In Remembrance

"Mama ... please ... I can’t feel your presence ... if you’re out there, mama, please ... call me."

"Here, boy ... c’mere, boy ... they’re so frightened, so confused ... they don’t know whom to trust."

"My baby ... they took her ... I don’t know where she is ... someone, please, help me ..."

"It’s gone ... it’s just all gone ... look ..."

For many of us, it is over now. The television coverage has mostly moved on; there is always breaking news. We have mostly moved on; we have done what we can, and there are always jobs to return to, groceries to buy, lives to live.

But the echoes of the voices, the haunting images, will linger long in our memories, reminding us, at odd moments, that for many, it will never be over.

Of all the lessons that the Creator requires us to learn, this may be the most difficult for us to accept: Life is pain. The corollary to this lesson is one that we seldom, if ever, bother or care to contemplate: Death is surcease.

Every extant religion teaches that there is, after death, an afterlife. After we die, we are taught, our souls are taken up and out of our bodies; they are transmuted and admitted into the presence of the Creator. And so it must be asked: why, exactly, do so many fear death? Why do so many curse it, contend against it, refuse to accept it? Why do so many seem so uncertain of the Creator’s promise? Is it that so many, deep in their hearts, do not truly believe?

My paternal grandparents were Methodists, indifferent practitioners who seldom, if ever, attended church, and none of their children, my father included, were deeply religious. When my parents were wed, my father agreed that my brother and I would be raised as Roman Catholics, but I don’t believe that he ever wholeheartedly accepted the faith that my mother held. After Mom died, Dad began to question what he thought he believed.

He must finally have resolved his uncertainties, because when he was diagnosed with cancer of the spleen in 2002, he didn’t noticeably go through any of the stages of grief; he simply accepted the news, put a last few affairs in order, and lapsed into a coma.

He had told us many times how terribly he missed my mother, and how tired he was, and at the end, I feel, he did not fear death; he looked forward to being with her again, and that is why his passing was so gentle. He truly believed that they would be reunited, and I have reason to believe that his belief was well-founded.

Neither do I fear death. I have been near death twice in my life, once as a teenager, and seven years ago, when I suffered a perforated ulcer, and I have learned well the lesson that life is pain. When the time comes, I will look forward to surcease.

Requiescat in pace.

Tagged by LeAnn

Fun for all ages - I've been tagged by LeAnn, author of the journal Befuddled, which you should go read. 

The rules:

1.  Go to your journal's archives.

2.  Find the 23rd post.

3.  Find the 5th sentence in that post.

4.  Post that sentence with these instuctions.

"My attention to detail (a favorite phrase of one of my old bosses) is suffering to the point at which it's difficult to work on Diatoms."

I won't even attempt to explain it.

Peace.

Inquisitiveness

Every year, it seems, we receive a survey in the mail from some outfit called the Laura David Consumer Research Center, and the survey is apparently sponsored by another entity called Shopper’s Voice. You may have received one of these obnoxious surveys yourself. We never fill them out, but we have somehow made their mailing list and will, no doubt, be on it for eternity.

We don’t mind answering the questions about what products we might use, but the surveyors include a full page of personal and downright nosy questions. Such as:

They want to know what preferences you have in reading, music, collectibles, travel, sports, and hobbies. They ask you to provide your email address(es). They want to know what electronics you own, what investments you may have, and what credit card(s) you use. They inquire what type of vehicle you own and what insurance you carry. They ask what your occupation is and to what charitable organizations you give.

They wish to know how many people and pets live in your household, and what their ages are. They even wish to know if anyone in the household is pregnant. They ask about your marital status, your dwelling, and your household income.

Even the census forms that we must occasionally fill out don’t require this much information. This would be perfect data for an identity thief to have, especially if they were able to acquire your Social Security number, mother’s maiden name and credit card account numbers.

And what do you receive for providing every detail of your lives to complete strangers? A chance to win $500 for "Early Birds" and a chance to win $5,000 or a Caribbean Vacation Cruise! plus 10 drawings of $100 each. And, of course, valuable money-saving coupons.

These people even tried to bribe us. Yesterday we received in the mail an envelope containing samples of S.C. Johnson products. There was no obvious indication that this came from Laura David, but the printing and code numbers matched exactly.

Granted, the questionnaire is voluntary, but still ... the notion of supplying such personal information to people we don’t know is objectionable to us. And if we were to go on a trip, someone would know just what valuables we own. This might seem like paranoia, but nowadays, you just never know ...

Peace.

Yet More Props

We wish to say hello to another special J-lander - Celeste, proprietress of the journal the dailies. She is willing and able to craft a poem as whimsy dictates - drop by and say hi, and enjoy a good read.

Peace.

Encomium to Autumn

Autumn has officially begun. We celebrated the change of season with our annual end-of-summer ritual today, cider and doughnuts. There is a cider mill called Schutt’s Apple Mill in Webster, an institution that has been around for longer than Bonnie or I. Come take a tour with us.

The outside of the rambling (and expanding) building resembles a weathered farmhouse, gray and white mostly, and is situated next to a house in which the Schutt family still live. Round about are fields and orchards, to remain as long as the Schutts exist.

Pulling open the door, you are forcefully struck by the aroma of autumn - apples. To your left is the counter with the smiling, homey clerks, dispensing boxes of homemade fried cakes and cider from the two spigots that extend into this room from the mill in the adjoining section. Look about you. Observe, hanging upon the back wall, the gigantic, weathered wagon wheel, guarding crate upon crate of apples. Look over there! See the comical cornhusk scarecrow goggling at the customers with a goofy grin plastered across his burlap countenance. And over there in the back corner, near where the plastic sheeting blocks the chaos of remodeling, the rough pine tables covered with gourds of every description and ears of Indian corn bundled together, lying and dangling upon and from every surface.

Turn to the right and see the table upon table laden with foodstuffs - jams and preserves; bags of exotic coffee; teas, both loose and bagged; extracts of every flavor; herbs and spices, contained and hanging loose in dried bunches from the imposing rafters; hard candies in old-fashioned jars. Breathe in the subtle fragrances of cinnamon and rosemary, the deep, almost subliminal odor of coffee, the delicious odor of homemade pies and other baked goods.

Take a moment to inspect the tables cradling cookbooks written by Webster women and pottery of all sorts - crocks and teapots preeminent.

You discover, amidst all this goodness, in the center of the room, a cooler filled with all manner of sausages; cheeses, both hard and soft; and sinfully rich cheesecake. And the star attraction, favorite of all children, at the far end of the room - a spacious pen containing an enormous, dove-colored rabbit, available for petting by anyone who wishes. If you are very lucky, the rabbit will acknowledge your presence by partially opening one eye and peering at you before resuming its determined somnolence.

There is something ineffable about autumn in New York - the very atmosphere itself seems to change; the angle of the sunlight gradually begins to shift, the air takes on a different scent, the temperature has a slight bite to it, more comfortable than the humid haze of summer. It is a magical time, an enchanted place.

Peace.

Of Man and Mice

Have you ever watched mice laugh themselves silly? I have. After I read this article to them, they were absolutely helpless with mirth.

Mouse Grounds Flight for Over 12 Hours

Sep 27, 11:06 PM (ET)
MANILA, Philippines (AP) - Passengers were buckled up when a crew member spotted a mouse darting across an aisle, triggering a chase that grounded a Qatar Airways plane at Manila airport for more than 12 hours.

The airline asked the 243 passengers to disembark, unloaded hundreds of pieces of luggage and brought the Airbus 330-200 to a hangar for a two-hour fumigation, the Philippine Daily Inquirer and the Philippine Star reported. The rodent was never found, so it either escaped or there's a dead mouse aboard the plane.

"There was an incident before with a cockroach, but it's the first time that we had to deal with a mouse, and it delayed a flight," Octavio Lina, operations chief of the Manila International Airport Authority, was quoted as saying.

He explained that rodents are a danger to airplanes because they can chew up important electrical wiring.

It's amazing how easy it is to amuse mice.

Peace.

... Happy Birthday to you ...

Maybe a student of sociology can explain the attractions of these silly memes that spread like ripples through J-land; I can't, but here's another:

Your Birthdate: February 18  Your birthday on the 18th day of the month suggests than you are one who can work well with a group, but still remain someone who needs to maintain individual identity.
There is a humanistic or philanthropic approach to business circumstances in which you find yourself.
You may have good executive abilities, as you are very much the organizer and administrator.

You are broad-minded, tolerant and generous; a compassionate person that can inspire others with imaginative ideas.
Some of your feelings may be expressed, but even more of them are apt to be repressed.
There is a lot of drama in your personality and in the way you express yourself to others.
Oddly enough, you don't expect as much in return as you give.  

Oh, yes, I'm a very repressed individual. Can't you tell? 

(Lifted from Deanna's journal, Keeping the Weight OFF.) 

Peace.