I have been so saddened and sickened by the furor surrounding the building of the cultural center in NYC. Really. I just want to pull the sheets up over my head. I wonder how many people realize that a Mosque already exists just 4 blocks from ground zero. It has been there for 42 years. Why, then, the hysteria over this new and peaceful addition to the community? One theory I have is that people just love a. being (imagined) victims and b. 15 minutes of (supposed)fame. The Mosque/Cultural Center has zero to do with, well, ground zero. The Imam in "question" ( I forget his name at the moment) was used as a consultant re: Muslim/American relations by the...wait for it...Bush White House. He was a respected guest on...wait for it...Fox News. This is political nonsense during an election season. The self-righteousness is nauseatingly transparent and the lack of courage is staggering. And the consequences are far-reaching and harmful to humans of all and no faiths. Words fail me. Read Dick Cavitt, who says it very well for me.
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/20/real-americans-please-stand-up/?ref=opinion&nl=opinion&emc=tya1
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Jackson
Some blogger I turned out to be. After all the moaning I did about universal health care you'd think I'd have weighed in when it was finally, finally passed. So here's me weighing in: whew. It ain't all I hoped for, but it are something, a "big fucking deal," as Joe B. would say. Did say.
My granddaugher continues to delight, amaze, and occasioinally tax her Nana and Grandpa. Yesterday, she made up for all the taxing with an original song about how much she loves her Nana and our lunches together 3 days a week. So you can see that I am doomed. Just doomed. I love her so.
Today, though, I feel like writing about my tom cat, Jackson. Jackson is dying. Formerly a 20+ pound, yet sleek, powerhouse of a feline, he is just a frail wisp. We've stopped weighing him. His lustrous black coat is thin and dryish, an enormous, horrible, inoperable tumor bulges from his abdomen on one side, threatening to topple him. His kidneys are weakening, and his anemia seems to have reached a point of no return. We are alert for the day when he does topple, can't rise, can't walk. It nears.
But right now he gamely trots out to the back fence of our yard at every opportunity, and lays dreamily in the sun and breeze. When we call to him he comes, quite simply, and the love, trust, and effort that takes each time is almost more precious than I can bear. Though he sometimes seems lost, confused, and unsure of what to do next, hearing his name in our voices always brings him back to us. It breaks my heart that he will soon go where our voices no longer hold such sway.
He's changed a lot physically and behaviorally. This morning I found him sleeping in the litter box. Night before last he pooped on our bed. Always a big foodie, he eats like a bird now, if at all. His lover's eyes remain as seductive and insistent as ever, though. I hold his little skeleton in my arms, those flecked green eyes seek mine, and a gentle purr vibrates from his heart to mine.
Fourteen years feels to me like a pretty short stay, but it seems that's all Jackson has been given. I think he's had a good life. And now that I'm 61, death doesn't seem quite so foreign and far away as it once did. Where Jackson goes soon, I will also go before too long a time. However unreasonably, I hold out the hope that we will meet again. I don't know anything, of course, except that we are going to miss him so very much.
Our sweet boy.
My granddaugher continues to delight, amaze, and occasioinally tax her Nana and Grandpa. Yesterday, she made up for all the taxing with an original song about how much she loves her Nana and our lunches together 3 days a week. So you can see that I am doomed. Just doomed. I love her so.
Today, though, I feel like writing about my tom cat, Jackson. Jackson is dying. Formerly a 20+ pound, yet sleek, powerhouse of a feline, he is just a frail wisp. We've stopped weighing him. His lustrous black coat is thin and dryish, an enormous, horrible, inoperable tumor bulges from his abdomen on one side, threatening to topple him. His kidneys are weakening, and his anemia seems to have reached a point of no return. We are alert for the day when he does topple, can't rise, can't walk. It nears.
But right now he gamely trots out to the back fence of our yard at every opportunity, and lays dreamily in the sun and breeze. When we call to him he comes, quite simply, and the love, trust, and effort that takes each time is almost more precious than I can bear. Though he sometimes seems lost, confused, and unsure of what to do next, hearing his name in our voices always brings him back to us. It breaks my heart that he will soon go where our voices no longer hold such sway.
He's changed a lot physically and behaviorally. This morning I found him sleeping in the litter box. Night before last he pooped on our bed. Always a big foodie, he eats like a bird now, if at all. His lover's eyes remain as seductive and insistent as ever, though. I hold his little skeleton in my arms, those flecked green eyes seek mine, and a gentle purr vibrates from his heart to mine.
Fourteen years feels to me like a pretty short stay, but it seems that's all Jackson has been given. I think he's had a good life. And now that I'm 61, death doesn't seem quite so foreign and far away as it once did. Where Jackson goes soon, I will also go before too long a time. However unreasonably, I hold out the hope that we will meet again. I don't know anything, of course, except that we are going to miss him so very much.
Our sweet boy.
Monday, January 18, 2010
My Granddaughter
One of the reasons, besides laziness, that I haven't posted much recently is that my daughter, Shelley, and granddaughter, Eloen, have moved here from California. It's a big transition for all of us and we've all been eager, if not downright anxious, to see Eloen happy and settled here. I think she is, now, even though when she plays with her puzzle map of the United States she likes to move Texas and California closer together.
The real point of this post, though, is just to wax rapturous for a moment, as only a grandmother can, about this wonderful child, what a gift she is, how enriched my life has beome because she is here. She is a walking reminder of what living in the moment is like, what it is to be really, truly brave, and how much fun being alive is. Bright as a button, scary bright, she taps into the child in each of us with her questions, her invitations, and her enthusiasm, and staggers us with her thoughtful observations.
She loves her Nana and Grandpa fiercely; and how surprising to be thought really interesting and important at our advanced ages!
All of who and how she is, of course, has been facilitated by her mother. It is because of Shelley that Eloen accurately applies words like "glorious" and "lovely" to the people and things she loves, and embodies both those qualities herself.
I think I can predict that there will be more on Eloen to come. Stay tuned...
The real point of this post, though, is just to wax rapturous for a moment, as only a grandmother can, about this wonderful child, what a gift she is, how enriched my life has beome because she is here. She is a walking reminder of what living in the moment is like, what it is to be really, truly brave, and how much fun being alive is. Bright as a button, scary bright, she taps into the child in each of us with her questions, her invitations, and her enthusiasm, and staggers us with her thoughtful observations.
She loves her Nana and Grandpa fiercely; and how surprising to be thought really interesting and important at our advanced ages!
All of who and how she is, of course, has been facilitated by her mother. It is because of Shelley that Eloen accurately applies words like "glorious" and "lovely" to the people and things she loves, and embodies both those qualities herself.
I think I can predict that there will be more on Eloen to come. Stay tuned...
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
