White crosses stand
row upon row
three thousand of ours
of theirs, who knows
If out of sight is out of mind
we all need an Arlington
the art of writing is discovering what you believe
Today marks 45 years for me.
When we’re growing up we can imagine years like 18, 21, 25, 30 but beyond that, who knows? Is it all just one undifferentiated mass of obsolescence, senescence, and decline?
I hope not. It doesn’t feel that way.
Going cabin camping tomorrow for a couple of days, as its spring break for the young ‘uns. Of course, it’s tipping down with rain, so we may have a very cozy time indoors. We’re not going far so we’re not looking at too much hardship if spring keeps on as it has done (freezing on Monday, 80+ on Friday).
Now playing: This Will Be Our Year (Mono) by Zombies from the album “Odessey & Oracle” | Get it
Joshua Bell, winner of the Avery Fisher prize as the best classical musician in America, played for 45 minutes in a DC subway station. His take? $32.
What else do we miss when we don’t stop to look and listen?
We send email:
Officer, when a citizen offers you a “Good Morning” even as he knows he is about to cited for a traffic violation, would it hurt to reply with something other than a request for a license and registration?
And when you render the citation, is it that difficult to actually inform the citizen what they were cited for? I realize public safety is a thankless job, but I would hope that when you meet members of the public who are not a challenge to deal with, you might acknowledge that.
Ouch. That’s gonna run me $101.