Bloody knuckled and wet
haired, we pick and scrape at dirty
glass, but the ice is its own master. Alley cats
watch from atop fence lines. City birds
perch in a barren oak, sponging up

cold morning sun. They measure
time differently - without these
obligations to their societies. No need
to scurry back to glowing screens and
earpieces inside tiny cubes, to shuffle
other's hypotheticals to and fro.

They stare pitifully at our
clumsy bodies, bumbling machines. We heave
on the up swings -
down on the back,
then slide free. Today

we've earned our breakfast, but still
wish someone else were cooking.
We love this winter
game -hate its rules and its
players.

Persimmons

Persimmonsby Li-Young Lee

In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose

persimmons. This is precision.
Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted.
Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one
will be fragrant. How to eat:
put the knife away, lay down newspaper.
Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat.
Chew the skin, suck it,
and swallow. Now, eat
the meat of the fruit,
so sweet,
all of it, to the heart.

Donna undresses, her stomach is white.
In the yard, dewy and shivering
with crickets, we lie naked,
face-up, face-down.
I teach her Chinese.
Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I’ve forgotten.
Naked: I’ve forgotten.
Ni, wo: you and me.
I part her legs,
remember to tell her
she is beautiful as the moon.

Other words
that got me into trouble were
fight and fright, wren and yarn.
Fight was what I did when I was frightened,
Fright was what I felt when I was fighting.
Wrens are small, plain birds,
yarn is what one knits with.
Wrens are soft as yarn.
My mother made birds out of yarn.
I loved to watch her tie the stuff;
a bird, a rabbit, a wee man.

Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat
but watched the other faces.

My mother said every persimmon has a sun
inside, something golden, glowing,
warm as my face.

Once, in the cellar, I found two wrapped in newspaper,
forgotten and not yet ripe.
I took them and set both on my bedroom windowsill,
where each morning a cardinal
sang, The sun, the sun.

Finally understanding
he was going blind,
my father sat up all one night
waiting for a song, a ghost.
I gave him the persimmons,
swelled, heavy as sadness,
and sweet as love.

This year, in the muddy lighting
of my parents’ cellar, I rummage, looking
for something I lost.

My father sits on the tired, wooden stairs,
black cane between his knees,
hand over hand, gripping the handle.
He’s so happy that I’ve come home.
I ask how his eyes are, a stupid question.
All gone, he answers.

Under some blankets, I find a box.
Inside the box I find three scrolls.
I sit beside him and untie
three paintings by my father:
Hibiscus leaf and a white flower.
Two cats preening.
Two persimmons, so full they want to drop from the cloth.

He raises both hands to touch the cloth,
asks, Which is this?
This is persimmons, Father.

Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk,
the strength, the tense
precision in the wrist.
I painted them hundreds of times
eyes closed. These I painted blind.
Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight.

Offensive Defense

Did you ever know someone who did a little time in prison, maybe a lot of time? Ever notice how they are forever look'n at folks like they're still out in the yard? Look'n them up and down with the slightest flick of an eye. It's the sort of thing you would probably never notice someone doing unless you're sizing them up too.
This is how I walk through the city, taking a physical inventory of the people (the men, really) who are passing by me. I'm profiling them and I'm primarily concerned with their size.

"Could I take this fella down?"

That's what I'm asking myself about each of them. Sometimes the answer comes quick - "No doubt" or "Oh, not a chance" - but generally more information is needed to make a determination. In these instances I move into an analysis of their individual specifics.

For example, if dude is big, what kind of big is he? No matter if he's tall or short, if the back of his neck wrinkles like a pack of all beef hotdogs then he is likely slow and easily winded. This improves my odds. If he is beefcake big he's likely got a bit more stamina but his range of motion could be compromised, like a toddler at the pool with those safety-orange arm floaties. I'll try out maneuvering him. Perhaps I can take advantage of an environmental factor like a large trash can I can position between us and buy a few moments to consider my next move.

The most hypothetically dangerous body type is the average man - average height, average weight, all-around average. His natural strength will exceed mine and his agility will at least match mine. This is where things get thick. My hypothetical defense plan now depends on more intel, so my analysis continues.

"How is my man dressed?"

If it appears that he spends more than 25 minutes preening between his shower and leaving the house (which is about what I spend on a bad day) then he is a pretty boy and cares more about his clothes than would allow him to get them messed up in a scuffle. This sort of randomized, opportunistic assault would not be his MO, not for today. He’s just not dressed for it.

This can, of course, be overridden by the ‘grit factor.’ If he’s clenching his teeth and pulling his jaw tight enough to slice cheese or his lip is raised just enough to flare a nostril and squint an eye then he is not to be reckoned with. He’s completely unpredictable and I’ll put some space between us if I can do so discreetly.

It sounds like an endless process but all this really happens almost simultaneously. Within a fraction of a second I’ve observed all the information I need and it will take only a moment more to make my inferences. As of yet, the fair citizens of Washington have been spared the unleashing of my hypothetical wrath.

If Only

A chill blows across from the coast and
leaves begin to dance in jeweled shades of crimson and gold.

I walk along the avenue, wind in my face
and forget to remember my way.

Trying not to think of you.

My gloved fingers are unsure of their place, remembering only the days when they were safely intertwined with yours.

Crawling into bed, I don't recall it being so big
and under the flannel sheets I feel so slight.

I miss you a bit more.

I lie wishing not to dream of you and the family I'd always hoped we'd be. Wondering why it just didn't go right - if only you'd have stayed with me.

It's here I remain. Still. Alone. In the darkness.

Now is when I miss you the most.

Frame my Life

This collage of images is representative of how I see myself, both as I am and how I wish to be. I frame my life by the ideas and values I see in these things:

The labyrinth reminds me to meditate and reflect. All of life is a journey and that is more significant than any destination.

Elephants are the most majestic creatures I have ever encountered. They are strong and gentile, patient, highly emotional, determined and wise, full of honor but not proud, they are great communicators and are endlessly devoted to their family unit.

A snake thrives based on the strength of its instincts. To combine these characteristics with ancient wisdom is to but scratch the surface of learning.

The eternal tree of life is representative of endless cycles of rebirth. All the potential for life exists inside a single seed which provides sustenance for all the creatures at the base of a woodland ecosystem and gives rise to the entire web of life. Nothing is life is to underestimated or taken for granted.

It may be lucky, but the cricket reminds me of a round faced vagabond who reminds me to let my conscience be my guide. Trusting my own intuition is sometimes the hardest thing to do but if I follow it I will never be lead astray.

Truth is the breath of life in any narrative. Finding, understanding, and then holding truth is a skill that few people have but those that work to hone it are the water carriers. There would be no progress without the water carriers.

There are many incarnations of peace. It’s defined more in terms of what it is not (hostility) than what it is and yet I see it as a combination of all the best things in life.

An ellipsis indicates that there are more things to come which are yet unknown.

This day has ben the stuff of dreams

I set out down 14th street this morning in much more of a hurry than is common for me. I certainly wasn't running but there was a distinct earnestness to my stride. I tend to notice even minute details while walking but there was simply no time for such observations today. All my attentions were focused on the passing of time and the pace of my stride. I glanced minimally at the people I was passing by. It's because of this that I was caught even more off guard by one particular man I passed.

As I pushed forward with my bag slung across my chest and bouncing on my hip, a familiar aroma found its was to my nose and I lost my place in time and space. I recognized it as you would know the voice of an old friend you haven't seen for many years. Something in your body recognizes and responds to it before your brain has a chance to place it. It was the smell of good tobacco - in this case if was from a cigar but it's not very unlike the smell that comes from a pipe. Instantly I was 3 year old and joyfully perched on my grandfather's lap. I suddenly felt a great warmth wash across me and couldn't help smiling. Just then, the man with the cigar suddenly turned, as if he had forgotten something that was now behind him. I was only a few feet away - my face covered with a ridiculous grin. He seemed to think it odd I was both smiling and staring at him and, although I felt compelled to, I did not throw my arm around his neck and hug him.

Three hours later I popped out of work for a minute and happened upon my friend Corey and her 4 1/2 month old son. She is one of the warmest and most sincere people I have ever known and the baby is one of the most amiable I've ever been around. They has just come from the farmer's market and I waled the 2 blocks to their building with them. We talked of the random things we had each bee doing since we last saw one another but all I could think of was how much I want to have a family of my one someday and walk with my babies to gather vegetables. These daydreams have become more and more bitter sweet for me every year as I get older but no closer to beginning a family. I left them at the front of their building and could think of nothing but babies for the entire return walk. After several minutes my laments tucked themselves away to wait for an unexpected quiet moment when their will unfold and exposes themselves yet again.

After work I left for home at a much more leisurely pace than the morning. There is a beautiful church on the corner of 16th and Park that I like to walk past. It serves as a sort of community center so there are usually lots of people gathered around and it's a generally joyous atmosphere. Today was rather quiet in comparison. I noticed as I got closer that there was a long black limo out front, then I noticed a 2nd. At this point it could be either a wedding or a Quinceañera. It's a 50/50 chance of either, but today I saw a seriously old school (I'm talking 1930's) Rolls Royce Phantom sitting in front of the church, a driver reading a book while he waited. There is no way a 15 year old girl has asked for a classic Phantom to ride off in. So, it's a wedding then. I realize it at the very instant my heart leaps into my throat and my eyes close hard, just in case some tears might well. This is another thought that is better sweet for me as the years pass and my prospects continue to decline.

Today I was reminded of all the things I wish for my life but have yet to attain. A home and a family to share many happy days that come from the sheer consistency of being filled with simple joys. This is what my dreams are made of.

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

-- W. H. Auden

Waiting in Vain

When I was young, I never thought of myself as a child. I had a hard time relating to the kids that were my own age and was much more comfortable around much older kids or adults. I always assumed that the feeling of awkwardness I felt would disappear when I became an adult myself because that was clearly where I was meant to be. I couldn't have been more wrong. I'm a complete mess, and one seriously screwed up adult.

Years of waiting for what was to come next and doing things today because of what they would bring tomorrow created a pattern of life for me that has only dug me deeper and deeper into the ruts left from my prairie wagon that is loaded down with my lifetime's full of heavy baggage. I'm now an obsessive planner and struggle constantly to be in and appreciate the moments as they happen but almost never succeeding. I sit for hours daydreaming about how I want my life to be Someday. My imagination has become my prison and I am my mind's house elf.

In the 4th grade, while having a random conversation with my friend Mike, he made a benign comment and beginning that day my secret affections began building little by little for him. For nearly 10 year I kept the image of he and I together in my subconscious mind. I haven't seen or spoken to him for 9 years and the last couple of years I knew him he was a real jerk, but I still dream about him. I see this as my mind telling me that I'm obsessing over something/someone and I need to reevaluate; that I'm loosing perspective and I need to step back a bit.

I wake up every day to find myself in exactly the same place and I'm no wiser than the fool that I was before. I don't feel there has been progress in my life for many years. Fear, paranoia, self-doubt, and suspicion scratch at me constantly. I feel like I want - and perhaps need - a change, something that will shake me loose from the hole I've wedged myself in. Now I just need to determine what that change is and where I can find it. But that seems impossible.

I have grown accustomed to drifting from day to day like a zombie. I am full of ideas and aspirations and goals but I can't remember the last time I felt I was working toward any of them. I don't feel productive anymore; I've become the chaser of a phantom tail. I make plans for this or that (go to grad school, move to a far off exciting place, et cetera) hoping that it will give me the life I want and along with it will come the happiness I've always longed for. Knowing all the while that I need first to be happy with myself know that being who I am is enough and the rest will fall into place, I just can't seem to do that. I see myself as wanting such simple things, but it seems they may be harder to attain than the grandiose. The only thing I know for certain is that I'm tired of waiting.

Love with Paolo

It was in Love I was created and in Love is how I hope I die!

Let's state the obvious, I love all things that come from Scotland. That said, this young Scotsman is quickly becoming my favorite musician. Not only that, but he is also a fantastic song writer as well.

You should most definitely check out his site (www.paolonutini.com).
And, for goodness sake, watch the Coming Up Easy video! I can't get enough of it. Go Harvey!

That is all.

Summer Time

Summer is my least favorite

season. I've never spent a

summer outside the DC Metro

area and if you've ever been

here in the middle of the year

you know how terrible it is - soaring humidity, high

temperatures, and almost never a breeze. That said, there are

still things I love about summer...

1- The intoxicating scent of honeysuckle. Seriously, it's like crack to me.
2- Garden fresh tomatoes,

still warm from the sun. I like them best sliced and topped with

cottage cheese and a sprinkling of salt & pepper or between

two slices of toast with Mayo and cheese.

3- A day of fishing, swimming in the creek, and walking home for lunch while still dripping wet.
4- Heat lightning late at night.
5- The occasional spontaneous rain storm.

6- Having dinner with friends and sitting outside surrounded

by candles, to keep the bugs at bay.

7- Playing in the sprinkler then taking a nap on my mom's bed in front of the AC.

Random advice

I don't take credit for any of these, they were sent to me in a mass email forward. I took out the ones I thought were stupid.


- Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.

- Marry someone you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.

- Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.

- When you say, 'I love you,' mean it.

- When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.

- Believe in love at first sight.

- Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.

- Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely.

- In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.

- Don't judge people by their relatives.

- Talk slowly but think quickly.

- Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

- Say 'bless you' when you hear someone sneeze, whether they hear you or not.

- When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

- Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions.

- Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

- When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

- Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice.

- Spend some time alone.

- A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.

Farwood's Blackberry Patch

I spent most of my childhood on a small farm. In addition to general livestock (cows, horses, goats, pigs, chickens, and sheep) we bred and sold dogs. There was a litter of Labrador Retrievers born when I was 15 and after a week or so my mom noticed that one of the pups had only one eye. She asked me if I would like to have the puppy.

There were always a ton of animals around and many of them had been "mine" but of the few that might have been considered pets, I never really had much say in what happened to them. This little puppy was my first true pet and I loved her fiercely.

She went to college with me for a year but it was not an easy thing for either of us. I couldn't afford the rent it costs to be in a god friendly house off campus and she was in the house most of the time which is torture for a farm dog. I asked my mom to keep her for the summer so I could arrange a better situation, that turned into 5 years. I have only seen her a few times since then and that kills me; I missed her constantly.

Earlier this month she got sick and mom took her to the vet clinic where she works part time. After some tests they found that her heart was beating too fast - about 3x the average rate. Medication slowed it for a while but she still couldn't regulate the beating on her own. We were afraid we would have to make the decision to euthanize her.

On the 15th of July at 3am her heart stopped. She had decided for us. There was no wining or whimpering, no gasping for breath, no suffering. There was just peace. She just closed her eye and let go.

There was nothing fantastically remarkable about Patch; she was a dog like any other. But those who have shared their lives with dogs (or cats) know that even the most common and mundane of them are inconceivably magical and being with them makes you a better person than you would have ever been without them. We come to know animals in a way that we never know those of our own species. They offer the purest kind of love and expect less than nothing in return. They can't be anything but honest, apologetically and endlessly honest.

If you have never had a dog or a cat I encourage you to consider it. Spend time with someone who does and feel it out. It's not an effortless situation by any means; pets require an enormous commitment and will consume much of your time, energy, and money, but what you get in return is worth infinitely more.

This is not Patch, but this person clearly feels the same about her dog as I do.

In the fall, we're planting a blackberry bush at my mom's house to remember Patch. That's what we do when something dies, we plant something for them. I imagine us in the future making fresh summer ice cream with those berries, from Patch's bush. I would love to share that with my children the way my mom and grandma did with me so many times when I was a child.

I want to thank my mom for taking such amazing care of Patch when I wasn't able to give her the life she deserved. I never worried about her for a minute because I knew she was in the best hands I could imagine. And my Patch, She taught me so much about myself and about the world around me. I am truly a better person for having known her. She'll be the mother to every other dog I have. I'll remember her for the rest of my life.

Oh Snap!

Wedding Ceremony

I was recently asked to write the ceremony script for my parents - mother and step father- wedding. It was one of the most profound tasks ever asked of me and I was overjoyed. I did forget to put in the kissing part but they took care of that. ;)

We've gathered here today to honor the commitment Susan and Mark first made to one another nearly 21 years ago. That covenant grows deeper today as they are joined together as husband and wife.

Marriage is an honorable estate that exists to embody, nurture and protect the delicate and precious balance between companionship and individuality. Marriage symbolizes the ultimate allegiance between two people. It is not to be entered into lightly or unadvisedly, but humbly and soberly, with certainty, with mutual respect, and with a sense of adoration.

To love and to be loved is the most profound blessing any of us can hope to experience. At its best, love calls forth the purest qualities in each of us. It brings us closer to the illumination of Truth and shelters us from the darkness that exists our world. Mark and Susan have been unwavering in their love for one another through both sunny and stormy days. They stand before you now and formally bind themselves together in love for the rest of their days.

Minister to Mark:
Do you, Mark, take Susan as your wife, from this time onward, promising to tenderly care for her, to respect and cherish her as she is, to inspire and to empower, to join with her and share all that is to come, and remain loyal to her with all your being?
Mark: “I do.”

Minister to Susan:
Do you, Susan, take Mark to be your husband, your friend and companion, promising to remain loving and loyal, to advise and to listen, to share all life's joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, being honest and true forevermore?
Susan: “I do.”

Please exchange rings. As a ring has no end, neither shall your love for one another. Wear them proudly and remember this joyous day and the vows you have made.

As you Susan, and you Mark have consented together in wedlock, and have pledged yourselves each to the other in the presence of GOD and of this company, it is my great privilege to pronounce you husband and wife. Let all others honor your union and the threshold of your home.

May all blessings attend you,
May joy pervade your lives together,
May your home be forever a place of peace and true fulfillment.

They were married on the 4th of July. Congratulations! I love you both.

My bus stop is the most popular in the city

The end of my street has been turned into a movie set tonight, literally. They are shooting what I just Googled to find out is a James L. Brooks romantic comedy scheduled for release in December called How Do You Know? - staring Reese Witherspoon, Owen Wilson (I prefer Luke's acting), and Paul Rudd. Apparently they are in DC for 14 weeks and even took over the baseball stadium for a while.

So, there I am, in the middle of probably 500 people just standing on the street taking pictures and taking cell phone videos. Everyone dressed very nicely as if the director would suddenly spot them and say "Hey, grab them and get them in this scene!" And then there's me - walking my dog (and picking up his poo) wearing dirty sweats, flip flops, a shirt that I only don for gardening, sleeping, cleaning, or dog walking. The only presentable thing about my was the bra that I just happen to still have on which is generally not the case on my evening canine constitutional.

I am no doubt the pride of my neighborhood. The White House has Michelle and AdMo's got me.

More info: http://www.washingtonexaminer.com/politics/blogs/yeas-and-nays/Wilson-Witherspoon-Rudd-will-call-Adams-Morgan-home-46915307.html

Smile!

A man was driving when a traffic camera flashed. He thought his picture was taken for exceeding the speed limit, even though he knew he was not speeding. Just to be sure, he went around the block and passed the same spot, driving even more slowly, but again the camera flashed.. He thought this was quite funny, so he slowed down even further as he drove past the area, but the traffic camera flashed yet again. He tried a fourth time with the same result. The fifth time he was laughing when the camera flashed as he rolled past at a snail's pace.

Two weeks later, he got five traffic citations in the mail for driving without a seat belt on.

A sad, sad day

I finished a book today.
The emptiness of the last page stared back at me. It was like the first few minutes after waking from a dream where you don't quite know where you are but things looks oddly familiar.
We'd spent our mornings, afternoon, and evening together for a month. We went everywhere together.
That's over now.
I felt like a 9 year old leaving their new best friend on the last day of camp. You want to believe you'll see each other again but it'll never happen and you can feel it.
So, farewell my new friend. I wish we could have had more time together but I will always remember the time we shared.

The Rules of Cupcakes

If I could, I would be a professional student.

I have thought and said that for a number of years but now I'm thinking I may have changed my mind. I've been considering what I, or any of us, gain from attending/completing a course in a traditional Western Style university.

School, we are told, teaches us the rules. Rules about how things work in the real world of market places, board rooms, from the other side of desk in a classroom, atop a steel table in a kitchen, in any number of places where we envision ourselves to be once our degree is earned and training complete. I'm now 9 years into a 4 year degree and haven't been in a classroom of any kind for over 3 years. This gives me pause and makes me wonder both what I'm missing and what I'm gaining.

School is meant to teach you rules, but as I work in the real world I find there is hardly such a thing or at least that they are not as common as I was expecting. My adventures in the real world serve to show me the many exceptions to the rules and I see that as a grand dilemma. There is never an exception to any rule. An exception disproves a rule. When you find enough rules to be disproven (keeping in mind that you - or your parents if you're so lucky - paid good money to have access to these rules) you wonder why you even bothered in the first place if you can now count on very little of what you spent so long ramming into your brain. The point is that school can not and will not give you answers. It's not going to give you the magical codes of life that would can use to avoid conflict or struggle or even guarantee employment and certainly not success.

Education, at every level, is not meant to give you rules to life and work by. What you get in return for applying yourself is knowledge of the tendencies, the history, the notable points, and the scope of your chosen field of study. You learn where your subject has come from and from there you can envision how you see yourself woring to move it forward. Once you have these things it's entirely up to you what happens. A cake won't make itself just because you line up the ingredients, even if they are the best in the world.

So, with that in mind, I'm gonna keep working every day to gather my ingredients and wether they come from a prestigious university or the school of hard knocks, they all go in the mix (with a ton of hard work and a few hand fulls of luck) and I hope that one day I can have a tasty cake out of it - or even a batch of cupcakes if that's the way it turns out.

Pride & Prejudice

Recently, I found myself chatting with someone about the superiority of HBO programming as compared to the alphabet soup major networks (abc, cbs, nbc, upn, tnt, usa, tlc, and the like). Don't get me wrong, I am a big fan of television in general and I'll watching shows that no one else seems to like, but I find it a commonly held opinion that HBO has the best writing/producing/directing in the industry. This is thanks, I'm sure, to their not being under the thumb of the FCC and not answering to the same Wonder Bread advertiser dollars and Poiria pleasing politics of mainstream television production.

I have never actually had an open supply of HBO streaming to my home television so I've had to rely on less direst methods of viewing. There was a time a few years ago when Bravo bought the rights to air the award winning HBO series Six Feet Under. Of course it was edited down for network viewing but I had little else going on in my life at the time so over some 7 months I watched the entire series - some episodes more than once.

Apart from the entertainment value, I found that I gained a great deal of philosophical, historical, and cultural insight from the show. This is something that I've noticed major network programming tries to do and perhaps they think they are even succeeding in with their use of rolling narration monologues from one or more characters that serve as Jiminy Cricket outlining the theme for that particular episode - Grey's Anatomy stands out most in my mind as using this technique in nearly every episode. I've found though that this only serves to shift my mood for that hour or maybe even that day. What I got from 6FU was a great deal more and it has remained with me to this day. Not to say that I hadn't considered it an Industry before but in my mind this was only a part of one's life when someone very close to them died and arrangements had to be made to dispose of them. Through the show I saw death as a working industry that people seek out careers in and not just a job they fall into because they aren't good at anything else.

As death in general is something American culture does not approve as of as common conversational material, I had little reason to ever speak or even think of it. The show gave me a fly-on-the-wall observation point of the inner workings of the postmortem processing industry (even if they were the dressed up theatrical version) and I was completely fascinated by it. I also found that I saw value and even nobility in a profession that had been filed under shady and undesirable in my subconscious mind. I found that I examined the cultural and historical significance of mortuary -as no doubt one of the oldest professions - and began to consider the same significance of other similarly filed ideas in my mind. At different times and places the processing of the deceased was so important and honorable it was done only by the highest religious figures. That is certainly not the case in modern America but it should be held with the same degree of importance and respect. I had seen anything but in my very limited observations.

When I was 12 my great grandmother died and I attended her viewing. I remember the cheap feeling of the decor in the the funeral home, it reminded me of disposable picnic flatware and didn't reflect her 80 some odd years of life. She was the most beautiful woman I had known but in an effort to slow her body's natural decomposition process for as long as possible - to allow for friends and family to come from across the country and not be offended at the sight (or smell) of her - she had been pickled from the inside and painted on the outside. I was not accustomed to seeing her in makeup of any kind so it was most odd to me to see every visible inch of her slathered with off hue foundation. Lying there she looked more like John Boehner's mother and not the porcelain skinned woman I had known.

I understand that the physical evidence of death is most hard for people, especially when the body displays the lack of oxygen to the cells and the blush color of blood filled capillaries are gone, but the tan-face stage makeup was even more disturbing to me. I felt like someone had skinned, tanned, and spread her over a wooden form. I would have rather seem her just as she was even if that was a grayish-blue pasty hue.

Of course we look highly on the doctors, engineers, journalists, master chefs and such, but what of the hospital janitors and laundry workers, the laborers and mechanics that actually construct and maintain the structures and machines engineers design, the dish washers and the wait staff at any given restaurant? We certainly don't say - at least out load - that the people who hold these positions are lesser but we do see the position itself as lesser. Would you want your kid to come home and announce they want a career as a (fill in any of the examples above or your own). They point I'm making is that there are many professions we see as being for other people who we see as lesser than ourselves, if not intrinsically than at least as holding a lesser station in society. This form of classism holds true across the world where irreplaceable vocations are shamefully hidden in the shadows when in fact they are due respect and admiration equal to any other. If you, dear reader, are now, have been in the past, or find yourself at some future point given station in a job that seems unwanted, either by yourself or by other, consider it's true significance and take pride in yourself and the work you do... as both are of great value.

I would prefer we judge people on their own character and quality of work than on the social status held by their employment but I would love to see those statuses not be seen as lesser. If you question the significance of sanitation when compared to doctors, have both sets go on strike in your district and see which you're missing first. I have known a beloved international nonprofit founder and CEO who was quite unworthy of the admiration given to her and shoe sellers, mill workers, plumbers, painters, prep cooks, and immigrant housekeepers and au pairs who are as intelligent, kind hearted, and honorable as any person should aspire to be. Quote Sherlock Holmes: "I assure you that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for their insurance-money, and the most repellent man of my acquaintance is a philanthropist who has spent nearly a quarter of a million upon the London poor." I give much credit to Six Feet Under (and some other television programs) to turning a switch in my brain that now allows me to process thoughts with a great deal less presumption and prejudice. In 40 minute installments I was given as much insight into my own thinking than years of philosophy study at top universities has provided me.

Bad Blogger!

I know I've been a terrible blogger for the past few months and I'm sorry. Coinciding that there are likely not more than 2 people actually reading this blog, I apologize to you both.

I hope to be back and blogging in a couple weeks when my work load lightens... and hopefully my emotional load as well.

Thanks for your patience!