There is a man that I see about one out of every eight times I go to Borders (I go a lot). I noticed him because it's pretty clear that he is homeless and so there was a tug at my heart. He is an old man, and small. His hair has gone silver, his cheeks are gaunt, and the first time I remember seeing him, he was picking up trash from the ground outside and throwing it away. I remember thinking what a sad/sweet thing that was, for this man with no home to care about the upkeep of a public place where he spends a great deal of his time--he was cleaning his house, in a way. Another time I saw him, I was at a table with a friend of mine when he came in to buy some coffee and a bagel with a giftcard someone had given him. I had a moment of panic when there was a problem with his card. He excused himself to go wash up in the restroom while the clerk continued to try and get his card to swipe. I ran to the counter the second he was gone to make sure there was enough on his card to buy his dinner. I was dead broke, but determined to figure something out if I needed to step in. Luckily, the card starting working and he had plenty left on it. I quickly resumed my seat before the man came back. I was afraid if he knew my concern, it would embarass us both. From time to time, I have thought about that little man with the gray hair and black jacket. I have thought about him, and seen him, and debated whether I should try and talk with him sometime.
'Sometime' was Friday night.
I was exhausted and had been on a film set all day. I looked a little rough and was looking forward to a quick bite and then bed. I called Hungry Howie's from the road, ordered my dinner, and headed to Blockbuster to return my overdue movies and then to Hungry Howie's, next door. That's when I saw him: the homeless man. He was digging through the trashcan out front until he found a water bottle. I watched from my car as he washed his hands with the water left in the bottle and dried them on his shirt. Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car, dropped my DVDs in the return slot at Blockbuster, and reached into my purse for my hand sanitizer. I very timidly approached him and offered him the sanitizer, telling him he could keep it, that I had plenty. He thanked me, and I suddenly found myself asking him if he'd had dinner yet, and if not, would he join me for pizza? I always over order, I told him. A large is too much for one person. He took me up on it and so in we went, the man and I, to Hungry Howie's for cheese pizza.
About this time, I was feeling lots of things at once. Hunger, sure. Pity for the man, unease at the situation, and yes, just a bit nervous that he would do something crazy or dangerous. The man, whose name is Steve, has quite a story. He's remarkably well-read, retains a great deal of the knowledge he's gotten from books, and really likes to talk. We talked about classical Greek plays and the nuclear weapons race, we talked about Los Angeles (his home town and where I plan to move in a few months). We talked about Tallahassee and traveling and age (he's in his 60s) and music. And then I did it: I asked him how it was he came to be homeless. This is the point where the conversation took a VERY unexpected turn.
As it turns out, my homeless man (as I'd fondly begun to think of him) is not a very nice person. He's also made some pretty terrible choices in his life. In fact, and yes, this will sound judgemental to say, but he's a pretty bad guy. Without batting an eye, this mild mannered man who thirty minutes before wouldn't shake my hand because it wouldn't have been proper for him to touch a lady, began telling me about things like abandoning three children by two different wives because he never wanted the little bastards, as he put it. He told me how he served three years in jail in California for non-support of those kids. He told me about illegal Tijuana abortions and described to me in graphic terms what that meant and how that's why scrambled eggs are sometimes called Tijuana eggs. He left another woman because she refused to have one of these. He told me he hated working and only a stupid man would waste forty years at a job and that he'd been begging his way through life simply because he could. He told me about his 'beggar wife' as he called his most recent relationship, and how he used to smack her around a little but he'd break a man's face just for looking at her too long. He left her because she was cramping his style, whatever that means. He has no idea if his parents are still living, he last contacted them three years ago. He tried once to find his kids though his parents, but they wouldn't tell him where to find them because they knew he'd only contact them because he wanted money. "Well, what else would I want from the little bastards?" he'd asked, as if it were the most logical question in the universe.
I sat there for a good thirty minutes listening to him rant, asking qestions periodically, and becoming more and more distant from this person who only an hour before, I wanted to champion. I had wanted to find him a job and a house and give him money and a chance and in my Pollyanna brain, it was all going to work out fine. He was just down on his luck, that's all. Something tragic and horrible had happened to him and he just needed a helping hand. But that was before. By this point, I was hard pressed to keep my seat across from the man without smacking him a good one. Finally, when he finished his rant about religion and churches in general and the Catholic church in particular, I broke in. Very quietly, I said "Steve, I'm Catholic." He didn't miss a beat. He just told me that I was a regular idiot and had no clout since I wasn't a nun and couldn't be a priest. I didn't even know what that meant, but frankly, I'd had it.
I put my hand up to end the ranting. I had a few things I wanted to say. I made myself stay calm and keep my voice kind, and then I let loose. I told him that he'd made some pretty terrible choices in his life. I told him what he did to his children was awful and that my father died when I was nine and every day I wish he could have been there to watch me grow up. I told him that he DID have a chance to be there for his kids and should be ashamed that he wasn't. Fine if you didn't want them, I said, but it's a crappy thing to not even make sure they can eat. I can't hold the women you've left against you because frankly, they were grown and should have been able to see who you were for themselves. As for the begging, I suppose it's a good thing that so many other people didn't mind working boring jobs for 40 years and it's very fortunate for you that at least some of them had good hearts and didn't mind sharing what they'd worked for with you. It's just a pity, I said, that there are so many people out there with legitimate disabilities who can't work and would love the chance to, who aren't faring nearly as well as you seem to be. I'm sad for you, Steve, that your heart is so hardened that you don't care that you're alone and that you don't care if your parents are even still alive. I sat down with you expecting another story entirely, and to be honest, the one you tell is hard and bitter and I almost wish I hadn't hear it.
I stood to go, still struggling to be cordial. I insisted he take the leftover pizza. I told him it was nice to meet him and I'd likely see him around. And then remorse pierced my heart, and the guilt came. For all of what I'd heard, Steve was still a person, and lost, and unarguably living a hard life. I turned to look at him as I held the door. "Hey Steve. You know you've messed up, man. You've made some really crappy choices and I can't say I'll ever understand them, but the thing is, even though made your thoughts on the subject really clear, I just want to tell you that no matter what happened before or will happen in the future, Jesus really does love you, man." It was the best and only truth I could give him. My compassion was not as it should have been.
I got in my car feeling like I failed him. And he failed me. And neither of us got what we were expecting.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, I saw Steve in the rearview mirror. He was throwing away the pizza.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Awesome Dream
This has taken me WAY too long to post, but better late than never.
I had this fabulous dream one night. There is a place in Tallahassee called Lake Ella where I like to go walking. It's got a paved sidewalk around it, a little gazebo in the middle, and more ducks than there probably should be, considering the massive amounts of poop on the aforementioned sidewalk.
Anyway, in the dream, I was walking around Lake Ella and praying the Rosary (which is incredibly peaceful, by the way). My favorite Rosary is made of these gorgeous light green crystal beads, and it was the one I had in the dream. I was feeling very happy and peeaceful and then I began to run into people from my life. First, I met my dad. He was sitting at a picnic table. The cool thing was, he wasn't my dad as I remembered him in my little girl mind. He was my dad as I imagine he would have been now, and we had a great chat. Then I walked on.
Suddenly, a ball bounced past me and headed for the street. I noticed in a split second that there were two kids chasing it toward the road. I lunged and cought the ball and hopped in front of the kids. They were adorable, but familiar looking somehow. I returned their ball and told them to be careful. Just then, my best bud Ryan walked up, only he was about ten years older. He put a hand on the shoulder of each kid, one boy (about 7) and a little girl (maybe 5ish). They were his children, and they were beautiful. I walked on.
On and on this went, running into people from my life, and it was so gratifying to see them in various stages of their lives, happy and hopeful. I saw Jill and Kimberly, Devin, Mike, Steve, Stormy......so people I have loved, still love, and who matter.
and there was peace.
Suddenly, I looked down and my heart lurched. My Rosary was broken! How? When?! My frantic eyes scanned the ground, looking for my beautiful crystal beads. It was then that I saw them; they had scattered themselves at the feet of my loved ones.
My prayers, paving the way for their steps. Our lives, bound in love.
My heart broke, but a good break. The kind of break where your heart is so full of love that it doesn't have room for all of it. With a smile on my face, I walked on.
I had this fabulous dream one night. There is a place in Tallahassee called Lake Ella where I like to go walking. It's got a paved sidewalk around it, a little gazebo in the middle, and more ducks than there probably should be, considering the massive amounts of poop on the aforementioned sidewalk.
Anyway, in the dream, I was walking around Lake Ella and praying the Rosary (which is incredibly peaceful, by the way). My favorite Rosary is made of these gorgeous light green crystal beads, and it was the one I had in the dream. I was feeling very happy and peeaceful and then I began to run into people from my life. First, I met my dad. He was sitting at a picnic table. The cool thing was, he wasn't my dad as I remembered him in my little girl mind. He was my dad as I imagine he would have been now, and we had a great chat. Then I walked on.
Suddenly, a ball bounced past me and headed for the street. I noticed in a split second that there were two kids chasing it toward the road. I lunged and cought the ball and hopped in front of the kids. They were adorable, but familiar looking somehow. I returned their ball and told them to be careful. Just then, my best bud Ryan walked up, only he was about ten years older. He put a hand on the shoulder of each kid, one boy (about 7) and a little girl (maybe 5ish). They were his children, and they were beautiful. I walked on.
On and on this went, running into people from my life, and it was so gratifying to see them in various stages of their lives, happy and hopeful. I saw Jill and Kimberly, Devin, Mike, Steve, Stormy......so people I have loved, still love, and who matter.
and there was peace.
Suddenly, I looked down and my heart lurched. My Rosary was broken! How? When?! My frantic eyes scanned the ground, looking for my beautiful crystal beads. It was then that I saw them; they had scattered themselves at the feet of my loved ones.
My prayers, paving the way for their steps. Our lives, bound in love.
My heart broke, but a good break. The kind of break where your heart is so full of love that it doesn't have room for all of it. With a smile on my face, I walked on.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I'm calling it.....Cute Underwear Syndrome
Okay, my ladies, I KNOW you will feel me on this:
Have you ever not been having a great day/week/month and so you decide in your infinite widsom....."I need expensive, cute underwear. I must buy it NOW and wear it!"
Now, for any guys who might be reading this: YES, girls do this. YES, it works to fix our mood. YES, we like to picture you seeing us in aforementioned cute underwear. It's empowering. A definite mood fixer.
So where am I going with this?
Have you ever purchased your sexy undies, put them on, strutted around proudly, and then BAM...two hours into your fabulous day, the undies start creeping? Or rolling? Or just generally becoming LESS than sexy? Of course you have. It's happened to us all. How disappointing, right? All you wanted was one friggin good day, right? Victoria's Secret was cheaper than finding a street pharmacist with some Vicodin, right? So at the end of the day, you almost feel worse because now you're broke, your undies are in your ass, and you're back to square one.
Well, I think that sometimes this happens to us with friends, too. We meet someone who is new and exciting and not connected to our immediate circle of friends and we're excited! We try them on......we strut around....we bend, we flex, we enjoy, until BAM!
Underwear in our asses.
Sometimes I just want to look at people and say "You know, you were cool when I saw you on the rack......but you gotta get outta my ass!"
Have you ever not been having a great day/week/month and so you decide in your infinite widsom....."I need expensive, cute underwear. I must buy it NOW and wear it!"
Now, for any guys who might be reading this: YES, girls do this. YES, it works to fix our mood. YES, we like to picture you seeing us in aforementioned cute underwear. It's empowering. A definite mood fixer.
So where am I going with this?
Have you ever purchased your sexy undies, put them on, strutted around proudly, and then BAM...two hours into your fabulous day, the undies start creeping? Or rolling? Or just generally becoming LESS than sexy? Of course you have. It's happened to us all. How disappointing, right? All you wanted was one friggin good day, right? Victoria's Secret was cheaper than finding a street pharmacist with some Vicodin, right? So at the end of the day, you almost feel worse because now you're broke, your undies are in your ass, and you're back to square one.
Well, I think that sometimes this happens to us with friends, too. We meet someone who is new and exciting and not connected to our immediate circle of friends and we're excited! We try them on......we strut around....we bend, we flex, we enjoy, until BAM!
Underwear in our asses.
Sometimes I just want to look at people and say "You know, you were cool when I saw you on the rack......but you gotta get outta my ass!"
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Un-Feminist
I've actually had this discussion with several folks over the years: I am not a feminist.
Bold, I know. But while I love girl power and agree that women should certainly have equal rights to men and that we can do jobs and things just as competently, I very much acknowledge that there are gender roles. This is the 'un-feminist' part of me. I wholeheartedly believe that men and women were created with very different yet equally vital roles. This is not going to be a post about politics or religion, nobody panic. That's a blog for another day.
What I'm getting at is this:
Society wants to make me feel bad about the fact that I genuinely WANT to be taken care of. It's not that I'm incapable of doing it, I've been handling my own affairs quite nicely for some time now, thanks very much. I also spend a great deal of time caring for other people and I'm pretty damn good at that, too. But what I want is a man who cares for me and is capable of supporting me emotionally and even through little acts of kindness. *sigh* Okay, so here's the deal.
We went and watched Seven Pounds last night. It was me and two of my closest friends, who both happen to be guys. I don't want to post any movie spoilers, but let me just say this: there are two seemingly small things that Will Smith's character does for this one particular woman that are SO thoughtful but SO simple that it broke my heart with longing to be taken care of in that manner.
There is something so beautiful and right about people loving each other through the little things. For example, one of my favorite couples has this down to a pretty good science: she makes him lunch every day and takes care of the house and he fills the gap when she's not well or does cute little surprise things for her.
It speaks VOLUMES about a person's capacity to love and how well they know someone by how they handle the little things. And that's what I want. Unapologetically. I want to be taken care of in the little things.
So, end of sappy and less than eloquent blog. :-)
Bold, I know. But while I love girl power and agree that women should certainly have equal rights to men and that we can do jobs and things just as competently, I very much acknowledge that there are gender roles. This is the 'un-feminist' part of me. I wholeheartedly believe that men and women were created with very different yet equally vital roles. This is not going to be a post about politics or religion, nobody panic. That's a blog for another day.
What I'm getting at is this:
Society wants to make me feel bad about the fact that I genuinely WANT to be taken care of. It's not that I'm incapable of doing it, I've been handling my own affairs quite nicely for some time now, thanks very much. I also spend a great deal of time caring for other people and I'm pretty damn good at that, too. But what I want is a man who cares for me and is capable of supporting me emotionally and even through little acts of kindness. *sigh* Okay, so here's the deal.
We went and watched Seven Pounds last night. It was me and two of my closest friends, who both happen to be guys. I don't want to post any movie spoilers, but let me just say this: there are two seemingly small things that Will Smith's character does for this one particular woman that are SO thoughtful but SO simple that it broke my heart with longing to be taken care of in that manner.
There is something so beautiful and right about people loving each other through the little things. For example, one of my favorite couples has this down to a pretty good science: she makes him lunch every day and takes care of the house and he fills the gap when she's not well or does cute little surprise things for her.
It speaks VOLUMES about a person's capacity to love and how well they know someone by how they handle the little things. And that's what I want. Unapologetically. I want to be taken care of in the little things.
So, end of sappy and less than eloquent blog. :-)
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Musings on Mary Magdalene
Have you ever wondered about the very human, very female person of Mary Magdalene and how tangled up her heart must have been about Jesus?
A few years ago it really struck me (while watching Jesus Christ, Superstar! of all things) because of this rather brilliantly written song:
I don't know how to love him.
What to do, how to move him.
I've been changed, yes really changed.
In these past few days, when I've seen myself,
I seem like someone else.
I don't know how to take this.
I don't see why he moves me.
He's a man. He's just a man.
And I've had so many men before,
In very many ways,
He's just one more.
Should I bring him down?
Should I scream and shout?
Should I speak of love,
Let my feelings out?
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?
Don't you think it's rather funny,
I should be in this position.
I'm the one who's always been
So calm, so cool, no lover's fool,
Running every show.
He scares me so.
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?
Yet, if he said he loved me,
I'd be lost. I'd be frightened.
I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope.
I'd turn my head. I'd back away.
I wouldn't want to know.
He scares me so.
I want him so.
I love him so.
This song is so interesting to me because it really MUST be how she felt. I mean, this is a woman who had a PAST and had used and been used by more than her fair share of men. She had no way of knowing or believing right away that Jesus was who He said He was: the Christ, the Son of God. She must have been expecting Him to be like any other man in her experience. When she began to see and to be attracted to the God within Him, it had to have thrown her for a loop. She must have wanted to love him in the best and only way she knew how and it must have tangled her up inside to have to figure out how to love Jesus in a more appropriate and healthy way.
Any girl who has ever loved a boy who didn't love her back knows this drill. It hurts, and it embarasses, and it angers. It perplexes and casts doubt on who you are the beautiful heart within you. It bruises and tears. Now imagine that the boy who makes you feel all of these things is also the only Man who can HEAL them. VERY TRICKY.
Mary Magdalene was a tough broad, and there's no doubt about it. But she was also a tender woman with a wounded heart and a fierce (if not always clear cut) love of her Savior.
The lesson here is simple: Jesus never asks us to be anything other than who and what we are. We don't have to dress up for Him or be smarter or better or anything at all. He simply asks that we love Him as best we can and with all of the sincerity of our hearts. If we love Him at our best, His PERFECT LOVE understands and heals us so that He may gently lead us to become the women and men that we were created to be. So come, whore and liar, gossip and harridan. Come cheater and murderer, come you who are lustful and gluttonous......
Love as you CAN, not as you think you SHOULD. Jesus will take care of the rest.
A few years ago it really struck me (while watching Jesus Christ, Superstar! of all things) because of this rather brilliantly written song:
I don't know how to love him.
What to do, how to move him.
I've been changed, yes really changed.
In these past few days, when I've seen myself,
I seem like someone else.
I don't know how to take this.
I don't see why he moves me.
He's a man. He's just a man.
And I've had so many men before,
In very many ways,
He's just one more.
Should I bring him down?
Should I scream and shout?
Should I speak of love,
Let my feelings out?
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?
Don't you think it's rather funny,
I should be in this position.
I'm the one who's always been
So calm, so cool, no lover's fool,
Running every show.
He scares me so.
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?
Yet, if he said he loved me,
I'd be lost. I'd be frightened.
I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope.
I'd turn my head. I'd back away.
I wouldn't want to know.
He scares me so.
I want him so.
I love him so.
This song is so interesting to me because it really MUST be how she felt. I mean, this is a woman who had a PAST and had used and been used by more than her fair share of men. She had no way of knowing or believing right away that Jesus was who He said He was: the Christ, the Son of God. She must have been expecting Him to be like any other man in her experience. When she began to see and to be attracted to the God within Him, it had to have thrown her for a loop. She must have wanted to love him in the best and only way she knew how and it must have tangled her up inside to have to figure out how to love Jesus in a more appropriate and healthy way.
Any girl who has ever loved a boy who didn't love her back knows this drill. It hurts, and it embarasses, and it angers. It perplexes and casts doubt on who you are the beautiful heart within you. It bruises and tears. Now imagine that the boy who makes you feel all of these things is also the only Man who can HEAL them. VERY TRICKY.
Mary Magdalene was a tough broad, and there's no doubt about it. But she was also a tender woman with a wounded heart and a fierce (if not always clear cut) love of her Savior.
The lesson here is simple: Jesus never asks us to be anything other than who and what we are. We don't have to dress up for Him or be smarter or better or anything at all. He simply asks that we love Him as best we can and with all of the sincerity of our hearts. If we love Him at our best, His PERFECT LOVE understands and heals us so that He may gently lead us to become the women and men that we were created to be. So come, whore and liar, gossip and harridan. Come cheater and murderer, come you who are lustful and gluttonous......
Love as you CAN, not as you think you SHOULD. Jesus will take care of the rest.
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Year in Review
Okay, so I have a lot of ground to cover!
The highlights of my life in 2008:
new amazing friends
graduating with my MFA
being Officially Catholic
The not so great stuff: well, why waste time or thoughts dwelling. Let's move on:
I'm still working at SWI Photographers, but hoping to land this awesome job that I've been in the interview process for lately. I would be coordinating events and putting together a quarterly newsletter and maintaining a website for one of the nicest communities in Tallahassee. The job sounds like a blast and it's for a national management company with properties all over, so I could conceivable transfer in a year or two if I wanted. So... *fingers crossed* I really want this job!
I moved in this year with my friend Kat and am still camping out there. It's home. :-)
I got a guitar for Christmas, which was amazing and totally unexpected, so I'm pretty happy that I get to finally knuckle down and get serious about this business of playing it. It's a black Fender acoustic/electric. I haven't named it yet. Pics to come soon. :-)
I got to hang out with mi familia for the holidays. The older I get, the harder it gets to go home again. Economically, I find home to be a bit depressing. Things have really been let go and people are used to settling for less. It's a mentality that's tough to synch up with. I love my family, but what's the old addage? Family is like fish, after three days it starts to stink. Lol....I'm sure they were sick of me by the end of it, too. Let's just say you realize quickly how small a house is when you have three adults, three cats, and a dog fighting over everything from the bathroom to the remote.
My neices (soon to be, anyway) are cutie pies. They are also a handful. TWO handfulls. But I got to take them to the OKC Bombing Memorial. I make it a point to go there every year that I'm home. It's incredible. Even considering all of the amazing memorials in DC, this one in OKC is still my favorite.
This is the reflecting pool at the Memorial. It stretches between the 'Gates of Time' which say '9:01' and '9:03' because the blast occured at 9:02. The pool represents that moment in time, holding it forever in peaceful stillness. Reflected in the pool is the gorgeous Oklahoma sky, the thriving trees that are growing up beautifully despite the tragedy of where they are rooted, and the chairs that are there to represent the lives of the people lost in the blast.
My brother, Mike, and his girls: Riley (6) , Dacey (5) , and Shandy (7).
At the entrance to the museum, they have a childrens' area with chalk panels on the ground where kids can color or write both for fun and also to help them process what they're learning about the Memorial. The heart that someone kid had drawn seemed like a pretty accurate sentiment.
If you EVER get a chance, go visit this gorgeous Memorial. Gentle reminder, though: turn off cell phones and gentlemen please remove your hats. Even though it looks a bit like a public part, it is still a respected Memorial and deserves to be treated with respect and dignity.
I'm also going to throw in some pictures of other stuff I did over the break:
Crashed a scooter:
This was my abdomen three days after the crash. I have a similar gnarly bruise on my knee. Graceful as always.
Hung out in El Reno with my munchkins
Spent time with old friends
Drove 17 hours home and 17 hours back with the best navigator ever
Generally, I'd say I had a pretty darn good year.....
...............BUT I'm REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO 2009!!!!!
The highlights of my life in 2008:
new amazing friends
graduating with my MFA
being Officially Catholic
The not so great stuff: well, why waste time or thoughts dwelling. Let's move on:
I'm still working at SWI Photographers, but hoping to land this awesome job that I've been in the interview process for lately. I would be coordinating events and putting together a quarterly newsletter and maintaining a website for one of the nicest communities in Tallahassee. The job sounds like a blast and it's for a national management company with properties all over, so I could conceivable transfer in a year or two if I wanted. So... *fingers crossed* I really want this job!
I moved in this year with my friend Kat and am still camping out there. It's home. :-)
I got a guitar for Christmas, which was amazing and totally unexpected, so I'm pretty happy that I get to finally knuckle down and get serious about this business of playing it. It's a black Fender acoustic/electric. I haven't named it yet. Pics to come soon. :-)
I got to hang out with mi familia for the holidays. The older I get, the harder it gets to go home again. Economically, I find home to be a bit depressing. Things have really been let go and people are used to settling for less. It's a mentality that's tough to synch up with. I love my family, but what's the old addage? Family is like fish, after three days it starts to stink. Lol....I'm sure they were sick of me by the end of it, too. Let's just say you realize quickly how small a house is when you have three adults, three cats, and a dog fighting over everything from the bathroom to the remote.
My neices (soon to be, anyway) are cutie pies. They are also a handful. TWO handfulls. But I got to take them to the OKC Bombing Memorial. I make it a point to go there every year that I'm home. It's incredible. Even considering all of the amazing memorials in DC, this one in OKC is still my favorite.
This is the reflecting pool at the Memorial. It stretches between the 'Gates of Time' which say '9:01' and '9:03' because the blast occured at 9:02. The pool represents that moment in time, holding it forever in peaceful stillness. Reflected in the pool is the gorgeous Oklahoma sky, the thriving trees that are growing up beautifully despite the tragedy of where they are rooted, and the chairs that are there to represent the lives of the people lost in the blast.
My brother, Mike, and his girls: Riley (6) , Dacey (5) , and Shandy (7).
At the entrance to the museum, they have a childrens' area with chalk panels on the ground where kids can color or write both for fun and also to help them process what they're learning about the Memorial. The heart that someone kid had drawn seemed like a pretty accurate sentiment.
If you EVER get a chance, go visit this gorgeous Memorial. Gentle reminder, though: turn off cell phones and gentlemen please remove your hats. Even though it looks a bit like a public part, it is still a respected Memorial and deserves to be treated with respect and dignity.
I'm also going to throw in some pictures of other stuff I did over the break:
Crashed a scooter:
This was my abdomen three days after the crash. I have a similar gnarly bruise on my knee. Graceful as always.
Hung out in El Reno with my munchkins
Spent time with old friends
Drove 17 hours home and 17 hours back with the best navigator ever
Generally, I'd say I had a pretty darn good year.....
...............BUT I'm REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO 2009!!!!!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Bad Blogger
Okay okay.....we all saw it coming, but yes, once again, I neglected my blog. In two days I will be headed to Oklahoma for the Holidays, and I PROMISE to update. More pictures, news, etc. There's so much to catch up on! My job that sucks, the film I worked on, my Confirmation, my new place.....
it's overwhelming. Lol. But I'll make it happen.
it's overwhelming. Lol. But I'll make it happen.
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