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Thursday, February 28, 2008

ancestral ground

The structure above was once a school house that my mother attended for a number of years as a small child. It was literally a "one room school house" begun by one of my uncles many generations ago. I wish I knew more about this side of my family. They are kind and gentle people, heroic - yet humble.

Down the road to the right is the Mt. Zion Presbyterian Church and Cemetery. The church shares its pulpit meister with several other churches. The cemetery is full of my mother's half of the family tree. One day she'll be buried there somewhere close to my beloved sister, my grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Before my sister was buried there I realized that I considered Mt. Zion to be a place separate from the world I live in... a place that acknowledged a time long gone... but of course it was me that has been long gone.

Just as I wonder how much there is to do and ask how it will come to pass our lives turn on a dime. We are reminded of its fragility... and how everything exists as different stages of ash and stardust. It all sounds so goofy... but physics doesn't lie.

The old school house remains... to remind us of things we've forgotten and lesson's we've yet to learn.

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Wednesday, February 27, 2008

too many words too little time

My sister in '81 0r '82 after the Willie Nelson concert at MSU.

I've missed having time to write, especially since there are many thoughts and questions I've needed to pour into this volumn of words and deed:

Why did my sister survive Katrina to be hit by a car on Valentine's Day? Why does Mr. dd have a compulsion to rub together the satin edging on the blanket at the foot of our bed?? It is as subconscious and one twirling one's hair or scratching their beard... Why do my cats (different in age and breed) kneed the bathrobe my mother sent me for my birthday? Why am I so miserable in my brother's company? Does art matter? Why can't Hillary and Obama get it together and be running mates? How did Foamy survive the journey home for my sister's memorial? It wasn't easy. None of it is easy. I need a drink. Or drugs. Or a good laugh. Or best of all - all three at once.

There are a plethora of words I can begin to answer these questions with but it wouldn't bring my sister back or our democratic front runners together. Instead I've been trying to focus on my students and the immediate matters at hand and on the horizon- art, travel, taxes, my family, thank you cards, my needy cats and maintaining close communique's with my parents. It isn't easy but c'est la vie.

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Sunday, February 03, 2008

Just In time for the Superbowl and Mardi Gras...

Although there may have been some karmic benefit for mainlining the fear and reality of the post you'll read below (with Mardi Gras just a few days away... I couldn't resist posting this. At least it still falls within the dangers of alcohol schematic!

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