What happens next is a series of unfortunate events, but I won't go into it. The point is the commentary this Manga was making on the current state of society, in which no one cares if a homeless person lives or dies. One can imagine if it had been a non-homeless person who fell into the tracks, a business person for example, people would have stepped into help. We live in a society where few care if a homeless person lives or dies. Except for one person who does, who tries to help, convinces another to help by shaming him in front of others until he feels like he has no choice, and the two die because of it. This book made me think about doing the right thing, regardless of the consequences. Inner integrity. How much of this do I have? How often do I do the right thing because I feel I have no choice? And how often do I do the wrong thing knowing I won't get caught? This book inspired me to do the right thing, regardless of the consequences, regardless of if anyone knows or not. It is personal, specifically what I am talking about, but I feel inspired to do the right thing in that area.

Today Amelia went to the mountains with her friend Sammy and Sammy's dad, Rick. They were supposed to be home "by dark" but didn't roll in until after 8:00. It was the first time Amelia has been away from either James, myself, or James' parents for that long and it was hard for all of us. James gave up his Sunday with her so she could go on this trip. I found myself worried and out of sorts all day. I didn't like her being away with someone that I don't know very well, driving in the mountains, not knowing how Amelia would do being away from me all day. It didn't help that he wasn't answering his phone, so I couldn't check in, and didn't hear from him until 7:30.

However, Amelia did have a blast. And that is what is important. She did say that while they were having dinner at Timberline she really wanted to be home. Which is understandable. I think that's when it set in how long she had been away (to a six year old 10 hours in a different environment must seem like a very, very long time). I didn't get much more information out of her because she was so tired, and just wanted to curl up and snuggle. I am sure I will learn more tomorrow. I am just so happy that she is home!

I am at my friend Joan’s house when get the call from my father. As 12 year olds with late night freedom, Joan and I had spent the evening engaging in our favorite activity of staying up late, watching scary movies.

My dad sounds rattled on the phone, and says, “Something happened to Bev last night. She drove herself to the hospital and found out she had a heart attack”. “Bev” is what we call our mother, my siblings and I. Rarely do we call her “Mom”, because she always refers to herself by name, and same with my dad, although we call him “Dad”.

“What?” I ask. I don’t understand. My mother is young, relatively, about 45, non smoker, vegetarian….it seems highly unlikely that my mom would have a heart attack. And drive herself to the hospital? What is that all about? Don’t you collapse and fall over when you have a heart attack? Don’t you go to the hospital in an ambulance? None of it makes any sense.

My dad repeats what he has said. It is starting to make sense, or at least sound believable.

“It was a serious heart attack, but Bev is in the hospital and they are taking good care of her. She is awake and out of pain. When you come home, we’ll go see her”. In my mind I’m picturing how my mother almost died, that’s how I’m interpreting “serious heart attack”. This is a belief I will carry with me throughout my life. I tell him I’ll be right home. I briefly tell Joan what has happened, and she asks if she should come with me. I call my dad to ask him if that’s ok, but he says it needs to just be family right now. I say ok. I walk around the block from Joan’s house to mine, worried and scared.

When I get home, my brother, Karl, and sister, Jane, are home with my dad. Everyone is standing in the dining room, and I have a memory of coming home from Joan’s earlier this year to everyone standing in the dining room when my grandmother died. It feels familiar. I hug my dad. I ask when we’re going to the hospital. He says, “Right now, we were waiting for you to come home”.

We get in the car and drive to the hospital.

When we get there, we find out where my mother is and go up to see her. In her room, the first thing I notice is that there are tubes and buttons and monitors everywhere, hooked up to my mother and monitoring what is happening to her. It scares me, to see her like that. She looks so helpless and fragile, and it contrasts with the image I’ve always had of my mother, one who is strong and independent. I am scared. I look at my brother and sister. They look scared too. Even my dad looks scared. The only one who doesn’t look scared is my mom, who is trying hard to show us she’s fine, that it “wasn’t that big of a deal”. She is friendly with the nurses and doctors, and I can tell she is one of their favorite patients. My mother, the comedian. She is well loved by all. She is trying to take care of our feelings, I know, but I find it irritating that she is pretending like nothing happened.

I want to know how long she’ll be there. When she’ll get to come home. The doctors say they don’t know, they want to watch her for observation, in case she has another one. They think it will only be a couple of days. A couple of days? Alone with my dad and without my mom for a couple of days, maybe more? I am not happy.

We leave the hospital and go home. My Aunt Barbara, my namesake, is there. She, like my mother, is pretending like nothing happened, but I can see how flustered she is. Again, I am annoyed. It speaks to how my family deals with things, pretending like they didn’t happen. This is something I am just beginning to be aware of.