Obama's Ear

When my oldest daughter, RK, was born three years ago, my mom passed along to me an aging keepsake book from my own birth. With newfound context, I pored over the details of my early months that my mom had written down decades earlier. Sure, I compared birth weight and growth and pictures of my daughter and myself, but what struck me most was a note in one of the margins. Along with a small illustration, was the notation: "Right ear comes to a slight point."

I looked in the mirror. Indeed it does.

I hadn't really paid my ears much attention since my freshman year of college, when in a nice Punk rock moment, I downed a shot of whiskey, rammed a safety pin through one lobe, and clipped it on. I've since let the piercing close, but the point is still there. If forced to consider it, I suppose it gives my head a slightly asymmetrical quality that I like.

It was only a few weeks before I noticed that young RK has a very similar point, on the very same ear. I could not have been happier. One could certainly pass along far worse genetic abnormalities than the point.

And it was not long after that when I first noticed the ears of one Barack Obama.

Barack's got the ear. He's got more of a matching set than I, as opposed to being the long-lost left-pointed yin to my right yang. But I like to think of us as brothers in ears.

Now, admittedly, any presidential aspirations on my part have less to do with James Monroe than with Marilyn. Still, in moments of grandeur, I like to think that the extra nub of cartilage is where the hand of God yanked me from the womb. Maybe even to be something special.

Sure, I'm 40, and still struck by the fact that I'm not really sure what exactly I want to do when I grow up. But that never stopped, say, Hitchcock, or Cézanne.

Sure, Barack's only seven years my senior, but we can't all be that one.

In my early twenties, because I could write and paint and photograph with some skill, I half believed I'd be famous in short order — lauded for the creativity and talent that I rarely had the energy and persistence to properly market — and able to make my way doing the things I love. I thought it just came to you. I could not imagine working full-time for The Man. I could not even imagine being forty.

And at 40? I'm slowly getting it together, putting in my time, working for The Man; delivering The Weekly Meat in the off hours, to keep my hand in the game; and trying like hell to be a good husband, a good dad, and a good human being. I'm occasionally overwhelmed, and almost constantly whelmed.

I'm less creative than I once was, but more consistenly so. I think differently, though not often as deeply. Like my once-rebellious now-presidential brother in ears, I listen better. I feel more. And if the unjustified fame came, I could probably now deal with it without the self immolation that would surely have come back in the days of spontaneous unsanitary cartilage piercing.

Comments

[Bill]

Apparently you are half Vulcan. But judging by the photo, Barack is ALL Vulcan; and that explains a LOT. I bet he's got a Mind Meld he can throw on Ahmedinedjad and get that whole Iran thing sorted out, and maybe he can lay a nerve pinch on Rush Limbaugh and shut him the fuck up for a while...

[Mae]

...from your lips!