The Road to Diamond, Day 23: Longest and Darkest

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December 21, 2024- When love is freely given them, the children always love back.

Six little girls danced continuously, as the family band, Galactogogues served up the contents of their 13-song album. When the tempo was fast and vibrant, the children pranced, tumbled and bounced around the dance floor, under the watchful eyes of their mothers and grandmothers. When the music was quiet and subdued, the girls offered rather elegant interpretive steps. (The aging security guard glared and grumbled, but that’s another story.) There was love between parents and children.

I thought of the times when my generation’s youthful energy alternately got approval and admonition, from our elders. The same happened when my son’s generation did things that were harmless and delightful, or when they came close to harm’s way. Invariably, the generations understood each other, because underneath it all, there was love.

Today, in the northern hemisphere, featured the longest and darkest night. Here, it was a thing of beauty. The stars twinkled above, and there was a sense of camaraderie among the fans of Galactogogues. The band played all our favourites from its various club dates of the past five years and a few new tunes from the Bohrman’s son and daughter. At the end of the evening, as Meg Bohrman credited her children, Cosimo and Opal, and percussionist friend, Zach Dominguez, Opal did not let her mother go uncredited. When love is freely given them, the children always love back.

Far across the Pacific, another family reunited, a few days ago. I know the mother. She gives enormously of herself, for the sake of each of her three children. They, in turn, are protective of her as well. The same hold with yours truly, and my little family. We are a unit built on love.

When love is freely given them, the children always love back.

Here is the family, about ten years ago, offering their reworking of “Will The Circle Be Unbroken?”

Wait Just A Minute

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October 31, 2018, Prescott-

Halloween was low key, at least tonight.

Twenty people happened by my solitary, if well-lit, table on our quiet street.

It was full-blast, over the weekend, though

I went to one party, with my co-workers,

and it was the most heartfelt event.

My appreciation goes to friends in Phoenix and Scottsdale,

whose parties I missed.

See you next October, as things stand now.

That brings me to the main point of this piece.

I no longer rank order my friends.

I no longer have most favourite restaurants,

coffee shops, places to visit.

I am finding too much of merit,

in too many places,

and with too many people.

Someone asked me,

not long ago,

who my best friend was,

and why I didn’t speak to that best friend,

on a daily basis?

In truth, I have many friends

and I may speak to them,

as needed.

My friends are,

quite frankly,

both human and spirit.

Usually, it is the spirit friends

who tell me I need to be

nicer to the humans.

I take that admonition seriously.

Back to the idea of favourites.

We rank order, in this life,

for reasons particular to the person

doing the ranking.

We want to have reliable people,

on whom we might call,

in a time of need.

We enjoy a certain barrista’s latte

or a given baker’s quiche or breads,

or a pasta chef’s lovingly made spaghetti bolognese.

We love how the vegan lady downtown

makes such delectable soups.

I might miss the teasing of a cerebral friend, uptown,

or my brother’s sometimes caustic, but always on-point, admonitions.

I might just need the affirmations of a devout Christian friend,

who understands me, better than most.

I may want to connect with friends in Alberta, Alaska,

or Alsace.

None really is superior to the others.

Maybe, I am reaching a point of true unity.

It has come hard, and I am still working

on my sticky point:

That consistency of presence thing.

It even happened this evening.

Little “S”, for whom I’d give my life,

snuck up to my Halloween table,

whilst I was bidding farewell

to a 9-year-old vampire.

“Trick or treat”,

followed by the world’s most beautiful

toothy smile, brought me back

to front and center.

She wanted to visit my table,

before putting on her witch’s hat.

“S” and her mother made my evening.

 

 

 

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XXV: Purpose

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April 18, 2017, Prescott- 

What is the purpose of public criticism?

Is it loving admonition, or mere oneupmanship?

What is the purpose of public displays of affection?

Is it sharing one’s heart’s desire, with the world,

or rebellion against what one sees as restrictive and outmoded?

What is the purpose of road rage?

Is it an outlet for uncontrollable frustration,

or a neurotic means to power?

What is the purpose of coarse language?

Is it exercise of one’s freedom of speech,

or the lazy person’s way of off-putting others?

What is the purpose of a failure to love others?

Is it a reaction to real and imagined pressures,

or a reflection of one’s lack of love for self?