in the general direction of the highway)

That’s ridiculous.

TROOPER

Ma’am…

LEE

(Talking over him, voice pitched a bit high. VANESSA, in the car, hears the panic in her mother’s voice.)

If you don’t let us leave, it could well create an international incident. That is all I am permitted to say due to extremely intricate matters of state.

VANESSA

(In the car, slouches lower in her seat, exuding pure devastation.

TROOPER

Ma’am (he reaches for her arm to guide her back to the car)

LEE

(Flinches away from him and takes a step backwards)

No! Don’t touch me. (Pauses. The trooper looks briefly paralyzed.) You do not understand what is at stake. We cannot be late. My future husband—that’s all I can tell you at this moment—will be most displeased with you. He wants everything to go smoothly. Time is of the essence.

VANESSA

(Murmuring under her breath)

“Time is of the essence?” Oh God.

LEE

I don’t mean to be rude, but my daughter and I are leaving. You can’t stop us.

TROOPER

Ma’am, please do not do that. Of course we can stop you. A traffic ticket is not worth becoming a fugitive and having one of these officers go after you. (He bends to look into the car at VANESSA behind the wheel and addresses her) Young lady, do not drive away. Do you understand?

VANESSA

(Nods vigorously)

LEE glares at VANESSA and then at the TROOPER. She returns to the car, walking stiffly, her body reflecting equal parts rage and fear. VANESSA turns the music back on.

STEREO

God help us, help us to surmise

These slippery people help us understand

VANESSA and LEE sit in silence.

Scene VIII

VANESSA pulls the car gingerly into traffic. LEE holds the paper given to her by the trooper.

VANESSA

You know, I saw those signs saying HOV but I didn’t really pay attention. They must be new. At least we just got a warning.

LEE

(Looking anxiously out her window. Bites at a cuticle.)

Mm-hmm.

STEREO

No one here can recognize you
Here is everything that you like

Feelings without explanations

Some things are hard to describe

The sound of a cigarette burning

A place where everything spins

And the sound inside your mind is playing all the time

You’re playing with a heart of steel…

LEE

(Softly)

Let’s turn the music off, shall we, Darling?

VANESSA snaps the off button and ejects the tape. She lifts one butt cheek and stuffs the tape into her back pocket.

Scene IX

VANESSA is pulling off Rt. X onto X. LEE has pulled her lipstick out of her purse. She applies a fresh coat of some tawny beige-pink color. Drops the tube into her bag and removes her new passport. In the light of the dash, VANESSA sees her mother run her fingers over it, riffle the pages, lift it to her nose.

VANESSA

Does it have a smell? The brand-new smell of government issue vinyl?

LEE

(Still muted)

Yes, it does, in fact. (After a pause, she goes on, in a much stronger voice, giving instructions.) I’ve been receiving last-minute information. (Turns to look at her daughter.) This is what we are to do. When we pull in at the Boar’s Head, drive directly to the pond. On that road there will be three sedans waiting. You are not to get out of the car. I’m to tell you quite specifically that only I am to get out, and only after the security guards have reached my door. You and I are to say our goodbyes in the car. Once I’m out, you must drive away. I asked when I can contact you and was told that within 48 hours you will receive a message. A phone call, I believe.

VANESSA is silent, staring ahead into the yellow path of the headlights.

LEE

Do you understand, Vanessa?

VANESSA

Yes.

LEE

Darling, don’t worry. It will be perfectly fine. You must trust me.

VANESSA glances at her mother. Golden halo of soft hair around a strong face, lit by orange dash lights. LEE does not turn her head to her daughter until VANESSA has returned her eyes to the road.

LEE

You have always trusted me, haven’t you. (This was not a question but a statement.) I am your momma after all.

VANESSA cannot speak.

Scene X

VANESSA drives, according to instructions, through the darkened campus of the Boar’s Head Inn towards the pond. As they get close, it is evident in the light from the headlamps that there are no cars waiting. VANESSA drives along the pond road and turns right at the next intersection, heading in the direction of the exit. She pulls over and stops. VANESSA gets out of the car and walks a few feet onto the grass. She bends in half, her head dangling lower than her knees, her hands touching the grass. After a minute she rights herself. She opens the car door and sits on the seat, feet still on the ground. She feels her mother’s touch, briefly, in the middle of her back. A few fingertips, there and gone in an instant. VANESSA turns, closes the door, puts the car in gear and starts to drive.

VANESSA

Sorry about that.

VANESSA glances at her mother who is looking out her window, hands folded in her lap. Nothing makes sense. There is nothing LEE could possibly do now that would seem like a logical response to everything that has happened. As she pulls out onto 250, VANESSA sees LEE put her fingers into her purse and lay them atop the new passport lying innocently on top of her wallet.

In a few minutes, VANESSA turns left, toward home. Neither woman speaks. VANESSA pulls into the semi-circular front driveway. She had remembered to turn the front light on this morning, so very long ago, before they left on their errand. When LEE gets out, she has just enough light to see clearly as she unlocks the front door. VANESSA reaches into the backseat for her sweater and follows her mother, who has already begun turning on the lights.

Trust is Possible: a Thanksgiving Blog

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Over the last four and a half years, I’ve written here about the beauty of the broken heart, some painful, enraging truths about the patriarchy and its toxic effect on the 51%, lots of self-reflection, and different stages of my own journey through the tangled woods. Sometimes the tree branches seem to come alive and grab at me, darkly, as if I were none other than silly Snow White looking to be saved by tiny, ineffective fictional creatures. At other times sun dapples the forest floor and shows me the way through, so I can make my own story.

Looking back, most of what I remember about my life is having a hopeful, joyful heart. The bubbling gratitude that returns to me again and again. Not despite the bad stuff of life, but because of the deliciousness that fills in all the spaces around it.

But I still trip and stumble on my way. Identifying my own internal roadblocks remains part of why I’m here.

This year on the day of giving thanks, I am most profoundly grateful for a recent shift inside me.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, my daughter and I lit a small fire in a micro-pit (loaf pan) by lighting baking soda and rubbing alcohol. (Life hack if you need a ceremonial fire and don’t have a fireplace or outdoor firepit.) As the fire flickered on the coffee table, we quietly released into it things that we could identify that were clearly not serving us, and invited into our lives the opportunities, attitudes, beliefs, and people we wished to see manifest. Releasing fears, sorrow, limiting beliefs, and welcoming in joy, transformation, and most of all, love.

As we did this familiar ritual, in companionable silence, I had a serious epiphany. You know how epiphanies can be. A sudden “woke” moment when what you have “known” all along is suddenly clear. For me, it usually means that words appear, elucidating the truth so I can look straight at it. What was an unidentified feeling or belief becomes a statement. The words give the belief visibility and shape. If it does not serve me, the words cause it to lose some of its power so I can deal with whatever it is. If it is an epiphany of empowerment, I can own it and consciously, affirmatively accept it into myself.

On this particular day, these words formed in my mind: “Men always disappoint me.”

Harsh. I might have winced (literally) as the thought formed words and opened up inside me.

Though these words were never spoken by me or even in my head before that moment, I realized that my body lived them. The belief, like a miasma, filled the little innocent spaces in me so that as I opened myself to love, experience, and the men in my life, I was sabotaged by it.

“Limiting belief” is an understatement. This belief was a threat to my happiness and well-being.

Lucky for me, I have a toolbox I can whip out at a time like this to begin the uprooting process. But I knew instinctively that I might need to bring in the big guns this time. I called upon a fellow traveler and dear friend, shaman and healer, to guide me through the discovery, the releasing, and the healing.

Knowing where this belief originated was not technically necessary to expunge it, but I’m a curious sort. I like to know, and, for me, knowing with my head is usually (though not always) a key to a door that allows healing through to my heart and the rest of my being.

My experience, in any particular lifetime (choose one), of being silenced or abandoned or assaulted by a man or men in power, is hardly unique. It is the story of women. We all take these lessons into ourselves in our own ways. But they are just stories and can be rewritten.

The individual men that I love or have loved, from my father, to my son, to my brothers-in-law, cousins, friends, lovers, are inside me. Some have brought me nothing but warmth and love, others have done their worst. But what I realized is that society as a whole, going back to almost the beginning, is so infused with the unbridled, unbalanced energy of the yang, so dominated by the male of the species, that attempts to silence or squelch, deny, ignore, oppress, force, or disempower the yin are all around us. They are the overwhelming, overarching reality for all of us. In some countries and cultures, this energy is more intense and unavoidable than in others, but let’s be honest. It is unavoidable until things change for good.

Those sweet, gutsy, humble, strong men who see the forest for the trees, who understand the toll our world’s way of doing things takes on half the population, they are the ones we fall in love with, right? The ones we want to surround ourselves with. The ones we want to raise, marry, hire, elect, along with the women we also raise, marry, hire, and elect, obviously.

So what the hell does any of this have to do with Thanksgiving? Gratitude, of course.

This year I am grateful that I have transmuted my belief about men to an understanding of my own journey through the eons, and an understanding of something even deeper than that. That though it is difficult to trust, trust is possible. And it is still and always has been, for me, easy to love. Love can heal the harshest ache, and I am grateful for love.