2009
The backup utility on my computer has verified 43% of my progress, and, frankly, 43% is good enough for me. Progress is what 1 January is about, particularly for Americans. It's forward motion, here in the New World. This year has got to be better than last year in some way. We take this for granted.
Never mind that the first January day begins with a mindnumbing waltz of the flowers. The problem is that it's no waltz, the Rose Parade. It's a lumbering, cymbal-crashing slog down Colorado Boulevard, mostly due to poor cinematic representation and gratuitous narration. By definition, floats are massive burdensome pieces of kitsch. No one expects anything else. But these are entirely made of flowers. Not to mention leaves, stems, bark and, doubtless, roots. It's all vegetable all the time, and like any great folk art manifestation, the novelty holds interest. The angel is in the details, as it were. We need close-ups.
This very morning, as Marlou and I watched an orchid-covered Taiwanese phoenix rise above the Pasadena crowds, not to mention flower-petal-covered movie set elephants rising in homage to Cecil B. DeMille, we both had more or less the same thing in mind. How do they do the black parts? Black dahlias? Black narcissus? Or as I believe, the leaves of that very dark groundcover we see in Oahu. Some close-ups and horticultural narrative would go a long way toward making the 2009 wake-up call from Pasadena work for us, thank you very much.
And thank you's are due. Marlou and I thanked each other for being here, for making it through 2008. We spent the morning hugging and crying and laughing. Marlou says that her tears are coming in squalls these days. It's like the weather in Hawaii. Intermittent, dynamic, changeable. All one can do is adjust, moment to moment. It's good to get out of the rain. Too much sun is bad. But since I am inclined to believe the rain will never stop, and to eye the sun suspiciously for signs of giving up, throwing in its thermonuclear towel and withdrawing to red dwarf status...well, all this optimism doesn't come naturally.
Marlou's cancer is there. We know that. We also know we have each other, a fact confirmed several times a day, whether in hugs or fights. No one is going anywhere. We are heading down the same road, as long as we can. And Marlou's laughter these days is of the finest quality. It comes from the depths, as do all good things. It's something we can share.
I was donning a T-shirt yesterday morning when Marlou asked, with neither irony nor inhibition, 'are you going to wear that'? I told her the question was uniquely and utterly hers. Incredulity, unvarnished disdain...Marlou watching the slovenly spouse dress. A moment worth noting. These days, all moments are. But there's nothing profound about this. Ask any Buddhist. This moment is the moment and our moment. And when we are aware, everything is momentous. There is no other now but now.
Truly, that's how things feel. It's Marlou who has guided us to this awareness. Not by being new-agey precious or spiritual or anything other than down-to-earth. By crying, being fearful and facing cancer one day at a time. We have each other. Not everyone does. Many don't. And Marlou's sense of humor is stronger than ever. Irony is her constant companion. Along with me, of course. And I believe it may be the irony beacon, peeping and blinking across the sloughs and marshes that separate Sacramento from the San Francisco Bay delta, that pulled us together across the miles.
2009. With consciousness so expansive in one particular Menlo Park apartment, who knows what enlightenment may follow? The Rose Parade guys have an entire year to clean up their narrative. Marlou noted the prevalence of ads on our local NBC affiliate for things like selling your gold earrings on the Internet. 'I never knew what cash potential I had around the house until I opened my jewelry box and logged on to sellyourgold.com'. Personally, I was struck by the fact that the three-CD set of music from great Christian stadium events was now available, if you acted this very minute, for $9.95. Shipping not included. Batteries extra. In short, it's going to be a challenging year. We know that. We know that every moment. And every moment is what we know.
Never mind that the first January day begins with a mindnumbing waltz of the flowers. The problem is that it's no waltz, the Rose Parade. It's a lumbering, cymbal-crashing slog down Colorado Boulevard, mostly due to poor cinematic representation and gratuitous narration. By definition, floats are massive burdensome pieces of kitsch. No one expects anything else. But these are entirely made of flowers. Not to mention leaves, stems, bark and, doubtless, roots. It's all vegetable all the time, and like any great folk art manifestation, the novelty holds interest. The angel is in the details, as it were. We need close-ups.
This very morning, as Marlou and I watched an orchid-covered Taiwanese phoenix rise above the Pasadena crowds, not to mention flower-petal-covered movie set elephants rising in homage to Cecil B. DeMille, we both had more or less the same thing in mind. How do they do the black parts? Black dahlias? Black narcissus? Or as I believe, the leaves of that very dark groundcover we see in Oahu. Some close-ups and horticultural narrative would go a long way toward making the 2009 wake-up call from Pasadena work for us, thank you very much.
And thank you's are due. Marlou and I thanked each other for being here, for making it through 2008. We spent the morning hugging and crying and laughing. Marlou says that her tears are coming in squalls these days. It's like the weather in Hawaii. Intermittent, dynamic, changeable. All one can do is adjust, moment to moment. It's good to get out of the rain. Too much sun is bad. But since I am inclined to believe the rain will never stop, and to eye the sun suspiciously for signs of giving up, throwing in its thermonuclear towel and withdrawing to red dwarf status...well, all this optimism doesn't come naturally.
Marlou's cancer is there. We know that. We also know we have each other, a fact confirmed several times a day, whether in hugs or fights. No one is going anywhere. We are heading down the same road, as long as we can. And Marlou's laughter these days is of the finest quality. It comes from the depths, as do all good things. It's something we can share.
I was donning a T-shirt yesterday morning when Marlou asked, with neither irony nor inhibition, 'are you going to wear that'? I told her the question was uniquely and utterly hers. Incredulity, unvarnished disdain...Marlou watching the slovenly spouse dress. A moment worth noting. These days, all moments are. But there's nothing profound about this. Ask any Buddhist. This moment is the moment and our moment. And when we are aware, everything is momentous. There is no other now but now.
Truly, that's how things feel. It's Marlou who has guided us to this awareness. Not by being new-agey precious or spiritual or anything other than down-to-earth. By crying, being fearful and facing cancer one day at a time. We have each other. Not everyone does. Many don't. And Marlou's sense of humor is stronger than ever. Irony is her constant companion. Along with me, of course. And I believe it may be the irony beacon, peeping and blinking across the sloughs and marshes that separate Sacramento from the San Francisco Bay delta, that pulled us together across the miles.
2009. With consciousness so expansive in one particular Menlo Park apartment, who knows what enlightenment may follow? The Rose Parade guys have an entire year to clean up their narrative. Marlou noted the prevalence of ads on our local NBC affiliate for things like selling your gold earrings on the Internet. 'I never knew what cash potential I had around the house until I opened my jewelry box and logged on to sellyourgold.com'. Personally, I was struck by the fact that the three-CD set of music from great Christian stadium events was now available, if you acted this very minute, for $9.95. Shipping not included. Batteries extra. In short, it's going to be a challenging year. We know that. We know that every moment. And every moment is what we know.
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