Slepsky Dinners
I used to be the biggest presence in the room,
all frenetic energy and constant movement, a
voice to command attention, the surest ideas,
the wittiest stories with a literary flair, and
charm enough to fill the space at hand, and...
and... and then I met you, and your family,
and was, in a word, diffused or de-fused, my
noise lost, my explosive potential removed.
I was decelerated in the confusion of a huge
family made of huge personalities and huge
volumes booming and bouncing off each
other in joyous, unplanned movement. Living
at an athletic pace, a robust pattern of loving
interruption, passing a baton in no particular
order, holding court in a crowd of royalty.
It's like stepping into traffic that's all gas and
no brakes. It's like being promoted to the next
level and having to learn a new tempo or be
trampled at the bottom of the scrum, where
stories, my stories, cannot slowly unfold
because that is not the goal. I've learned you
pass the ball, or if you hold on, you run hard.
It's not about a sense of order. It's not about
decorum, or social norms, or reaching some
goal or decision, or achieving a consensus. No,
it's about giving yourself over to a loving chaos,
adding your voice to a feral chorus and joining
in the twisting, cacophonous, Slepsky fun.
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