Obligatory Retrospective Episode

I drew a line today. I decided that any cards I recieve henceforth are not "get well" cards, but "I like you" cards. I assume that anybody who is still bothering to send me cards is concerned with my welfare irrespective of my accident. So I took the big stack of "get well" cards I have accumulated and counted them. 105. And I stacked them up and put them in a little box marked "2005," wherein I have been storing memorabilia since January 1. It took some trigonometry to fit all the cards into the box; I was not expecting 2005 to be quite so memorable. So I took everything out and rearranged it to fit. I thought it might be nice to share some of the contents with you.

One cardboard sword marked "Beware the Ides of March. On March 15th this year, my sister and I donned togas and ran around downtown, attacking people in the name of Liberty. "Freedom!" we would cry exultantly after each kill, "Tyranny is dead!"

One pill bottle containing a single pill of Depakote. To remind me that it is not shameful to need a little balancing help. I never am going to go back there again. If you have been there, you know what I mean.

One black ballcap, marked "Prima Donna." At work, we were required to wear hats marked, "Prima Della." I picked the ELL off mine and replaced it with ONN. I don't think my boss ever did notice.

One twelve-inch metal rod. Which they took out of my leg as they amputated it. Nice of them to let me keep it, don't you think?

A small terracotta soldier, which belongd to my late, great aunt, Peppy. A memento mori.

An Anakin Skywalker action figure. A gift From Shawn, as I lay in the hospital. I never have figured out why we lost touch. We could have been great friends. I could have lent him some bravery, and he could have told me when a haircut was overdue. Alas, I see that the action figure has lightsaber action. . .

Crumpled stage directions from Die Dreigroschen Oper. These were evidently retrieved from the wreckage of my car. I have it on good authority that, as I lay semi-coherent in intensive care, I threatened in my delerium to sue the hospital if they didn't let me go perform in the opera. I even had to be restrained, as I was tearing the IV tubes out of my arms. I had an obligation, after all.

In my handwriting, the lyrics from Habanera. Also in my car at the time of the crash. It turns out that La vie, like L'amour, et un oiseau rebelle . . . Tu ne l'attend plus, il est la.