looking back

I was chatting with a few of my residents this morning . A few laughs , a couple of wistful smiles remembering days gone by. Their reminiscing got me to thinking about summer and the get togethers my grandparents would have at their home . One particular summer my mother was going through a committal in a facility and my brother and I were just too young to be left alone all day while my dad was working. So we would stay with my grandparents . It was this summer that my grandmother allowed me to help her in the kitchen . This was quite a big deal for me as usually grandmom and poppop had other chores for us around the house ... Weeding and picking up crab apples out of the yard . The first dish ever she taught me was macaroni salad . Now mind you I had been cooking at on my own for quite a while . But actually helping in her kitchen made me feel so much more grown up. at the time it seemed alot less significant then but in looking back it seems like one of the most pivotal moments in my life . standing in her kitchen which back then was alot bigger than it actually is . Not doing anything more than mixing macaroni and mayo in a bowl while she added all the vital ingredients . actually looking back I did alot of mixing. My grandparents were the masters of making menial labor fun for children. But they certainly got their money's worth out of us grand kids

scary but a small victory just the same.

I was making my izze famous mock crab cakes for my lunch tomorrow... don't be impressed  they are just zucchini pancakes with old bay in them . as I was slaving over the frying pan , I carelessly leaned forward and singed the inside of my arm on the edge of the hot pan.  A familiar sensation ran through me. the hot sting of the burn , the electric dance of the butterflies in my tummy , the familiar elating  rush of endorphins. I won't lie as a self-injurer this careless accident hurt good. but It was the first time I seemed like I was looking in from  the outside  on the moment. It made me think back on all my other incidents. My need to relieve the emotional pain with a physical act. I haven't actively hurt myself in a year. Which is a victory for me. Today just made me keenly aware of my affliction.  made me realize I am becoming a stronger individual . I am no longer a jelly fish bobbing in the current.. I am a goofy swimming crab swimming against the tide of my life . I have an exoskeleton !

150th anniversary of an iconic song... my moment.

the sound of taps played on a bugle or trumpet  signals the end of a day , or the end of a life... at least for the last century and a half. Last Saturday I had my most recent moment with the song . Join me as I recall the end of the anniversary celebration of Taps  at Arlington National Cemetery.  The culmination of this event was over 200 buglers and trumpeters playing Taps in unison at Noon. the plan was that no matter where you were in the cemetery on that day you would be able to hear the song played.

As my spot for this event  I chose a bench in the hedge enclosed grove which once marked the center of Mary Custis -Lee's  prized rose garden . In the center of this grove is a large granite monument and beneath it in a masonry vault rest the remains of 2111 union and confederate unknowns from the Battle of Bull run and along the route to Rappahannock. 

as the moment drew near a bugler and a trumpeter dressed in garb representing the civil war stood at the ready in front of the memorial. the gentlemen saluted each other , then then the monument.... just as the gentle murmur of taps began to play . melding with the sounds of tourists feet crunching on the gravel paths around Arlington house. the strident chords began to swell as other musicians joined the moment ... its sounds drifting through the gentle swish of the hedges around us ... the birds chirping their own notes along with the song . a gentle breeze wafted through the bushes bringing yet more buglers playing the song as everyone's version of noon came upon them
. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the sun ...  all i could see was the red gold light filtering through my eyelids ... as i breathed deeply the scent of brackish water from the tidal basin mingling with the freshly mowed  grasses and the earthy scent of the fertilizer and mulches being applied in the garden just steps near our grove... a jet cruised over head the sounds of its engines drowning out the echoing of the song coming to my ears in waves ... Just as the engines faded the bugler in the grove began to play as his noon struck his watch ... I shivered as the tones echoed off the granite tomb ... mixing with the other musicians in the hills and valleys of the cemetery ..  thousands of souls and stories rising up to the sound of the song ...as the last of the bugler's notes sounded into the air ... the trumpeter began .. each note gently melding into the next joining in the air with the other players in the cemetery .... as his last notes floated over the grove .. i opened my eyes .... and smiled ... a moment 150 years in the making ... honoring thousands of men and women ... as perfect as anything I could have imagined...  I got up from the bench and exited the grove .. leaving behind the 2000 men who rested there .. as the last of the musicians notes faded into the stones ....

Musing on the way to an appointment

Large trees in urban settings fascinate me. If you were to sit and ponder the life spam of any plant in any environment ... Let alone one that dwells in a city . Between urban sprawl and unchecked pestilence , weather wrath and other urban hazards . These rare plants outlast most of what is around them. The tree that struck me today ( haha not literally) could easily have been 100 or so years old . It is rooted to a spot that has seen amazing changes in the last century .. From being a tuberculosis hospital, an asylum for the insane and feeble minded.. To a sprawling modern medical campus . And there the tree stands undisturbed . Kind of a neat thought for a Thursday

my review of the John Cusack movie The Raven. (possible spoilers)

Last night I ventured to the Lowe's cinema for the 7:50 showing of The Raven.. starring John Cusack and Luke Evans ..  Cusack as Poe and Evans as inspector fields of the Baltimore city police....The general plot is that a serial killer is using Poe's macabre stories as inspiration. that plot seemed amusing enough to me as a fan of both suspense movies and Poe. Unfortunately for me , I forgot to suspend disbelief and my knowledge of history of Poe and of ol baltimore . The movie played a little loose with the legit facts of ol' edgar's life and for that reason alone I could not lose myself in the film. Cusack did an admirable job portraying Poe .. I only wish the writers would have given him more of a chance to be the Poe of historical note and not a two dimensional character playing off a stiff and bland Evans as Inspector Fields... If you decide to see The Raven... Suspend your knowledge and disbelief ... And enjoy the story
You will have a far better time

a page from my journal

The smooth  cool tile of the shower stall was a welcome counterpoint to the driving hot streams of water cascading against her neck and back . She stood there letting the steam , heat and water wash away the fog inside her head. Slowly she was coming back to herself, breaching the surface of the night's events . With a small exhale and a shiver despite the warmth of the shower she could still taste him on her lips , the could still feel his touch on her skin , the feel of him inside her.  The haze of lust and the exhilaration of the forbidden was clinging to her like gossamer threads of silk . The first cold fingers of reality began to claw at her mind and soul as the florescent bathroom light buzzed over head and made her close her eyes against its  brightness .. intruding through the shower curtain. Regret , shame .. the truth began to mingle in her mind as the water began to cool and the steam abate... Fuzzy moments slowly coming into focus ..grabbing the soap to scrub away his scent , his touch ... her emotions...  "conquest" she murmured  to herself .. then let a cynical chuckle escape her throat as she ran her finger gingerly across a bruise on her thigh ... the soreness bringing her completely back to herself.  Stepping out  of the shower .. wrapping her hair in a towel and easing into a bathrobe .. she  says to her barely visable reflection .. "Next time .. next time it will be different".

Cold weather jolted the corners of my mind

As I sat freezing on the bus stop this fine spring morning . I was looking up the hill at the elementary school on the next block. In my mind I flashed back to my days there in kindergarten. I had no wavy lines or tinkling chimes to signal the trip .. Just the frigid nip of an abnormal spring nor'easter.

It snowed at the end of April the year my brother was born. I was in kindergarten and it was the day my mom and brother came home from the hospital. I suppose it was almost as  good as bringing a puppy to show and tell ; my mom and dad brought my new baby brother to school to pick me up after class. It had been a cold spring and the trees bloomed late. As we got into my dad's dodge van it began to snow giant , wet, fat flakes. I remember my dad pushing me  into the van as I looked up into the sky letting the flakes leave wet stinging across my face. As I sat on the floor of the van ( no seat belts or even a seat ... just sitting on the floor) . I looked out the windshield at the park at the bottom of the hill . Thinking to myself how pretty the frilly blossomed trees looked against the gray sky and the giant snowflakes.