Sunday, March 31, 2019
“Here he is. You tell him,” I heard as I returned to my friend’s grieving household.
Nothing else to be said: his wife passed five minutes ago and grief over her acute illness and imminent passing has turned into bereavement, the aftermath of grieving, accepting and coping.
One step at a time.
We walk into the room to see the lifeless body of someone we’ve known for sixty plus years.
Someone lovely then.
With the travails of the illness attacking so much of her body?
Lovely. By any measure. Lovely.
Almost miraculous if you’re so disposed.
Our response to the death does not rely on religious belief or lack thereof.
We’re struck so severely it’s like receiving a body blow.
We respond to that, kneeling, spontaneously, bowing our heads, remembering our childhood, twelve-years old.
Sixty-five years ago.
In the playground with our new transistor radios playing Fats Domino, Ain’t that a Shame while we dance to it.
In the playground.
But not tonight, music.
Tonight is quiet time as we feel her passing; and grieve.
Too soon to weigh our losses.
Our lost April 14 dinner companion.
Our lost hostess of our gang’s annual all-in get together.
From fifty down to twenty.
None of us expecting that the countdown will stop here.
“Here they are. You tell them.”
Postings Count, Weather Brief, and Dinner
Sunday, March 31, 2019
My 359th consecutive posting, committed to 5,000.
After 359 posts we’re at the 7.18% mark of my commitment, the commitment a different way of marking the passage of time.
Time is 12.01am.
On Sunday Boston’s temperature will reach a high of 61* with a feels-like temperature of 57* with a light rain.
Dinner of Pork Tenderloin.
Chuckle of the Day
A middle-aged woman, speeding, gets pulled over.
Is there a problem, Officer?
Ma'am, you were speeding.
Oh, I see.
Can I see your license please?
I'd give it to you but I don't have one.
Don't have one?
Lost it, 4 years ago for drunk driving.
I see...Can I see your vehicle registration papers please.
I can't do that.
I stole this car.
Yes, and I killed and hacked up the owner.
His body parts are in plastic bags in the trunk if you want to see.
The Officer looks at the woman and slowly backs away to his car and calls for back up.
Within minutes 5 police cars circle the car.
A senior officer emerges and slowly approaches the car, clasping his half-drawn gun.
Officer 2: Ma'am, could you step out of your vehicle please! The woman steps out of her vehicle.
Is there a problem sir?
Officer2: One of my officers reports that you do not have a driving license.
The woman digs into her handbag and pulls out a clutch purse and hands it to the officer.
The officer examines the license. He looks puzzled.
Officer2: Is this your car, ma'am?
Officer 2: May I see your registration?
The woman returns to the car, reaches into the glove compartment, and emerges, handing the officer a packet.
Here are the registration papers, she says. Any other problem?
Officer2 reads the papers and turns to the original officer with a scowl, saying to the woman, One of my officers told me that you have stolen this car.
And murdered the owner.
Murdered the owner?
Officer2: Yes, could you please open the trunk of your car, please.
The woman opens the trunk: empty.
Officer2: Thank you ma'am. I don’t know what to say. One of my officers reports that you didn't have a license, that you stole this car, and that you murdered and hacked up the owner.
“Bet the liar told you I was speeding, too.”
Love your notes.
Contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org
This from Howard on the posting re: The Northeast Kingdom.
He sends it with the stipulation that this is prelude to something he will actually say at some indeterminate time:
I wanted to mention to you, at least, that you got my attention with your sudden interest in the Northeast Kingdom. I’m sure you don’t realize that TNK is our next door neighbor in New Hampshire. I started with some intent of fleshing out what I have no compunction telling you was the bare, if not altogether sterile, account of the Northeast Kingdom, being composed as it was of the lifeless data relating to the population and land areas of the salient loci that define that corner of the state.
But I find I just don’t have the energy at this moment.
Meanwhile I want to be sure that you are aware that you have given TNK short shrift, captured none of its qualities, which are neither as deserving as its mythic reputation, but of far greater merit than one can infer from the population of Lyndon, VT, never mind St. Johnsbury or Newport, which are far more interesting towns than Lyndon. And it will be important to point out that traversing the Northeast Kingdom can be as stultifying and languor inducing as a certain very long stretch of the autobahn in Germany that passes through a part of the Black Forest, which sounds kind of neat, but is boring boring boring…
Web Meister Responds: Can hardly wait. It’s sure to be wonderful when it comes.
Answer to the Question of the Day:
What is Death?
Death is the permanent cessation of all biological functions that sustain a living organism. Phenomena which commonly bring about death include aging, predation, malnutrition, disease, suicide, homicide, starvation, dehydration, and accidents or major trauma resulting in terminal injury.
In most cases, bodies of living organisms begin to decompose shortly after death.
Other concerns include fear of death, necrophobia, anxiety, sorrow, grief, emotional pain, depression, sympathy, compassion, solitude, or saudade.
Many cultures and religions have the idea of an afterlife, and also hold the idea of reward or judgement and punishment for past sin.
(Necrophobia: the irrational fear of dead things (e.g., corpses) as well as things associated with death (e.g., coffins, tombstones, funerals, cemeteries).
Saudade: a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves.)
Good Morning on this Sunday, the Thirty-First Day of March.
Today we talked about grief and bereavement.
About the weather, calendar, and dinner of Pork Tenderloins.
We posted a joke and a note from Howard.
And we asked and answered a question on death.
And now? Gotta go.
Che vuoi? Le pocketbook?
See you soon.