March 22: All it needs is a battery
I took a small wall clock from a downsizer's stash last Saturday. It was made in Great Britain, with a handsome red wood frame, and more elegant than my own TV room clock, which itself is a downsized clock, whose plastic pink looked appropriate in my grandfather's nursing home room. I asked about the British timepiece. "Does it work?" An innocuous question, I thought. "YES! All it needs is a battery." I took it home.
I pulled a battery from the clamshell and began to insert into the British clock. The entire plastic mechanism in the back of the clock dislodged and made the hands in the front of the clock spin. British hands spinning around, independently, willy nilly. The hour hand and the minute hand were slaves to the mechanism and had absolutely NO RESPECT for their function. Then I noticed that the plastic back of the clock was all chipped. Broken as if thrown against a wall. The clock, indeed, was absolutely WORTHLESS.
What did they know and when did they know it?
People to whom you've turned for truth and reality may live in magical thinking, having absolutely no grip on reality. Beware when a man over 80 tells you that all it needs is a battery.
March 26: How I Am
In a message dated 3/26/2010 6:04:53 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time, Susank@aol.com writes: how the hell are you? xx,s
Oh, I'm fine. Lots of allergies and colds and eye strain and stress, but then I remember another time in my life when I had decided to be happy and full of the love I knew existed within me. It's so easy to feel trapped by the ordinary and forget graciousness. I try to remember and take care.
Sometimes I say "I will," "I can," too quickly, too easily, and I get burned, caught between what I know to be right and good and then feeling resentful as a sucker fish. Sometimes I get so tired of the fight.
But then I think of another time in my life, when your friendship was there. Your spirit continues to move me through my life, and I thank you again! xxxxs
July 7: Susan K.
The body of my friend susan k. gave out today, just hours after her 69th birthday, in new york city. I had sent her a birthday card. We both are ending a decade. We should be there for the next. Forever yours, susan. You rock.
August 2-6: A Bird
I saw Susan K. this week, early in the week. I don't remember what day. It took me awhile to understand.
Wildlife is absent from the corporate woods in which I work. The roads are used to teach tractor trailer drivers and direct the elderly to their doctors' appointments. I walk the circle and kick the leaves from the road grates when I can. I am usually alone. I listen to books.
I was almost back to the building in which I work, when a bird landed on the guard rail. Unusual. It stared at me coming. Intense eyes. The top of its head was spiked black against the mown green grass. I approached, it stared, and time stopped. We looked at each other. It flew to the opposite side of the street, onto another guard rail further down the road. She was eager to go. She continued to watch me, as she had watched over me before. Nothing else was around. And then she was gone.
The moment of encounter lasted a week in my mind. So much was said. Be open to everything, she said. I didn't mean to die. You are alright, and so am I. Consciousness moves on to new systems. When trapped on earth, we jump to the excitement of the occasion. We make the occasion. Now is the time to explore other universes. Snapshots are exploding stars. The photographers from planet Earth send messages. The spirit never dies. Your friends are all around you. Goodbye.
October 18: Memorial
Lovers carry susan's ashes to her memorial service tonight, but I did not feel her present. The energy of her still-grieving friends released her spirit. She has become a part of so many people. When we die, we shall be released to know susan k. Until then, we shall pass her spirit onto others.
I met your sister. Your other family. I met your niece. I left before the eats and drinks, to catch the earlier train home alone.
November 6: Birthday
I need to learn HTML 5. I need to focus. I need to be selfish. I need to be generous. I need to close my life to distractions. I need to be open my life to opportunities. I need to feel less vulnerable. I need to brace myself for the inevitable. I need to be less needy.
But today is my birthday. Don't tell the Writer's Almanac just yet.