A Letter From A Melancholy Whore And Other Essays

 

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A Letter From A Melancholy Whore

By

Karla M. Diggs

RIP to one of the 20th and 21st centuries most prolific writers? The first time I picked up Love in the Time of Cholera I was 19 years old, and I thought upon finishing the first page "What is this crap?" Ten years later I picked it up again, and to my surprise it made sense! By the time I read the poignant final page I had a copy of 100 Years of Solitude at the ready! I became enthralled with a full body tattooed, buckshot brained, Jose Aureliano Buendia struggling to come to terms with life after a war with the Spanish Army. I understood the animosity of an entire town and hated the victim myself during A Chronicle of a Death Foretold. That cold, wet, Autumn of the Patriarch drove me to madness. It was Love and Other Demons that caused me to wait patiently for the parish priest to visit, making love to me while running his fingers through my red writhing locks as we lay on the dank, dusty floor of my cell in the insane asylum. I sailed every river on the continent of South America with The General in His Labyrinth lifting the hoops of my heavy skirts. And so what if Nobody Writes to the Colonel? I read about him faithfully as I bled to death from a paper cut while turning every succulent page! Because of you, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, I have passionately loved some of literature's most horrific and trifling men. Because of your words I have been some of the most beautiful, if not whorish, women to grace South American aristocracy. Your prose have taken me to exotic places, as well as erotic situations. You've made my vocabulary intense, and immense! I thought one day I'd meet you for a worm laced tequila shot, or a stroll on a moonlit Colombian beach, but alas, it was not meant to be. Thank you for making me an avid reader, and inspiring me to write my own stories! You will be sorely missed.

Sincerely,

A Melancholy Whore

KMD

April 18, 2014

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Lies I've Told My Daughter

By

Karla M. Diggs

As a woman in her 40’s who is pregnant with her second daughter, I do hereby own up to and denounce all the lies I told her older sister. At the time I was a single mom in a busy world. However that is no excuse for telling a white lie, especially since little white lies often lead to telling big black ones. I’ve been fortunate in that I realized early that the atonement would be heavy if I continued, not to mention all the times when my dear sweet mother, who never once told me or my sister a fib other than Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, cocked an eyebrow when I offended her ears at the expense of her granddaughter’s curious nature. It is said that on average a six year old can ask approximately 250 questions a day. I am fortunate again to have realized that if I had said, “Stop asking so many questions,” or God forbid, “Shut up,” I would have stunted my first daughter’s interest in learning.

There were instances when the timing of the questions was absolutely inopportune. For example, the time when a hurricane had caused a huge tree to fall next to my family’s home and my father, in all his take charge manly, diligence had gotten everyone out of bed so that we may huddle in the designated storm area of the house. My beautiful, inquisitive, all be it uncouth, daughter had the audacity to ask me, “Mommy, what is thunder?” IT WAS 5 AM IN THE MIDDLE OF A HURRICANE AND WE WERE HUDDLED TOGETHER IN THE COLD, IN THE DARK, SCARED THAT ONE TREE HAD ALREADY FALLEN NEXT TO HOUSE! WHAT IF ANOTHER TREE HAD FALLEN ON THE HOUSE??!! I took a breath, managing to answer calmly, “Black Angels tap dancing.” My mother was horrified. Daddy looked at me and shook his head. But think about it. Had my response included such words as electricity, atmospheric pressure, and sonic boom, these terms would have facilitated more questions! Again I stress, it was 5 am in the middle of a hurricane! At the time it made more sense to me to pray for the well- being and safety of my family than to answer a random science question, even if it did come from my 5 year old daughter!

Other times my daughter asked questions that I simply did not know the answers to, and did not want to admit that I had nothing to say. She asked me once in all her innocence, “Mommy why is the sky blue?” My response was, “Because God’s a Tar Heel!”

“He is?”

“Absolutely, He is! Don’t you see Roy Williams winning all these championships, and then before that it was Dean Smith. When Michael Jordan played for UNC he used to fly through the air and dunk baskets, so he’s is obviously an angel!” She would ask this question during March Madness, and in the middle of a game. Incidentally, Roy Williams did not win that year, but that didn’t matter, I came up with an answer that would suffice for that moment. In truth, the sky is blue because the Earth’s atmosphere reflects blue wavelengths off the sun. I did not know this at the time, but I will be ready for my second daughter when she asks me this question!

There were also times when I just wished my first daughter would do as she was told, and I said anything to make her do my bidding. “Mommy, why is the moon bigger this week than last week?” My response was, “When little children don’t go to bed when they’re told, the moon comes down to earth and eats them.”

“It does?”

“Yes it does. You see how big it gets over the course of a month! That’s a month full of children who refused to go to bed when they were told. Then the moon dumps them out into outer space so that it can become small again by the beginning of the next month.” Of course I am aware that the moon has 8 phases, but it was late, I was tired, and she promptly went to bed after I said it!

There were also times when it was a combination of not knowing how to answer the question, and wanting her to do as she was told. Like the time she had the temerity to stay in the bath tub playing with her rubber ducky collection after I told her to get out! I asked if she was done five or six times before she said no, then asked, “Mommy, why do my fingers get wrinkly after staying in the tub so long?” My response was, “Oh the water is making you small enough to suck you down the drain when you pull the plug. But don’t worry. If you get out fast enough you’ll be okay.”

“Mommy, I think I’m ready to get now.”

“Y’sure, because you can stay in there as looonnng as you want to…”

“No I’m ready, but can you wait and pull the plug when I get out?”

“Of course Dear.” She was out in timely fashion after that, and her rubber ducky collection never again took precedence over my wanting her to bathe quickly.

So I do hereby promise that when my next daughter asks me what is thunder, the terms electricity, atmospheric pressure, and sonic boom will be included in the explanation even if they do entice her to ask more questions. I do hereby promise when my next daughter asks me why the sky is blue that I will talk about the reflection of the earth’s atmosphere against the sun’s brilliant light. I also promise to talk about all eight phases of the moon when she asks why it is getting progressively bigger every evening during the course of a month. I do also promise that when my next daughter wants to know why her skin wrinkles up when she’s playing with her rubber duckys in the tub I will inform her that the water is stealing the keratin from her skin. Lastly, but certainly not least, when I am at a loss for words when asked tough questions I won’t pull just anything from the air. Instead, I will hit the Google app on my iPhone, and we will research the topic, whatever it may be, together.

KMD

Summer, 2014

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The Mommy War

By

Karla M. Diggs

A few weeks ago I found myself standing in a backed up Wal- Mart line, and as par for my own course, I reached in my purse in search of my personal reading material. But alas, I realized my current read was left on the nightstand next to my bed from the previous evening, ergo I had no choice but to pick up one of those common gossip magazines! As usual, they never fail to interest anyone who stands in a long line with nothing better to do, and I was not the exception to the rule. The story that caught my attention the most was the one about Angelina Jolie reprimanding Gwyneth Paltrow on a comment she made about being a working mom in Hollywood. It seems Ms. Paltrow thinks she has it harder than other working moms, but she does not go into any detail as to why she feels this way. Angelina, on the other hand, denounced her colleague’s point of view by saying that Hollywood moms are in a better position to take time off to be with their children, or hire nannies to help them take care of them. As a result of being morally correct in the eyes of the majority of people who are familiar with this argument, Mrs. Brad Pitt received many kudos for voicing a popular opinion. As I stated earlier, Gwyneth does not give a reason for feeling as she does, but I am inclined to agree with her: Hollywood moms DO have it tougher than other mothers, to a certain degree.

I share Paltrow’s opinion because I like how I turned out as an adult! I’ve had my share of wins and losses. I’m happily married. I have a work ethic. I have a reason to get up every morning. I have plans for the future. I respect living things and my fellow man. In short, I am the person I am because of my upbringing! When I found out I was pregnant with my first daughter, and I am realizing it again with my current pregnancy of my second daughter, it became clear to me that the Universe had appointed me to shape a soul and influence an intellect! Not any nanny that I could hire, not any teacher K- 12, and certainly no babysitter: ME! In fact the only other people who could ever shape the souls or influence the intellects that the universe has put in my charge are my, if not my husband’s, parents, who by the grace of God are not only alive, but retired! THEY take care of my daughter when I can’t. Gwyneth Paltrow has not this luxury, because her mother, Blythe Danner, is a working actress in her own right who has does not look like she has any intention of slowing down to play the roles of Grandma, Granny, Nana, or Memaw. As for Angelina Jolie, it is widely known that she has a complex relationship with her father, Jon Voight, who, like Blythe Danner, is also a working actor. He may or may not even acknowledge that he is a grandparent!

Before I say anything further, I would like to give Angelina Jolie her props. She is gorgeous, generous, smart, talented, fecundate, and a survivor… just as much as she is an exhibitionist! It seems it doesn’t bother her to have people looking at her life, and her children are very much a part of her life. Maybe Gwyneth Paltrow considers dealing with the press, in any wise, as part of her job as an actress. Therefore she would like to separate her home life from her job! Not to mention she may not be interested in having so many anklebiters that she can’t keep up with them by herself. I imagine hiring caretakers for your offspring is tedious. Jolie needs to consider that not everyone, Hollywood starlets included, desires to have various and sundry people wiping their babe’s noses, witnessing the first steps, hearing the first words, or advising them on how to deal with the bully on the playground. Not all Hollywood divas want to have to vet hirelings to take charge of the kiddies, and hope they don’t leak household secrets to the vultures in the press, especially where their darlings are concerned. Additionally I commend stars like Hallie Berry who are in the process of fighting for their children’s rights to privacy on school property, whereas mothers who are not in the limelight simply have to sign a waiver stating they don’t want their children’s pictures taken, or their images on candid camera, when they attend school.

I am aware most single working mothers would love to eliminate the $500- $1000 a month daycare bill, because they can afford to stay home with their child. In that regard Jolie was sound in her argument toward Paltrow. There are times, however, when it is not about the money you are, or are not, able to spend on your child’s wellbeing. It is about the uninterrupted, devoid of assistance, freedom from the press, quality time you, Mommy, spend with your child!

KMD

Summer, 2014

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Really, Mila?

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The First Teacher

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