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November 29, 2005
Of cabbages and kings
I sit here and can't think of just one thing to write about.
I would like to attach the poem my cousin Aaron recently wrote about my grandmother, and have that be enough, but I don't have it with me. If you would like to see his other poetry, go to meaningless.com.
I could write about the recent funeral of my Uncle Rudy, how the community went above and beyond the call of duty; how my relatives poured into Chattanooga like a swarm of locusts, only of course much better and more sweet than locusts; how we marched out of the funeral service to the singing of a spiritual; how we stood around the grave where the handmade casket lay and remembered and sang, and sang through the rest of the night; how my cousins all reflected on how the torch had been passed to our generation; and many more things that happened that week.
I could write about Thanksgiving, breathing in fresh air while we ran and walked many miles to burn off the calories, not to mention playing football and frisbee with my energetic nephews, and singing Johnny Cash and various bluegrass around the piano with recorders and guitar and bass.
I could write about the book I'm reading, On Writing Well, and how this blog entry does not live up to its standards, but oh well, it's the internet.
I could write about shoes and ships and sealing wax, but I've got too much to say, and can't think how to say it, so I won't.
Posted by heiders at 09:11 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack