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November 21 For Everything There Is A Season...
“For everything there is a season... A time to be born, and a time to die...".
~Ecclesiastes 3:1
"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal"
~From a gravestone in Ireland
“Dying is a very dull, dreary affair and my advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do with it.” ~W. Somerset Maugham
November Sucks!
Not because the skies are leaden or that the wind swept rain beats against the lifeless trees. Not because the air has set its course towards the arduous journey of winter or that the days give way to the longer shadow of night. Truth be told, I actually like this weather and yes, I am weird. I cannot always have perfect days, it would drive me mad. Try eating a favorite meal all the time and see how quickly the sight of it sickens you. No, this kind of weather holds mystery and magic and its troubled brooding movements are like an opus.
So why does November bother me so much?
Unlike May where my family has over abundant celebrations of life, be it birthdays or wedding anniversaries, November has become overshadowed by remembrances of loss. It started 15 years ago with the death of my father. November 21st will always be a shadow across my heart. I had thought about telling my story of him here, but I’m finding it extremely hard at this moment. It’s not that I can’t find the words (I have plenty to say), but forming the physical text is cumbersome. I will continue to work on this and tell it when it is ready. Until then it is enough to know that I continue to miss him.
November also marks the loss of my brother’s mother-in-law. I didn’t know her for that long a time, only about 2 years in fact, but here was a woman who seemed to love life and family, especially family. I am not one who often feels comfortable among strangers, but I never felt anything other than warmth and welcome from her. It could have been very easy for one of a religion different than my own (my brother converted to Judaism shortly before he met his wife) to just wear a mask of politeness as I have seen before in others (and even with those of my own faith), but with her I felt no such façade. She was a woman who was ready and impatient to be a grandmother and who was barely able to put her arms around her granddaughter before she had to go.
Today I learned that the father of my oldest and best friend past away after a long illness and I find myself strangely mourning the loss of a man who for the better part of our shared time on this planet didn’t like me one bit. He and his wife (another November passing) were CATHOLICS. I capitalize this word because they were more than your normal Catholic. They attended Mass every Sunday (not just the important church holidays); They read the Bible (not just gleaning its content from the weekly eight minute and 53 second sermon); They sang the hymns out load (not just mouthing the words); They found importance to the structure of the Mass (it was not a well rehearsed hokey pokey type dance) and they gave to the church from their hearts (not just the spare change in their pockets). I on the other hand was a regular catholic who just also happened to be tainted by the hand of Satan. I didn’t sacrifice small animals; worship the dark lord in the shadows; cast spells or any other stuff associated with the Southern Kingdom. My great shame was that I loved horror movies and other unacceptable like fare. And this evil was spread to their son. OOOOOOOOOHhhhhhhhhhhhh, I was evil. Somewhere down the road (around my wedding I think) I sensed a change. Either they saw that I was not what they thought, or they just resigned to the fact that I was there and that was that. I hope for the former and I’m sure my friend could tell me for sure, but I guess I really don’t want to know in case it was the later. Regardless of any of that, it is a loss for my friend and therefore a loss for me.
Now October, THAT’S A MONTH. The air becomes crisp and the leaves come out from behind their masks of green and reveal who they really are. The days grow shorter but are more inspiring and in the evenings, you can still hear the final whispers of summer saying goodbye. During the protracted nights, you can feel the thin barrier between this realm and the next and can understand why the ancient Celts felt the way they did about this time of year. October is also my wife’s birth month and the anniversary of our wedding (no coincidence there pal). October is when my wife, as if called by the blood of her ancestors, enters into the only good cycle that a woman can go through; baking mode baby. And to top it all off, if hot pumpkin, apple, peach or cherry pie with vanilla ice cream or wait, Wait; chocolate chip or oatmeal cookies stolen from the cooling rack just after they come out of the oven isn’t good enough to call October DA BEST, remember that Halloween (For me the ONLY holiday) is right around the corner. However, when October departs and November dawns, there just doesn’t seem to be enough I can do to stay warm within.
I am a person who seems bound to the mysterious nature of life. I get off on Cemetery Safaris and ghost stories, bonfires and all the other strange, bizarre, eerie, creepy, and uncanny other-worldly things that bring the specter of death to us at a safe viewing distance (I told you from the get-go that I was weird). Perhaps November bothers me because it is a true reminder that there really is no ‘safe viewing distance’ and that one day, it will call out my name and that of the ones I love the most. November blows across the hearts of us all in one fashion or another. It is what we do while we are here in the Valley of Shadow that defines the dash between the dates of our birth and death.
November 16 Election Day
“Defeat has its lessons as well as victory.” ~ Patrick Buchanan “The only thing we learn from new elections is we learned nothing from the old.” ~ American Proverb “How can you be expected to govern a country that has 246 kinds of cheese?” ~ Charles de Gaulle
I spent the day working on what is referred to in my castle as ‘The never ending job’. Basically this title applies to any project that I set out to do. Starting is quick & easy; finishing however is usually clocked by the change of seasons. At this particular time ‘the never ending job’ title belongs to the bathroom remodel. This 8 day project was launched on July 5th. Today is November 7th. Enough said for now about that. I was waiting for my wife to get home from work and together we would go down to the school where the voting for our district was being held. She just didn’t know this yet. “Hon, are you almost home?” “Just a couple blocks away, why?” “Election Day. We need to Vote” “Oh is that today!” She had been extra busy at work the last couple of months as they were shorthanded and hadn’t had a moment to even look at who is running. “Did you look at the ballot? Who is the Pro-life candidate?”
WE INTERUPT THIS STORY WITH AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM THE EMERGENCY SOAP BOX SYSTEM…. My wife and I are both very much Pro-Life. Basically you can have a big red ‘S’ on your chest, leap tall buildings with a single bound and never fuss up that neat little curly queue thingy of hair that dangles on your forehead, but if you are not Pro-Life then you are a Super Dud. Unfortunately as this election would have it, there was no true Pro-Lifer on the ballot, which means that we have to chose the lesser evil. We still cast our vote, but I can tell you it doesn’t sit well at all. I am sorry if any of you who now read this are Pro-Death (hey, lets just call it what it really is. Calling it Pro-Choice simply means that your choice is the death of an innocent while giving it a more palatable title. Hitler did much the same thing when he chose to call his program of genocide against the European Jews ‘The Final Solution’. Sounds so neat and tidy don’t it). Now before those of you who subscribe to the party of the second part begin your well worn list of excuses why you believe what you believe; yes, I do accept as true that as with anything in life there are no absolutes and that there will be special circumstances when the taking of fetal life will need to be done. This is not the forum for this particular discussion and I will pursue it no further except to say that it involves more important dynamics than the stale argument of a women’s right to choose. Hey you want to choose; if you don’t want to become pregnant then don’t have sex! There’s a startling revelation for you. * THIS NOW ENDS THIS MESSAGE FROM THE EMERGENCY SOAP BOX SYSTEM. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO THE REGULARLY SCHEDULED STORY ALREADY IN PROGRESS....
…..”God, you are so sexy when you talk politics. I just want to rip your clothes off and let you…” “Hon, the sooner you get here, the sooner we get the voting done and move on to ‘politics and strange bedfellows’”. A few moments later my wife came around the corner (well may be ‘came around the corner’ is too soft a description) My wife careened around the corner like a starship captain engages warp drive around a star in the effort to fold space and turn back time (I could swear I saw the already fallen leaves fly back up into the branches and turn green again). I hopped into the U.S.S. Family Minivan and off we were to the voting booths. This year we got smart. Every time we go to vote at this location, they change the entrance and we root around the building like rats trying to navigate an 8th grade science fair maze. Being that it was dark and with the usual lack of signs to point the way, we sat for a couple of minutes and watched the parade of lost souls as they went around the building pulling at the locked doors and then peering inside its windows hoping to spy a clue to where the party was. It didn’t take long for us to see the happy people who came from around the backside of the building straight to their cars. Target acquired. We strolled together, hand in hand to the correct entrance, saving as many poor souls along the way that we possible could. At the sign in table I was greeted by four senior ladies. “Last name?” demands the obvious alpha senior of the pack. “Dudley” (a clever little alias) I say on queue as I wait for the response I know is coming. She gives a quick smirk to her ‘partner in time’ and says “Dudley Doright?” and gives out one of those quick little snickers at what she considers a very clever remark. Her cronies tittle back obediently. I pretend not to have heard this play on my name a million times before and laugh a little on queue. She hears my laugh and thinks about how clever she is. I laugh because I know that time and space is closing in on this little gem who reminds me of every condescending librarian type that I have ever had to deal with. I sign in and leave my wife to go through act two of the performance on her own (that which does not kill you only makes you stronger). I head over to the outside of the voting booth and hand my voting permit to a senior gentleman who is the opposite of the cauldron club I just left. While I wait for the voter ahead of me to cast their vote, we engage in a short conversation that shows him to be friendly with a good natured and jovial outlook on life. The familiar electronic ‘Ba-link’ signals the end of our conversation as the voter in the booth has finished and is ready to vacate. I step into the chamber of democracy. The curtain closes behind me and I prepare to cast my vote. I really don’t know why I bother. No matter who is running, No matter how great their cause may be, whoever I vote for may as well just get in their cars and head on home, stopping along the way at the local liquor store (bypassing the celebratory champagne section) and pick up a six pack of ‘I-am-a-loser-and-I’m-going-home-to-wallow-in-my-loserdom’ beer. I have been thinking about this curse of mine some time and came up with what I thought to be a cunning plan that could not fail. I have often tried to talk myself into voting for the person that I Don’t want to win thereby ensuring my real vote (who I didn’t vote for) would win. But each time I step into the booth to enact ‘My Reverse Half Nelson Strategic Voting Plan’ I end up in a losing conversation with myself that usually goes like this: OK, here we go! Wait a minute. What if the universe, who is always my formidable foe and who always takes delight in helping me stumble through life, is ready to do it to me again? Do What? You know, do the Nutshell Scam The what? The Nutshell Scam. You know how when you go to the store; doesn’t matter what you are going for, but for arguments sake lets just say a DVD Player, you are careful not to take the first box accessible on the shelf because a lot of people have handled that one, no matter how good the box looks. Never go to the back of the shelf because the evil store associates are too lazy to pull older stock forward thus ensuring the ‘Older & Outdated stuff will be your reward if you are foolish to fish here. So we dig into the middle of the pile for the most pristine box that we can find because that one obviously hasn’t been overly handled, squashed, juggled, tipped, dropped or otherwise disrespected. And so you get it home set it up, turn it on and viola! You immediately realize that the universe has got you again. I could have sifted through a hundred piles over many days and the result would always be the same: I end up with a lemon and that’s because the universe will rotate those shells around to ensure I always get the wrong one. The Nutshell Scam. Yeah but this time I have a system! Hello; The Universe. No No wait. Look if I [insert hopeless idea/plan here]. So you see, I’ve come up with a cunning plan that cannot fail. Sack of potatoes. Sack of What? What you call me? Not you idiot (I can’t believe we occupy the same skull). I said Sack of potatoes. Remember a few elections ago when the incumbent governor (who you wanted out in the worst way) was so low in the ratings that even their own re-election chairman stated that if the opposition put up a sack of potatoes to run against them that they would probably lose. Yeah, so what’s your point? My point is that you went in assured by no less than this Individuals political camp that they were destined to lose. And? And you voted for your candidate based on this assurance. So? Your candidate still lost! Ohhh yeah… Not only that, but everyone including the newly re-elected Governor was stunned and likened it to a miracle. But don’t you see (I proclaimed with a relish of victory to my voice), that only proves my point. If I had voted for the incumbent Governor, who I wanted to lose, then I would have assured that loss!
Dude, even if you voted for someone in an uncontested election, I assure you that that person would have lost. Oh sure they may have ‘won’ the election (if you can call a one horse race a win), but I guarantee that they probably would have dropped dead at the inauguration party. Face it man, the Universe loves to mess with you. I took a deep breath of defeat. I knew that what I just said to myself was true. The Universe does take great delight in screwing with me. Now I’m not crying out the great ‘woe is me’ lament. I have a lot in my life that the universe does not mess around with. I’m not wealthy by any means, quite the opposite actually, but I’m working at a job I like which puts food on the table and a roof over our heads. More importantly, I have a wife who is beautiful inside as well as out and two healthy and basically good natured kids who do not (at least the last time I checked) appear on any wanted posters. But still, I couldn’t help but feel more than a little sorry for myself at the moment. Then why do I even bother? Because men and women have been sheeding blood for over two hundred years to give you the ability to stand here and cast a vote. People who do not vote a freeloaders who should be deported to the Klingon home world. They are the kind who bitch and moan about everything they see as wrong with the government but wont go out a do the simplest thing that they can do to try and make a change for the better. And to argue that they would just be throwing away a vote because it wouldn’t change anything is just plain old Bull Shit! Doesn’t matter that you are the ‘Anti Voter’, what matters is that you vote. So Vote and let’s get the hell out of here. I’m hungry God dammit! Call it what you will; chickening out or listening to the voice of reason, I decided once again to not invoke the ‘cunning plan that cannot not fail’ and to vote for the person(s) of my choice. I do have to say that I was tempted to post my vote for the individual located to the far right of the voting panel; you know that area reserved for long shots, very long shots and the really really insane candidates. Well located off to the far right and almost beyond the scope of the lights behind the board to light it (coincidence?) was a candidate whose sole reason to run seemed to be the legalization of marijuana. Boy was I tempted. Not because I imbibe, but because it seemed perhaps a compromise between my ‘Cunning plan which cannot fail’ and my voice of reason. But alas, I do the right thing and cast my vote correctly thereby signing the political death warrant for my candidate(s) of choice. Hell, that’s what they deserve for being Super Dud anyway. ‘Ba-link’
I generally wait until the morning to see what the election results are. It is an attempt to at least go through the night thinking that I am a winner. I got this advice from my dad who did this with lottery tickets. Pretty sound advice. Sleeping soundly as a winner is better than tossing and turning as a loser. But this night I caught the results by accident. Big surprise. L O O O O O O O O O S S S S S S S S E E E E E E R R R R R R R R R R
I kissed my wife and turned out the lights. A half moment of silence and I ask “So who did you end up voting for?” “I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk politics in bed” She quickly replies. I wait another half a moment before I reply, “You voted for Marijuana Dude didn’t you” No reply. No denial. Just a knowing giggle. * See the last paragraph in my first blog entry entitled 'ProBlogue' November 15 ProBlogue "There is a bird who by his coat, and by the hoarseness of his note, might be supposed a crow."
~ William Cowper
"Where the vast cloudless sky was broken by one crow I sat upon a hill - all alone - Long ago; But I never felt so lonely and so out of God's way, as here, where I brush elbows with a thousand everyday."
~ Harry Kemp
"The bleak sky darkened and all around a great melancholy arose, the dark sky fell unto the earth and became a murder of crows."
~ Mark Alexander Oliver
Murder (noun): A Flock of crows; (idioms): Secrets or misdeeds will eventually be disclosed. Crow (Badb, Rocas): This animal is to treated with care. Along with the raven, the crow is a symbol of conflict and death, an ill-omen associated with such Goddess as Macha, Badb, and the Morrigan. The Irish word for crow is badb, which is also the name of a Celtic war Goddess. Although the crow was ill-omened, it was also considered to be skillful, cunning, single-minded, and a bringer of knowledge. It is of value when trickery is needed. It also teaches you to learn from the past, but not hold onto it. from "By Oak, Ash, & Thorn" by D.J. Conway
‘A Murder Of Crows’ is my attempt to exercise a part of me that has had 30 years to atrophy. The stonecutter who creates sculpture from a block of stone proclaims that they are merely releasing the form already contained within. I am attempting to do much the same here. I have been thinking a lot in the past year to end my self imposed exile, to chip away at the stone block in which I had encased my desire to write and see if anything remains or, if it has become indistinguishable from the lifeless cocoon around it. I probably would have continued to just think about getting started except that my brother decided quite independently of me to do much the same. His story is quite different than mine but our goal seems to be the same. His first step has convinced me that it was time to do the same for myself. While we are very different, our style in this area seems to run along the same lines although I tend to see things not a brightly lit. I hope you will take the time and visit his Blog. While there is only a year and a half difference between us, he is viewing life from the perspective of a relatively new father; while I now see my children begin to spread their wings to fly. His story can be found at: http://thedailyfloss.spaces.live.com We are also different in some ways on recollections of the past, but it is like when multiple people who view a single event give you different descriptions of what they saw. In this case it is not so much the actual details that matter, but what we learned from them. My brother paints our father in a different hue than I would, but in the end I believe we see the same portrait of a man that helped shape the people we are today. I will get to that at a later time. My intention is to tell you something about me and do it in an entertaining way (I do want you to come back). However I also tend to tell it the way I see it and while it is not my intention to insult, accuse or generally hurt anyone’s feelings, the chance of that happening is none the less there. I understand that many, including myself, have done things for reasons that cannot be seen by others, yet it made the doing necessary. It is all too easy to just judge by the Letter and to leave the Spirit out. You may be family, friends or an absolute stranger and if you find offense to what I have to say, I hope you will remember that it is not a personal attack. It is simply the way I see things. I’m still learning as I journey through the Valley of Shadow.
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