If it's so

Jacob came over last night, and expressed his feelings about how we are managing his brother Jack. In particular, he expressed his opinion about our selfish behavior.
I sat with that for a few minutes, ready to explode, though, as he explained, that because we get Jack up for school, or work, and make things possible and easier for him, yet we are expecting him to be able to manage all of that by himself next year at college, with little or no practice, we are doing that for ourselves, not helping him to learn how to conduct his own life.
Jesus.

If you can

If anything, I realized this last week, that what we have is not really ours.
To be clear, the fluidity of our reality, is specifically based on our sense of our physical selves. We forget sometimes that it is us, in here, the brain, the soul, heart, and not the vessel in which we reside, that makes us, us.  Until, that is, if parts are taken away, in a moment of craziness and confusion, we are not what we were. Yet, we are always ourselves, and that’s where the recollection has to supersede the present. That we are only using our arms and legs, tails, ears, noses, and that they may one day disappear, and we will have to adapt, to make due, and more, to embrace the space that once was us.

I could sleep

How about this, look at all of the people who ran towards the tragedy, who didn’t even think about their own lives, but lifted debris, moved bloody people to safety, comforted children.
Otherwise, we get caught up in all of the other detritus, which in effect, is an enormous waste of time, energy and resources.
The only thing I can take away from tragedy is what people do and how they react, everything has already happened it’s the aftermath.
When I was seven, and we were living in Turkey, we went to neighboring countries to visit, including Israel, where upon entering a supermarket, my purse (!) was searched by a soldier, with a machine gun. That is a vivid memory to me, as opposed to something more awful, perhaps because of that caution and necessary vigilance.

Even with someone they love

I’ve lost my naivete, my shiny surface of illusion, and it happened quite suddenly this morning, I wasn’t reading a paper, or trolling the net. I was putting in my contact lenses and I said out loud, “I’m never going to vote again.”
Eamon stopped a few elections ago, and I’ve cajoled, and even almost registered him, until I got to the description of what happens to people who forge registration forms.
It dawned on me how right he had been, not that I’ll tell him, and he doesn’t make a point of reading this blog, so no worries there.
President Obama, his administration, congress, all of it, are part and parcel to killing children, condoning and supporting the practice,  thus ending any support and alignment I had with the Democratic party.
I’m really not a fan of proclamations, because I tend not to live up to them, and really who cares what I think, but, this one, is not something I can waver on.
For years the hypocrisy of the Republican party and their pro-life, pro-war quagmire stunned me in it’s , (making up a word here), obviosity. I’ve never understood how the supporters could not make the connection, or at least how they chose not to.
Now I do.

For these last few days

My mom, who has always been a bit of a challenge to me, and I to her, has come to a point in her life where everything is momentary, except for the bad memories, and for who is eating what.
Many of my friends and acquaintances have lost one or both of their parents, and most of them were much younger then mine, who are in their mid eighties.
This I know when I discuss the relationship, I can almost, but not quite hear, the “at least she’s still alive” thought.
And, I am grateful and aware of not only her and my Father’s longevity, in that it was not the same for both of their sets of parents .
And here comes the but.
My sisters and I have been trying to convince my parents, to move into a place that offers some assistance, and or monitoring, as my mom will wander in the night, which can, and  has proven to be dangerous.
This is not a unique struggle, no more original then the one where we are dealing with children, at any age, and lamenting their inability to hear what we say, or do what we suggest.
The difference is, kids think they know everything, and our parents actually do.

Une part de bonheur

While in Los Angeles last week, I discovered that I am a small time wannabe, not a big city hope for, and that sits well with me.
My brother in law, Jake , Jack Henry and I went to a French Market Café for breakfast the day before we left. It is much loved by my family.  The women who owns it, French, somewhat rude, and oh so authentic , serves up some Parisian repas on a lovely outdoor patio not far from the ocean, tres magnifique. As we were eating, behind me I kept hearing “we’ll be shooting”, and then mumble, mumble, and then, “while we’re on set”, mumble, mumble.
Then after a few minutes, a flurry of activity, people, tall people, all with excellent hair, followed by this person, came in.
I know who he is, but no one else at our table did. After awhile Jack asked me, “Do you think what that guy is saying is really making all of those people laugh like that, it sounds really weird, and fake.”
si vrai mon amour, si vrai.