Scene4-International Magazine of Arts and Culture
Claudine Jones-Scene4 Magazine

Claudine Jones


Why are you angry? What's troubling you?
Who are you in solid with?

Even with the world the way it is presently, I think I'm a Woody-Allen-film goer; I don't believe that's going to change. When the theater lets out & we're back on the sidewalk, I want ice-cream. I want not to get back to earth yet. We could walk to Black Walnut or Rum Raisin—not Butter Brickle, no, it's the wrong color—& disagree about Meaning, or Worth, or Art, right through the double scoop & halfway back to the car.

My best childhood friend lives in Colorado Springs & probably still has Religion. She refuses to fly because she says it's like being raped by the TSA, so we probably won't visit in person anytime soon—but she still likes to get & send snail mail. Got a bona fide Christmas card from her—always do—& her mom is also in her 90's & at present housebound because of a fall sometime in June. She wishes me all the fun of Christmastime. Every time someone dies that the two of us grew up with—Annette Funicello or one of the Corcorans from Mickey Mouse Club—we send each other condolences. I get an earworm for the theme from Dr. Kildare & I can see Richard Chamberlain's chiseled face in my mind; if I want to, I just say okay google play the theme song from... & we're back sitting in front of tiny TV screens watching Zorro, & my heart beats faster. If anybody was gay, we didn't know, didn't matter; we were in love—I got Spin & she got Marty.

La cousine Chantal left a message last night: she thinks it would be nice to set up a face to face between our mothers—she means Skype, of course which my mother disdains: lacks privacy. Today is the older sister's 98th birthday. Chantal also notes that she's heading back to Paris from NY same day, so this sounds like it might have been a last-minute idea. That's fine, but from my perspective, I'm still settling in on the latest—mom's boyfriend blew up her microwave a couple of weeks ago, promised to replace it & what should she find yesterday afternoon on the chair at the base of the stairs where she rests after coming back from the mailbox? A slightly dinged-up old model with food clinging to the insides; not brought up & installed, just abandoned there for her to deal with, no note saying in a rush, back soon to help. Nope. Just another problem for my little brother to handle since she's afraid to leave it there overnight. Where was I? Oh yeah: arguing over the logistic/benefit ratio of skyping, with someone still furious that her older sister for nigh well a century has been telling her what to do.


My knitting folders are named PROJECTS & ARCHIVED. Peacefully, I transfer the pattern of finished scarf or sweater or hat or socks into the second of these folders. I start a new one & think to myself, once again, damn you KS. She is my Knitting Knemesis. She is a designer whose name appears even if she didn't actually do the designing cause she is a higher-up which I suppose means that you have to run your stuff past her to get it in the catalog/website. It's getting so I do not trust a certain company whose yarn I like & buy & use & yet have to tiptoe by KS, adjust my bandolier & heft my pistols: I will not be denied. I will research the opacity of KS tricky bits on YouTube cause nothin' says one thousand techniques like UToob. Thus equipped I then find warmth & light on the couch under the southwest window.

Yesterday we picked up Jacob after school; sweet hugs & march downhill a scant three blocks, where we had finally found Friday parking. We saw the car ahead & as he ran toward it, I pressed the key dongle to magically open the hatch so he could stash his pack. No joy. The rear lights flashed, but it remained locked. He tried again. Nothing. Until you're pretty close, seems one can do only so much with a dongle. He remarked that it must be designed for security. As we loaded ourselves in, I was seized with an inspiration: I had a testy project shortage requiring a small purchase—did he know by any chance of a dollar store nearby? This was after all his neck of the woods...O yes, there's one by the Safeway. Yes, I know precisely where it is, I can show you. I know right where it is. This was exciting! A quicky side trip across the freeway & then spang off to Nammie & Ap's, toast & jam, apple juice & Minecraft.

How perfect it would have been had his destination not turned out to be Joe's Liquors.

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Actor/Singer/Dancer Claudine Jones has worked steadily in Bay Area joints for a number of decades.
She writes a monthly column and is
a Senior Writer for Scene4.
For more of her commentary and articles, check the Archives.

©2018 Claudine Jones
©2018 Publication Scene4 Magazine




January 2018

Volume 18 Issue 8

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