This little book, Gerald's Last Christmas, was created by Barbara Bellows-TerraNova. These are the words, taken from Goodbye, I Love You, that my father spoke in a meditation he led our family through on the Christmas before he died. Yes, it is a little New Agey. For those of you that appreciate this kind of thing, enjoy. For those of you that don't, just play the fortune cookie game and add "In bed with a midget" after every page.
I think peace is a wonderful thing to visualize. For ourselves, for our world, really for anyone. Including midgets. Wow, I am thoroughly sucking at my resolve to stop mocking midgets. Sigh. Oh well, Santa already knows I'm naughty...
Okay, you know what? I can't take it anymore. It is physically painful for me to not Mock the Midget. I tried, I really did. But the mocking has a life of it's own. It bubbles out of me at will - and suppressing it creates stroke-like twitching behind my right eye, some sort of herniation in my L5 - S1, and a violent case of turrets. Totally not worth it.
Maybe I gave up midgets prematurely - before I got to have Midget Day. Maybe knowing that there is, not only a candy store owned and run by midgets but, an entire midget neighborhood here in Salt Lake that I am denying myself was too much. How can I NOT partake? Midgets! In Salt Lake! That totally makes up for all the Mormons.
All I know is that the other night when I found the video of the midget in a leotard - hopping, grooving, riding and head butting his two missing link side kicks - something in me snapped. Then I crawled into bed, picked up the book "Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea" by Chelsea Handler and read...
"You will do things for a child that you would not even do for yourself," she told me over the phone a couple of weeks after she had Charley.
"That's totally how I feel about midgets!"
"I Think they prefer to be called little people," she said.
"Well, Sloane," I told her, "you've obviously never hung out with one, because I know from personal experience that they either like to be called 'midget,' or 'little fucker.'"
And, with that, I raised the white flag of defeat. I cannot, and will not, stop. But, I will make a deal with any midget, anywhere. They can mock me to kingdom come and 'til the cows come home. I will even provide for them a vast list of all the highly mockable things there are about me. Then we will be even and all will be filled with glee.
Because, really, what is peace without glee? If glee is suppressed there can be no peace. In fact, now that I think about it that was the real message of my dad's last Christmas: Em, I am leaving you - thus sending you to hell for decades. But you will not be left totally without joy. Jesus, the Mighty Universe, the combined energy of all living and I are leaving you something that will carry you through the darkest of times...
Midgets.
Amen.
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