you can always go downtown

Seventies pop music is zinging through me. Yesterday, it was Dionne Warwick singing 'Do you know the way to San Jose?". Today, Petula Clark is belting out 'When you're alone and life is making you lonely you can always go, downtown!".

Maybe I could turn back the hands of time, go back to when these songs were on the radio and make different choices for my life. Gee whiz.

I am going downtown tomorrow. San Francisco. The city!

I don't think too many mothers in all of history have sung more to their children than I used to sing to my Katie. Sometimes I would get into a groove in which I would sing-song everything, rhyming almost nonstop for hours. I wrote many songs for her. I changed the lyrics to dozens of pop songs. Lots of parents do this. How I loved to sing to her.

Downtown was our first duet, the first non-kid song she learned. In the beginning, when she was barely two, I would sing 'when you're alone and life is making you lonely, you can always go . . ." and then I would pause, dramatically waiving her into the act. She would come in on cue and chirp out 'Downtown!'. She was so proud that she could sing a duet with me. At two she could tell that 'Downtown' was way cooler than 'Twinkle twinkle'.

My Katie was a funny kid. She liked to tease me.

One day I was chortling out 'Downtown', with her in a car seat, on our way home from daycare, when she was still two. She warbled 'downtown' on cue for the first couple verses. And then, with no warning, when it was her turn to say 'downtown' she said 'cookie monster'!

It was so funny that I had to stop the car to enjoy my laughter. She was over-the-moon with pride. Oh my gosh, it was her first perfect joke. She was wearing lavendar Osh-Kosh overalls, pink high top shoes and a pink floral print blouse with ruffles on the sleeves. Her hair was up in two tiny pigtails on either side of her head, with pink ribbons bouncing as she giggled. The bells on her shoes tinkled as she kicked in glee. I had to turn the car off and go around to her side of the car and smother her with kisses. To those of you wondering about heaven, this is one way heaven is.

Katie loved her frills and ribbons. I've never been much for feminine things but she always wanted to dress very daintily. As soon as she could voice a preference, she declared that she would only wear pink or purple. And she meant it. I could never figure out how she got her preferences. How did I give birth to such a girly girl?! Years ago, I had a business partner named Lynn. Lynn said that she thought I dressed Katie the way I really wished to dress myself. She said that she 'got' that I am a very feminine woman, even though I don't think of myself that way. High venus, she said. My Katie is high venus, that's for sure.

From that day onward, every time we sang our duet, Downtown, she said 'cookie monster' as one of the refrains. Most kids that entered our orbit learned to do the same, silly thing. In June, I tried to teach my two-year-old nephew Arthur to do this duet with me. And my eleven-year-old niece Isabelle sang 'cookie monster' to show Artie how it goes. It is a family tradition.

As Katie got older, like, she would ask me to tell her stories about when she was little. She loved it when I told the cookie monster story.

Katie must occasionally hear Petula Clark singing Downtown. She must remember our old duet. I can't imagine that she does not love me when she remembers. If I someday learn that my Katie has had children without allowing me to share in my grandchildren's lives, I don't think I would live a moment longer after I learned such a thing. All summer, I have been thinking Katie is having a child now.

We all know love is a risky business but, gosh, back when Katie and I were singing our earliest duets, if someone had suggested she would one day leave me, I would have said pishposh. I could not have believed such a thing could be possible. Tonight, the idea of risking myself to love is making it hard for me to breathe. I don't want to live in the world without love. Sometimes, I have absolutely no ability to believe that there is anything lovable about me. I poured the absolute best of me into my little girl. If that wasn't enough to earn her love, I must be unlovable.

What got me started? Oh, I remember. I'm spending the day in the city with a friend. Downtown. Well, sorta downtown. In the Castro. I'll make a full report. I try to always have a social date on my calendar, something always on my horizon, preciselly to get me through moments like this when I am heartbroken about Katie. Having a date on my calendar, knowing there are, praise goddess, miracle of miracles, actually people on this planet who want to spend time with me, well, it has saved my life, literally, on many occasions.

Note: Everyone, just about, in my whole clan has blue eyes. Katie's are very big and very brown. Until I gazed into her newborn eyes, I had never noticed that the diameters of people's eyes varied from one to another. The size of her browns was, unquestionably, larger than the size of my blues. I had always believed blue eyes to be the best. What a ridiculous notion, eh? But there you have it; I believed brown eyes to be dull. Oh no, No, no, no. Deeply dark, very large, limpid brown eyes are exceptionally fine. I am sitting here enjoying my memory of how happy her eyes were when she first cracked her cookie monster joke. I would give anything to see her eyes lit like that again. Anything. Maybe I am maudlin cause of my birthday. Let's see: there's the Xmas hellhole w/no Katie, there is her birthday in June and my birthday. I really hate myself this evening. Thank goodness I have face time with humans tomorrow. I been alone too long.