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Le bon, le mauvais, et le laid
Apr. 15th, 2019 11:40 pmThis was one of those "it's always something" days. Yeah, it's tax day ... but it wouldn't be, yet, if I still lived in Massachusetts. It's Patriots Day, which means the Boston Marathon ... and the sixth anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombing. For a couple of my friends, it's the anniversary of the death of one of their parents.
And then we had the breaking news of the fire at Notre Dame de Paris. Shocking and sad, and not just for the Middle Ages aficionados on my list of Facebook friends. One of the most magnificent touchstones of human civilization, not just for Catholics, but for civilization itself, I would say ... art and architecture and the human spirit. How can it just go up in smoke and flames? During Holy Week, no less?
And yet again ... this morning I read online that a couple of long-distance Facebook friends are expecting their first child this fall. They decided to make the announcement on tax day because they'll have a cute lil' additional deduction next year. I know they have been trying for a while, so I am glad for them.
Life goes on....
And then we had the breaking news of the fire at Notre Dame de Paris. Shocking and sad, and not just for the Middle Ages aficionados on my list of Facebook friends. One of the most magnificent touchstones of human civilization, not just for Catholics, but for civilization itself, I would say ... art and architecture and the human spirit. How can it just go up in smoke and flames? During Holy Week, no less?
And yet again ... this morning I read online that a couple of long-distance Facebook friends are expecting their first child this fall. They decided to make the announcement on tax day because they'll have a cute lil' additional deduction next year. I know they have been trying for a while, so I am glad for them.
Life goes on....
A secret anniversary of my heart
Oct. 3rd, 2017 05:43 pmThe holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart,
The secret anniversaries of the heart...
(from a poem by Longfellow)
Yesterday I had wanted to feel good, damn it. It was the 30th anniversary of my ending of a miserable relationship -- the day I started Life over again. As I wrote in LJ a decade ago, October 2, 1987, was the day that I had ended a particularly miserable relationship. A small group of friends helped me pick myself up, dust myself off, and move on with my life (which probably would *not* have lasted 58 years and counting if I'd stayed with that asshole).
Plus, the second of October is R.'s birthday -- he was born exactly the same month, day, and year as Gordon Sumner.
Like most Americans, I woke up yesterday morning to the awful news of the Las Vegas mass shooting. I am sad, of course, but also beyond angry with this country's inability to get a grip on its gun problem. I had CNN on in the background for most of the day while I noodled around on the interwebs. I exchanged emails with R. and wished him a good birthday, but it was nothing spectacular.
Ultimately, I guess I was trying to balance my gratitude for my last 30 years of living with the grief over so many other lives senselessly cut short.
Still trying to decide whether I can afford to go to my high school class reunion on Saturday (that involves a roughly 900-mile round trip of driving and a couple of nights in a cheap motel).
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart,
The secret anniversaries of the heart...
(from a poem by Longfellow)
Yesterday I had wanted to feel good, damn it. It was the 30th anniversary of my ending of a miserable relationship -- the day I started Life over again. As I wrote in LJ a decade ago, October 2, 1987, was the day that I had ended a particularly miserable relationship. A small group of friends helped me pick myself up, dust myself off, and move on with my life (which probably would *not* have lasted 58 years and counting if I'd stayed with that asshole).
Plus, the second of October is R.'s birthday -- he was born exactly the same month, day, and year as Gordon Sumner.
Like most Americans, I woke up yesterday morning to the awful news of the Las Vegas mass shooting. I am sad, of course, but also beyond angry with this country's inability to get a grip on its gun problem. I had CNN on in the background for most of the day while I noodled around on the interwebs. I exchanged emails with R. and wished him a good birthday, but it was nothing spectacular.
Ultimately, I guess I was trying to balance my gratitude for my last 30 years of living with the grief over so many other lives senselessly cut short.
Still trying to decide whether I can afford to go to my high school class reunion on Saturday (that involves a roughly 900-mile round trip of driving and a couple of nights in a cheap motel).
The other day I was standing second in line at the credit union. The woman in front of me was maybe in her 40s, probably on her way home from work, definitely more stylishly dressed than I. In front of her, at the teller window, was a young, skinny guy. It definitely did not take a detailed knowledge of male anatomy to deduce that his belt was about the same level as his butt crack.
While looking at him, the woman leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Am I just old, or am I the only one who doesn't want to see someone else's underwear?"
I smiled and whispered back, "No, we are just classy and have taste!"
And we both chuckled.
While looking at him, the woman leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Am I just old, or am I the only one who doesn't want to see someone else's underwear?"
I smiled and whispered back, "No, we are just classy and have taste!"
And we both chuckled.
