You’ve been gone too long. This grieving business never ends. So much has happened since you went away. I got older. You did not. you have more grandchildren. Honey, they are the cutest! It isn’t fair that you aren’t here to be proud, to show … Continue reading DEAR KB:
Who needs an external torture machine when you have an exquisite internal one? I have spent a good part of my life cutting, slicing, burning, breaking and bullying myself for my faults, for my faults, for my most grievous faults. It isn’t that I am … Continue reading MY OWN PRIVATE TORQUEMADA
So here is my offering for a brand new year. Please God this year is better than the last, fuller of grace, and hope, and loveliness, on this page, in my heart and in the world. That’s what I promised myself this year…one blog a … Continue reading One a Week
The other day I received an email from a young woman I care a great deal about. I have never met her in person. Only through her blog. But she thanked me for caring about her during a very dark time in her life.
I carried on an email correspondence with a very wise woman I met on an internet board. For several years, we emailed every day. She sent me a present for my wedding; I made her a necklace. When she died, I wept.
In the waiting room of my therapist’s office, I have met two friends. I don’t know their names. One has just completed treatment for breast cancer. The other is an Israeli woman whose husband got colon cancer last year and is doing well now.
My point is this: you never know what you might mean to people. And they might never know how much they mean to you. It’s best you remember this on days when you fear you count for nothing.
When I was growing up, I had a recurring dream of running, running, running, I was going to die, and at the last possible second, with danger, death and evil practically nipping at my heels, I flew.
Sometimes, I would dream that all my teeth were falling out.
I repeatedly dreamed that my house was on the Christmas Tour but no one had told me.
In a few years falling asleep brought a little more hope. I found a tunnel in my basement that led right into a wonderful department store. Another time, I found an estate sale where exquisite items were selling for a quarter.
Once, when my car was surrounded by wolves, I was able to escape because I had a giant box of Milkbones with me.
But the best was yet to come. I was on vacation with my friend KB in Czechoslovakia. We were at a street corner and needed to cross, but the street was a sheet of ice. I took her hand, and we flew across.
Years later, the day after KB died, I took a nap and found myself in a baby’s clothing store. I saw KB, but I couldn’t seem to catch up to her. When I finally came close to her, she turned and handed me a cup engraved with the words “All is well.”
Then came the dream I cherish. I was in a tower, looking out a window. I saw a light coming closer and closer until it came into the room. I knew it was God. And then God turned into Claude Raines. He put his arms around me and said, “Have a wonderful life. I’ll see you in Paradise.”
I don’t expect a better dream than that.
It’s been going on for awhile, but my ear just picked it up and passed it on to my brain last night during the evening news. The commentator struggled to describe the scope of the latest slaughter in America. What she came up with was ,This is the largest mass shooting in an American house of worship.” I expected her to add something like “this month,” or “since the middle of the week,” but realized I was jumping the automatic weapon. That will surely come later.
We’ve already had “the largest mass killing of five year olds just learning to spell.” And the “largest mass shooting of people enjoying a country music festival by a man with multiple weapons in a hotel window high above the music.” And yes, “the largest mass shooting of mostly gay people dancing the night away by yet another madman with an automatic weapon.”
I’m sick of it. It needs to stop now. My brother says only women should be allowed to own guns. If men want to go hunting, they must be accompanied by a woman with a sword who is authorized and trained to cut off the hunter’s testicles if he exceeds his limit.
No automatic or rapid firing weapons of any kind. Bullets to be sold one by one.
And, God help us all, no more parsing on the evening news.
Chapter one On a fine summer day, a pilot and his co- pilot were returning to their plane after a lunch break. On the side of the road was a pink porcelain toilet, discarded but in mint ( so to speak ) condition. The pilot … Continue reading Have a story….I got a great seat