Moved to grateful tears, again, by Ian Brown and changing the world

I wrote about Ian Brown's amazing book The Boy in the Moon nearly a year ago. Today, I came upon a  snippet of video on Louise's blog from a presentation he gave at Holland Bloorview.

Please watch this:



Did you listen to Mr. Brown's dream? The one about L'Arche and living and working, creating, doing what you do, in these homes between where these people live? For one month? Did you hear him describe his dream of you eating your meals, three times a day and then bathing one person once a week? Did you hear him imagine how that would change the world?

I believe it to be so.

Drinking and Anna Karenina

Tolstoy

I've been drinking more lately. I'm one of those people who has never been a drinker, despite the pleadings of some of my friends who insist that drinking a glass of wine a night would be good for me. When I took them up on the recommendation, I wanted to go to sleep at around 9:00 and therefore discovered the secret to why I am able to write and read into the wee hours of the morning, as opposed to my more "exhausted" friends. The other day, I bought a bottle of Kahlua at Trader Joe's because I remembered how good it tastes, but I haven't opened it up yet. Two nights ago, I had a pomegranate mojito before dinner, a glass of sauvignon blanc with my moules frites and a shot of vodka at my friend's house after dinner. Last night, I had a glass of wine with my dinner and contemplated a Blue Moon when I got home. I saw a movie, too, last night -- Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. I remember reading the book in my late teens when I was totally into Robert Ludlum and John Le Carre spy novels. I don't remember being confused when I read the novels, but last night I was completely befuddled by the movie and so was my really smart friend Shannon. We laughed about it over our wine and dinner, and I even looked up a plot summary online afterward.

Oh! Now I understand!

I'm reading Jeffrey Eugenides' book The Marriage Plot, and while I was so excited to open and read it, I'm now in that exasperated slog phase when I should just give up and put it down, bored to tears, but I feel obligated to finish it. This seems to be happening more and more lately -- I feel like I haven't read a novel in years that I connect to with joy and wonder. The last really great book I read was the memoir The Boy in the Moon. A fellow bookworm told me that I should re-read Anna Karenina, so that's what I'm going to do.

Remember the famous opening lines?

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Who is writing like this anymore?

Would it be too much to add a shot of Kahlua to my morning coffee? Or should I start reading Tolstoy with a shot of frozen vodka?

The Boy in the Moon

The beautiful memoir The Boy in the Moon, by Ian Brown, has won a place in the New York Times' annual 10 Best Books of 2011. I wrote about the book's effect on my life here, and I've also had the honor of a small exchange with the great writer himself. I am so happy that a small book of great literary import about a disabled child and his family has made its way to such an exclusive list.

Bravo, Mr. Brown! Thank you for your words, for their resonant power.

Jiggity-jig

Princess Flower outside my bedroom

Despite having to leave my two boys in Hilton Head to head back home to take care of Sophie, I am glad to be home. I am glad for the warm then cool California air, for the breezes blowing through the palms, for the otherwise obnoxious mockingbird on the wire outside my bedroom, for The Husband who had a lovely time alone with Sophie. I am thankful for the brief time spent with my extended family and for the solo trip home, wrapped in magazines and the final chapters of Ian Brown's The Boy in the Moon, a memoir that I believe has changed my life so much so that I had to get up from my seat in the plane and retreat to the tiny stainless steel bathroom where I sat and wept, tissues wadded up in my hand, aware of the world below, one coast holding where I'd been and Sophie on the other, where I was headed, quite joyfully.

Without him, for a short stretch I could do everything as I once did it, in deliberate steps, the way you can when you don't have a handicapped child.

Ian Brown from The Boy in the Moon, a Father's Journey to Understand His Extraordinary Son