Busy with school, taxes and life, I have been away from this blog for a while. I am heading into midterms, but I will try to take a few now and then to update here.
I have been wanting to drift away from the snarky comment links log and to actually post some decent writing on this site, but that does take more time than just taking cheap swings at the daily headlines.
But I think it will be a better, though less frequently updated, blog if I follow this route.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Cardinals Take a "Deep Breath:" Pope Benedict XVI
Saw an interesting quote in last week's Time Magazine:
...the Cardinals, in reaction to John Paul's long tenure, could simply
decide not to decide and name either Ratzinger, who is 77, or Ruini, 74, as
Pope. There is scuttlebutt in Rome of this happening: the ascension of
what is, in effect, an interim Pontiff who would for a few years carry out John
Paul II's mandate while the church takes a deep breath and decides where it
really wants to head next.
Friday, April 01, 2005
And be gathered to your family… John Paul II and Terri Schiavo
Death is the theme of the week.
Terri Schiavo died. John Paul II is dying. I hope he lives. I am not a Catholic but he is still my Pope. Maybe the only Pope I will ever be able to say that about. I pray for him.
Death is a messy thing. We are usually able to close our eyes to the end of life, pretending it is in the far future for ourselves and for others we care about, but for the last few weeks all of the dirty details of death have been paraded in our daily headlines. First in the endless hand wringing over the issues surrounding a poor woman who will only be remembered for how she died and then in the final illness and long remembrances of one of the few humans of the 20th Century that will still be talked about in the 22nd Century by school children, not just history majors.
I have been meaning to write something about Terri Schiavo’s slow death for some time, about the process of death, not the process of politics, but I cringe, like most people, at the thought of looking death in the face so I have been conveniently finding reasons to put off writing these words.
I have been lucky in life for nearly a decade. I have not had to bury anyone. But before this period, I had a season of death come to pass where in a matter of months I buried both of my maternal grandparents, my maternal great-grandmother and I almost had to bury my father due to cancer. In the latter case, I had the gut-churning, cross country flight where my father had been given 36 hours to live and my plane was not scheduled to land until the 40th hour of this countdown.
So it has been some time since I have had to deal with death, but with all of the media coverage of these two's emotionally charged last days, we all have been, to varying degrees, dealing with these difficult emotions. Picturing ourselves as Terri’s parents, picturing ourselves as Terri’s husband…
I can imagine the unbearable pain of watching my wife laying in bed, dead to the world for years, decades, and just wanting to find a way to end the suffering for the both of us, freeing each of us to continue on the next steps of the journey. I can also imagine my child laying there in that condition and I can imagine finding comfort for myself, every day, in being able to feel the warmth of my child's living skin. Being able to hold him and to care for him, doing all of the little things that matter for him, loving him and making sure that in every way possible he knew he was loved, even if it was just in my imagination, even if his consciousness was gone forever from the world. Could I replace this warm embrace this with the hard, damp stone of a marble monument drying its dew in the pale light of a cold spring morning?
I do not think I could choose the latter. I can say with certainty, that if I was in Terri’s position, let me go… Let me go… Once all hope has faded, let me go. But could I, with the same prognosis, let my child go? I do not think I could.
And that is why, when my sons come of age, I do not want to be the one to make this decision. And if they have someone in their life willing to take charge of this, out of love, out of hope, I hope they can and I hope I will let them do it. Because I am biased. Because I am too weak.
Because we are not supposed to bury our children, because they are supposed to bury us, I should not be the one in charge of choosing the date of the funeral.
For you shall see the land before you; but you shall not go there...
"This evening or this night, Christ opens the door to the pope"
-Angelo Comastri, the pope's vicar general for Vatican City
There is a lot of brutality in Catholic history but Karol Wojtyla was not afraid to confront it. The brutality Pope John Paul II saw in Poland during the Second World War was even more horrifying, and he was not afraid to confront it. I heard something on the radio today where someone told him that the Soviet/Western cold war would last for 400 years, and he said no. And he put his faith into action and he did everything in his considerable power to stop it. He put his faith into action and used the church, as he could, to stop war, period, as he could. But he couldn’t, and he will surely die before we figure it out as a species and end this madness forever.
He was the first Pope to attempt to reconcile the emotional politics and grievances separating and polarizing the three great monotheistic faiths. For this, even more than his role in ending my childhood nightmares of a Soviet/Western Armageddon, he is my Pope.
Today he accepted the end. He decided to stay in his home, his apartment overlooking the vigil for him in St Peter's Square, instead of being returned to the hospital. Before he fell asleep tonight, he listened to a reading of Jesus’ final days. Once saved by Mary, he turns to the Son at the end.
A gentle morning, God willing, or a peaceful journey… The prayers of the world, reaching far beyond the Church, are with you. And that is why you will always matter.
I can only hope that the Cardinals, when the time comes, look more for a leader who will follow the path blazed by John Paul II and not pander to the politics of demographics. The Catholic Church needs a leader with the vision of the current Pope. Unfortunately, most of the talk has been about Italians and Latin Americans. To me, this debate tarnishes the legacy of John Paul II before he is even buried. Before he has even passed on and before he has even lost his final consciousness. Be sure, he is aware of this debate and this is a shame.
The succession should be based on vision and faith. It needs to be. The work has only started, the path ahead is a long one and the world needs all of the help it can get navigating the ethics of these optimistic, but dangerous, times.
As of now, the shutters are still open... Rest well, Karol Wojtyla, tonight and forever.
UPDATE: April 6, 2005 - 5:17 AM
Signs and portents
This is a little creepy, I just saw it this morning.
Boost for superstitious: Sun to darken on day of Pope's funeral
Almost as creepy as the fact that I was shooting pictures of graves in a Catholic Cemetary when the Pope died.
Terri Schiavo died. John Paul II is dying. I hope he lives. I am not a Catholic but he is still my Pope. Maybe the only Pope I will ever be able to say that about. I pray for him.
Death is a messy thing. We are usually able to close our eyes to the end of life, pretending it is in the far future for ourselves and for others we care about, but for the last few weeks all of the dirty details of death have been paraded in our daily headlines. First in the endless hand wringing over the issues surrounding a poor woman who will only be remembered for how she died and then in the final illness and long remembrances of one of the few humans of the 20th Century that will still be talked about in the 22nd Century by school children, not just history majors.
I have been meaning to write something about Terri Schiavo’s slow death for some time, about the process of death, not the process of politics, but I cringe, like most people, at the thought of looking death in the face so I have been conveniently finding reasons to put off writing these words.
I have been lucky in life for nearly a decade. I have not had to bury anyone. But before this period, I had a season of death come to pass where in a matter of months I buried both of my maternal grandparents, my maternal great-grandmother and I almost had to bury my father due to cancer. In the latter case, I had the gut-churning, cross country flight where my father had been given 36 hours to live and my plane was not scheduled to land until the 40th hour of this countdown.
So it has been some time since I have had to deal with death, but with all of the media coverage of these two's emotionally charged last days, we all have been, to varying degrees, dealing with these difficult emotions. Picturing ourselves as Terri’s parents, picturing ourselves as Terri’s husband…
I can imagine the unbearable pain of watching my wife laying in bed, dead to the world for years, decades, and just wanting to find a way to end the suffering for the both of us, freeing each of us to continue on the next steps of the journey. I can also imagine my child laying there in that condition and I can imagine finding comfort for myself, every day, in being able to feel the warmth of my child's living skin. Being able to hold him and to care for him, doing all of the little things that matter for him, loving him and making sure that in every way possible he knew he was loved, even if it was just in my imagination, even if his consciousness was gone forever from the world. Could I replace this warm embrace this with the hard, damp stone of a marble monument drying its dew in the pale light of a cold spring morning?
I do not think I could choose the latter. I can say with certainty, that if I was in Terri’s position, let me go… Let me go… Once all hope has faded, let me go. But could I, with the same prognosis, let my child go? I do not think I could.
And that is why, when my sons come of age, I do not want to be the one to make this decision. And if they have someone in their life willing to take charge of this, out of love, out of hope, I hope they can and I hope I will let them do it. Because I am biased. Because I am too weak.
Because we are not supposed to bury our children, because they are supposed to bury us, I should not be the one in charge of choosing the date of the funeral.
For you shall see the land before you; but you shall not go there...
"This evening or this night, Christ opens the door to the pope"
-Angelo Comastri, the pope's vicar general for Vatican City
There is a lot of brutality in Catholic history but Karol Wojtyla was not afraid to confront it. The brutality Pope John Paul II saw in Poland during the Second World War was even more horrifying, and he was not afraid to confront it. I heard something on the radio today where someone told him that the Soviet/Western cold war would last for 400 years, and he said no. And he put his faith into action and he did everything in his considerable power to stop it. He put his faith into action and used the church, as he could, to stop war, period, as he could. But he couldn’t, and he will surely die before we figure it out as a species and end this madness forever.
He was the first Pope to attempt to reconcile the emotional politics and grievances separating and polarizing the three great monotheistic faiths. For this, even more than his role in ending my childhood nightmares of a Soviet/Western Armageddon, he is my Pope.
Today he accepted the end. He decided to stay in his home, his apartment overlooking the vigil for him in St Peter's Square, instead of being returned to the hospital. Before he fell asleep tonight, he listened to a reading of Jesus’ final days. Once saved by Mary, he turns to the Son at the end.
A gentle morning, God willing, or a peaceful journey… The prayers of the world, reaching far beyond the Church, are with you. And that is why you will always matter.
I can only hope that the Cardinals, when the time comes, look more for a leader who will follow the path blazed by John Paul II and not pander to the politics of demographics. The Catholic Church needs a leader with the vision of the current Pope. Unfortunately, most of the talk has been about Italians and Latin Americans. To me, this debate tarnishes the legacy of John Paul II before he is even buried. Before he has even passed on and before he has even lost his final consciousness. Be sure, he is aware of this debate and this is a shame.
The succession should be based on vision and faith. It needs to be. The work has only started, the path ahead is a long one and the world needs all of the help it can get navigating the ethics of these optimistic, but dangerous, times.
As of now, the shutters are still open... Rest well, Karol Wojtyla, tonight and forever.
UPDATE: April 6, 2005 - 5:17 AM
Signs and portents
This is a little creepy, I just saw it this morning.
Boost for superstitious: Sun to darken on day of Pope's funeral
Almost as creepy as the fact that I was shooting pictures of graves in a Catholic Cemetary when the Pope died.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Republicans move heaven and earth to fail
I've been avoiding writing about this. It is just too... Just too much, I guess. How many months did it take for Congress to pass any legislation following the 9/11 report? One of the major delays was their long recess/vacation that occured a couple weeks after the report was released. (Forgive any timeline errors on my behalf, it is early and I haven't got the research muscles warmed up yet.)
But the conservatives are willing to hold a nearly unheard of special session to trample state and individual rights to keep a woman in Florida alive, in a vegetative state, because they love life, passing an emergency law in the middle of the night alowing the supposedly more conservative federal courts to review the case.
And the result, the courts continue to side with the Florida courts and with her husband, who wants the travesty to end and for his lost wife to finally rest in peace.
Now, it may be on to the Supreme Court. At least the courts appear to be showing some solidarity on this issue. Perhaps, beyond the legal issues, they are a little annoyed by the breakdown of the seperation of powers in this case.
When my two year old acts like this Congress, I give him a short time out. When my kindergartener acts like this, he gets sent to his room. These are the same life lovers who have no problem with torture in Iraq or electrocuting retarted minors in Texas.
But at least we can rest assured that politics did not play a factor. DeLay was on my television a minute ago saying that he would immediately fire any one on his staff if the memo talking about this issue being a political coup for the Republicans was traced back to his office.
Would he fire them for writing the memo, or would he fire them for letting the memo leak? Your guess is as good as mine.
I am making little sense here, but this issue is so perverted and the actions of the Republicans so creepy that I can do little but sit here, sputtering and choking on my bile.
At least there are some decent conservatives and moderate Republicans who find this whole issue distasteful as well. Steve Gilliard explains this train wreck much better than I can.
UPDATE:
As I said earlier, I've been avoiding this issue, but seeing the results rolling in from the federal courts on this case, I was inspired to sputter and drool about the issue. My bile rose.
After writing this, I took a long neglected blog tour this morning and learned about Hudson and Nikolouzos in Texas. While the Republicans fight to save Schiavo's life, Texas has a law where "people will have their plugs pulled not because their families want them to die sooner but because their health-care providers don't want to run up a bill for unpaid care."
This seems to be just fine and dandy to the maggots howling about murdering Schiavo.
Read:
Schiavo, Hudson, and Nikolouzos
But the conservatives are willing to hold a nearly unheard of special session to trample state and individual rights to keep a woman in Florida alive, in a vegetative state, because they love life, passing an emergency law in the middle of the night alowing the supposedly more conservative federal courts to review the case.
And the result, the courts continue to side with the Florida courts and with her husband, who wants the travesty to end and for his lost wife to finally rest in peace.
Now, it may be on to the Supreme Court. At least the courts appear to be showing some solidarity on this issue. Perhaps, beyond the legal issues, they are a little annoyed by the breakdown of the seperation of powers in this case.
When my two year old acts like this Congress, I give him a short time out. When my kindergartener acts like this, he gets sent to his room. These are the same life lovers who have no problem with torture in Iraq or electrocuting retarted minors in Texas.
But at least we can rest assured that politics did not play a factor. DeLay was on my television a minute ago saying that he would immediately fire any one on his staff if the memo talking about this issue being a political coup for the Republicans was traced back to his office.
Would he fire them for writing the memo, or would he fire them for letting the memo leak? Your guess is as good as mine.
I am making little sense here, but this issue is so perverted and the actions of the Republicans so creepy that I can do little but sit here, sputtering and choking on my bile.
At least there are some decent conservatives and moderate Republicans who find this whole issue distasteful as well. Steve Gilliard explains this train wreck much better than I can.
UPDATE:
As I said earlier, I've been avoiding this issue, but seeing the results rolling in from the federal courts on this case, I was inspired to sputter and drool about the issue. My bile rose.
After writing this, I took a long neglected blog tour this morning and learned about Hudson and Nikolouzos in Texas. While the Republicans fight to save Schiavo's life, Texas has a law where "people will have their plugs pulled not because their families want them to die sooner but because their health-care providers don't want to run up a bill for unpaid care."
This seems to be just fine and dandy to the maggots howling about murdering Schiavo.
Read:
Schiavo, Hudson, and Nikolouzos
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Bush using bigger words
It’s a lazy morning, half way through my Spring Break time with my boys. After beating myself worthless on the rock of last quarter, I am slowly returning to life. Slowly. I’ve been trying to sleep in, but the boys keep getting up at their normal time. This is fine, but I have a feeling the Kindergartener will not be getting up on his own at 6 AM as soon as school starts up again. Usually at that time in the morning, I have to carry him out of his bedroom.
Anyway, I haven’t been getting my wake up hour in the morning to organize my thoughts or to do any writing. This week, I’d rather sleep. But I do want to make at least one entry this week. So, with a jumbled brain and many (fun) distractions, it has taken me about a half an hour to write these few sentences.
So, today I am just going to throw down a couple of random, ill thought out notes:
Fun with the Bush Administration. How come I have a feeling that when they are discussing tort reform they are not discussing the suit filed against me over one of my son’s medical bills? They are discussing this issue in Congress. They are making it harder for people like me to file for bankruptcy. Most bankruptcies result either from divorce, family illness or job loss. I’ve got something in common with Bush. “Little did I realize we’d get the trifecta.”
Fun with Bush. I have been too scattered this morning to read the article, but supposedly second term Bush is dropping the “ah, shucks, I just be a guy… A regular… Someone just like you who are misunderestimated often, and don’t ‘y’all hate it when people talk down to you, so vote for me” shtick. I am not surprised.
Though I do not believe that Bush is necessarily bright enough for the job, I’ve never quite seen him as being the drooling village idiot (Ok, sometimes for my own amusement, but not in reality). I believe his intellectual issues stem more from his rigidness, his over dependence on his close advisers and his reluctance to seek or consider information or counsel from beyond these tight spheres. Even though this Administration, beyond its last election, is conducting a permanent campaign on behalf of their issues, there are some areas where they are now free to change their image without repercussions from their constituents.
One area where he can help his image is by appearing more intelligent. This will help him politically around the world and with those of us at home who have worried about his intellectual capacity in the past. There is also probably some consideration of his historical legacy at work here. They are probably looking for better quotes for the walls of the library than "Bring 'em on."
This can backfire. People who dislike Bush are not likely to change their opinions because he suddenly seems less oafish, and he could lose some of his support from people who think that he has turned into just another Washington politician, disconnected from the people.
Then again, who knows?
UPDATE:
Okay, I read the article. Same conclusions as mine, pretty much. Guess my brain isn't too addled by the break.
Anyway, I haven’t been getting my wake up hour in the morning to organize my thoughts or to do any writing. This week, I’d rather sleep. But I do want to make at least one entry this week. So, with a jumbled brain and many (fun) distractions, it has taken me about a half an hour to write these few sentences.
So, today I am just going to throw down a couple of random, ill thought out notes:
Fun with the Bush Administration. How come I have a feeling that when they are discussing tort reform they are not discussing the suit filed against me over one of my son’s medical bills? They are discussing this issue in Congress. They are making it harder for people like me to file for bankruptcy. Most bankruptcies result either from divorce, family illness or job loss. I’ve got something in common with Bush. “Little did I realize we’d get the trifecta.”
Fun with Bush. I have been too scattered this morning to read the article, but supposedly second term Bush is dropping the “ah, shucks, I just be a guy… A regular… Someone just like you who are misunderestimated often, and don’t ‘y’all hate it when people talk down to you, so vote for me” shtick. I am not surprised.
Though I do not believe that Bush is necessarily bright enough for the job, I’ve never quite seen him as being the drooling village idiot (Ok, sometimes for my own amusement, but not in reality). I believe his intellectual issues stem more from his rigidness, his over dependence on his close advisers and his reluctance to seek or consider information or counsel from beyond these tight spheres. Even though this Administration, beyond its last election, is conducting a permanent campaign on behalf of their issues, there are some areas where they are now free to change their image without repercussions from their constituents.
One area where he can help his image is by appearing more intelligent. This will help him politically around the world and with those of us at home who have worried about his intellectual capacity in the past. There is also probably some consideration of his historical legacy at work here. They are probably looking for better quotes for the walls of the library than "Bring 'em on."
This can backfire. People who dislike Bush are not likely to change their opinions because he suddenly seems less oafish, and he could lose some of his support from people who think that he has turned into just another Washington politician, disconnected from the people.
Then again, who knows?
UPDATE:
Okay, I read the article. Same conclusions as mine, pretty much. Guess my brain isn't too addled by the break.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
The first and last musical?
I turn my head. I do not take the early rounds seriously enough. I have obligations that keep me away from the television, but I console myself knowing that I will start watching the games in the regional semifinals… And, for the second year in a row, I have missed my opportunity to see Gonzaga play in the tournament. Somehow losing to a Bob Knight coached team does not feel as bad as the loss last year to Nevada felt, or it feels worse. I am not sure yet.
Maybe the Bulldogs are catching up on the karma they spent in their NCAA appearances several years ago. Then they were low ranking early round fodder who made it deep into the tournament two years in a row. Maybe they are just being made hungry enough to make it to the Final Four in the next year or two. In any case, the school is being taught humility. I always worry that sudden organization success like the ‘Zags have experienced leaves the team taking their success for granted, and making it dificult for them to push through to the end.
It’s always a bit strange to me, but I feel more affinity for Gonzaga in Spokane than I do with the University of Washington Huskies in Seattle. Even though I only spent two and a half quarters at Seattle University, it will always be my school in my heart and it was a Jesuit school, just like Gonzaga. Though we really didn’t think of ourselves as sister schools or anything like that, I still feel something of a connection when Gonzaga plays. Probably because Seattle University’s basketball program was something of an afterthought in the general scheme of the school.
So, I suppose I can get behind the Huskies if they continue deep into the tournament, they are from my hometown after all, but my team is out. Too early, too early…
Anyway, this is a double post for both the Rubble and the Democracy blogs. Mostly just an update on my recent silence. Came out of the six weeks of illness and injury to dive into the two weeks of frantically getting caught up in my schoolwork. I think I did well. If anything, I may have overcompensated and babbled on for too long in my history and lit essays, but we’ll see. I feel that I did my best, though, so that is what counts. I am confident that I would have pulled a four point if it was not the quarter of constant illness and injury, but I will be happy with whatever grades I receive this quarter.
The world still moves on. My son’s school musical was last week, and they put on a show much more impressive that anything I can remember from my elementary school days. My aunt was there, who is a recently retired elementary school teacher herself, and she was very impressed with the scale of the show.
This week we received a letter essentially asking us to vote on which school program to eliminate next year. Music, PE, or the Librarian.
Can we have a tax revolt where we force them to take more of our money? Or at least to spend more of the money they take on schools? Coupled with this, it was either Intel or Nike, the Tweedle Dee and Dum of the local economy, who was whining about needing more tax breaks last week, too.
I tell them what. If they donate money to my son’s music program, I will lobby for their tax cuts.
Maggots.
That is enough for now.
Maybe the Bulldogs are catching up on the karma they spent in their NCAA appearances several years ago. Then they were low ranking early round fodder who made it deep into the tournament two years in a row. Maybe they are just being made hungry enough to make it to the Final Four in the next year or two. In any case, the school is being taught humility. I always worry that sudden organization success like the ‘Zags have experienced leaves the team taking their success for granted, and making it dificult for them to push through to the end.
It’s always a bit strange to me, but I feel more affinity for Gonzaga in Spokane than I do with the University of Washington Huskies in Seattle. Even though I only spent two and a half quarters at Seattle University, it will always be my school in my heart and it was a Jesuit school, just like Gonzaga. Though we really didn’t think of ourselves as sister schools or anything like that, I still feel something of a connection when Gonzaga plays. Probably because Seattle University’s basketball program was something of an afterthought in the general scheme of the school.
So, I suppose I can get behind the Huskies if they continue deep into the tournament, they are from my hometown after all, but my team is out. Too early, too early…
Anyway, this is a double post for both the Rubble and the Democracy blogs. Mostly just an update on my recent silence. Came out of the six weeks of illness and injury to dive into the two weeks of frantically getting caught up in my schoolwork. I think I did well. If anything, I may have overcompensated and babbled on for too long in my history and lit essays, but we’ll see. I feel that I did my best, though, so that is what counts. I am confident that I would have pulled a four point if it was not the quarter of constant illness and injury, but I will be happy with whatever grades I receive this quarter.
The world still moves on. My son’s school musical was last week, and they put on a show much more impressive that anything I can remember from my elementary school days. My aunt was there, who is a recently retired elementary school teacher herself, and she was very impressed with the scale of the show.
This week we received a letter essentially asking us to vote on which school program to eliminate next year. Music, PE, or the Librarian.
Can we have a tax revolt where we force them to take more of our money? Or at least to spend more of the money they take on schools? Coupled with this, it was either Intel or Nike, the Tweedle Dee and Dum of the local economy, who was whining about needing more tax breaks last week, too.
I tell them what. If they donate money to my son’s music program, I will lobby for their tax cuts.
Maggots.
That is enough for now.
Monday, February 28, 2005
A new morning in America
The sun nears the horizon. The sky lightens and the yard outside my window takes on the pale glow of the arriving dawn. I sit with my coffee and it is time to write. I need to come up with a piece of a certain manner, of a certain length, and I do not have one ready. The sun is rising, not only on myself, but also on a new morning for all of America, if I am to believe a man who pictures himself as a Ronald Reagan for the new century. And, as morning approaches this shining city on a hill, I look to the day that lies ahead, to digging up an old piece of paper or to filling a fresh one with a new slate of words...
I am a father, a student and a skilled worker laid off from a decent job. So my day? Today it is trying to write that piece of a certain manner, of a certain length, so I do well in my class, so I can achieve more with all the new mornings that America has blessed me with. Today it is books and words and trying to remember where I left the pictures of a lost year’s memories.
And just in case I forgot something, I shuffle through old boxes full of paper... Stories, poems and articles; written, submitted and posted... But none of them fit. I pretend that these old thoughts do not fit for length. Rubble is an old site; there is much refuse left in those bins and much of it is dust. It blows away in the wind. The Democracy site doesn’t do much better, its words are more current, but they age faster and last month’s scribbles fade in the morning’s light.
I am tired so the obvious topics seem too obvious. I have been sick without adequate health coverage while my son goes to school in a district with the shortest academic calendar in the nation. In such a space, there might be grounds for new, fresh words.
I could write about walking this difficult line between corporate greed and state financial shortfalls. Unfortunately, my Mark Twain impression fails me this morning.
Most mornings, I like to scan through a handful of news articles and then to tie them together into a chorus of discontent on the state of the day. I suppose that I could still do this, but while I was ill, I lost the thread of the days. The President was in Europe, mending fences and recruiting cowboys, the Pope was having a hole carved into his neck; these are the stories of the day.
And I am sure that a stranger died in a desert land today. And I am sure that someone saw fear in a handful of dust today. I am sure that someone lonely found love today, too. That someone hungry ate a bite and that someone lost prayed to a new god today, finding the will to continue through one more night towards dawn, towards home...
But it was not me. And I am tired. I am still sick too.
Today, I do not have the strength to dream up the good and I do not have the will to suffer through such random imaginings of pain. Both are out there. Both happened today. But I will not write of them. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.
Instead, I will imagine how to pay the light bill and then I will imagine how to pay the rent. And then, before imagining how to be a wonderful father, I will imagine how I can buy food for my boys.
And then I will write something witty about this new morning in America. Then I will imagine my boys safe from darkness, hunger and fear as they carelessly play in a day-glo plastic playground high on a shining hill, so far above the base realities of the approaching day.
But it is still early and I have not figured out how to write about that vision yet.
I am a father, a student and a skilled worker laid off from a decent job. So my day? Today it is trying to write that piece of a certain manner, of a certain length, so I do well in my class, so I can achieve more with all the new mornings that America has blessed me with. Today it is books and words and trying to remember where I left the pictures of a lost year’s memories.
And just in case I forgot something, I shuffle through old boxes full of paper... Stories, poems and articles; written, submitted and posted... But none of them fit. I pretend that these old thoughts do not fit for length. Rubble is an old site; there is much refuse left in those bins and much of it is dust. It blows away in the wind. The Democracy site doesn’t do much better, its words are more current, but they age faster and last month’s scribbles fade in the morning’s light.
I am tired so the obvious topics seem too obvious. I have been sick without adequate health coverage while my son goes to school in a district with the shortest academic calendar in the nation. In such a space, there might be grounds for new, fresh words.
I could write about walking this difficult line between corporate greed and state financial shortfalls. Unfortunately, my Mark Twain impression fails me this morning.
Most mornings, I like to scan through a handful of news articles and then to tie them together into a chorus of discontent on the state of the day. I suppose that I could still do this, but while I was ill, I lost the thread of the days. The President was in Europe, mending fences and recruiting cowboys, the Pope was having a hole carved into his neck; these are the stories of the day.
And I am sure that a stranger died in a desert land today. And I am sure that someone saw fear in a handful of dust today. I am sure that someone lonely found love today, too. That someone hungry ate a bite and that someone lost prayed to a new god today, finding the will to continue through one more night towards dawn, towards home...
But it was not me. And I am tired. I am still sick too.
Today, I do not have the strength to dream up the good and I do not have the will to suffer through such random imaginings of pain. Both are out there. Both happened today. But I will not write of them. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.
Instead, I will imagine how to pay the light bill and then I will imagine how to pay the rent. And then, before imagining how to be a wonderful father, I will imagine how I can buy food for my boys.
And then I will write something witty about this new morning in America. Then I will imagine my boys safe from darkness, hunger and fear as they carelessly play in a day-glo plastic playground high on a shining hill, so far above the base realities of the approaching day.
But it is still early and I have not figured out how to write about that vision yet.
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