PUT IT ON THE LIST Chris Malcomb
1. There are yellow leaves on my porch. Yes. It is that time of year: trees shedding;
daylight shrinking; rains coming. Soon I will dust off my black overcoat, unpack my
wool hats, stock up on hot cocoa.
2. Soon I will get serious about my lists.
3. Lists, of course, are not just an autumn hobby. Tallying is a year-round affair. Pick up
milk. Get oil change. Buy underwear. Call plumber. But listing really ramps up when leaves
start turning.
4. The paper containing “Back-To-School” supplies gets crumpled. We launch into the
next wave of scribbling: fangs, candy and pumpkins; plump, free-range turkeys;
menorah candles; tinsel; perfect gift for Aunt Nellie.
It feels good to cross things off.
5. One more thing done. One more thing down.6. One more thing.
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1. My ex-girlfriend lived by lists.2. Every life detail—airplane itineraries, directions to a state park, Paxil dosage, titles of
books to read—littered the pages of a notebook she always carried. When was the
Warriors’ game? Check the notebook. Whose 8th grade papers did she still need to
grade? The notebook. What’s for dinner? Yes, the notebook.3. (Well, not literally.)
4. I felt left out, so I got a notebook.
5. I jotted lists of my daily organizational existence: People to call. Things to ask the
dentist. Starting lineup for my 8th grade basketball team. Soon, however, I began mixing lists.
“Things I Miss” and “Ways to Write about My Mother” shared pages with grocery
items and movie times.6. Unfortunately: Practical + Creative = Confusing.
7. I got another notebook.
8. I had two places for lists.
9. My girlfriend added one more thing to her list: break up.
...
1. I posted a personal ad entitled "Things I’d Like to Share":steaming pot of green tea; Rumi poetry; candlelight; curved, dirt path littered
with fallen leaves; big bowl of steamed kale; favorite wool sweater; a milkshake at
the soda fountain (two straws, please); the time that is left…2. Nobody replied.
3. I wasn’t on anyone’s list.
...
1. Japanese Zen master (and poet) Ikkyu: “Having no destination, I am never lost.”2. I wonder if he made lists?
...
1. Last summer, my brother was visiting my aunt and uncle at their small motel
overlooking the Orisi Valley in Costa Rica. He was there to trim some overgrown
vegetation off the side of a 750’ cliff, the face of which is exactly that: a face, with
vegetation forming the hair, mustache and beard of an old man. The thick jungle
weeds had obscured much of the man’s gaze.The villagers below longed to look him in the eye again.
2. My brother is a skilled, careful climber. He’s ascended El Capitan, trekked in
Patagonia and led teenagers over Alaskan glaciers.3. He rigged his harness, dropped his rope and began repelling. The first several
hundred feet were thick with scrub and trees. He toed at branches, clods of dirt and
stones to secure his footing. The scrub thinned and the wall curved into a straight
drop to the bottom. He kicked at a small tree and prepared to leap onto the granite
face, the man’s forehead.4. He didn’t get the chance.
5. That last kick had stirred a nest of killer honeybees; in an instant a swarm was
humming around his head. “They waited to see if I was really a threat,” he said. “If I
hadn’t swatted the first one, maybe they wouldn’t have attacked.”6. He did.
7. They did. What killer bees do: dive at eyes, ears and nose; burrow under shirt,
into pants. Sting. Sting. Sting.8. Sting.
9. My brother clipped out and free-climbed the wall, hand-over-hand, 500’ above the
ground.10. “They were attacking the whole time.”
11. Sometimes lists are short:
Climb.
Breathe.
Climb.
Breathe.12. My brother sprinted through a field to the motel. My aunt and uncle shuffled him
into the car. The road into town was gridlocked. In the midst of the traffic appeared
an empty ambulance. My brother got in, and said: “¡Vaya!”13. At the hospital they removed 300 stingers.
14. Three Hundred.
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1. Two months later, just as the leaves on his property were beginning to crinkle and
fall, a yellow bumblebee landed on my brother’s shoulder. It sat calmly while he:padded through the quiet woods
emerged on a rocky shore
took a nap in the later afternoon sun.After three hours the bumblebee died, rolled off my brother’s shoulder, and floated
to the dry ground.
After three hours the bumblebee died, rolled off my brother’s shoulder, and floated
to the dry ground.