All This Heavenly Glory (28 page)

I want to have lots of grandchildren with more J names like Jordan and Jessie and Jeremy and when they come to visit I want
to feed them burgers and Tater Tots and whole milk and if they eat macrobiotic at home I want Bill to shake his head and I
want to say Well they’re in my home now and I want to fill their Christmas stockings with candy canes and trucks and action
figures. I want to take care of Bill when he gets sick and before he dies I want to say It was great wasn’t it and I want
him to say it was and after Bill dies I want to hear that Cliff has overcome his troubles and that he’s back in town and I
want to start wearing lipstick again in case I run into Cliff and I want to run into Cliff at the market and say, Oh hi Cliff
I didn’t know you were back in town, and twirl my hair in my fingers like I’m not someone’s grandmother and I want to meet
him for a soda and listen to his stories of the big city and be glad I never left. I want to start seeing Cliff again and
take bus tours of Spain and France with him on senior discounts and call him my gentleman friend and eat croissants with young
couples on their honeymoons and tell them stories that begin with Back in the day and I want the kids to wonder if Cliff and
I share a room or not and when 1 get sick I want Cliff to take care of me and say I’m sorry so so sorry for being such a brooding
cliche back in the day because I know I really missed out and when I say there’s nothing to be sorry for and that it all worked
out for the best, I want him to say he’s sorry anyway and I want the kids to come and say tender goodbyes before I close my
eyes for good. I want my next life to be slow-motiony, with moody skies and grandpas tossing footballs and heirlooms passed
down and really good hair and poignant background music. I want it to be like the fifties or the seventies or maybe even the
eighties or maybe even some new future decade where things are like they used to be but in a new way. In my next life I want
to accept things as they are and when people ask Why I want to say What do you mean why and when everyone comes back for homecoming
I want to already be home.

Alice Tasman, you just rock, and thanks to everyone at JVNLA as well.

Reagan Arthur, Michael Mezzo, Shannon Byrne, Larry Kirshbaum, Michael Pietsch, Terry Adams, Geoff Shandler, and everyone at
Little, Brown, your support and hard work on my behalf still floors me.

Dad, thank you for being my biggest fan.

If you are currently or have ever been related to someone with the name Crane, Corrado, or Zanger, then I love you to bits.
Carlsons, Montgomerys, Brandts, Bogens, and Quinns, that goes for you too.

If you live in Kalamazoo, are from Kalamazoo, or have any intention of visiting Kalamazoo in the future, I probably love you,
but a special shout-out to Chafe ‘cuz he knows why.

Nina Solomon and Bob Leonard, well, you know.

Adam Levin, I haven’t forgotten you.

Lisa, Sue, Mary, Anne, Karin (stop with the cakes already!), Caren and TWJob, you are the best booksellers ever and even better
friends. Megan, Lott & Joe (of the awesome
Sleepwalk
), you are the cool kids and I just thank you for letting me hang around sometimes. To the good people of the Chicago Public
Library, thanks for giving me something shiny! And to everyone at
Stories on Stage,
what a thrill to be included twice. Northwestern,
New City,
the
Reader,
the
2nd Hand, the Chicago Tribune,
and the Printer’s Row Book Fair, you all make me proud to be a born-again Chicagoan.

Ben, thanks for the happy ending.

ELIZABETH CRANE is also the author of
When the Messenger Is Hot
. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, including the
Sycamore Review, Washington Square, New York Stories, Book, the Florida Review, Nerve, the Believer, and Eclipse.
She is the recipient of the 21st Century Award from the Chicago Public Library and teaches at Northwestern University. She
lives in Chicago.

ALL THIS

HEAVENLY

GLORY

by

Elizabeth Crane

A constant and witty observer of the world around her, Elizabeth Crane took time between writing fiction and teaching at several
Chicago-area universities to keep an online journal recording her thoughts on pop culture, chain stores, and, most interestingly,
the frequent surprises of new marriage. The following are some of her favorite entries on a variety of subjects: a bookstore’s
unexpected classification of her work; her adorably like-minded husband, Ben; peculiar sites around Chicago; her best friend,
Nina; and contemporary pop stars.

Just as the heroines in
When the Messenger Is Hot
and
All This Heavenly Glory
are revealed in confessional, stream-of-consciousness narration, here we get a glimpse inside the frenetic mind of Elizabeth
Crane.

I Suppose You Already Knew I Saw Visions

Poking around Transitions Bookstore in Chicago this morning for nothing in particular, I discovered that they have a new section:
Visionary Fiction. It’s a fairly small section, but of course I had to look, and there it was,
All This Heavenly Glory.

That’s right, I’m a visionary.

And so is the guy who wrote
The Da Vinci Code.

Wigs and Plus

Pretty much it is what it says it is. It’s Wigs, and also Plus. Located on Milwaukee at the intersection of Ashland and Division,
it’s my favorite store I’ve never bought anything in. That’s really the name of it, Wigs and Plus. There are a number of wig
stores in the area. I guess it’s the uncelebrated wig district. Wigs and Plus is more like a wig store meets the dollar store.
And oh I do love my dollar stores. Anyway, there are numerous wigs in a rainbow of colors for women in the window, but my
favorite at the moment is a lone toupee at the bottom, a sort of very very sad-looking Beatle style, in brown, with a matching
mustache. But for weeks now, the mustache has been drooping on one side. And poor Beatle is sitting right next to a very perky,
Baby Spiceish blond pigtailed wig, and so I can’t help feeling his pain, is all I’m saying.

Costco

Ben and I had been hearing about the miracle of Costco for a while and decided one wintry Saturday to check it out. They won’t
let you in the door unless you join, so, although uncertain, we filled out the form and proceeded into the cavernous warehouse.
Momentarily we were dazzled by the possibilities. The big-ticket items are up front, and we don’t really need a giant home
theater, but mega-snacks were close by, pretzels in BIG-ass tubs, twenty-four packs of fruit roll-ups, you name it. The prices
work out quite well when you do the math. We put a few of these items in the cart and proceeded to the toothpaste aisle. Toothpaste
comes out to a little over a dollar a tube if you buy the twelve-pack. We put this in the cart as well. We continued to add
things to the cart for another few aisles until we began to get a little confused. It seemed like we were going to get to
checkout and have a grand total of four hundred and ninety-eight dollars and perhaps we would need not return to Costco again
until the following winter, but where were we going to put everything? Finally we came to this blinding realization: we are
not Costco people. We have nothing against Costco people in any way. Maybe we will become Costco people at a later date, when
we have kids and dogs and need Huggies and Gravy Train and Cheerios in bulk. But for now everything about Costco is overwhelmingly
large with options we can’t make sense of, and we are just small people in need of the least amount of options possible. We
want to be able to leave the store of our own free will. Overwhelmed, we ditched our cart and snuck out, headed for the relative
safety of Trader Joe’s.