Author: Lauren Mirs

A Different World

Second through fourth grade, I went to school with a girl named Winnie. Both of Winnie’s parents were doctors. One year, they had gone on vacation to Austria or Switzerland or some other European destination, and they’d brought Winnie back a pair of blonde yak hair boots. That winter, you could tell where Winnie had walked each day by following the trail of pale yak hairs down the school’s carpeted hallway.  

I was invited to sleep over at her house once. Her mom had told my mom to pack a dress for dinner and a swimsuit. Dressing up to eat dinner was a foreign concept to me. I’d packed a bright pink floral sundress with ruffles, which seemed naïve and garish next to Winnie’s closetful of velvet and satin gowns.  

The night of the sleepover, Winnie had a loose tooth. We were taken to a crowded restaurant with crisp white tablecloths and candles on each table. Winnie ordered French onion soup. Since the soup comes with a layer of melted cheese over the top, her first spoonful was pure cheese. She bit into it, and her tooth fell out. I guess she lost her appetite, ‘cause she didn’t try to eat any of her dinner after that. It seemed like such a waste- the special outfit, the expensive meal, all for nothing because of a tooth.  

Winnie didn’t place the tooth under her pillow. She owned a small, decorative pillow with a tiny pocket sewn on the front expressly for this purpose. I bitterly guessed that, in the morning, her tooth would be replaced by bills, not coins. To tell you the truth, I don’t remember what she found in the pocket.  

One room of their house was devoted to a hot tub, with curved glass walls, a glass ceiling, tile floors, a round sunken tub, and underwater lights. We played in the hot tub with plastic toys like My Little Pony until bedtime.  

In the morning, breakfast was a selection of junk food cereals. I couldn’t believe, with both of her parents being doctors, that they allowed her to eat cereal loaded with sugar and every food coloring approved by the FDA. My parents didn’t even buy that kind of cereal.  

Before we left the house, Winnie got called into the bathroom, where she seemed resigned to stand in front of the mirror while her mom brushed and styled Winnie’s hair with a curling iron and hairspray. At the time, I wondered if she realized how extravagant it was, having someone else do your hair for you. I even fantasized that when Winnie’s turn was over, her mom would ask me if I wanted my hair curled, too. (That didn’t happen.) It didn’t occur to me until years later that Winnie might resent being primped and dressed to the nines before stepping out in public, whether she felt like it or not.  

I felt kind of sorry for her. It didn’t seem like she got to invite friends over very often, on account of her parents’ work schedules.  

Thinking about the situation now, I’m sorry for my own attitude. There I was, observing this family like aliens and judging them because of their income level. What did they ever do to me, besides take me out to dinner, let me lounge in their hot tub, feed me breakfast, and give me a ride home?  

My Own Private Cinematic Experience

When I was a teenager, I watched the movie My Own Private Idaho several times. [It’s not for everyone.] I had a little crush on River Phoenix. About ten years later, I was living in Portland, Oregon, where parts of the movie had been filmed. I lived about a block away from two different movie theatres. Gus Van Sant, a Portland resident and the director of My Own Private Idaho, was releasing a new film. To celebrate, several theatres around the city were holding special showings of his earlier works. One of the theatres right near me was going to show My Own Private Idaho. I decided to go, partly for nostalgia, partly to see what I thought of the movie now that I was older, and partly to see if living in Portland would alter my perception of the story or the viewing experience.  

The movie started, and River Phoenix was in the first scene. Horrified, I realized, Oh my God! Do you know who he looks like? He kind of looks like…my brother. Back in the day, I hadn’t noticed. But apart from the initial gross-out factor, this had an even bigger effect later.  

In the movie, Keanu Reeves plays a young man from a rich family, while River Phoenix plays a homeless youth. The two are friends until Keanu Reeves returns to his roots. A scene near the end of the movie shows Keanu Reeves in an expensive suit, riding in the back of a limousine that is passing by River Phoenix, who is sleeping on a sidewalk. I recognized the sidewalk and the general area. I had gone to an employment center there when I was job hunting. It truly was the Bad Part of Town. The area had a sketchy vibe and reeked of urine. It’s a place I wouldn’t want to walk in after dark. So, being familiar with the area pictured in the scene, and River Phoenix looking like my brother, There was my brother sleeping on the street in the ghetto. It was really unsettling. It’s probably not an effect Gus Van Sant intended, and it’s not a reaction every viewer would experience.  

For a while afterward, it made me more compassionate toward any down-and-out person I encountered on the street, thinking, That could be my brother.  

Unfortunately, like so many other good intentions, the effect wore off with exposure and time.

Nightsong

South and east of the Midwest, birdsong is orchestral. Birds out here aren’t satisfied with just “tweet,” “chirp,” or “caw.” One bird is a metallic flute that warbles an intricate melody. Another bird sounds like R2D2 malfunctioning: the modern, electronic spin on the classical bird call.   

Laying in my tent at night, I expected to hear the jingle of crickets, the skittish hoot of the horned owl, the whistling of spring peepers, and even the creaky whine of coyotes. What I didn’t expect to hear were cows mooing at eleven o’clock at night and geese honking at 3:30 in the morning. I assumed that animals I saw awake during the day would quiet down as the sun set and sleep during the night. I guess if they can spend most of their days relaxing and napping, they can afford to party all night.  

Sometimes, I try and imagine what the animals are saying. Scientists who study bird calls have identified a few sounds to indicate food, mating calls, or danger, but for the most part, they are gracious enough to admit that they don’t know. I was going to guess that they are gossiping, laughing, complaining, telling bedtime stories, and commenting on the weather, just like us. But I wouldn’t be surprised to find that they were competing in an enormous poetry slam, spouting philosophical analyses, or formulating a plan for world domination, all disguised as a beautiful, lilting refrain.

Adventure on the Rocks

On another meetup in Wisconsin, my mom and I hiked a trail that led to a waterfall. The trail crisscrossed a river a few times, which led us to snake across by stepping on precariously balanced stones protruding from the water. I made it to the end, and as I turned to start the trek back, I slipped on a wet rock. When I fell, my face hit another rock, busting the skin near my eyebrow. Another hiker happened to see the fall and was luckily carrying a bandage. My mom did a good job of matching up both sides of the cut so that it healed fairly smoothly. I guess that’s when you know you’ve had a real adventure: when you have the scars to prove it.  

The worst part was that the waterfall was about two and a half feet tall and not worth the drama.  

Nowadays, I select shoes based heavily on the non-slip quality of their soles. Also, in times of stress, it helps to frame whatever I’m experiencing as an adventure.