Remember, I remember...

Yesterday was the third anniversary of my brother's death, so untimely, so utterly and terribly wrong. It fills me with indescribable sadness remembering the phone call from my weeping mother. The shock of the news, of that very moment that I heard he had been shot, is etched in my memory like a fresh wound that still requires staunching after these few years. And as then, today, I remember my sister-in-law, her pain, her strength and her love; I remember their children, their eyes filled with a novocained numbness and deep loss. I remember...

Today I wrote these unfinished lyrics that still require a melody, perhaps it never will come..

For G.

When so quickly you left us

Did your spirit return to the sun

Did it burn up as you flew closer

And have you become One

Do I see you at sunrise

When the mist clears away?

Or are you a shadow that lingers

And are you waiting your turn?

There are no surprises

In life’s deathly dance

We’re here for a moment

While you stay in this trance

Don’t hold on too tightly

To the memory of pain

We are here briefly,

Then gone again

Fly through the sunrise

Like a bird or a star

The earth is below us

So near yet so far

We are everlasting soldiers

In life’s deathly dance

Will you come back and find us

Will you take one more chance?

Sing your song sweetly

Sing your song sad

The strings are unbroken

Words remain unspoken

I will sing this song for all who have lost someone to violence, to all those who believe in the everlasting existence of spirit, and love.

Life's a Beach!

Oh the joys of summer! The endlessly long hot days, the enervating humidity for those living in the flatlands of the eastern seaboard! And while I'm at it, the mosquitoes, the bugs, the traffic, traffic, traffic. Yes, let me say again, the traffic.

But let's face it, once you arrive at Ocean City and smell the salt air, hear the waves crashing, feel the sand between your toes and oh my god, the unbelievable heat of it as you struggle to carry all your schtuff ...it is worth it for the few hours of total zone-outed-ness!

So you settle in, try and put up an umbrella that is instantly blown backwards by the wind so that its pathetic spines are inside out and the brolly is ready to be dumped in the nearest trash can. And you submit to the temptation to rent one from the old bearded guy who very kindly erects his very sturdy, very large umbrella, and you pay him, and you are grateful because this is a king sized, hardworking, reliable piece of beach furniture that you just know you gonna love!

The serious business of applying sunscreen begins, and you can already feel the grains of sand sticking to you from the occasional blasts that sting your legs and put grimace lines on your face. I don't hold with sunscreen beyond an 8, and I like 4 best, but a good 30 for the face is a must...and believe me ladies, don't apply the regular stuff to your glorious visage, it will block up your pores and give you zits. So take the trouble, and the expense, and invest in a good one for the noggin and the chest. I have ugly ugly turkey skin on my chest from my days in the sun as a young girl, in my short-lived bikini days.

Once that is done, you can flop down on your towel and survey the scene: over there, children are playing in the water, the lifeguard is focused and alert, ready to go peeeeep with his whistle and make stern, rude gestures at the people with boogie boards who are edging over to the "swimmers only" area; several plump girls with rather ugly tattoos are flowing out of their bikinis, older ladies in skirty-type swimsuits are sitting smoking (urgh, I so wish people wouldn't do that, it STINKS!), young dudes are striding out of the water, wearing those ridiculous looonnng swim things which are riding low on their hips with their underwear showing (another serious URGH!!! when is that fashion going to change and how they heck do they swim with those trunks flapping in the water?). Yeah, beach. Fun.

And then I hear a baby crying and crying and I look around, behind me, a little ways back, there is a woman with what looks to be a three month old baby, trying to feed him a bottle. And this really makes me very, very angry. The baby is not wearing a hat, and she has no shade for him to lie under. I grapple with my maternal instincts and my overriding sense of superiority: I am a mother, an old one, and I should be going over and telling her, "What the heck are you doing with such a tiny baby on the beach, with no hat, no umbrella, in this heat, woman? Do you have any sense at all?" But I don't, I just sit there and fume and recall the time my son, who was three, got a mild dose of heatstroke . It was awful, he was burning up, throwing up, listless and dehydrated and this was while he was wearing a hat , under an umbrella, wearing sunscreen (they didn't have anything beyond 20 back then). I felt so bad and we had only spent the morning at the beach and had returned back to our hotel room by noon. That is how quickly it can happen.

So this is the moral of this particular story: for goodness' sake, keep your babies well protected and hydrated if you go to the beach. I know it is a drag, but let them rest in between playing and swimming. Give them frequent drinks and snacks, and get them out of the sun.

Be careful out there, and enjoy yourselves.

Al and Tipper

I am quite sure that yesterday's news about the impending Gorey situation has many people in a tizz, to put it mildly.

Forty years of marriage about to become a shared history, part of the collective unconscious. No, there is no affair. They have decided to call it quits. From all accounts I have heard, Tipper wants to do her own thing. She has been an exemplary wife and mother. She has fulfilled the role of Second Lady with grace. She made many of us feel that it was okay to be a little plump, for she was loved by her husband for who she was. That now famous passionate kiss during the second term election, while not to the taste of the average political pundit, bespoke of a deep affection - a partnership in the true sense of the word- that seemed to thumb its nose at the Clintons by brazenly and publicly stating, "Look America, we love each other and we are still faithful to one another!" And now, the news that their marriage was just another statistic has made too many feel that their marriages are doomed to failure because the Gores are giving up.

All I can say is, mind your own business and mind your own marriage. Stop thinking that you can fail because they have. Besides, my hat is off to Tipper to have played the many roles she has in order for her to become herself, a strong woman with a vision of where and what she would like to be. I wish them both every success in their respective futures. I suspect they will remain friends and will be role models for how we should conduct ourselves when our nuclear family has gone nuclear and the chips are falling and destroying our faith in ourselves, our families and the meaning we ascribe to the word "love".

Demystifying the Preposition

No, that is not really what I want to talk about.

I want to discuss the current propensity people have of mixing up the English language. They mock it, and abuse it here. This United States of America. This is not the Queen's English as we all well know. There are definite Germanic influences, as well as a host of others. Everyone had to learn the lingua franca, and that was English, so it became a bit of a mish-mash, much like the culture, which is fine by me. It makes the country an interesting one to live in and the laissez faire attitude that anything goes, provided you can be scandalous enough and make enough money at the same time. But ah, oh my word, I become quite irate when I hear things like "The amount of people". Really! That is unforgivable.

There is a host of common errors, and I was delighted to find page upon page of similar complaints on the Web. I suffer not alone!!!

Now there's a new one, quite cringe-worthy, ain't it?

Small Town Living

So Mr. T stopped on by to see what new developments had occurred since he last visited us ...um, what was it.... 18 minutes ago...? He is a dear old man, not without history, an interesting one at that, but I digress. He told us a delightful tale that typifies what small town living is all about.

It seems that an elderly spinster was wont to hang out her washing to dry every day. And every day, the washing would be taken down from the line at 4 p.m. One day her neighbor discovered that Miss C's laundry was still flapping in the breeze at 4:30. Alarmed, she called someone at City Hall. They too were alarmed, because they knew that Miss C's laundry should not still be hanging out at 4:30. City Hall called her sister. Her sister was not at home. So they called the sheriff to go and check on the elderly spinster. After all, this was an unprecedented situation. There had to be something seriously wrong for the washing to still be on the line that late in the afternoon. By now it was 5 p.m. and she would surely be needing her p.j.'s soon? So the sheriff dutifully climbed into his car and made the trip down the block to Miss C's house. He knocked on the door, and to his immense relief, Miss C opened the door. Hale and hearty she greeted him with her usual friendly smile and asked if she could be of assistance.

"Miss C," he said. "Your neighbor had noticed your laundry was still hanging on the line outside. Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Why yes, Sheriff! I was watching my favorite TV show and forgot to bring it in!"

Case closed.

Such is small town life, when people care enough to worry about you because they know exactly where you are, what you are doing and when you will be doing it. When did this story occur? 1950's, 1960's, 1800's? No, it was just a few months ago. See, people still care.

Meditation and Full Moon

Had a great meditation tonight with two friends~ neighbors~ who are trying to spread some light in the world. The conversation was thoughtful, interesting, deep. We talked about many things; the state of the world, skirted around politics, places to live, people we love. What brings us together is a sense that there is more to life than just the endless chase, the hectic schedules, deadlines, the insane demands placed upon us, the pressures we have to endure in order just to exist.

Then, we float away, absorbed into a greater light, a bigger love, a feeling of utter peace. I feel my body vibrating, has someone turned on a light? So much light behind my eyes. I am somewhere else, somewhere far away but I am here in myself at the same time. I am expanding, growing and I become one with all that exists, and it is good. It is something so simple, so elementary, that connection with the Om-ness of Being.

Thank you dear friends. We meet again next week. At 7. Come and join us if you like :)