August, the color purple

 Dear Diary,

Went to a lecture on hunter-gatherers and human brains … had to leave though to collect son, a trip (10^th to 3^rd St) taking light years on Fridays in a car. Will paleontologists rename us Homo automobilus? Watched a mom do her gathering… toddler on hip, satchel on back, music case in one hand, shopping bag in other, and car keys between her teeth. Older son led the way, waving music stand like weapon (such gallantry possible if mom carries stuff). Honking of horns prompted mom to pack car faster… as she drove away, I saw it on the ground… a shopping bag, bread poking out … a long day’s journey now leading to night of inventive supper plans.

Coped during my gathering days by creating the mother ship, car with everything. Kid need socks? … wool or cotton?Take out menu, Chinese or Pizza? Gift wrap? Got it and scissors, scotch tape, and card.

 Most used mothership was 20 years old but I can’t stop thinking about Luke Skywalker’s light saber (size of toothpick), caught in cruel crevice between seat and gear shift…been there since the 80’s. I need it for memory of first born standing at attention through all of “Star Wars,” held up by the Force. .

Lecturer said human brain like Swiss army knife, nifty tools enabling hunter to be cunning, calculating, and clever.    But what about gatherers and folks in between? Who finds hunter’s weapons?  Remembers his dentist appointment? Unpacks gatherers’ goods? Such jobs essential but still lack proper name… these days, they are “staff” or “support” or “my-people-will-get-with-your-people” posts. These helpers garner no glory, as standard bearers of the H. deliverus branch of humankind.

Read “Into Thin Air” about summiting Everest… story is great unless you stop and think (one thing you cannot do at high altitude): how do those freezing people, no oxygen in brain, keep track of stuff? With Sherpas and yaks with cell phones, that’s how, the deliverus branch with service at 25,000+ feet.

Most of us wish for Sherpa or schlepper. Royalty seem to have it made…even their thrones are carried. But, why then, does Queen of England, a monarchy at her high-heeled feet, carry a purse like the rest of us schleppers? Because there may not always be an England, but there will always be a pocketbook.                     

Women and pocketbooks not easily parted. I was on a plane, a really small plane, with big landing gear problem…. after flight attendant (really young) stopped crying, she told us to surrender shoes, eyeglasses, briefcases, and purses. One woman absolutely refused to surrender purse—even in crash position, she said she was going to heaven or hell with her handbag… landed safely, aided by runway foam and ferocious force of mind clinging to matter.

 I truly understand that woman… generation after generation of females struggle pocket-less…be they queen or feeder of yaks. Why can’t a woman’s ensemble be more like a man’s? It is the gap of gaps…and do not tell me that a sliver of extra cloth, too little for Luke’s lost sword, counts… that is not a pocket, that is a mean trick, perpetrated on the pocketless by imperious powerbrokers, all of whom have nervous people fussing after them pinning things into place. 

My pitch for pockets has been altered recently…saw member of State Police at Wendy’s… my eyes fixed on his pockets. He had them, but no way to access them as his body bore a mammoth belt holding flashlight, gun, cell phone, leather compartments, small and large, and a cord to radio affixed to his shoulder. Maybe Police people should call Everest people and get these men and women some space age material to lighten their load.

We now have the military materiel on parade via police, soldiers, nurses, and others who have assumed H. deliverus roles during Iraqi War, now being replayed on nightly news. How do people wear and bear the apparel for offense and defense in war, always so heavy and cumbersome, especially with no summit in sight. After the  “good wars,” soldiers came home to parades and marched in full regalia as people cheered.  Will Rogers got it right…we had the whole thing backwards… let these newly arrived folks sit down! We will get up and march for them.

Sights of real war cycle me back to lecturer and human brain…spiffy mental gadgets or not, we need to think ouside the box…many of us who remember Vietnam now have kids caught a in home grown nation builder’s efforts to deliver peace by waging war. But this time, the families at home are greeted by silence.  E. B. White had advice on children and battlefields…. no one should have children 18 years before a war. To change habit of war requires brain with tools but also easy-to-open pockets to keep history handy and safe from the cruel crevice of time.