Tag: memories

Hump Day Happy–Where Did the Day Go Edition

I don’t cook with grease for seasoning the way my mother and aunts did. It’s not healthy. I usually don’t cook my vegetables to death, either. But I do occasionally want some bacon grease for my cornbread skillet, and if there will be any old-school Southerners at my table, I like to add a bit of flavor to peas or beans with it, too. (Aside: After a hurricane, when you’re without power and have to cook all your food so it won’t go bad, if you fry your okra in bacon grease, even Mark G. Harris will eat it. Should any of you ever be in that situation when Mr. Harris is a guest in your home. Your hurricane-impacted home. Did I mention there was a hurricane?)

I have confessed on here before that I usually buy my own Christmas presents and tell Tom his part is to wrap them. I know that doesn’t sound exciting, so this year I decided to live dangerously. I told him to buy creative things to put the presents IN. Decorative boxes and such. Proving that men do, in fact, sometimes hear what we say, he remembered that I sometimes opined about the good old days when I, and other family members, used to keep little containers designed for filtering and saving bacon grease. Tom went to an antique store–this is NOT to say that my family members and I are antiques; I’m thirty-five–and found this adorable container to hold one of my presents, which I thought was quite clever.

If you would like to comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, I’ll find something in the happy book for you. Maybe it’ll be clever and adorable, as well. And it won’t clog your arteries.

Hump Day Happy–Early Edition

I was sitting on the front porch Tuesday afternoon after I dropped all the rose petals into the flower bed. I was thinking about John Lennon and Riley and their eternal connection in my heart while I sang to the dogs. The dogs LOVE it when I do this; in their excitement, they run to distant corners of The Compound, probably hoping I’ll sing even more loudly so the world can share in the thrill of it all.

I wasn’t singing a John Lennon or even a Beatles song, but one of my favorite Neil Young songs, “Birds.” I was sad, and it occurred to me how one of Riley’s gifts was that no matter how crazy awful our lives were (and 1980 delivered a ton of crazy awful), he could always make me laugh. As I sang, I remembered Riley telling me a story about a day he was sitting on his front porch, singing and playing his guitar. He was working on a song of his called “I Saw the Light” about the rotten luck of his alter ego, the Mysterious Vagabond Poet. Each time the MVP thought his life was taking a turn for the better, another awful thing would happen. And as Riley sang, he suddenly realized that across the street, his neighbors were sitting on their front porch and laughing their butts off. That’s when he knew he’d accomplished what he wanted to with the lyrics: He’d taken all the crazy awful and made it funny. He came to my house a couple of days later to make sure the song would get the same reaction from me. Remembering how I laughed back then gave me a much welcomed lift.

And then came magic.

And so this is Christmas…

Image taken from the Internet.

Some years this date passes by without my commenting on it. This is not one of those years. I really miss my friend Riley and think of him on this day as I have every year since 1980.

Though I joked around a little about her in A Coventry Wedding, I’ve never been one to disparage Yoko Ono. In fact, I admire her tremendously. She’s always been forthright and true to herself as an artist. Two things I love about her work are the Yoko Ono Wish Tree and the Imagine Peace Tower, a beacon of light that will shine through midnight tonight in Iceland, as it does each year from John Lennon’s birthday on October 9 until the anniversary of his death–today, December 8.

In memory of Riley and John Lennon, I created my own little wish for peace in rose petals. After I photographed it, I left it, though I was sure the dogs would plow through it before either Tim or Tom could see it. Instead, all four dogs and the puppy have stepped around it, and it’s still there hours later. Never underestimate the wisdom of dogs.

On a less somber note, happy birthday to Famous Author Rob Byrnes and our mutual friend Byrne.

Next week: slide show of our family vacations

The other night I dragged out my first grade class photo and forced everyone to look at it (“everyone” in that case being Tom, Tim, Rhonda, Lindsey, and Kathy S, as opposed to the “everyone” who comprises my readership here on LJ–your turn!).

Tim noted that the way we’re posed, we all look like we’re handcuffed. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we all actually were handcuffed. In the old days (thirtyish years ago!), they didn’t coddle six-year-olds.

The next year, there would be no class photo, because that would have brought our work to a halt at the munitions factory.

I KID!

It was a cannery.

World AIDS Day, December 1

World AIDS Day was first recognized in 1988 and has become a day to raise money and awareness, fight prejudice against those with HIV/AIDS, and improve education about the virus. The World AIDS Day theme for 2009 is “Universal Access and Human Rights.”

According to UNAIDS estimates, there are now 33.4 million people living with HIV, including 2.1 million children. During 2008, approximately 2.7 million people became newly infected with the virus and an estimated two million people died from illnesses caused by AIDS.

Around half of all people who become infected with HIV do so before they are 25 and are killed by AIDS before they are 35. HIV hasn’t gone away, and there’s still a lot of work to be done toward its management and eradication. The red ribbon pin in this post’s user photo sits on the window ledge in front of me to remind me of that every day.

Each time I put on my jewelry, I wear my Until There’s A Cure bracelet in honor of the beautiful friends I’ve lost because of AIDS. Not a single day of my life goes by that I don’t think of them.

I was so fortunate to have known them.

Steve R, Don P, Jeff C, John M, Tim R, Pete M

I think continually of those who were truly great


I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who from the womb, remembered the soul’s history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.

What is precious is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.

Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are feted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life
Who wore at their hearts the fire’s center.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.

Stephen Spender

Photos 1996, my personal archives