Sweeping the Attic

It was a mistake to go o the attic. I had mistaken the quiet for…what? resolution? That maybe they were gone? Freddie is chittering, “titties! boobs!” Stupid little thing. We’re okay. He wings overhead as I hit the top of the stairs. I track him as he goes round three times and closes the door to the birdcage where he sleeps. Guess he just wanted me to know he was …

The Selfie Project

The design challenge was come up with a game for change. The theme was the word “ephemeral”. One group had a brilliant idea for a selfie (slang for self-portrait, usually done with a mobile phone…often in a bathroom mirror and not well). Along with the selfie one would attach three adjectives. The initial idea was to hold onto positive words and trash the negative ones thereby reinforcing positive self-image. It …

Eulogy for Elias K. Oyzon

by John Elliot Oyzon (aka Beau) Is the world a darker place, now that one of its brightest lights has moved on to the next stage? Not if I have anything to do with it, because it’s incumbent upon us to shine that much more brightly to honor the man who showed us how. Elias K. Oyzon was my dad, my hero, and my greatest teacher. His lessons will always …

and the village came

It was crazy. I had my phone. This is how I let people know what was going on. Over a hundred people commented and wrote and wished me well. This is just a snapshot of it all. It’s worth remembering. There can be a later post about social structures and how technology allowed for this to happen. But for now, I was and am well cared for and loved.

Hairline Cracks

[ An Audio version of this post. Music by my brother, John Oyzon and narration by me.] Tonight was the annual Cobblestone picnic- a school that Aidan goes to. (Connor starts next year). At the picnic, it’s all about the kids. I watch them take off on their own trajectories. Toddle after the baby. Sit quietly for the most part and observe the goings on. No desire to engage in conversation …

So This is It

Like standing on the beach, I test the waters with a toe. How cold? How deep do I go? It is not my wont to opine and bare my soul. Sadness, anger, anxiety- all those things Pandora should have left well alone reside in my own well-locked chest. It’s a filipino thing, I think, to crack a joke, flash a cheesy grin and laughingly (though seriously) consider murder. How seductive …