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Los Angeles, California
I am 47 and thriving in Southern California. One day at a time.
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Tuesday, October 12, 2010

it's all in the details...

when i was a young girl, not even the age of three, i joined an institution i'd be forever linked to.


the bishop strachan school. a private school for girls in beautiful forest hill, toronto, ontario, canada.

for 11 years i was a proud student. hubby likes to tease and label me as bookish, well, fine. step aside as i wholeheartedly embrace the stigma. i loved school.

we wore uniforms. learned etiquette. took pride in our appearance. and were cerebrally challenged at every turn. james herriot at age 11?

bring it on.

one of my "chores"...["chores"...honestly, like i grew up on a farm or something instead of in a downtown toronto apartment...] was to safeguard my uniform. iron my shirt, knot my tie correctly, replace worn laces and polish my shoes.

sure, pride goeth before the fall, but it was worth it.

to take a pair of tattered, worn out black loafers and take them from dull hibernation unto exhilarating sheen was empowerment personified.

and we were rewarded for it. bestowed with ribbons embossed in gold.

effort and consideration. good grooming. and courtesy.

one student, received one ribbon, every three months.

i proudly accepted the "effort and consideration" and "good grooming" ribbons on more than one occasion. but "courtesy" somehow eluded me.

[maybe i should reconsider that potty mouth, after all...]

tonight it was reported the chilean miners are hours away from rescue. one by one they will be lifted up within a shaft, not 22 inches wide, to be finally reunited with their families.

their suffering unimaginable; but somehow their last requests instantly humanized it all.

is vanity the great equalizer? no rather, humanity.

shoe polish. they asked for shoe polish. and shampoo.

an eventful night for news, indeed. the first american was injected with embryonic stem cells to help heal a spinal cord injury. based on encouraging data from mice who walked again (thank you, thank you, sweet mice...), one american will be injected every month for the next year.

expectations are low. but aspirations are high.

although knowing we are a long way from organ development vs. tissue development, it's beyond exciting to imagine a day when i will no longer have to take medication.

the dawn of a new age of medical therapy.

leaving the days of pills behind and entering a world where living, human cells treat symptoms instead.

at the risk of invoking sleep, embryonic stem cells are coveted above and beyond the adult ones that have already formed "blueprints". embryonic stem cells can become anything you direct them to.

much like a desperate actress splayed across the proverbial casting couch.

[oooh. low blow, henny, low blow...]

the crux of the controversy confounds me. these are embryonic cells discarded after use in IV fertilization...

hey, it's late. i'm not up for the debate. it's just where i stand.

a bunch of cells. and shampoo. and shoe polish. details disguised as minor, but actually enhance, celebrate and define who we are:

-the smell of freshly washed hair.

-the pride we take in our apppearance...right down to our shiny shoes.

-and the subtleties of science that can make or break your life.

the details are not all i have left. they are all i ever had...

1 comment:

  1. I'm a BSS Old Girl, too. I was there in the 90s, though. Have you been back lately? There's a lovely new athletics and music facilities!