Today, somebody pointed out, is G. Orwell's birthday whose "Animal Farm" was a must-read within the activist circle way back because of its anti-Stalinist tone. I later found out the CIA bought the rights to this book and produced a movie it gave for free to stir up anti-communist sentiments. Hell, even communists were critical of Stalin, not only the CIA. And that George Orwell is actually a pseudonym, hmm. Should we give credence to writers doing 'critical' treatises and not signing their real names?
In "Veronica Mars," my favorite character Logan (trembles!!) made a reference to Orwell's 1984 as the only book he ever read. Big brother, I miss Logan's wits. I ripped his "how many vowels?" to a Grade IV boy I met a week ago in a law office.
Friendly with young boys, I initiated, "let me guess your name." The boy stared at me suspiciously. "How many vowels,?" I asked. The boy made an elaborate gesture of counting with his fingers. "What's the first letter?" He warmed up a little and says "S". "The last letter?" pressing for more clue. "N," the boy exclaimed excitedly.
Aha! "Satan!" And the boy pulled his hair, jerking his head with tremendous vigor and grated his teeth and screamed "My name is not Satan. I am Sir Albert Einstein!" It was my turn to pull the little hair atop my stubborn head.
Sir Albert Einstein, what a name to live up to. I think I would be kinder to my own child and name him/her Pokwang and risk eternal damnation. But the boy I made friends with was a genius like his namesake, the mere fact that he was only 7 years old yet already in Grade IV.
Making conversation, I asked "who's your favorite teacher?" Without as much as a wink, he tells me it's Ma'am Cortez "from the rootword courtesy". I had to put my funky-smelling socks on my gaping mouth.
Sensing a friend in me, he offered to let me hear his version of a French song by Celine Dion. WTF! Just what I deserved. And a few other Celine Dion's, God have mercy. To stop his impromtu performance, after about 4 songs I have only heard for the first time that day, I told him as a way of discouragement that not one of the songs was familiar to me and wasn't I in for another treat? Getting friendlier each second, he prodded me to listen to a very popular Celine Dion song which he was so damn sure I must know or at least have heard of. And so the boy belted "I am your lady and you are my man." Goodness, gracious! And did I say he sang it with much gusto?
Abadaw, another fairy in my life. A fairy-magnet, I am. Bless this fairy of an Einstein or an Einstein of a fairy, this boy warmed my heart so.
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