Carlton's log, DC...Manassas, actually

Hi. My name is S'mee; and I hate war.

I am a child of my era and I am not a fan of fighting at all. I am more along the lines of Rodney King who stated, "Why can't we all just get along?"

I am naive in my heart of hearts. I know that in the grown up world someone has to be right and someone has to be wrong. Someone must stand up and say: "ENOUGH!" in order that people become and remain free. However, I am still not a fan of war.


Please understand me however, when I say, I fully support the men and women who chose the military as their career for a limited amount of service time or for their life. I admire them. I thank them. I am amazed at the unselfish, heroic job they claim.



In the east, and especially in and around the D.C. area you are inundated with symbols, statues and memorials all in someway connected to war. It is difficult for me to be around all of these emblems of sacrifice and heroism. I am the kind of person who personalizes too much. For me, these memorials become tributes to unknown family, unknown people in my heart and after a while, I just can't take it anymore.



As we drove out to see yet another historical site, Manassas, I felt consumed with the thoughts of war and its' cruelties and began, again, to associate all this military drama, the scenes, the scents, and the emotions with someone I know.



We watched a film documenting the battle that took place at Manassas. The battle that was thought to be the only one, after this battle the war would be settled and that would be that. As it turns out, this battle was the precursor for the rest of the civil war and just the beginning of what would become our nation's greatest nightmare.



I was caught in the reenactment on film. Young boys standing a few yards apart and literally shooting each other to death until there were no more. Family members unfamiliar with the realities of war made picnic baskets and took the kiddies out to cheer on big brother, dad, and uncle. To their dismay they could only hear the boom of the canons and to their choice blessing, the smoke of those canons blocked the view of the horrors. Later after the smoke cleared they would rise to see hundreds of their loved ones piled upon each other, dead where they lay, waiting for someone to claim them and take them home.



I watched this film as if it were real, for it was. It upset me more than the others in the theatre. One man snored loudly as the bodies fell. I have never been able to be desensitised, this is why I hate war. It is always real to me.



I am amazed at the bravery of both sides. Young men who stood and took their shot, knowing it was just a matter of time before they would not go to an earthly home when all was finished. Young people still are doing this today. Young people who believe that what they do is for a greater cause than themselves. For them I have love and gratitude. It is for them I raise my flag each national holiday. Never do I raise the flag to honour war, only those who fight in one.


Last Saturday an elderly friend of mine fell. This is a man who devoted his entire life, since his 17th birthday, to the military service which became a literal part of him. This is a man who saw many of the atrocities and terrors face to face and witnessed the death of over half of his comrades. He saw WWII, Korea, Viet Nam, and others. He wore his uniform as an indication of his commitment to freedom and to the land of his fathers. He dedicated his whole self to being an example of a warrior and a gentleman. Above all he was a gentle man.



He earned 6 purple hearts and the Congressional Medal of Honour. He earned 23 various medals and too many ribbons for me to remember without his record in front of me. He was admired by Colonels and Majors, and all the men with whom he served. Upon hearing of his death, a Colonel serving in Iraq telegramed my friend's wife so that she would know he loved and admired his life and service to others.



It was this man who I saw lined up as a civil war youth, taking a hit for freedom. Bravely standing, knowing he would fall for the rights of his country and fellow man. It is he who I thought of as I wondered at the bravery of men and women still who, although we have weapons with stealth capabilities, still have death to face everyday. It is he who I will mourn along with his widow.



I echo the words of F.D.R....



"I have seen war. I have seen war on land and on sea. I have seen blood running from the wounded. I have seen the dead in the mud. I have seen cities destroyed. I have seen children starving. I have seen the agony of mothers and wives.

I hate war."

catching up before I leave

I have been caught up again in a swirl of activities once again. Saturday was the dinner for the Stake Presidency, the clerks, and high council and their wives between sessions. It went well. Sunday was Stake Conference. Monday was my best friend's birthday and her mother's funeral. I was honoured to sing at the funeral. It was out of town, so I was gone from about 11:00 - 10:00. A long day, but worth it.

Today another meeting 8:30 - 12:00, followed by washing and packing and preparing to leave tomorrow for D.C. I am excited to go. I like the D.C. trip. Poor Thor gets stuck inside a conference room for ten day and I get to drive around and see the sights and museums and this trip...

a brand new baby!!! Yup I am hoping to catch up with my niece and Chronicler for a day and meet the new baby boy. I am very excited!!! Any who, I'll take a ton of photos and let you know all the details.

Aunt "M".

Thor's Aunt "M" was probably my favorite of all the aunts. She was always up beat, happy, friendly, quick witted, loyal, smart, and full of determination and humour.

The first time I met her was at the annual Christmas party way back in the day. Eventually the extended family stopped attending the party, it just got so that the entire family couldn't find a large enough facility to hold the numbers that the family grew to. Because the parties became a thing of the past, we only saw Aunt "M" a few times a year. A wedding, a bridal or baby shower, or an unexpected 'run-into' at mom and dad's or uptown shopping. At bridal shower 3 years ago I noticed the Lladro nativity she gave the young bride, along with a few other "small" things. "Heah there "M"... you gave me a hand mixer, and a lousy one at that. What's up?" "I didn't like you! Hahahahah! Besides, this is one of the perks at haivng money. Back then I was poor and probably gave you a mixer I had in the cupboard. She gets the good stuff now, just because I can." and "M" had the biggest smile on her face. She was so happy to give a big gift.

Nine years ago Aunt "M" was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Terminal and only 6 months to live. hmmm. Well that came and went, along with all the chemo therapies. Recovery and then another diagnosis of cancer in her breasts. More chemo, surgeries and more recoveries to go through. Then another diagnosis of cancer in her liver. "What the hell, [she'd] been down that road- why not go again?" In the in between times she would throw herself into her tax job. During the chemo she would delegate and do what she could to keep a handle on her life.

I remember one night, about 7 or so, I was shopping near her town at a Costco. I felt a SMACK on my cart and someone telling me to "watch it, those are MY flat screens your looking at!" It was "M". To my surprise, there she was, bald head and a bright flowered blouse, shopping at Costco. She burst out laughing at my surprise, being yelled at and seeing her shopping. "What? Just because I had chemo this morning I can't go shopping tonight? Shut your mouth and help me get this into the cart." She wanted a large box from another isle and had noticed me before I noticed her. All in all, that's "M": matter of fact with a slice of humour.

She was the popular gal in high school who hand picked three other gals to be her life long friends. They attended her funeral and praised her for her way of searching out the "odd three" and making them feel important. Each year "M" planned and carried out a "reunion" at the beach and each year all the "Lucky Four" would go and spend the week. It started in high school. The first year of college "M" was away at college, but made the plans anyway. She was missed that first day. The second day she showed up, boyfriend in hand and asked the girls to go with them to Vegas...they were eloping. The third day the went back to the beach reunion before setting out for the honeymoon. These reunions eventually came once every 5 years but in the last 15 years or so they began to meet each other once a month for lunch.

"M" was intelligent. Her daughter remarked about her parents' romance during the war via letters. Ones that "M" would correct grammatically and send back to her husband to rewrite. Later, when he had come home, she encouraged her husband to bid on a historical house in the valley that would be moved by the city to make way for growth at a local college. They looked it over found a solution to a major problem that others in the bidding could not solve, and confidently won. The city gladly handed over the deed in exchange for the cash amount: $5.00. During the signing of the papers however the mayor explained the embarrassment of the sale for such a low amount and "M" and her hubby decided to up the payment to $100.00. The house was moved; they lived and reared their family, and nevered moved again.

She was a tax preparer and educator. One of the founders of the tax society in CA. She taught seminars even while in the midst of chemo, bald head and all. She found a certain satisfaction in being able to teach her clients how to find the codes that would enable them to save on their taxes. She wanted her clients to hold onto as much money as possible, no matter what their bracket.

Her son told us about her last "life goals" made on December 9th: "to live until January 2nd, so that her husband could count her as a deduction the next year." She passed away 90 minutes short of her goal. Her son said that was the first time in her life she was early for anything.

I think I heard her giggling at that remark.

From here to eternity...

A mid town cemetery. Encompassed within one small neighborhood block, this rolling hilled memorial land was dotted quite beautifully with all kinds of markers, stones and statues to honour and remember loved ones.

The standing angel actually stood over my head by several feet, hence the angle...but whomever was buried there had a very high and lovely crypt.


"GRIEF". Large enough to house 6-9 caskets, no one will ever know who is mourned lest they go to the house of records. Only "GRIEF" proclaimed for eternity on the monument's 2 sides.


Someone also lost, this time to weather and time, only in their 20's when they were placed beneath the small stone. Birth date: Feb. 22, 187_. Death: Dec.1, 1896.

At the center of the cemetery was a circular drive wide enough for one vehicle to make a tight U-turn. In the center of that circle were the graves of the local Fathers and Priests. A large standing cross in the exact center and their grave in spokes around it. One particular Father must have had the hearts of the locals as his memorial is much larger than all the rest and has the duty of providing the foundation for a statue of Christ surrounded by and holding lambs.

The last of the photos shows a very intricate cross with cut work detailing. Very ornate. Must have been a really nice person. Or fussy.

Memorial Day.

There are a few reasons I have a difficult time writing something fitting for this day, I have tried several times to come up with a good post, however all I can muster is: "I miss you Mike." This is the anniversary of my big brother's passing several years ago (he was only 32); well actually my brother and his son Michael Jr. (just 71/2). The details are sad enough, but sometimes it is better to just say I had a really good guy for a brother, he was missed then and he is missed still. I could write the things that made his special to me, but I would never stop writing. His little boy was 16 hours older than my #1, they were both born in the same hospital. We were close to them both and we miss them more than words can describe at times.

To keep our minds off this tragedy, Chronicler, The Big Guy, Thor, and myself went out to Chronicler and Big Guy's property in AZ. This was the first time Thor and I had seen the land, and it sure was pretty. Some hills and a few 'gully washers' where the rain gathers to run down the slopes, just enough trees and large bushes to give it texture and beauty. Lots of petrified wood, tiny purple, blue and red rocks and pebbles, and at least one geode. Blooming catus, a couple of varieties, and surprisingly devoid of tumble weeds.

The sky is huge and clear, deep blue, and the clouds look painted on. We encountered one bug, a very small army of black ants, and one excitable bright neon green lizard who liked to show off by running upright and waving his little arms as he went by. The best encounter was a small herd of antelope who pranced by flashing their very white little tails. And then there was the discovery down the road of a fully grown black cow that had been decaying beside a Juniper bush for quite some time.

I took a few photos of bees as they jumped from flower to flower gathering nector and dusting themselves liberally with pollen. There were also photos of the land, the trees, hills, and even one particularly pretty one of Chronicler framed by the arms of one of her wild Junipers. Unfortunately neither blogger nor flickr! will allow me to post photos today. SAD FACE.

Thor and I had such a fun time. We walked the whole property and exchanged ideas on just where and how certain areas of the property should be developed. A honeymoon cabin here, a hunting lodge there, and the large front window of the house should be riiiiggghht here so it can see this view of the sunset every night. They took it pretty well considering we were 'spending' a lot of their hard earned dollars on retreat cottages for ourselves and a retirement home to boot. Everyone needs a rich relative to fall back on, right?

We also took in X-Men, which I thought had a lot of holes in it. (Thor tells me to get over it...it's a cartoon!) This is the first time I have seen any X-Men movie, so in fairness, I wasn't the best critic. However, when the bad guy was standing in bright sunlight one minute and turned his head to another bad guy and the night sky had fallen...it was a bit inconsistant for me. That and some other stuff made it kind of silly, but still it was a fun movie.

The only let down was the trip home with the holiday traffic swelling up near Palm Springs. Lucky for us, Chronicler was familiar with the area well enough to route us around the freeways and down little known "roads". We probably saved a good hour of freeway sitting!

All in all we had a great time. I just wish I had the photos to prove it!

UPDATE:

O.k. just another very quick note...

Thor and I had a terrific time on my birthday, in fact the whole day was fabulous! I woke up to a full body massage which almost put me back to sleep again...very relaxing! Then off to breakfast and then to Disneyland with Thor! The best present was him taking the time off so we could be together! (big happy smiling face) I was also very surprised when Thor gave me the most beautiful pearl and diamond ring. I LOVE pearls, they are my favorite and this ring is so pretty!!! I am very spoiled. Back home and out to dinner with some of the kids, 31 flavors ice cream cake and played a very fun game I got from the kids. It was a great day. In addition to those surprises came a phone call from a dear friend from far away, an e-mail from a girl friend and another e-mail from a boy friend in high school who was/is such a nice guy. It was a total surprise to hear from him.

Thanks to all of you who wrote to me and gave happy thoughts and wishes as well, that is totally cool and I am glad to have such nice blog buddies! Thanks also to my sis Chronicler, she was very sweet and did a whole blog just for s'mee (gush)!

Then back to reality.

One of the momma's of the sick babies was also admitted to the hospital... a lump on her kidney, severe pain, high liver enzymes... oh my holy hannah! She is home now, but still in a lot of pain. More troubles with sisters in the ward being mean to each other. And tonight a final evening focused on Wanda. Her sons could not be at her funeral, so we are getting together tonight to make them "scrapbooks" of our memories of Wanda for the few short years we knew her. Everyone is meeting tonight and we'll just write down stories, memories and whatever comes to mind via the Spirit to show her sons that she was loved and will also be missed. Hopefully these new memories of their mom will allow some healing and soften their hearts to the Lord.

Tamale is Friday... count down round to surgery on Saturday! WAHOO! If I don't write for a day or two I will as soon as I can get up and to the chair. Hang in there with me, hopefully things will settle down and I can get back to some fun subjects.

See you all soon!

when's recess?

Chronicler had mentioned that, with death, lessons come.

Since the whole "Z.Z.Top" funeral way back in September, I have been in school. Some things I have learned so far:

1.If you try hard enough you can put the "fun" in a funeral.

2.Just when you think you can't do enough, someone will remind you of that very thing; and others, who will remind you that you continue to let them down on a daily basis.

3.Sometimes you need to just let it go, let it be, walk away.

4.There is more than one way to skin a cat, or in otherwords, there is always a loop hole that can be utilized legally.

5.Women can be mean, snarky, and unforgiving.

6.Men can backup a snarky wife in the most ridiculous of ways, especially when you consider the situation at hand.

7.Some people are just too sweet to notice anything other than the hearts of others and the needs hidden therein.

8.Good intentions can get in the way of justice and "doing what's right and necessary".

9.People are idiots.

10.There are times when the church must step in and times when the church should just say "no".

11."Open mic night" isn't always a good thing when folks are grieving.

12.One should never ask someone to pay for final expenses if they are unwilling to have that same person participate in the service.

13.Taking care of your own is a good thing.

14.Sometimes it's your own fault and suing for damages, pain and suffering will only cause more damage, pain and suffering.

15.You don't have to be old to have lived a full life.

16.You don't have to be young to have died too soon.

17.Accidents happen. Laws of the universe can be broken and results can be devastating. Sometime it is not God's will, but His mercy that is in control of who lives and dies.

18.Taking the high road is much better than proving your point.

19.Saying you are sorry for something someone else did is sometimes the only way to help.

20.Telling someone what needs to be said isn't always easy, but at times quite necessary.

21.Sometimes telling a lie is more merciful than describing truth.

22.Not all traditions are true doctrine. Not all policies are written in stone.

23.Telling your dear friend what a common enemy thinks of them is more hurtful than what the common enemy said in the first place.

24.There is no need to shoot the wounded. There is no need to exalt the esteemed.

25.Music can indeed sooth the savage beast.

26.Sometimes compassion hurts more than neglect.

27.Neglect can be the perspective of a foreign judge.

28.No one is perfect. No one has telepathy, or crystal balls that are accurate. No one can change the mind of another without the willingness of both parties.

29.Grudges weigh more than forgiveness.

30.You can not argue with those of limited mental aptitude.

31.You need to remember that if it looks like a dog, smells like a dog, and acts like a dog, chances are -it's a dog.

32.What is correct and right for me isn't necessarily correct and right for you, and vice versa.

33.Leaders make mistakes. That's o.k.

34.People say things they never would when they are under stress.

35.Some folks can have closure without a viewing.

36.Little children do not always benefit by being involved in family or ward matters, sometimes it is better to ere in hopes of keeping children innocent a day longer.

37.Just because you have a special talent does not mean everyone needs to see it (hear it, experience it, etc.).

38.Even if someone just had a Priesthood Blessing yesterday, if they ask for another one, give it to them. In other words, you can never have too much Priesthood in a home, a hospital room, a car, the grocery store, yada yada yada.

39.You just can't please some people.

40.Some people only need a smile, a hug, a wink to get through the day. Even when they have the greatest burden.

41.Misery sometimes needs company.

42.I am supposed to be learning something from all of this. I will be a better person for all this learning when it is done. There will be a much harder lesson to learn in the future. All of this is for my personal benefit.

43.Hormones create a huge vacuum.

44.I miss my cat. (but please don't get me a new one)

45.Listening to the Spirit can be a good thing, a weird thing, and actually tick other people off because "you got there first"...go figure.

46.I prefer "she/he just passed" to "she/he just passed away." (think: "she just passed...her life's test." past away makes me feel like they just faded and went some vague place at some point.)

47.I have a good and wise husband. I have good and wise friends.

48.Sometimes one can actually look forward to abdominal surgery as a vacation from reality.

Miss W.

She loves Elvis.

Elvis
Originally uploaded by greenolive4.

Not the old Vegas-y Elvis, but back when he was young, fresh and sexy. Back when he was something new and dangerous! She loves classic rock and dancing. She loves sleeping in and taking her time to get up. She loves to eat out and to shop and to organize her things into categories and her clothes according to the day she will wear them. She loves to laugh and tell stories and she loves to sing simple child like songs.

She is eager to learn and to change. She did a lot of changing in the past 18 months, so much so that folks who knew her then are surprised when they see her now. She is humble and sweet and willing. She enjoys helping out wherever someone can use her. She shows up to all the "clean the building" assignments. She was first in line to do baptisms for the dead whenever the opportunity happened. She was so excited to recieve her own endowment.

She is the mother of two sons. She is the friend of many. She has been far from family for so long they would not recognize her at all. Some are willing but unable to see her and some are still living too much in the past to reconcile with her. Either way it is time for her to return to eternal friends and family. She has kidney failure and such heart failure that she will not be able to recover. All "heroic" measures have been waved with much difficulty by the only one willing and able to do so. Mercy is hard to give when it is your mother and you still wish her to stay. But doing the "right" thing is so hard. Harder still the knowledge that your mother will die without family and that her funeral will not be attended by any blood relatives.

We go each day and talk with her and sing to her. Last night she was moved from her room in the ICU to the floor, and today to hospice care; away from monitors and beeping and pumps and full attention. She was met in her new room by eager friends who came to say "hello, we love you, sleep sweetly, and let go". A chorus of about 12 sang for several hours and had a light time watching her switch gears away from meds and stupors into more pain and awareness, but the inability to communicate other than with eyes that fluttered. A squeeze of her hand at times to those who could connect and a few moans of frustration. She perked up while we talked of Elvis, perhaps she'll get his autograph soon...

We are going to miss you W. We will miss your sweet little face, the skin that made young prime women jealous and the heart that made us all feel warm and loved so well. We will miss you W. Have a safe journey. Happy Graduation Day.

A Good Man

Today was Chris' funeral. He was only 22 years old but had a great impact on a great many people. The chapel was filled to overflowing with friends and family who came to hear the message of the young man's life.

A theme throughout the service was how generous and sweet this shy hulky man was. His smile and big bear hugs were famous, as was the 32 ounce cup of the soda of the day. This is a man who walked away from gossip, clung to truth and learning; and had a habit of finding ways to give away money, rides, service and even his clothes when needed. If a stranger needed something, he found a way to give it. He was a defender of young women and pretty much anyone or anything weaker than himself. He had a reputation of seeing good in everyone and his Patriarchal Blessing was quoted, stating his "divine gift for loving the unloveable."

Folks who knew him well wondered what he would think of all the fuss and all the crying at his funeral. Then almost as if he answered each of us, we understood, that Chris would have looked at us with that shy smile and said, "hey, whatever you guys need to get through this is o.k. by me. Just don't get too ridiculous." Whatever it took to make others more comfortable than himself.

He served an honourable but shortened mission. One to always be physically active, he was on a service project when he injured his back. He was sent home in hopes of a short recovery and then back to serving more. After two surgeries he was in so much pain and difficulty, permanently disable to the point of not being able to sit, stand or sleep for more than three hour increments. His life had gone from one of extreme physicality to one of constant monitoring, therapy and pain. Through it all he persevered and tried to see what positives he could in life.

Chris passed away on New Year's Day from an enlarged heart, caused by meds and other complications. In a way we all knew his heart was larger than most. It seemed a conclusion this was Heavenly Father's way of letting us all know it was o.k. and it was his time. He always was searching for more truth and deep understanding of the Gospel. He wanted to know the answers to the hard questions and more than anything he wanted to return to his mission. Heavenly Father allowed Chris the opportunity to relieve his body of pain, find out the answers to his questions from those who have gone on before, and to serve on a new mission where enlightened Gospel truths now are more fully understood.

Chris was laid to rest under an olive tree and near the boulders he loved to climb. The sun was bright and the sky was clear. It was appropriate for this young man who was so dear to us all.

Chris

From before the beginning of the world we knew the plan. We would wait for our turn on Earth, grab a body, learn as much as we could, experience life, and be tested...again, and again, and again.

For Chris, well, he followed the plan to almost perfection. He was one of the valiant, saved for the latter days, to be tried and tested and learn and grow. He had this warm shy smile that got him into both your heart and into "fun". Some of his tests were more difficult than others but he always found a way to pass. Some who didn't know him well enough may have thought he was full of spit and vinegar or perhaps walked to close to the edge. To those of us who know him, we "get" him. We know that he felt if you weren't living on the edge you were probably taking up too much room. He explored everything good and exciting. He enjoyed company. He made a friend of pretty much everyone.

Chris was at our house from a very early age. His giggle was more often heard than words, and his help offered more than a complaint. He seriously would have given you anything you required of him and was always happy to share. Not a normal thing for a small kid or even a teen aged boy, and magnified as a young adult. He had no rules for friendship, other than everyone deserves a friend. Even a stranger. Sometimes that scared those of us who had a bit more wisdom, but somehow he always came out ahead of the game because of his generosity.

He was constantly encouraging our son to this or that and they had so many adventures. After talking with #4, I think those adventures have now become sacred to him. He thinks of Chris as his brother, he felt it when he passed away, before any one could explain to him, #4 "just knew".
I went to to personally tell #4. I went to his church and went in search of him, thinking I would pull him out of the main worship service. As I walked down the main hall I saw #4 standing there, looking confused. When he saw me, he began to tear. I started to ask him. "Did some.." And he stopped me short. "Mom. Your here to tell me Chris died, right?" "Yes. Who told you?" "No one. I just felt it. I felt it all morning. Seeing you just confirmed it." And he began to cry.

Chris has so much pain recently. So much change in his life that he could not control. He was struggling with making new life plans, finding his way on an altered course. Trying to be optimistic about remaking his life to fit his new body. He had been given so many tests.

They say we are here to take tests. Chris passed. He passed all of his tests well and now he has graduated with honours. He is on to greater, higher education. And as in most graduations, there are tears of both sadness and joy. Hope for the future and what will be accomplished and fondness in the memories of the days we all shared while learning together.

I know Chris is a smart young man. I know he knows what his future holds and I am positive he is making new friends, renewing old relationships and shyly giggling while being a friend to everyone he meets.

Fly!

Sk8 Silueta
Originally uploaded by EPIDEMIA_.

We woke up this morning to very sad news. The best friend of our #4 passed away sometime late last night or early this morning. It was a shock to hear this news as he is only 21 years old.

He was at our house constantly as a little kid. It was at his house that #4 had most of his growing up fun. Making things, teasing the sisters, learning about birds and gardening; eventually driving cars, skateboarding, making home videos, and chasing the girls while staying out of trouble. They both had the same first names and there for a while, it seemed like every boy that age was named the same. Yell at one and they all came running.

His mom and dad are wonderful folks and good parents. His "little" sister, I am sure is going to be quite lost without him around. His grandparents are going to miss one of the best grandsons ever.

Big blue eyes, a head full of amazing blonde curls, a strong heart and willing Spirit. He could converse with anyone, make all his friend, and was generous to a fault. He could see what others missed, potential. He was great at finding the good in folks and making sure they knew he saw it in them. He had a keen sense of fun and adventure, and a husky giggle that would send the girls into space. Shy, quiet, and deep down sweet.

I, among many, will miss this great young man deeply.

Happy Graduation Day, see you soon buddy.

not to be a downer....

But here we go again. Blogging is taking another back seat ride this week; again for death (in the ward). Please accept my apologies for not writing and I promise as soon as I can- I will be back into the daily routine.

In the mean time (which can be exactly that- mean), put on some of your favorite Christmas music and knock yourself out with a good time decorating, eating, snuggling, caroling, and whatever else you can do to enjoy this terrific time of year.

See you soon, S'mee

I'm back, I hope!

First THANKS to all of you who wrote such nice things and PRAYED for S'mee and the ward. I really really can not tell you how much we (s'mee especially) needed those prayers! Thanks for hanging in there with s'mee. Hug big fat hugs to you all!

Man! What a couple of weeks! As soon as we got home from Hawaii and the great time there things got really hairy here in my little home town. The funerals for two babies from two separate families in the ward was almost overwhelming and then there were some WAVES from the pebbles tossed into the lake by those events. Things are beginning to settle down, but I admit that blogging seemed rather ridiculous at the time.

So being nudged -rather frankly- by someone I am trying to get back in the mode.

Today I am am trying to get it back together and pull Christmas out of the shed and into the house. Each year when the kids were little we would get a tree. Thor grew up in a home where fresh trees were the norm every year. So we would pile the kids into the car and drive into a pass and up into a small canyon to pick out a tree. This particular farm was so great. They believed in natural farming, so although they planted Christmas trees in rows, they let them grow without pruning or shaping. You got what the tree gave; sometime complete with bird's nests and critters, holes and twisted trunks.

The farmer would give you a very long white and red striped pole, painted to indicate foot length. You would hike up and down his small mountain and find the perfect tree, subtract a foot from the base and yell like the dickens for the farm hands to find you. Sometimes it would rain, snow, or hail, so by the time the hand found you on his ATC and trailer, you were soaked, powdered, or pelted. He would cut the tree for you and haul it back up or down to the "shed". Leaving the stump would allow the tree to regrow the following year. (This method made the tiny "forrest" just that, no rows of five footers here and seven footers there...it was all jumbled and mixed.)

At the "shed" you would find Mr. Matthew (still don't know if that is first or last name) and his big smile. He would remember you from the year before and tease the kids about Santa. After trimming the tree, and tying it to the roof of your car he would always grab the "mom" and have her take as many discarded boughs from the ground as would fit in-between the kids "to make a nice wreath, while the kiddies decorate the tree." He was a real sweety.

When the kids were little they would clump all the ornaments at their individual eye level and the tree looked adorable! As they grew the decorations spread out and eventually the tree became more like a department store tree, gorgeous. When times were good, I went shopping through thrift stores for fake trees. Then other folks, seeing my Christmas habit, gave me their old trees. After a time, each of the kids had their own tree to decorate and it made the house so fun and full of Spirit. More and more trees came until now my house is filled to the brim with all kinds of trees. Big ones, little ones, in every room and numerous enough that #3 said "all we need to do now is sell a candle in here and we'll look like a shop in the mountains."

So this morning Thor went out to our shed (the one bought to store S'mee's Christmas boxes) and brought in a few of the trees. I have my assignment: GET SOME CHRISTMAS SPIRIT IN THIS HOUSE QUICK!

Tamale: photos of what I can accomplish today.

Please stand by...

And forgive me as I take just a few more days to get around to blogging.

Thanks to you all for hanging in there with me, I am grateful for your reader-loyalty and friendship. Hawaii was terrific and I have many posts coming. Thanksgiving with Thor's family was worth a few posts as well. Why the delay?

Last Friday a sister in our ward was crossing the street at dusk with her 11, 6 and 3 year old children. The 11 and 3 year old were hit by a passing car. The children were life-flighted to the local trauma center, by car 1 hour away. The youngest died during the flight and the 11 year old was in a coma and near death on arrival. Our Bishop gave a blessing to both. The 11 yr.old revived and began complaining ten minutes after the blessing; a true miracle. The funeral was this morning/afternoon.

During the funeral we (leadership) were informed that another sister in our ward had just been informed that her one year old grandbaby had drowned in a "large dog" water bowl after crawling out to the patio unnoticed. Another baby funeral in two days.

Above this are complications that may involve incredible timing, teaching and understanding for our ward as a whole. Too much to take in for many.

I will post as soon as possible. Thanks you guys, you're the best.

p.s. thanks for feeding Larry. Anyone playing with Walter?

I put the FUN in funeral...

The Lost Member of ZZ Top
Originally uploaded by zodmczod.

I haven't blogged in a few days because it's been very busy around here. One of the things which took some of my time was a funeral.

An elderly lady friend of mine lost her second husband and asked if I would, once again, sing at her husband's funeral. (This is an offer I get on occasion. It's not that I sing particularly well; more like, "hey they're mourning already, if they are crying you won't know if it's because of you or the deceased...") She picked out two hymns, "Abide With Me, 'Tis Eventide" and "How Great Thou Art". Not perky numbers, but good for getting your grief on. Which they did. Afterwards there were the obligatory compliments on the vocals, and a few -let's say oddities...

This funeral was attended mostly by the elderly. The elderly who are part of a grief support group named "Widows and Widowers". They get together once a month to eat, visit and dance. I, because of the church ward I live in, have many elderly women friends, most of whom belong to "WOW" (I know, it should be "wAw", but I think they thought they sounded to much like WAH! so they went with WOW! -which sound likes they are happy 'you know who' kicked the proverbial bucket, bought the farm, well, you know.) Many of my friends were there. Many other ladies and gents were there whom I had yet the "pleasure" of meeting.

One such gal approached me after the funeral, teary eyed and obviously grief stricken. She said she thought I had a nice voice and then asked "do you have a car?" "Thank you and, um, yes. " "Are you going to the grave side services?" Well at this point, no I was not going to go, but she looked so helpless so I lied and said "yes" anticipating her request for a ride. One thing led to another and, yup, she needed a ride. Seems she was dropped off at the funeral home and yada yada yada she was my new "friend" for the day. Before we left however, there was some down time and post funeral visiting. Other folks came around and we chatted about this and that and waited for the procession to gear up. While chatting with a girl friend of mine an elderly guy -similar to the photo above - came by and gushed about my voice and how pretty it was. "Thank you, you're very kind." "No, not really, I'm old (like 90) and I been around. I know what I like and I like you." "Well, my. Thank you again." and then he left.

My new friend came back to hitch her ride. She was in her late 70's if she was a day. Wearing a hot pink floral print knee length skirt, hot pink tank top with spaghetti straps and platform (you guessed it) hot pink sandals with sequin straps and a huge pink daisy on each toe. She had several tattoos; one on her right calf of a "native style" hula girl holding a martini glass. (late 70's!) Her hair was a toss up of gray and bleached blond and somewhat antigravitorial in poof. She got into the car and tells me she is grateful for the ride - "because most women don't like [me]." "Oh, I can't believe that! You seem really (what's the word here....?) fun!" "Well they don't like me. I know that much. I know the men do, they're friendly enough, but the women have always just shunned me." -Changing the subject- "So how did you know (the deceased)? Are you family?" "No. no. I knew him through the WOW. He would dance with me, but the ladies all hated me. I was in show business and they just hate that." (we interrupt this clever repartee to ponder why S'mee didn't see this coming and avoid it altogether.. Oblivious to seeing that train coming she goes ahead with her question...) "Were you an actress, or did you sing, or were you more in the production end?" "I was an exotic dancer." (did you hear that train derail? Did you see the mayhem?How 'bout the destruction at all? Call for back up! Do something girl!) "Oh, well, um, well, I'm sure you did just fine. Oh look the traffic is piling up!" "Yeah, I made tons of money and gave my kids ponies and whatever they wanted. It was d*mn good money." Realizing that S'mee has caused the wreck herself she tries to set up a triage... "Well, I guess we are going to have to wait here for a few minutes. Look how pretty the day is. I just love this part of the valley, very peaceful. A good resting place." and the conversation just went, well, um, more exotic as we waited to get our space and see the dead honoured via bugle.

As I dropped her off back at the funeral home she said, "Thanks again. My name is Cindy, with an S." (crickets chirping while S'mee puts it all together...) ohhhh. SINdy. Got it. right.

Meanwhile back at the ranch...

The funeral luncheon back at the church. S'mee shows up a tad late to help set up, but there are a few church ladies out in the hall waiting for me. I explain about being needed by a "little old lady who didn't have a car" and left it at that. Low and behold my gentlemen friend (ZZ TOP) is coming down the hallway in time to hear one gal ask why she didn't see me for the set up at the church. "I had to sing at the funeral. " "Oh, that's right." ZZ TOP comes up and says very loudly (and a bit televangelistic), "This woman, NO! This angel from God sang! She has the voice of the peaceful doves, and it was so beautiful! I almost cried!" YIKES-OLA! brother - get a grip! "Thank you, again." "NO!" (holding his hand up as if to stop traffic) "NO! You are a grace! Give me a hug!" "Thank you." (hug) um, time to let go now, oakey dokey HuUuuGGgss OOvver! I get out of this old geazer's hug but he STILL has his hand firmly around my waist. The gals in the hallway are now in a combination of out and out laughter and gross out, as am I. "O.k. well then! Thanks again, now you better get in there and get some lunch now! Thank you." and I peel myself away from creepy old guy. "Only if you come with me honey" and then the "I think I'm going to barf right here and now phrase of the day": "GgggrrrriiioooowwwLLLllllllll!" yup, he growled like Roy Orbison on crack. (Can I take hot shower now?)

Nice to know I still have it.

The ride to the "redwoods"...

The Catholic Graveyard at Tomales CA.
Originally uploaded by S'mee.

Thor and I headed out the last day of our trip for a "quick look" at the Redwoods. Thor had visited them as a child and wanted to shared their beauty with me! Unfortunately childhood memories being what they are, Thor hadn't quite calculated the distance to the redwoods from San Francisco and we ended up on a freeway headed north. The freeway was a glorified parking lot and luck being what it is, we turned off and drove west! (My favorite direction!) Although we never made it to the redwoods, we had what turned out to be, one of the best driving day trips ever.

We turned off the 101 at the 12, driving through some of the most picturesque land. This map shows the route. Sebastopol is an artsy, wine country introducing, bed and breakfast-y kind of town. After the redirection from a road block caused by an accident we then went north through Forestville (self explanatory name), Guerneville, and on to Jenner at the coast. I felt a bit thrown back to my old hippy days (at least wannabe) as we drove through these little earthy towns with all natural food stores, hemp purveyors, rainbow pretty-much-anything-you-want, and art and craft boutiques. And lots of alternative couples feeling comfy in their own shoes to put it politely. The flip side being the white folks in dreads and India batik. Talk about mixing your cultures with fashion. But that's those darned artsy types. For me, it looked like heaven, for Thor, well that's another story.

The photo above is (terrific segue) a portion of the Catholic cemetery in Tomales. (looking at the above map, find Cotali and go straight west -and slightly lower- to the tiny little angle on the red line. That bend in the road near the water is Tomales.) A small historic town of (what the town sign said) 5. We think perhaps someone has erased the extra zero(s); but it's not for us to say. That aside, It is a quaint little town, very quiet the day we visited and we only saw about 5 actual folks walking around (so perhaps the sign was correct although the housing states there should be more.) We took the side street up the slope to the hill where the wrought iron gates waited wide open, and drove into the grounds. To the left of the drive way were the tombs. All had the raised curb and further raised cement borders; with the unused graves still grassy and full of wild flowers. Once "furnished", evidence shows a cement slab covers the crypt; and head stone or foot stone mark the resident(s). Interesting.

After leaving Tomales we drove out to Point Reyes in hopes of visiting the light house. It was closed, but after researching what we missed, I am a bit glad we got there too late. This website tells the history (very interesting!), but also that it is equivalent to climbing a 30 story staircase to get down to the light house, and then back up! Hello knees! So I am content (for now) to read all about it. You should too! Have fun!

For Whom the Bell Tolls...

While reading the Wednesday post of The Golden Road to Samarqand, Amira wrote of her love and interest in cemeteries. After reading several of the comments on that post I realized I am among friends who all have an affinity towards the history and culture of cemeteries.

Recently Thor and I were afforded the opportunity to travel to New Orleans. I had a couple of friends who had been there and also know a friend who served his mission there. Anyone I asked suggested we take a cemetery tour.

Thor wasn't available to go on tours as he was in seminars. I decided to ask a friend if she wanted go. She became very nervous about the cemetery tour but suggested we stick to the tour bus that went through the city. I will exclude the points of the tour and our guide except for the parts he explained as we went to cemetery #3 (if I am remembering correctly). The following is what I gleaned from our tour guide.

New Orleans is wet. Very wet. And due to the nature of the swamp land, humidity, and general landscape of the Delta Region provisions and laws needed to be established and are in place to this day to a certain degree. The land is saturated by all of this moisture so much so that the land itself sinks at the rate of an inch per year if not halted by man.

Back in the day, the law was set at burial needing to be done within 48 hours of the deceased finality. The body would be cleansed, dressed, and readied for the family crypt. Little or no embalming would take place. If it was used in the preparations, a special fluid was used so that the body would only be "suspended" for a minimal time. The law stated the body needed to decompose quickly. A body would be placed in a crypt for a minimum of 365 complete days.
A family would purchase cemetery land as the family plot. Calculations were made as too how much land a family could afford and how much they would need. Land was and is expensive, so a family would try to figure out just how many members could die within a certain "year" and plan accordingly within their financial means. The land being wet, an indicator of one's wealth would be the size of the crypt and how high off the ground it would rise before entry.

monuments of angels
Originally uploaded by S'mee.

The larger the crypt and the higher the stairs to enter the more wealth you had. One exception was the single crypt that stated in literal stone that whoever was buried there would be there "for eternity". This was a clue to those around that the crypt would not be shared.

Shared? Yes. Let's say you have a family plot and build a crypt large enough to house four tombs. What do you do when the fifth member of the family dies? Well, you throw Auntie Prudence down the family pit and move in Uncle Cleatus. This is accomplished rather cleverly.

out with the old in with the new
Originally uploaded by S'mee.

This photo is a great visual for the process. You can see in the photo that the crypt is built from brick. This was part of the law. Because of the plague and other diseases, bodies were required to be encased in brick, and sealed with concrete (lower right tomb) for the first 365. In this crypt there are 6 tombs, each (originally) with a facade of marble for genealogical information. As one body would complete there term the facade would be removed. This exposed the brick, which would be disassembled and exposed the casket. The caskets were made so that once the body had decayed, the ends could be removed. Auntie Prudence's remains, usually just bones, would then be pushed out of the casket via the open foot end and then would drop into the pit that was below each crypt, once there, Auntie Prudence would be taken into the earth naturally by Mother Nature over the years.
This particular crypt is in decay, most likely because the family who shares this plot have moved on to another area in the country and economics being what they are currently, they can afford to buried elsewhere.

neglect and nature
Originally uploaded by S'mee.

In this photo, you can see that neglect has exposed this crypt (in the center rear) to the elements and decay has set in, almost to the point where total reconstruction will need to take place. The crypt held three tombs. What we are viewing in this photo is the back of the tomb where much of the "work" was accomplished. It is a good photo in that it shows the extra length in the crypt and the construction that allows the process to happen. You can see the roof line, then a dark rectangular piece; that dark rectangle is actually and open part of the tomb, exposing the inner area of the top tomb. Broken and tumbling bricks are falling over due to gravity and into the area built to accommodate the falling bones. Exposure to the weather has evidently filled the open spaces of this crypt with enough soil, debris, etc, that plants are now filling the space. Although, in my limited knowledge, I think this would happen rather easily if not constantly maintained as we saw many city buildings that had ferns just growing into the exterior walls - many of them several stories up. Finding a crack in a wall is all it takes for a seed to find its' new home.

Also in this photo is a great example of a family plot whose finances were meager. Saying that, I somehow think this is where my family would have been buried. Perhaps in the old south this was a poor person, maybe today it would be the lower middle class? This is a ground level crypt. It has the cement borders and the tomb on the left still has the cement casing on the top. The wrought iron fence was there to show respect, but also to keep animals and visitors from walking on the crypt in an attempt to preserve the structure. Due to the level of the tombs, more than likely the caskets would have deteriorated right along with the body and sunk into the earth at a rapid rate.

The poor were left to rent community crypts. Essentially these were made of brick and usually made as the structure that surrounded the cemetery, looking like a tall, wide and thick brick wall. The front of the community crypts were built similar to the others with a false front and labeling system for identification. These crypts could also be rented for a one year (or more if needed) period by families whose plot was filled, but not legally able to be opened and rearranged to accommodate the new dead. Let's say Auntie Prudence was buried on May 24, 1823. She took her place in the vault. One more space was available and then Uncle Cleatus died two days later on May 26, 1823. Uncle Cleatus would take the last available space. Now because all the spaces are filled the family would hope no one would die until May 25 of 1824. Knowing that Gramma Jed had died earlier that same year, January 10, 1823 his space would become available on January 11, 1824 but he cannot be disturbed for 365 days. So when Gramma Edwina died May 30, 1823 she would have no where to go except the rental crypt. She also would have to stay there for the required 365 days; so if someone dies after her, say on February 28, 1824 they could slip in the family crypt BEFORE Gramma Edwina, because the Grampa could then be removed and she take his place for free. This would leave Edwina waiting for another available tomb in the family plot, extending her stay with the "undesirables" in the city plot.

nature finds a way
Originally uploaded by S'mee.

This is a photo that explains just what Nature is capable of. The arches on the bottom of the photo are actually the top of the tombs' "headstone"s, showing that this land has sunk considerably since the time of construction. The guide here told listeners that this area sank at the level of 1 inch annually. These tombs' headstones were originally at average eye level for an easy identification. Nature finds a way of recovering what is hers.

His name was Mike.

He had been highly educated at one time, "with several degrees from a university"; and in the mid-70's fell into drug abuse. He lost his family and career.

The local diner owner said she would feed him when ever he came in, although she would not serve the others who came in for hand outs. "Mike was different. He felt he liked this lifestyle. He needed to be alone. He was safe and a nice old man."

The grocery clerk said "he was a regular and the nicest man. He would never have hurt anyone."

Another homeless man named, Louie, said, "He was my friend. He was everyone's friend. Just last week he gave me his last dollar. He did that a lot for us guys." Louie also said, "last week some guys tried to take his check, there was a scuffle, but they didn't get it. He gave it to us."

The police report said, "he was asleep when he was attacked and didn't have much opportunity to save himself. He died just outside the children's church, curled up in a fetal position."

Mike. Perhaps he didn't know it last week, but he had friends.

Helaman 13:37

I read a post and all the comments over at The Baron of Deseret a few days ago regarding ambulances and fences. I have pondered many things after reading it. Today, as things sometimes happen, this random reading came back to my mind and with quite an impact.

This morning (at 7:00) I received a call from our Bishop's wife, a good friend of mine. She was asking if I knew anything about the incident that had happened down at out church. I live closer by and my #5 still goes to seminary...

The long story short is that sometime very early this morning a person down at the church called 911 and reported that a body was in the parking lot and had been obviously beaten, perhaps even unto death. Providence being what it is, there was no seminary this morning. I am still in hopes that the person who called was not an ill informed student who came and made the discovery.

My sister in law happened to go down to the church unknowingly and found the entire property surrounded by yellow tape and inquired of the officers there what was going on and what had happened. Although the details are not "on the record" yet, and a 8-10 hour investigation is still in the workings, the unofficial report is that "the older homeless gentleman who frequents our property had been beat beyond recognition sometime very late last night and possibly died from his beating."

My mind is having a hard time wrapping around this information. Our building is situated such that it is very inviting to anyone whom would like to take refuge from the elements or society. There are plenty of places to hide oneself; even while the building is in full use one can hide within 6 feet of doors and stay quietly unnoticed for days. Our facility has, on numerous occasions, had people use it as their safe place and once we even had an entire family hiding within the wind breaks and sheltered architectural structures.

When it has been necessary, dual priesthood holders would give gentle invitations for folks to "move on" or more stern requests to leave the property as soon as possible. There was an incident one YW/AP evening when a gentlemen relieved himself on one of the posts and was escorted immediately from the property. About 8 months ago a homeless women left in such a hurry that she left most of her belongings strewn around the less used entrance, but without incident. Never have we had an event that would have caused anyone alarm or fear.

Since the building was opened it has been the target of vandals, break ins and larceny. But our church is not alone, it seems every church in our valley has been a target at some time or the other - almost on a rotating basis. The bad guys are no longer afraid of God.

The neighborhood near our church building has increasingly been a haven for the homeless. They are seen in full view laying on sidewalks in front of the local grocery mart and other structures late at night, some setting up house keeping at dusk. Both the church and the grocery mart are on or close to the intersection of the two most prominent streets in our town. Did I mention that the local high school is also at this same intersection?

My point is this: The bad guys are no longer afraid of God, traffic, population, or the law enforcement that frequent this intersection. It is agreed that having the homeless camp out at the church was probably not the best solution, nor what the church would endorse. I think our unofficial stance was, "As long as they aren't "present" during church activities, let it go." I don't think the homeless were ever suspects for the break ins or vandalism, they did no harm other than un-nerving a few folks.

This old man had nothing to offer. Who would approach him and what would they gain from accosting him? My greatest fear is that the only thing he had to offer was an adrenaline rush at seeing someone's life diminish before their eyes and knowing they were the cause of another human's death.

I am mourning a man I never knew. And the mourning has quite a sting for I feel perhaps there was something better we, as a society need to be doing.

5:00 edition: Bishop's wife just called and the official statement say this elderly man was bitten and beat until dead on the property.

Mister Rogers

Every once in a while you come across a post, or a comment that makes you sit up and reread it. The following is one that did that for me. Following the passing of Mr. Rogers, a thread began on
MetaFilter, analyzing the personality of Fred Rogers. Some of the comments were nostalgic, some were cynical, some were a comment, not only on Mr. Rogers, but our society.

There are some misspellings, and some terms and words that I don't approve of, but all in all, I believe that "Pastabagel" has said something important.

You know, it's quite a strange thing. The single most common adjective applied to Mister Rogers in this and other thread is the word 'creepy'?

I think I know why he strikes people as creepy. It's because his isn't at all 'cool'. There is no cynicism, no irony, no condescension in him at all. He is not simply unhip, he is ahip. And this is what people calling him creepy are picking up on.

We are conditioned to traffic in cool. You have to look cool, not look nice or distinguished or presentable, but cool. But it's all so generic. Everyone seems to have the same new haircut that no one 5 years ago had. We all have the same cynical politics.

Something about the counterculture from the 60's is still with us but it has been co-opted into a form of synchronized periodic obsolescence and mockery of that which came before. There is something fundamentally anti-intellectual about this, but I can't quite articulate it. There some element of arrogance there. Like everyone is perpetually 18.

Cool is America's code, and I really do think this is an American problem, because cool is propagated mainly though mass media, and there is no greater media saturated culture on earth than America's. Will I look cool wearing this? Will I sound cool saying this, or reading this or doing this. We're committing mass murder in other parts of the world because somebody figured out how to make violence cool and tough-talk politics cool, and then they combined the too. Swagger is cool. Cowboys and fighter jets and JDAMs and war porn are cool. So that's what we have. We are the Kingdom of Whatever.

Of course he hated ad-libbing on camera, because ad-libbing on camera is inexcusably lazy. It's what you do so you don't have to write or rehearse. Actors and comedians and musicians improvise as a way of living within a moment that is in some way artificial. A method actor may improvise because he is trying to become the character, but he isn't the character to begin with. A Jazz musician improvises because while the structure and the changes are the same, and the audience is familiar with them, the particular moment of performance is not, and that has it's own emotional context.

Mister Rogers was the same guy, so why improvise? The show wasn't about his character, it was about the kids, os you have to work out ahead of time how best to communicate with the child viewers. Everything was planned.

He talks slowly not because kids are dumb but because as studies have shown, children's brains are considerably more active than adults', and they need time to return to the original thought communicated to them after branching off in multitudinous directions.

The puppets? Puppets are good because they are considerably smaller than the human actors around them, and thus kids perceive them as safe. They look like toys. Contrast this with a giant seven foot all yellow bird, and ask yourself which inspired more nightmares.

The show is glacially paced and had the same structure with the same things happening in the same order because children respond to structure and routine is a source of comfort, particularly in children whose lives were anything but predictable.

Maybe that's what cool is - withdrawing from the context of one's life into an artificial one, in which the cool perceives itself to be somehow outside of reality, looking in and commenting on it. But this isn't insight, it's not reflecting on the world. It's standing at the edge of the world sniping into it.

Mister Rogers isn't creepy. CSI with is gruesome bloody corpses every Thursday at promptly 9:14 EST is creepy. Thirty million people looking at that and snaking on chips while they watch is creepy.

Listening to some rapper sing about his genitals and sexual conquests is creepy. Approach crowds of people and talk to them about the aroused state of your genitals, and watch how quickly you end up in a squad car. But somehow it's ok on TV because...why exactly?

Watching a war unfold on television in near real time is beyond creepy. It is obscene. You watch people screaming over their dead loved ones, and then you turn it off and go have dinner, or go to bed? No empathy, no revulsion. What the hell kind of civilization is this?

You know, I watched some 9-11 footage on youtube the other day (because I'm a masochist, apparently), and it occured to me that in the 6 years since it happened, I've never once heard anyone say "I'm sorry for those people who are so consumed by hate for people they've never met and places they've never been. What can we do to lift that burden from them?"

Because that isn't cool. That's being a pussy (or a fag if you are on FreeRepublic). There's no posture to be struck there, no pose. It's something that has to be done in earnest, and that's what's been lacking in the American culture.

Think about the Pope, entering the cell to confront his assassin. He forgave him, we all know that. But can you imagine the conversation? Can you imagine either someone being so perceptive that they can reach into a perfect stranger and expose their soul, or someone whose personality is so shallow that their emotions or ideologies are so shallow that any attempt to probe their depth displaces them entirely?

Mr. Rogers may have been the last earnest man.
posted by Pastabagel, on June 1,2007 at Metafilter