Catwalk

Dear Bono,

I saw your shows in Arizona this weekend.  I got Edge's signature on my tour program thanks to my husband's freakishly long arms, but didn't manage to get yours.  I saw you, though.  You were on stage, probably less than 10 feet away from me.  I was there, on stage right, on the rail, a third of the way down the catwalk.  Do you remember me?  I wanted to talk to you, to tell you my plans for surgical care in the Third World. You were busy performing.

I was in the high seats the next day.  You wouldn't have seen me.  I dreamed that night that you picked me out of the crowd for your show, and I walked the catwalk from the e to the i stage, and it was the same as the bridge between University of Maryland hospital and the Baltimore VA bridge.

I need more tickets.

xoxo
jp

Happy Birthday

Dear Bono,

Today is your birthday.  Happy Birthday!  I wonder how you celebrate birthdays.  I have found that as I have reached adulthood, birthdays excite me less each year.  I think my peak was age 7, when I got my Barbie with the swimming suit and crimped hair and a Barbie sized swimming pool.  I remember taking it out back and filling some water in that pool and putting my Barbie in it, while my mom made sure to warn me not to get her hair wet because it would ruin her hair.  I took really good care of my toys, since we didn't have much money and I knew each toy would have to last a long time.  Now my Barbies are all in a little suitcase.  My sister opened up her Barbie suitcase for her daughter to play with over Thanksgiving.  It was a jumble of plastic legs and torsos, yet looking at each Barbie brought back such memories!

Now that I am grown and have more money, each little thing I have is just that-one more little thing.  This year, I want memories for my birthday, not things.

xoxo

JP