Last night, in memory of a Friend who died suddenly, shockingly earlier in the week, we held a Memorial Service in his memory among those who knew him best. (Quakers do not use the word “funeral”) One Friend in attendance noted that, in addition to the worship, there is a certain group therapy aspect present. I agree. Yet, I think this is quite understandable and necessary. It’s a part of the grieving process. Each of us manages coming to terms with tragedy in different ways, but there is also something very human present that augments the purely religious aspect of the event.
Apr 08 2011
Oct 01 2009
I have missed K. O. the past several days on his show, but I understand with which he has to deal. The standins are OK, (I would like to see more females in the slot), but they are not K. O.. He is back tonight, with a vengeance, and that is a good thing.
He is likely the most expressive and passionate advocate for our cause that is not on shortwave radio. I am glad that he was able to come onto MSNBC tonight.
Sep 10 2009
Well, I found out tonight that the papers that I signed and had notarized last week made their way back to the soon to be the former Mrs. Translator’s attorney. Everything seems to be in order, and unless the judge finds something wrong, it will be final next Wednesday.
Thus ends 32 years of marriage, and 34 years of infatuation. But it was always more than infatuation. Certainly there was a definite bit of sexual attraction at first, because she was (and is) so very beautiful, but there was always more.
Mar 30 2009
Is there a soul to a house?
If we call it just a house and not a home, does it still possess a soul separate from the vagaries of mortgages, layers of paint, or crayon, or grease on the walls, busted pipes in the winter, the seepage stains that are like Mercatur projections of alien continents on whitewashed mortared walls?
Does the heart of a house exist outside any memory of the tangible moments that mark the living within? Or does the spirit of a house, soul-centered in an aging body of wood and brick and nail, pulse simply because there are lives, loves and deaths that pass through? Perhaps an invisible, silent, tender skin of cares, of worries, of hopes, coats every moment exchanged. Coats the hallways, the rooms, the stairs, the steps leading away. In this old house on Earl Avenue.
Mar 27 2009
This was not unexpected. She and I have gotten to the age our circle of friends has started to diminish. It occurred to us the day Johnny Carson died, if your cultural icons weren’t immortal, we probably weren’t either.
About 3 weeks ago Linda’s heart simply stopped. She was rushed to the hospital and altho it took three times to get her completely stabilized, they did. Her heart was working at 10% and they didn’t think she was going to make it, but she fooled them and rallied. Two weeks ago there was talk of moving her to a nursing home and starting limited rehab, we were hopeful. She had fooled everyone before by beating Lung Cancer a few years ago. A week ago her condition deteriorated and the decision was made to stop her dialysis and move her to hospice care. She had been on dialysis twice a week for three years, it was clear there would be no more rallies, no more hope. I was angry at first, certainly they knew stopping the dialysis would kill her. But like so many treatments there comes a time when the physical cost of doing them doesn’t enhance the quality of life that is left.
Below the fold I will share a taste of our 50 year friendship.
Mar 09 2009
UPDATED…. she’s gone. see my last comment below.
My friend Barb is dying as I write. I come here for vigil, shelter, a safe harbor. Barb has always been one of my “Go To” girls. She gently offered shelter in the calmest of ways, often without much more than a “come on in, hey, how bout some coffee?” A truly gracious lady. I’m going to miss her. A lot.
Bob Dylan, Shelter From the Storm
Three, maybe four weeks ago, she was walking and talking. She was fine. Some random unexplained aches and pains maybe, I hear she dismissed them, they’ve been going on for months apparently. But she downplayed it and managed because she had no other choice. She has no insurance.
Jun 12 2008
Army Reserve Major Lance Waldorf passed away in Holly Township, Michigan, on Monday, 2008 June 02, from a self-inflicted gun shot wound. He chose to take his own life in Great Lakes National Cemetery, leaving behind some photographs, a note, and his will.
From Inland, at the GOS, “I hope there’s an eternity where the Major is as happy as he was in that photo.”
Feb 15 2008
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields were glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl’s.
~ A.E. Houseman, “To an Athlete Dying Young”
If I had money enough to spend
And leisure to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in the town
That sorely has my heart beguiled
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips
I own she has my heart enthralled
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all
Oh, all the comrades that e’er I had
They’re sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e’er I had
They’d wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I’ll gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be with you all
~The Pogues, “The Parting Glass”
Feb 09 2008
All soldiers wish for two things: Another day and the chance to come home.
Sgt. Peter Neesley had a third wish: He wanted to bring the stray dogs — Mama and Boris — he had befriended in Iraq home with him.
Sgt. Peter Neesley did not get either of his first two wishes. On Christmas Day, from causes still unexplained, he died.
Today, though, thanks to Best Friends Animal Society, his last wish came true.
Jan 01 2008
| What is this thing that builds our dreams yet slips away from us
Who wants to live forever
Who wants to live forever?
I watched as you passed by and thought I felt your breath for just a moment on my face, a gentle faerie vapor in the still air of the night. I brushed your hand in my dreams with my hand, an ethereal transfer of warmth from my flesh to spirit to your incorporeal flesh. That moment of space between life and death was filled, again, too briefly with transient comfort of your presence.
But touch my tears with your lips
Touch my world with your fingertips
And we can have forever
And we can love forever
(also published in modified format at Dailykos)