esrosedotblog

John came back from his ocean voyage this morning.

Well, about noon.

To say that Marcus and I were happy to see him would understate the case.

It is nice to get away but getting back together is sweet and happy. Of course, you can't have "sweet and happy" without going away.

One of those paradoxes in life. Paradi? No. Spell check does not like that one.

He had a good time and so did we. Marcus and I enjoyed each other.

It is very nice to see Marcus' evident pleasure at having his family back together again.

He is smiling and staying close to both of us. In the middle.

Quite nice.

Labels: family, Marcus

Two sons visited for the long weekend.

They do this once a year. Time for them to be together and time for us to be with them.

We had a great time.

Nothing special but being together. One night out to eat.

We are very fortunate indeed to have our family. And grateful they are willing to come such a long way to see us and spend some time.

I notice that they also get to spend some time with each other as well. Everyone is a winner.

Labels: family

Two sons today from back east.

Jet lag notwithstanding they are in good shape and plan to be here until Monday morning.

It is already nice to see them. The rest will be a bonus.

Labels: family, visitors

I was married and we had/have kids.

Everyone is grown up now. They are all doing fine as far as I can tell.

My wife would be as proud as I am. We were able to separate and still be good friends and parents.

I had the good fortune of finding another partner who understood and relished the experience of being a step-dad to a sizable brood.

I am not sure how my wife (the only wife I have ever had) carried this out. But these people seemed to have been able to do the same thing.

From Divorce, a Fractured Beauty

The unhappiness of day to day living is relieved with separation but new problems rise up. Antagonism, anger, revenge are all feelings that are likely to pop up and they do not yield pretty results.

I have seen kids' lives become a battleground for hating parents. So it started there. She and I agreed to be the best parents we could be.

That meant accepting things that perhaps we had thought we would not accept. Especially for her. But we/she/I did them. My partner, now husband, did them.

It is a long intimate and personal story but I can say this. It has a happy ending. Or an ending as happy as I could want it to be.

My wife became ill and died some time ago. She did not leave me with any regrets. Nor did I have any myself. I still grieve. And my eyes are wet.

It is nice to find other people who see that partnerships change in life but the people do not go away. If they do it is too bad and can't be helped. But if we can stay and adapt there is happiness just around the corner.

Labels: family

I was the first person from my family to go to college.

I do have to say that my cousin Phil went to a business school, two years. And flunked out.

I, on the other hand, as you may have heard, went to fucking MIT.

What was that like for my parents? What was it like for me?

The answer to both questions is nicely put together in this NYTimes Essay.

Taking My Parents to College

I can remember the day very clearly when they dumped me off on Ames Street in Cambridge.

Well, not really true. They did help me unload the car. But I couldn't get rid of them fast enough. Truth is that I dumped them.

They knew that. We had rehearsed this scene over and over.

High drama.

They did not stay with me. I had a week of "orientation" after all which, in reality, was pledge week at the fraternities.

And I had no intention whatsoever of joining a fraternity. None.

Why I felt this way (and still do) is still a bit of a mystery except for my clear identity as an introvert.

Every "advantage" that I heard about frat-life was a threat to my independence.

I did attend some functions. I went to a breakfast for freshman at some church so I could report home that I had tried that.

I went to an orientation that was held in my faculty adviser's home (everyone had one of these, use them or not, I did not)

Mostly I isolated.

Fortunately I was an avid non-drinker then. Had I been on the booze I would have been in the hospital. Instead, I suffered.

As it happened, there was another freshman in my dorm. And more miraculously, this kid was from Newfoundland PA which is only twenty miles from my hick town only hickier. The son of an undertaker.

He was so scared that we could not talk. Even I was less frightened than he was. I am sure today that, like me, he was gay. A queer in those years.

What saved me was the arrival in the dorm of the well entrenched sophomores, juniors and seniors who had lived in this unit "for years".

My roommate was a sophomore who was even more insecure than I was.

Arthur had terminal acne. The room smelled of his medication, that sulfur stuff. His voice had not broken yet. A clarinet player, he had buck teeth and, I am grateful, never played in the room but went to practice sessions of the school concert band. Which was excellent. Made records.

We did not get along but neither of us would admit it.

We stayed the year.

Then I found another kid in my freshman section, Chem Engineering, also a closet case and while we never ever did it our "sensibility", the brother hood of sissies, got us through two years before we finally had it with each other.

A long story. But I am sure all from repressed feelings for one another. I can still see his body. I will not elaborate. Oh. Those were the days!

So, where was I?

My parents wanted to know all the details of my life at MIT. I could share none of it.

Or wouldn't.

How could I tell them about the things that were happening to me? The real college things.

I could also not tell them about the fear and anxiety. The terrible ball clenching terror of class and the threat of failing. I had no alternatives.

They were, or I thought them to be (same things) a third world embarrassment.

I went home the first summer between freshman and sophomore years. Horrific. I was so unhappy.

I never went back after that. I had a dining hall job at MIT that I could segue into the summer, my course got me a lab job in a food manufacturing plant (a layabout job, full of fun, I learned how to be the rebel, my introduction to rebellious thinking in the corporate environment. See below) I lived on campus in a free room in the dining hall. I had so imbedded myself by this time that it was my true home. I can still smell that upper break room where I slept. It was seldom used because it was on the fourth floor. Soft furniture, a lounge. Wonderful! Soaked it in. The loner life was begun. The one I managed to lead until this very day. Alone but not. You have to be one to understand.

I had left my family behind. The house family, the extended family, I never went back.

I did honor my father and my mother (dad more than mom) and did the obligatory. But I was on my way and no one, not anyone, from my past came along.

I was a less than mediocre academic success but I excelled at the non-curricular. Dance committees, political office, just fucking around. I ended up my last year as the head captain of the dining hall. My former summer bedroom became a lounge for the staff. Blah blah blah.

Labels: family, home, MIT

We expect to see one of our adult grandsons in awhile.

The plane should be in but then we are not sure of the plane details.

I guess we will wait and see.

I am not very good at waiting but I am getting better.

It is hot today and it is also the day that we are taking the dog walk after dinner. This will go on until the fall.

It is better in a way. After a meal. Seeing the day out. No sun.

Well a little sun but going down.

Otherwise, we are just trying to work our way through the unknowns of people's travel.

I am ready to serve dinner if it is needed. It is OK if it is not.

So a lot of changes to work with today. It is OK. I am OK.

Labels: family

So our family was all together. Late planes and surprise layovers notwithstanding. Which basically cut a day off our daughter's visit.

Now John and Lisa (the daughter) are on their way to San Diego. They are staying at "my" hotel there. The Bay Club and Marina.

They will spend their time a bit different than I do when alone. They will be out on the town looking around. I sit on my balcony and look at the marina activity or go out along the Bay and walk and look and walk and look.

I suppose they will do some of that but anyone new to San Diego needs to visit more widely. More shore line, the city.

Here is the night view they will have.

Marcus and I are alone until Saturday night. This seemed to happen very suddenly this morning and I was struck with a case of "what will we do?"

But that passed. We do not have to do anything we do not normally do and what is more I so not have to cook dinner. I will have the morning walk duty but that will be instead of the gym. Nice change.

They have the Volvo and, while I could get my name on the rental, I have decided not to do that for now. I can get a few rides here and there and I am going to use this time to vegetate.

Read, sit, go to Meetings. Write, read. Be slow. Read. I have a considerable reading backlog.

I started to watch the longish film Violette with Emmanuelle Devos. A writer, Violette seeks a mentor in Simone de Beauvoir. They become friends, but Violette yearns for more.

It is pretty good so far and I will report tomorrow when I finish it.

Labels: family, visitors

So the daughter's plane missed its connection Monday and we had to wait until today for her to arrive.

But she is here a long time and we will more than make up for it.

Labels: family

Where I live, this is a very big deal.

Obama Said to Plan Moves to Shield 5 Million Immigrants

It is something they are thinking about. But I can't help believing that it is a trial balloon. The NYT is practically a house organ of this administration. Is that with a capital? Administration. It ought to be.

I have no way of knowing who is legal and who is not around here. Which is fine with me. The border is porous as it ought to be. Like with Canada.

Although there will be a quick rejoinder to that one. Some believe that Canadians are like us and Mexicans are not.

I do not share that belief. Anymore than I make a distinction between French Canadians and the other kind. Anglo.

Of course there is a lot to do with vote counting here. But it is always about vote counting so why not.

I do know that families are split by the border. Not good.

One of the times I am most aware of the border is when I do interviews for MIT. Kids from Mexico are treated just the same way in our work but they are not the same. They fall under "international" which could be good for them in terms of quotas. Which no one admits to.

A lot of kids live on the other side of the border and come to school on this side. It is allowed. And not just in private school. Where there is a will there will be a way.

I knew nothing about any of this before I moved out here. It was an awakening.

I did not know that some so called white Americans are hostile to Mexican people. It is the same as blacks. They are called ugly names and thought to be dirty and prone to large families and other sins which when you think of it is a lot of uninformed hooey.

Of course, as a bleeding heart liberal I am probably supporting bad elements and betraying my roots.

Which happen to be German through and through. And hillbilly. As well as cunnerman. Don't ask about that last one. It is considered to be a euphemism for poor whites in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. It is based on the long ago family name of "Counterman" who were thought to be, well, you know, cunnermen. When I was a kid that was the local "nigger". Too bad for the cunnermen that had no blacks to pick on. And only one jewish family. I won't get into what they called that kid in school.

We all grow up with it. Sick prejudice based on race, ethnicity, income, and, in my instance, sexual orientation.

It is not hard to identify with a greaser when I am thought of as a fairy, a queer, a homo or a cocksucker. And by some members of my own family! Arthur R., where are you now? I still remember your nasty mouth.

It is all the same thing. The haters are always the same. And they are boring as hell too.

Labels: family, homophobia, immigration

John and I drove to Indio this morning. He needed some diagnostic imaging.

Very sophisticated it would seem. Early results say that everything is OK. Details later.

I had to take him because he would not be in any shape to drive after his local anesthetic.

So I let him out and went to have coffee at a Starbucks. A muffin. Sit in the sun.

I enjoyed it all. Not that I would do it again or, rather, not that it would top my priorities for hanging out.

The muffin was half size. WTF! And the coffee mediocre.

But I did sit out in the sun next to this large family. Latin american. Mom, Pop, older daughters (3 I think) and a son,18 or so.Two beautiful babies.

How nice to be next to them. I didn't eavesdrop at all but it was apparent that they do this regularly enough to have the space comfortably and to exchange mild family banter, some news and most of all bask in the baby-ness of it all.

It has been a while since I have been around grand babies or any other kind. Or families. Gentle, loving and sweet.

The thing about outdoor tables is that people will tolerate less intimacy somehow.

I didn't stare but they knew I was a willing audience. An appreciative one.

I didn't eavesdrop really. It was mostly about the babies and family life as far as I can tell.

Very nice.

I went to pick up John and somehow got lost. I forgot about a turn I had made going to the imaging place. I had to call and be directed. That was fine with me.

Home then, where part of my own family was settled in for the morning. Two sons. More family-ness. But mine.

I still fail to see the attraction of Starbucks but the family compensated for that quite nicely.

Labels: family, health, medicine

I know it is boring.

I am home and on the family hearth and all. What the hell.

In this day and age, with everyone else running all around, with the world changing every minute?

Imagine how it feels to have gone thousands of miles and back in just over a week and to have so many fine things to keep in my heart. Then, home.

The big thing for me today was to get up and have my yogurt and fruit and grainy cereal breakfast then go to the super market for the Friday shopping and then lie down for the morning nap. Home, sweet home.

Hey, I did get up at 4 AM but that is a bit late for me on the usual basis. It happens that jet lag helped me drop right into my normal schedule here.

No staying in the house that Mick Jagger lived in, no bedroom window looking down on the Thames, boats, water, joggers. No dining al fresco in the suburbs of Plymouth County, no talking the talk at an out of town Meeting (as here, when you are a visitor, you are red meat to lead and speak, not the same old mashed potatoes warmed over).

No visit with one of my life's best friends with the inevitable walk through Toronto to see new and wonderful sights still left on his list of notable places I should see. I know there are more for next time.

No sitting in a tubular box car with strangers and strained conversation flying at 35,000 feet.

I did have a fine ride back with a woman who loaned me her blanket (I was fucking freezing, so desertized) and we had a nice talk about nothing much. Companionship without a lot of blather. The best kind.

Not one delay.

Not one serious encounter with the border police. I was thoroughly rumbled for having a tooth paste tube which was way too big. It is technically liquid. The fucker took it. And something else too just to show me. And a bit of a lecture which one must endure with a smile. Faint.

I am good at the straight face, "yessir" attitude that gets one by these things but the TSA is a formidable group of commissars in the making and I want nothing to do with them anytime soon.

The Brits could show the Americans something about beneficent bureaucratism.

Give a Yank a little power and he is all over himself with what we like to think are Prussian ways.

But that was all coming home.

Going over was lovely.

I had first met with family in Scituate MA where the high point was a cookout with every available kid and some grandkids attending. Even the far flung Australian resident was in town!

Not a lot of time to sit and bobble the grandchildren on my knee but they are all too grown up for that and I am not a knee man.

They are well and I am very proud of each and every one. They all have that look in their eye that tells me they are on the beam.

What have I left out here? A lot probably.

My friend Dennis who is just new to retirement. Only a few months. Boy did I have things to tell him about this life. He is starting well though. I asked what his plan was and he said "to develop a plan" and in the meantime enjoy the freedom of not working in the world of publishing where he spent so many years. Business side which, believe me, ain't arty. Hard as nails those publishing people.

This is a severely disorganized account of my trip. It was glorious. And it is over. And the last words off the plane in Palm Springs with the gorgeous mountains and beautiful plain are "that is the last time I am doing this". I had a great time and I never, ever have to do it again.

Well, no one forced me to do this. I wanted to do it and I loved doing it and I enjoyed every minute of it (really) and I never want to do it again, thank you.

My husband was out front of the airport in the Volvo convertible, lurking just off the premises. When I got to the lobby I called him, he was there in a minute or two and I was away, away back home.

My god, what a wonderful place to live.

And it was hot and it was dry and it was just at sunset.

Home.

Labels: family, Palm Springs, travel

We did the Sunday walk this morning.

The one we all three did together until Booker's death last week.

Booker's death. I had been using the euphemisms and have stopped. He died. He is dead.

My god how I miss him.

But it is better today as it was yesterday.

Today we are remembering funny stories, things he did that amused us or things we did that amused him.

He was a daddy's boy and, in his case, a daddy's boy twice. Two Dads.

He had a set of responses that fit each of us.

On the walk it was understood that he would lead and John would hold the leash. I pretty much let them do their work and tagged along. It was my job to carry and use the poop bags.

Mostly, we saw his ass as it walked purposely where the nose led it.

He had a purpose and sometimes would reveal it, other times not.

Then there were the unaccounted for stops. A quick halt or a fast reverse to examine some spot that had changed or some area another dog had been and perhaps (better) peed in. There were also the standard stops. A certain patch of grass that would provide a quick snack. The huge water fountain and pool at an apartment complex down the road. And the pooping places. Almost always the same chosen from about five optional locations.

We were to wait.

Eventually he would move on for the walk. His Dads following dutifully.

He had several routes but in the last months the directions pretty much followed what we call "the dead babies walk".

It is so named because it passes an RC church that has, in its lawn, a small monument to all the aborted babies who died, I guess, ever. Yup.

We would almost always pass when the first Mass was assembling so we kept the remarks and ripostes down to a dull roar. I am happy to report that Booker never, ever, peed on that little monument. Not that we tried to restrain him in any way. But he never did it. I figure it was out of a sensitivity, more sensitivity than I have, to the assembled church goers.

Today, our walk was nice and not morbid in any way. We did a little reminiscing. And then we came home. Enough.

I don't know if we will do this again.

We did the after dinner walk together last night and it was too hot to do again. Booker and I could do it at a slow amble pace but it is not walking weather now after about noon. Soon, earlier.

It can be done and if you are a confirmed desert rat even be enjoyable. But not for two at a fast pace.

I miss him and think of him often. Not all the time now. It is hardest at those times we would ritualistically meet. At the morning pee. I have gone out each morning for a little weep and goodbye to the stars.

He would always be there when there was food. Not so much because he loved me, which he did, but because I loved him and would spoil him with tastes and bites. Likewise when it is his meal time a little mental bell rings and I want to answer by getting out the kibble. But that job is over.

People want to know when or if we are getting a new puppy. The new convertible is the clearest answer we can give. It is not dog-able. And we are not goddam getting another new car for a long time. It is embarrassing enough that we did this one so soon. But the car pre-empts. I think we will need this. At two or three weeks we might get an itch which would send us to the Airedale Rescue people to get a new guy. And that is not going to happen. Sad but true.

Labels: Booker, family, routine

So maybe I can do the blog with less of a flourish and just headline the days.

It is worth a try. It seems as though am not ready to give it up yet.

Today's film was The Boys in the Band which we have seen quite a few times and which does not lose its power to move emotions and a sense of value about how far we have come since its time. 1970 seems like a century ago. On the other hand, there are certain gay life eternals and they ring true, mostly the funny parts. There are quite a few of those.

My reaction is that a lot of the self hatred people saw in it when it came around was not so much in the film as in the film watcher.

I got it out because I just saw the documentary about making it. Mart Crowley, the writer, was featured. He remarked that it was amazing to him that we were still talking about this film 40 years later. Yes.

The photo is from a cast reunion. All but a few of the guys are gone now, mostly from AIDS.

We are slowly getting back to normal after quite a wonderful visit with two of "our boys" who visited and vacated for themselves and were able to do some chores for us but mostly be available for family time right there in living color.

It is important to staying in touch that we, for awhile, be touching.

They installed a new faucet in my bathroom and if I had known what an undertaking it was I might have not asked them to do the work.

But it did not seem to be a hardship for them who, surprisingly, acted like a team even though one had more experience and took the lead.

John and I are only children and it is amazing to us to see brothers together. John came to say that they were talking to one another all the time. Which is true but also not really true. They are in cahoots with each other in a way that I envy. Very nice to watch and to be a part of.

They have a collective memory of their family life which is revealing in the conversation. Only exceeded by the wealth of collective memory when there are more than two kids around.

This annual visit involves others other years but this year the rest of the gang are either out of the continent or doing other work or otherwise occupied and could not be here. We missed them and still had a great time.

I am having a normal week ending on Saturday with an interview with an MIT kid. Which, for this time of year, is normal.

Labels: blogging, family, films, MIT

ON TO THE NEXT THING

We had a great 24 hour + visit with son Dave on his way to Australia.

He is off to a wonderful adventure and we are very proud of him.

We may see him again in the fall but, if not, it will be at least two years. A long time when you type it but a pretty short time if you are having a good time.

And I think he will be having something close to the time of his life. A new relationship in a new place with a lot lighter load of house and possessions. He had a lot of bags in the car but that is his entire life right there in four or five bags. Or six? Plus Lewis his cat! Who already left in his own plane.

Godspeed.

I just read this welcome message.

It's so Hot in Australia They Added Two Colors to the Weather Map.

No strangers to heat ourselves, we can only congratulate him on his choice of climate. Actually, it is pretty nice there all the time. I have been and really enjoyed it. He will be in Melbourne until Lewis passes quarantine in a month then Canberra. The biggest city in Australia. The national capital.

Labels: family, travel

LETTING GO

Interesting.

When They're Grown the Real Pain Begins

This mother found out what most parents know. Kids are people and when they grow up they have the lives of people.

Holding on brings a considerable amount of pain that is not really very useful to anyone.

A friend of mine has three adult kids and he has all kinds of wrenching thoughts and even physical reactions to their life situations.

One son had a drinking problem, now gone away, and he agonized that the kid wouldn't go to AA. Huh? I didn't go to AA until I was 40. There were job and wife problems. Again, advice up the wazoo. And then alienation. His son told him that he was meddling.

Well he was.

Another daughter is splitting up from her husband and now going through the familiar yo yo effect of maybe I'll stay or maybe I'll go. My friend took his position a long time ago. That was for her to go. So. There is a play by play every time she shifts and wiggles to find a right place for herself with this guy who just happens to be the father of her children. Tough. Tough life. Tough situation. But it is not my friend's business. Plain and simple.

There is a third kid, a daughter, who seems to be having clear sailing in her life. My friend uses that as a wedge to intervene with the other two. "Why can't you be like your sister", although he probably doesn't say it that way. It must be tough to be the family role model.

I have been through this for a long time. I have five kids. My god! They grew up. Now what do I do? Worry?

No.

I have my own life to attend to and if my life is any indicator they are better off making their own mistakes. I remember the few times my parents tried to intervene with me. All that did was make things harder, tougher and more confusing.

I try to stay out of it all.

I long ago accepted that my kids are going to have problems in their life that I cannot even understand let alone help with. Well, there is the listening ear. If they want me to listen. They seldom do. Good for them.

In this article, there is an old lady at the beginning who talks about the "burden" of adult children.

Good christ!

My mother suffered that way. It was a spectacle. And, of course, it was all about her and her life.

I celebrate my kids lives. When they get into difficulties, I know that I can listen if they want to talk it out. I know that I can stand to the side and watch and, perhaps, learn from how they work through the things that happen to them.

But to interfere, to judge, to "suffer" with them is a path to a very unhappy existence for all the family.

Labels: family

ROSEY GLOW

This has been a grand week.

Fully informed, more than the Mitters, I really did not expect Romney to win. I assured friends. A long time follower of Nate Silver and Sam Wang, I had confidence in the numbers. And the turnout.

I was thinking of my Dad this morning.

He would be very happy.

He was a life long Democrat. He ran for office as a Democrat. He won elections as a Democrat.

Small local elections for the School Board but, nevertheless, as a Democrat.

We had a bust of FDR in the house. It was plaster painted a bronze color and had a little American flag attached.

My Dad grew up in the depression. He would not be surprised at the callousness of the Republicans today. Little has changed. In his time there were "Hoovervilles". Tent cities thrown up for those who fell way out of the safety net.

Dad was tough and was able top get a job with A&P which lasted a lifetime.

When I needed to rebel against my Dad, I spent a short time as a Republican. It never felt right. I switched back pretty fast. I don't think he ever knew that I had done that. Good.

The sixties radicalized me some but I never left the Party. I do not agree with the left wingers even today. I like a nice moderate liberal approach.

What about the man, Obama? Cautious at first, I saw in him the same basic values that my Dad lived by and that I try to follow.

The FDR image is not far fetched. Obama will not be able to be elected for a third time. But twice will do nicely. I am very happy.

Labels: Barack Obama, Democrats, family

RETURN

We had a wonderful visit with a few of our kids.

They are still kids even though their ages are not consonant with the title.

They were here from Friday afternoon to early this morning. Hikes, eats, visits. Very nice.

And I will return to blogging more actively tomorrow.

I went, this afternoon, to test the "frame" of my partial denture. It fit "perfectly", said he and then proceeded to perfect it some more.

Shock is that it is made of titanium! What next. The new best material.

It is very shiny and a little shocking in its silverness.

But it will be fine. I am going back mid-day Monday to, I hope, pick it up forever. They don't put the teeth into the frame until they know all is well. All that titanium.

I started a cold the day the kids arrived and it is still with me. I would give it a 3 on the scale of five. In the middle for discomfort. It has not gone to my bronchs and the runniness is over. I skipped the gym two days so far but I think I will go back in tomorrow. I am already feeling it.

So that is it.

Now time to get supper going. Everything is running late today but it is OK. I have had a happy time.

Labels: blogging, dentist, family

THE RETURN

Booker and I went to pick up John last night. He had been traveling for 21 hours from Milan.

Booker was enormously happy to see his other Dad.

And, I was overjoyed to see my husband. We have been apart before for this long but each time seems longer.

We all went home together, had a dog pile and I went to bed. I don't know what they got up to after I was gone. Probably a lot of stories about how I didn't really know how to do the morning walk or the afternoon dinner.

That's OK. I am happy enough to turn those things over to the expert.

Labels: Booker, family

I BLAME THE DEAD MAN

A lot of drama next door.

The neighbor died on Tuesday and the daughter was here in a flash. The young man who had been the neighbor's companion was told he would have to leave because they were selling immediately. Bang.

There was a discussion, we hear, of who owned what. He gets nothing. But they did ask him to take the dog and the cat. Which he is rightly ambivalent about but he doesn't want to abandon them. They are still confused about where the boss is. The dog brings flip flops to the tv chair every morning.

So he will take the animals because he would feel too bad not too.

He has found a place and was to move there yesterday but needed more time. They didn't agree but he just stayed over anyway.

There is a buyer coming to view the property today. They do not care if they make money on it or not. It won't be much. There is a mortgage.

It is very hard for the younger man. No resources, no furniture. Of course that was part of the situation when he took the "job" as live in companion. But still.

It is the same story that is told often enough. An oldster dies, the family moves in and anyone caught in the stampede gets trampled if they get in the way.

Something else to plan for in our case. I don't think that would happen with us. I don't think either of us would have a "companion" but if I/we did, we'd sure as shit provide for him and not assume that the family or anyone else would.

There lies the problem.

The avenging, acting out family is a cliché. Certainly one should make preparations for the probability of this happening.

I blame the dead man.

Labels: death, family

MEMORIAL DAY SPEAKERS

When I was a kid there was a Memorial Day parade that began at the high school and ended at one of the local cemeteries to pay tribute to one of the town's guys who have been killed in action.

Each year, one kid, a sixth grader, would be assigned to recite the Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.

One year that was me.

I remember the whole thing. My Dad was in the American Legion color guard and was standing nearby. In his Navy uniform, I think.

WWII had only been over three years. He was in the North Atlantic on a tin can destroyer escort and then in the Pacific at the end of things but still in time to have a kamikaze hit his ship and to see a couple of friends killed, reduced to pulp.

He never got over it.

So at this juncture, the time was ripe. I got to say something about war. And peace.

I couldn't really recite this today but I could do a good job of faking it. My Dad would be watching. What else could I do?

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Labels: family, holidays, patriotism