Monday, April 20, 2009


Laughing at someone’s mishaps is a delicate matter. Ed will stand passively as one of my tennis returns flies by him (not today: I had no time for tennis today). I’ll ask – why did you ignore that? He’ll say – I had no idea you’d hit it back at all, let alone within range. Ha ha ha. I laugh. Had he pushed it further (had he said, instead -- woaaaaa! You returned that? Really? Unbelievable! Woaaaaa, that’s beyond incredible!) I may have walked off the court and told him to find a different tennis partner.

Of course, one could argue that some of us (me?) are hypersensitive on some issues and some of us (Ed?) are hypersensitive on no issues. Life is very complicated in this way.

I brought Ed along to yoga class today. It was his first time.

Now, Ed is plenty athletic and strong. I was sure, for instance, that he would not faint right there on the purple mat.

But he’s a big man and so you have to believe that flexing a 6’4’’ body that is used to unloading a truckload of woodchips but less used to greeting the sun with arms extended is going to be a challenge.

Our instructor, little Nicky (she is almost 80 years old and certainly no more than 5 feet tall and 100 pounds thin) tries to help Ed stretch back as he drips with sweat and reaches for the sky. Except not really. When Ed reaches, the ceiling tiles move.

The woman on my other side whispers – he seems in pain… tell him not to over do it.

Indeed, Ed is moaning. And then he topples to the floor and everyone laughs in relief.

Laughter is wonderful. Had they laughed when Ed fells asleep during the last ten minutes of relaxation, I would have felt protective. Don’t laugh! He’s exhausted! But, take a self-proclaimed fit man and put him on a yoga mat in a child's pose and he’s fair game.

The air outside is cool. And truthfully, the blooming season hasn’t quite burst forward. But, as always after yoga, the world feels like it has a lot of potential to be a good place.


In the late portions of the day, I work and Ed recovers under a warm quilt, with a bag of chips and a carton of ice cream. I’d say it is a very typical kind of April day.