aftermath

we dream, we create, we change, we love

Archive for May 26th, 2008

Memorial Day Pit Stop

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memorial day pit stop memorial day gas tab

Down to a smidge less than a quarter tank, we fill up the Bitty Burb in Plano TX before our trip back south to Houston. The damage is far worse than it ought to be, no matter what excuses the government and the gas companies and the press and everyone else offer, but is far better than I’m sure many faced this weekend.

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - passport

Written by macheide

26 May 2008 at 11:09 am

Posted in passport

final performance

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we were moving into a house that had been custom built for us, every room designed for its purpose, every part of it fit for our living. three main floors, with a basement and a gymnasium and other side halls and rooms, and at either end a fourth floor comprised of a single room meant for a private study. with most of th rest of th place settled in, i began to construct my study in th high room at th near end. driving a small vehicle like a drive mower up th stairs to give me something to help me move things around felt like driving up th steep hill above th pool where i once lifeguarded, except by what was our third floor th ground by th sides faded away until by th top switchback i was driving on just a stretch of path extending high out over open air. my vertigo almost overwhelmed me, but i felt at home coming through th door into my office, so although that room itself felt on its own suspended miles high in dizzying sky, and although my vertigo continued to sweep through me, i felt peace and comfort i’d never known before

back down in th gymnasium, bob was giving a concert for children. after so many years of singing for peers who could not resist finding unintended hidden meanings and holding him to th demands of those misconceptions, he had found a fresh contentment in singing for an innocence that simply accepted his joys and pains and wishes as they were, nothing more, nothing less. from my private study, i slipped into a seat among a small group of parents who were watching the event. as bob began singing his most famous questions, he disappeard from view in a space between th stands, still singing, his voice still coming through th amplifiers. near where he had vanished, several children left their seats to follow after him, but most of th audience remained in their seats, hushed, listening to th holy words of his song like at a sacred cathedral.

i realized he would finish his song offstage and not return, so i left my seat and went under th gymnasium stands at th other end from where he and th small group of children had gone. although nobody spoke out, there was a hint of disapproval in th air, as though i should not be violating his space, as though i could not be as any of th children who had followed after him. without a word of my own, i dismissed th concerns: without directly quoting his promise about my dreams and his, i knew that that promise held here as strongly as if this were th moment it had reached for, that as he had felt welcomed here into my own home, so too would i be welcomed into th moment he was now moving toward, reaching for, laying down through his words and his voice

there were other words to this song that he had written from th first but never until now shared, not even privately. sharing it now with these children, one sensed he was singing this song out loud for th final time. as we had been moving into our house, in starting to feel out and characterize and fill every space that had been created for us, we had set up a bed and a couch and th beginnings of some small comforts for a cozy guest room beneath th stands. coming upon this, he had relaxed onto th couch as he began th final verse of his song. he glanced at me only once, a look of infinite depth and weary peace, no need to express anything about what th moment meant or might lead to. but i had only come beneath th stands to be sure he had found th room and had everything he needed, and that glance told me enough, so i went back to my seat and listened to th end of his song with th others

“his eyes are as blue as they always said,” was all i said to you when he was done

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - oneirra

Written by macheide

26 May 2008 at 4:04 am

Posted in oneirra