Things We Simply Don't Discuss

After two foodless months, an unspeakable delicacy.

“The dashboard ‘check engine’ light turned itself off.  We can probably go another couple of months without a new muffler.”  This is a prime example of things we do not ever, ever say aloud at my house.  

We do not say “Sixty percent of the election returns are in; it looks like our candidate is going to win!”  If we say these things, if we form the air in our mouths into the shapes of these particular consonants and vowels, there’s a chance the heavens will hear our optimism.  There’s a chance that — just to swat at our hubris — the second shoe will drop.

So here are some things we’re definitely not saying this week about Jim:

• We’re not talking about the man’s “swallow test.”  We’re not saying that he passed it.  We’re not saying that even hospital lasagna tastes in-freaking-credible after two months of gruel through a feeding tube.

• We’re not saying that after two biopsies, his heart shows no sign of rejection.

• We’re not saying that the last of the drainage tubes has been removed.

• We’re not talking about the laps he’s walking around the hospital floor, relying a little less each day on a walker.

• And under no circumstances are we claiming — I mean, we are definitely, absolutely not repeating the doctors’ prediction that Jim will be home in the next couple of days.

painting by Jim Southerland

If we were going to say anything it all, we might remind folks that Jim has an exhibit at the Seven Sisters Gallery in Black Mountain until January 25.  We might say that, had events in Durham gone another way, few people reading could afford the artwork that can now be had at astonishingly reasonable rates.  Get down to Cherry Street, folks, and take home a piece of Jim.  Your living room wall will thank you.