(Photo: Tina Holmes)
This week my little brother went to a '90s party dressed in a pink shirt and faded jeans, as if that happened in the '90s, which it did because they were his father's old clothes. My brother is the one who will drive me to the airport-- even though he has computer simulations to work on and I still call him "the baby"-- and he's the one who will keep turning the air conditioner down one notch for every two that I turn it up. Mostly he understands me. On the airplane home, I read in the literature that "everyone deserves a working TV on a flight," so I begin flipping through the channels to exercise my right. I will watch anything that doesn't turn my stomach sideways. One man on the television asks, "If the spirits can produce enough energy to move someone's hair, what else can they do?" I worry about these things, too, and about what happened to the child-faced 25 year-old I was in the '90s. But mostly I think we should honor our dead and tell them it's ok to feel peaceful around us. If they ever move your hair, they're probably just telling you it's ok to be present right here and to live your life in the 2010s-- or whatever decade you find yourself in-- with as much joy as if you always wore a Blossom hat from the '90s, one that made you laugh and that only you and they could see.