The Over-Under is Unfathomable
Issue 89, just in the nick of time.
Today is our first hump day together. Is it as good for you as it is for me? I’m loving it.
For 89 weeks, Tuesday has been my busiest day. It’s send-day and a day with my kids. Last week, while juggling it all, I asked Emma if I ought to move my newsletter send-day to Wednesday. Without hesitation, she said, “Yes!” And here we are.
I don’t have to tell you, but I will. Single parents do it all. There’s no divide and conquer. It starts and ends with you. Sure, most of us get a break, thank Jesus! (figure of speech).
Please pull out your tiny 🎻violins.
I used to think the phrase single parent was a bit of a stretch. Unless you’re the only parent, you’re not technically a single parent, right? Well, now I am one, and I get the distinction. When we’re on, we’re on! (And no offense, dads, in many cases, moms are on even when we’re not.)
Closes violin case. Takes bow.
The kids go to Andy’s on Wednesdays, so my day opens exponentially. Ahhh!
Down the Submersible Rabbit Hole
Since I read the news on Monday morning, I have been obsessed with the story of the submersible lost at sea.
One person on social media noted they were searching for the vessel like it was a missing white girl. Another person said if this were a boat of refugees and not a “boat” of billionaires, nobody would bother looking for them. Thought-provoking.
The search and rescue are ginormous. The cost is astronomical. The coverage is insane.
The Titan’s mission is unique. Billionaires are on board, but they’re no less human for having money. They’re curious and capable of paying to explore the depths of the world. I had the privilege of visiting Pablo Escobar’s downed plane in shallow waters in the Bahamas, wearing a snorkel, and hopping off a tender (not exactly a parallel story). It was amazing. I can attest to the coolness of exploring a forty-year-old underwater plane wreck. The Titanic is no doubt spectacular.
There’s a lot of anger about how wealthy people spend their money. To you and me, $250,000 for an 8-day excursion, including 12 hours on a submersible to the Titanic, is unfathomable (I’ll speak for myself). But the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you may not be right for some. In other words, to each their own.
Could you pay me $250,000 to go inside a mini-van-sized tube 2.5 miles underwater? You could not.
PS: I’ve talked shit about Elon Musk and Trump (and will continue to). When someone uses their position to spread hate or allows the spread of hate, I draw the line.
The Joke’s On You
Did you hear about the guy who put glitter on his balls? Pretty nuts.
A Letter Within The Letter
Many of you requested I update you on my correspondence with John inside San Quentin. A few of you said no thank you. If that was you, you can skip this part.
I received my 3rd letter from John on Saturday. To clear maximum-security mail surveillance and travel six miles between our homes, it takes 3–4 days. Consider this against the immediacy of communication we’re accustomed to today.
John’s handwriting is difficult to read. For one, he’s 74—his cursive is from a bygone era. He has arthritis. He’s under-educated. And under-socialized.
I’ve transcribed all his letters to ensure I have a record, as reading them once is no easy task. Already it’s getting easier as I shift my expectations and learn his tone.
Below is a passage from his latest letter. I did my best to transcribe it. He’s clarifying a question I asked in response to his writing to me about “sitting with his brothers each day.”
“You asked a question about sitting with my brothers each day. Your curious. I don’t mind answering your questions Simone just be sure you want to know.
My brothers from Nam - Cambodia - Laos are all gone now. They died in a war in 70-71. But with me there still here. I keep them alive through my memory. Their energy became apart of everything - even apart of me. Same with Sam and Wes, my two blood brothers ? I’ve been here. I even sit with the dead of my doing, those I have harmed for only in remembering can one never repeal.”
In response:
I am curious. I do want to know. And I feel I can handle what I learn. To be honest with you, I’ve read about your past in available court records. I wonder if that’s odd to hear, but I figure not much surprises you anymore. I’m deeply saddened to learn of your early life—not nearly as sad as you were in experiencing it. Of course, I don’t condone the crimes you committed. They are very heavy and sad. But there’s no chance you’d be where you are if you hadn’t experienced such trauma. It’s heartbreaking.
John is on my mind often—very often. When I swim laps, I know I’m doing something he’ll never do. When I pass the prison with a magical sunset overhead, I know we’re under the same sky, in remarkably different circumstances.
Then, I’m aware of the victims John robbed of everything—skies, water, this lifetime.
In 2012, a family I know lost two children to murder, by their nanny. Having watched this tragedy from afar, I would NEVER write to that woman in prison. Why am I writing John?
Questions, curiosities, and deep thoughts surround the relationship I’ve started. The decision to continue writing is clear. What comes of it is not.
LOL
All aboard the cat train.
Watch This
This a reminder to myself and you to watch the Toni Morrison documentary, The Pieces I Am. My sissy says it’s good, and my sissy don’t lie!
Friends, this newsletter began 89 weeks ago with one goal: Deliver readers a smile. Today, with the addition of my letters to John and my reflections on raising a teenager, I may be delivering a few heavier topics—but I’m still here for the smiles. I’m glad you are, too.
With gratitude, Simone 🙏
i have struggled with the term *single parent* too bc... it's not like he's in prison! but still-yes, ALWAYS on. ❤️