Love, Penelope

by Joanne Rocklin

  Another win! We beat the Celtics, 106–101. At one point in the middle of the second quarter, the Dubs were behind by twenty-six points, but Hazel said it probably felt like only two points to the Celtics.

  Hazel: “That’s how good the Dubs are. Don’t worry. The Dubs will catch up.”

  Later, Uncle Ziggy said Hazel Drop-the-Pepper knows a lot about basketball for a young person.

  I guess.

  Hazel’s mother, Liza, came to pick her up after we watched the game. She looks like Hazel but much skinnier, with the same big off-and-on smile.

  Love,

  Penny

  MONDAY, MARCH 2, 2015

  Dear You,

  I told Mama and Sammy that I felt like I had been having a HEART ATTACK during the game tonight against the Nets. Mama told me not to joke about things like that. Well, my heart WAS pounding, hard. Then I remembered that Sammy’s dad, Henry Bach, had died of a heart attack, so I apologized. Sammy told Mama not to be so hard on me.

  But in my own defense, it was one of the most exciting games ever!

  Even Mama and Sammy watched the exciting finish. (Well, exciting, but SAD. For our team.) The Dubs were down ten points in the fourth. Curry made FOUR three-pointers, bringing the Warriors back, but then the Nets’ Jarrett Jack made a jumper AT THE LAST SECOND, and the Dubs lost 108–110.

  I feel bad for being insensitive to the memory of Henry Bach. But still.

  NEWS: Hazel Drop-the-Pepper invited Gabby and me over to her house tomorrow. I am looking forward to going.

  She wouldn’t invite us to her house if she was a guilty fabricator, would she? So I feel a bit bad about MALIGNING her, even if I was only accusing her in this journal.

  Do you look forward to anything, You?

  I guess not. “Looking forward” means you can think. But I do like to imagine that you can think!

  Sometimes, I have so many thoughts in my head, I am not sure what to do with them all. That’s why I like to write my thoughts down.

  And What to Expect says you can yawn now that you are entering your eighteenth week. Do you ever get bored and yawn into the darkness? You can also hiccup.

  Love,

  Penny

  PS. Somebody scribbled SASHA OBAMA, the name of one of President Obama’s daughters, on our basketball list on the bulletin board at school. A prank, of course. Ha ha. There were no other new names.

  PPS. Strawberry-Mint for Sundae Monday, all month. Pretty good.

  TUESDAY, MARCH 3, 2015

  Dear You,

  As I told you, the Ohlone were excellent hunters. Their senses were highly attuned to the natural world because their survival depended on it. AMAZING FACT: They could sometimes smell an animal even before they could see it. That’s how keen their senses were trained to be.

  Here’s the thing, You. Human beings have five senses. Taste, smell, sight, hearing, and touch. I am not sure about the order in which you will develop them.

  Do you have a sense of smell yet?

  WHAT I LOVE TO SMELL

  Mama’s weekend French toast with vanilla

  Roses

  Coffee in the kitchen when Sammy’s working late

  Shampoo in the shower

  Rain and its clean, pine-needle scent

  Love, Penny

  PS. PRINCESS LEIA was on the basketball list. Same handwriting as SASHA OBAMA. So immature.

  Wednesday, 3/4/15, we beat the Bucks, 102–93. Curry made three three-pointers in one minute in the fourth quarter!

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Draymond Green! And thank you for the twenty-three points!

  SATURDAY, MARCH 7, 2015

  Dear You,

  A double-digit win last night, 3/6/15, against Dallas, 104–89!

  Everything Hazel said about herself checked out. No fabrications. I am relieved, actually. I suppose I am beginning to like her a little bit.

  Hazel’s bedroom is the biggest kid’s bedroom I’ve ever seen. She has giant posters of Dubs players on every wall and a practice net on her closet door. She has a four-poster bed and a rocking chair and a window seat, AND—

  A REFRIGERATOR.

  Check!

  Yes, her very own refrigerator! There is only a carton of lemonade in it right now, but Hazel said she usually keeps apples and beef jerky in there for snacking.

  Her refrigerator makes a nice humming noise that lulls her to sleep when she is having trouble with that.

  SAMOVAR

  Check!

  A samovar is a big, old-fashioned brass object that people used to make tea, especially in Russia. Hazel’s mother made a lamp base out of theirs. I didn’t get around to asking if it once belonged to a czar’s cousin.

  Here is what it looks like, sort of:

  GOAT

  Check!

  Yes, Hazel has a goat in her backyard!!!!!

  Her name is Nell and she’s two years old. She is very big and soft and warm and brown with long floppy ears and kind eyes. A Nubian goat, Hazel says.

  And we all got to milk her!!! Hazel’s mom tied her legs to the milking stand so she wouldn’t kick, and her head stuck through bars on a stock like this:

  Nell chomped happily on her alfalfa while we milked her. It was hard to aim the stream of milk into the pail, and we got goat’s milk on our clothes. We didn’t care! We even tasted the milk with our fingers. It was warm and sweet.

  Goats are very stubborn, Hazel said. They don’t do what you want them to do most of the time. But we took turns getting her to follow us by holding small amounts of grain in our palms. Nubian goats go crazy for grain.

  Sometimes, Nell hollers “M-AH-AH-AH-AH!!” Especially when she is out of food. She has spectacular vocal cords.

  Not too long ago, neighbors called the fire department because they thought they’d heard a crying child. Everyone got a good laugh out of that.

  Except Hazel’s mom’s boyfriend, Rick. He didn’t think it was a laughing matter. He is not a goat lover, Hazel says.

  Hazel says Nell is both smart and not-so-smart. Sometimes, she poops in her drinking water. But Nell knows things. For instance, she only nuzzles the hair of a person who really loves her, no matter what. Hazel whispers secrets to her, and Nell whispers secrets back. Hazel swears she does.

  THE SECRET STAIRWAY

  Check!

  You walk four steps down an alley, and there it is. Seven stone steps going up, easy to miss because of a neighbor’s trash cans in front of the alley’s entrance. It’s the trash cans that keep the stairway secret. Maybe that’s why the Oakland Secret Stairway Society hasn’t discovered it yet.

  The stairway stops at another neighbor’s old rickety fence—for absolutely no reason. Once, Hazel peeked over that fence, standing on a little stool she’d carried up the stairs. She was hoping to see a beautiful secret garden or something intriguing and mysterious, like an elf’s house. But all she saw was some straggly grass and a swing set. Nothing intriguing at all.

  Hazel: “But it’s still a secret stairway, and we are the only ones who know about it. An IRONCLAD secret!”

  (I admire Hazel for using that word. It is a wonderful word.)

  Gabby: “Maybe it is a stairway where we TELL secrets.”

  Hazel and I: “Yes!”

  Hazel: “Let’s start with boys.”

  TO BE CONTINUED AFTER DINNER . . .

  LATER

  So, PRESENTING:

  SECRETS OF THE SECRET STAIRWAY (SOSS) FIRST EDITION

  GABBY’S SECRET:

  Gabby has a crush on a boy named Bo in the other fifth-grade class. She has liked him since third grade, when he always shared his fruit rolls. She’s not sure she likes him as much as she did in third grade, though.

  She had another secret. Her brother, Mike, is taking his driver’s license test soon, and she hopes he doesn’t pass the test right away.

  She feels so mean and guilty to even THINK that.

  But when he’s a driver, he won’t be home as much. She will miss him.

  I told G
abby that Sammy says worrying about something doesn’t mean it will happen. Maybe Mike won’t be gone more. We agreed that Sammy is very wise and we hope she is right.

  Because where would Mike go? I wonder. He is only sixteen and can’t go on long road trips or anything.

  MY SECRET:

  I said that I had a secret love, but I wanted to keep it private for now. I asked them to respect that. They agreed to, because that’s what friends are for.

  Then I also confessed that I keep wishing Mama and Sammy would get married in the near future, even though they already have a marriage of the heart.

  Gabby said, yes, they should get married, because a wedding is worth it for the hors d’oeuvres. That’s something the French invented, and Gabby says it’s pronounced "or derves" not "horse doo-vers" like I’ve always thought. Her aunty Lue is a caterer, and that’s what they serve at fancy-schmancy catered occasions—teeny, yummy hot and cold things that are very expensive. Shrimp balls. Tiny tacos. Spring rolls. Radish roses. Teeny quiches. Yum! You can walk around and choose seconds and thirds from people carrying the hors d’oeuvres piled up on platters. Imagine that! Gabby had them at her cousin’s wedding, and she says they were the best things she ever ate in her life.

  She is thinking about being a caterer herself. You probably get to eat all the leftovers. (Gabby is always thinking about what she wants to be as an adult. She thinks about that a lot. I never do. Does that mean Gabby is more mature than I am?)

  Anyway, hors d’oeuvres aren’t why I want Mama and Sammy to get married, of course.

  I don’t know why I do. I just do.

  HAZEL’S SECRET:

  It’s an AMAZING one!!!

  Hazel: “As you know, Rick is a friend of Warriors coach Steve Kerr and other important people. He is going to get great Warriors tickets for me and my mom and himself, as well as some friends of my choosing, who will be—TA-DA!—the two of you! We will probably sit near the Warriors’ bench. I wasn’t going to say anything until it happens, but I can’t help it!!!”

  Gabby and I started hooting and hollering, then we quieted down because, after all, it’s a secret stairway.

  Still, WOW.

  Then Hazel said: “I don’t like any boy at the moment, secret or not secret. But Penny, if you can’t tell us the name of your secret love, can you tell us if it’s a girl or a boy?”

  Me: “It’s a boy.”

  Hazel: “I’m surprised.”

  Me: “Why?”

  Hazel: “Well, you know.”

  Me: “Because I have two moms?”

  Hazel: “Right.”

  Me: “Parents don’t teach you who to love, silly! Your own heart teaches you, usually by fluttering. You just love whom you love.”

  Mama and Sammy are always telling me that. And now I know they are right.

  Hazel: “Really?”

  Me: “Really.”

  Sometimes, I feel wiser than other kids my age.

  By the way, nobody asked again about the Fact of Your Life, You.

  But I think I am ready for when they do.

  Love,

  P

  SUNDAY, MARCH 8, 2015

  Dear You,

  BIG NEWS!

  No, not that we had a bit of rain this week. (Good news, but not the Big News.)

  And not that Rick got those Warriors tickets. Not yet, anyway. Maybe he is waiting for the playoff season.

  And not that Mike agreed to be a coach, because he didn’t. Gabby asked him, but he said he is too worried about his driver’s license test lately. He promised he would give it some thought later. (I am very disappointed. But I understand his feelings, I guess.)

  And not that the Warriors beat the Clippers tonight, 106–98.

  (Happy news, but not the Big News.)

  BIG NEWS!

  MAMA FELT YOU MOVE!!!

  When Curry dribbled behind his back and got through three defenders to make that first three-pointer, I was yelling my head off.

  All of a sudden, Mama shouted, too: “The baby moved!”

  Mama was wearing headphones and listening to music, so I don’t think she was following the game.

  But maybe YOU were!

  It is fun to imagine that you were pumping your tiny fist at that moment. Or kicking a tiny foot. Or doing the wave (hee-hee).

  “What did it feel like? What did it feel like?” Sammy and I kept asking her.

  It was a very small feeling, Mama said. Like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. Or her cell phone vibrating. But, yup, it was a definite something.

  You are a definite something!

  Of course, we knew that already.

  But maybe you are telling us that, now, Mama, Sammy, and I are definite somethings to you.

  Love,

  Pen

  MONDAY, MARCH 9, 2015

  Dear Definite Something,

  We added Hazel’s name to the basketball list at school. At first, we were excited because there were other names on the list.

  STEPHANIE CURRY and KLAYMILLA THOMPSON and ANDREA BOGUT.

  Gabby: “Look again. The same terrible handwriting as the fake Sasha Obama and Princess Leia.”

  Hazel said she recognized Kenny Walinhoff’s handwriting, which looks like tangled-up yarn. She has a good memory for that kind of thing, because she is an artist.

  Love,

  Pen

  The Dubs beat the Suns tonight, 3/9/15, 98–80! FIFTY

  WINS and counting for the Dubs this season!

  FRIDAY, MARCH 13, 2015

  Dear You,

  Hazel and I watched the game at Gabby’s.

  We lost to the Nuggets, 104–113.

  Mike watched the game with us. He sat beside me. He made me feel better about our loss. Steve Kerr didn’t use his top players for this game, Mike said. He wanted to rest them up for the playoffs.

  Mike always has a mature point of view.

  Love,

  Pen

  PS. Another name on the future girls’ basketball team list on the bulletin board. Gabby’s neighbor was picking up her little granddaughter at school, and she suggested her other granddaughter, who goes to another school. CANDY JACKSON. A real name with a real phone number. Gabby phoned Candy and told her we are waiting for our coach to pass his driver’s license test.

  I have never known anyone named Candy, and neither have Hazel or Gabby. It is an interesting holiday-celebration-birthday-party kind of name.

  If you are a girl, You, maybe we will name you Candy.

  Except it also makes me think of cavities and dentists. So maybe not.

  I hope some more (real) girls sign up.

  SATURDAY, MARCH 14, 2015

  Dear You,

  Today, I learned so much about the lowly acorn! It is not so lowly. It provided the Ohlone with nutritious and delicious eating. But a lot of work went into making the acorns edible. After the harvest, the women had to hull the acorns one at a time, then pound the acorn kernels into flour, all day long with mortars and pestles.

  POUND! POUND! POUND! was a good sound to the Ohlone. It was the sound of home.

  The acorn flour was put in special baskets so that hot water could be poured over it to leach out the bitter tannins. Then the flour was heated and cooked in another kind of basket, using hot stones.

  It was made into a wonderful mush, which was probably a lot like the polenta Mama makes sometimes.

  My home has cooking sounds. Sammy clanks pots when she cooks. Mama pounds bread dough.

  Dubs beat the Knicks at home tonight, 125–94.

  HAPPY 27TH BIRTHDAY, STEPH!

  Love,

  Pen

  SUNDAY, MARCH 15, 2015

  Dear You,

  NEWS: Mike passed his driver’s license test!!!!!

  I have never seen Mike so proud and happy. I am happy for him, too, and not only because now he will have time to coach us, of course. A person is always happy when the person that person loves is happy.

  Gabby says her prediction about him
was all wrong! He has been hanging around more than ever, jumping up from whatever he’s doing, begging to drive anyone anywhere anytime in his parents’ car. He is always excited to drive to Safeway or Rite Aid, even if someone needs just one thing, like a quart of milk or aspirin or paper clips. He will take anyone anywhere.

  Mike: “Anyone need anything? Anyone need anything?”

  He would nag Gabby to finish up her homework so they could go to Fentons for ice cream on a school night. He even paid. Then their parents put a stop to those trips.

  This weekend, Mike drove us around Lake Merritt. THREE times! Oh, You! Lake Merritt is awesomely beautiful, with kayaks and sparkling little waves and happy joggers and walkers and geese on the green grass all around it. A lake right inside our city! Gabby said that three times around the lake was one or two times too many, but I thought it was romantic. I could have driven around Lake Merritt with Mike all afternoon. It was like having a boyfriend, except that Gabby and that pest Angel were with us.

  Then Angel begged him to take us to Children’s Fairyland. Mike said sure. He said he liked going there because it’s so easy to park in the big lot.

  Gabby: “Mike! Not Fairyland! Penny and I are too old for a puppet show and the little old woman who lived in a shoe!”

  Me: “We sure are.”

  I did NOT want to go to Fairyland, because it seemed so babyish, as if Mike was our babysitter. On the other hand, I DID want to go to Fairyland because it’s fun. I guess that’s called being AMBIVALENT, when you want to and don’t want to do something.

  Angel wasn’t ambivalent. She demanded that Mike take her to Fairyland that minute.

  So Mike dropped us at Hazel’s and said he’d pick us up after Fairyland. We said don’t bother, thank you—Hazel only lives a block away from Gabby and me!

  Liza, and her boyfriend, Rick, were in their living room. Rick smokes.

  I read that the Ohlone smoked, too, but in this modern day and age, we know that smoking is bad for you. I don’t know any other smokers. The cigarettes smell up Hazel’s house.