Thursday, July 11, 2024

     When I am 15 in 1955 My mother suddenly takes us, her four children, to live in Switzerland for a year, leaving my father behind.  We live in Freiburg and attend local Catholic schools. No one speaks English at school. I do not learn a new language. I learn to live in a world where no one can talk to me.  I watch and figure out what to do without understanding German or French. I am independent and alone. I am invisible.

     Foggy early morning and then sun light and a light breeze.  Almost perfect weather, doors and window opened. I drift in and out to the deck and to the patio and to my blue recliner in the living room.

     I start a new non fiction book by Charles King, GODS OF THE UPPER AIR, How a circle of renegade anthropologists reinvent race, sex and gender in the twentieth century.

     I hand write a letter to the California State Tax board explaining why they are wrong in their demand letter. They have misspelled my name. I drop the letter in the street drop box. Really, I do try to contact them by phone and on line, to no avail.