Who remembers the forgotten: the white bicycles that fade in the sun; the crosses and plastic flowers, whose visitors appear on Sundays after church; the dogs and cats left bloating in the sun; living room and bedroom remnants, tossed in the dark? Who remembers the forgotten: the nowhere people who haunt fields and washes, had jobs, or maybe not, and have nowhere to go; those who seek handouts and create sad stories to part other folks from their cash? Who remembers the forgotten: until they too join the ranks? Have you ever seen someone dealing with homelessness and wanted to…
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Marvin wasn\’t ever late. He seemed to grumble more than ever at the notion of lateness. Maybe it was his Air Force training, who knows.I went to Marvin\’s funeral today.This post might make you sad if conversations about life, death, and all that do so. Not that such is my intention, but that\’s how it goes sometimes.I am weary of Death as it has been visiting more and more these last several years. Or maybe it is as ever-present as always — the statistics say that every second, a zillion people, animals, and slithering things die, right? — and I…
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When Madness dropped the song from which the title of this post came, I quickly made my way to the nearest vinyl emporium (where are my Rio Mall nerds? I know you\’re out there) and purchased the 45 RPM. I played it until I wore the grooves off. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmezIIrFQmYYou\’re welcome for that pleasurable little jaunt down musical memory lane. And if you were uninitiated to the fabulousness of Madness, you\’re also welcome.But I digress.If you\’ve been following along lately, you have probably noticed that I have been on an anime kick. It\’s Amazon\’s fault, with their 30-day trial of Prime. I…
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I once heard or saw or read a thing … for me, the three are often one and the same.The thing was that humans (and other animals as well) use pheromones for attraction. To bring it down to basics, a person might smell pleasant, smell unpleasant, or seem to have no noticable natural scent. If he or she smells good, chances are there is some level of compatibility.My Christopher indulged me, allowing me to smell his flesh. I would firmly plant my nostrils against his bicep, shoulder, or upper back (I was partial to his neck but he was too…
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I\’m watching this very thought-provoking anime called Shigofumi.A Shigofumi is, as the English titling suggests, a letter from the dead. In the story (no spoilers!), the young woman pictured above is the person who delivers such post; when a person dies, he or she is given the opportunity to write a letter and this woman delivers it to its intended living recipient.I\’ve only watched a few episodes (three from Season 1 as of this writing) and there was a line that struck me. I can\’t remember it exactly, but it was something like \’Death doesn\’t save a person. It makes…
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The man seemed happy and grateful. \’There\’s a lot of homeless people,\’ he said as he waved his hand. \’I can share with all of them.\’I wiped a dusty wrist across my forehead and squinted into the sun. I had just given away my Christopher\’s clothes to two men. This one who had unburdened me of the bags and one large tote was not known to me but he bunked with the man I do know, who had gone to the hospital a few hours earlier. I imagine that Christopher would approve of me giving his things to these men,…
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I may have mentioned that I\’m presently reading Hearts of Fire. The stories of eight women in underground churches in different parts of the world is amazing. I received it last year but had not opened a single page until last week. I was part-way through Gladys\’ story about how her husband and two sons were martyred for their faith when I lost it.Prior to my er, moment, I had been commiserating with myself about a housing repair I need to do. I am without the funds presently to take care of this issue and woke up, wondering how I…
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When someone Leaves for the Great Beyond, those remaining must begin, at some point, to pick up the pieces.Of everything:Shards of broken heart.Bits of memories that randomly flutter in like leaves.Tears that fall intermittently like Southern California rain.And then there is the cleaning, the removal of papers, clothes, and various bric-a-brac that no longer fit the remains of the life Left. I\’ve been making my way through our house — it will always be our house — and the space that requires the greatest elbow grease is the garage. So the story goes, this was the model home for the…
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It\’s strange to get a letter in the post labeled \’To the Estate of\’. They typically come along and require some sort of action or information.The first one I received sat, face down, for about two weeks. Yesterday I opened it again and called the number inside. The person on the other end, a very gentle-voiced man in the Estates Department (who knew there was such a thing?) offered his condolences for my loss.\’My loss\’: what an interesting turn of a phrase to describe the forced separation I am currently enduring.It\’s like the folks who see me and say, \’How…
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I popped into a convenience store the other day, desiring something sweet. Chocolate, I figured, would take care of the problem.Chocolate almost always works.I looked up and down at all the neatly lined boxes and tried to get excited about something. Anything.I paused at the Caramellos, one of my all-time favorites: they were on a twofer. However, my stomach lurched instead of growled at the possibility. It\’s not the first time of late.When my Christopher left, he took some of my appetites with him. He used to buy me Caramellos when he went to the store sometimes because he knew…