Monday, June 22, 2015

23 JUN 65

A day that shall live in and delight!
On this date, I met the man I was to eventually marry, on the boardwalk at  Seaside Heights, NJ.
This photo was taken years later, about 2011.

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Out of the depths of my past

This is a photo of the combined kindergarten classes of Mrs. VanWinkle from Pierce School, 1955. I don't know where Sandy got it, but we're both in there, along with so many others. I can pick out maybe half of them...we have all changed. 
I am the last person in the bottom right...leader of the band.
Sandy is the second from the left on the middle row.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

10 only

What if some totally misguided authority declared that each individual could only have ten people they could love? These people would have to be named to a semi-permanent list and the names could only be updated, say, once a year?

We're talking dystopia for sure, but aren't all futures possible?

I don't know what made me think of this, but it's just one of those things that comes up as I am unable to sleep.
And I had to think of ten people, just to satisfy the non-existent rule.

Immediate family= 3

That puts me down to six left. I have two brothers who are married and have two children apiece. Already I'm over ten and that's not including spouses. No room for them all if I cut and cut.
I figure these would be my people. The other relatives would have to take care of themselves, making sure that everybody was loved and/or cared for.

But where does that leave friends?
I have lots of friends that I truly love and would want to include them somehow. Yes, their own could take care of them, but I'd want them on some sort of reserve list. If I had to wait for someone to pass on or for me to want to exclude them from my yearly list, that might make room for others, but not those I wish I could include.

When we got married, my parents wanted some sort of wedding. Mom drew up a list of people she'd invite and while most of them were lovely, others I did not want to invite. I didn't want a big deal; I wanted something intimate, quick and painless. No big party. No bunches of people eating chicken and complaining about the cake. When I proposed having Chinese food for a few friends, that didn't go over well at all.

I'm not a big to-do type. Not unless it would be for my coronation, and we all know that ain't gonna happen.

So, go ahead. Try to limit yourself to the ten people you would hold most dear.
It ain't easy.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Dead men tell no truth

How does one go about writing a eulogy for a shit?
A person more despised than adored?

I've noticed that, recently, it has been a custom to deliver some sort of individual speech at a viewing or funeral for a deceased person. If you care enough to attend the viewing or funeral or both, you ought to have something to say. I can't imagine standing before a group and telling them what a jerk or bitch you thought the deader was. But to tell the complete truth in this instance would be falsifying evidence.
So, you are left with half truths and kindly words meant to ease the pain of those this body has left behind--even if they thought the deader was a skunk who has left them better off for passing.

If called upon, I would suggest some sort of vague excuses for not really knowing the person, but knowing what kind of person he/she was. Considerate, a joiner, loyal to causes, veteran, hard-working, devoted to the family...that sort of hogwash. One would not talk about negative things here. Speak only good of the dead.

I'd go further back. "God doesn't make junk." How the person came into the world, all innocent, pure of thought and action--what happened later was the choice of the individual or circumstances beyond anyone's control. Burying Caesar, not really praising him. Leaving the eulogy up to God and anyone who would tell the truth about how much of a shit the deceased actually was.

God made the person perfect. Made the mistake, perhaps, of gifting a human with free will. In that way, what God did wasn't a mistake, but what the poor soul chose to do with life was totally up to them. Good or ill. Kind or...not kind.

I write this because some day I will die. I would hope those burying me would have better things to say than "she was a real shit".