I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity.
The trouble with fighting for human freedom is that one spends most of one's time defending scoundrels. For it is against scoundrels that oppressive laws are first aimed, and oppression must be stopped at the beginning if it is to be stopped at all.
Many people would sooner die than think; In fact, they do so
What I have been telling you, from alpha to omega, what is the one great thing the sigil taught me — that everything in life is miraculous. For the sigil taught me that it rests within the power of each of us to awaken at will from a dragging nightmare of life made up of unimportant tasks and tedious useless little habits, to see life as it really is, and to rejoice in its exquisite wonderfulness. If the sigil were proved to be the top of a tomato-can, it would not alter that big fact, nor my fixed faith. No Harrowby, the common names we call things by do not matter — except to show how very dull we are ...
2002-04-05 - 1:54 a.m.
My phone rang a little before 2 this morning. The doctor from the emergency room called to tell me that my father had died. It was cardiac arrest and painless. The first thing I did this morning was arrange for the funeral. Dan Bern once talked about how he realized that he and his generation were the grown-ups when they had to arrange a funeral. I don't feel like a grown-up now. I feel like a child who is crying.
My sister Sue and her husband Mike flew in from Dallas and Alison drove down from New Paltz. I am so happy they are here with my mother and me.
I'd like to thank those of you who wrote me or left notes or signed my guestbook or sent your love in your own diary. I came online a couple of times today just to read them. I knew that you would come through.
I spoke to Lauren today. I was afraid it might be awkward but it wasn't. She knew my father better than any of my friends but Aubrey.
I spoke to Aubrey too of course. He felt good that he got to see my father not to long ago in the nursing home.
Tomorrow so many of my friends will be at the funeral to give me their support. We are having my father cremated. That was his wish and we are abiding with it. We are going to scatter his ashes at the airport; he loved to travel.
Of course I'd like to thank Carey who is always there for me in my time of need. She called me first thing in morning and I called her tonight. She wrote in her diary of hugs and stupid words, like they are nothing. They help so much. I was even able to laugh tonight talking to her. Laughter is the best medicine.
Alison, Sue, and I are saying the eulogies. I wasn't going to write mine out but I ended up doing it anyway. I figured it would make a good entry. Here it is:
When I tried to get some sleep after hearing the news about dad I put on Beethoven's Missus Solemnis. This was so appropriate. I learned to love classical music from my father. At first my thoughts went to Mozart's Requiem and Siegfried's Funeral from Gotterdammerung, Wagner was my father's favorite composer.It made me realize how many things I learned to love from my father. There are so many things that I'll never be able to do without thinking of him. I thought of The Romance of Leonardo Da Vinci that he loved enough to carry all through the battlefields of Europe in WWII. A war that he won single-handedly as my mother and sisters can tell you.
I thought of baseball. Every time I root of the Mets I'll think of him and I'll think of rooting for players that played long before I was born; of Willie Mays, Bill Terry, of Carl Hubble, who played on his Giants the team of his youth.
I thought of basketball. He was good enough to play semi-pro but he had the patience to teach me and play with me despite my klutziness. We would talk about and argue about the Knicks. Always hoping that some day they would win again.
I thought of movies; The Four Feathers, Beau Geste, Gunga Din. I'd come down at night find him watching a classic on TV and get caught up in it myself. I can never watch these films and not think of him.
He loved to travel. He wanted to see the world. He wanted me to see it too. To see the London, Paris, Rome, the great cities of the world. His favorite was Venice. He loved the natural wonders too, The Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, the joy of being surrounded by pristine nature.
He taught me to love to love. To have passions in my life. That there are things that make life worth living. Now I love so many of the things he loved, I love the art, the sports, the music. I love my family. I love my friends. I love him.
His taught me to love poetry, his first love. My room as a child was filled with his books. He loved the English Romantics the best. Byron, Keats, and Shelly. I would love to be able to write a fitting poem. I'll do the next best thing and read part of Keats' Ode to a Nightingale.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that ofttimes hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:-do I wake or sleep?
I signed the Pro-Truth Pledge:
please hold me accountable.
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The NFL and the First Amendment - May 27, 2018
On The Road Again - May 26, 2018
Oliver the Three-Eyed Crow - May 25, 2018
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License.
Horvendile 2002-04-05
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