Today is the opening session of the UN's General Assembly. Yesterday I forgot about how many heads of state come in early for this shindig and I ran into several of them.

Okay guys, get ready to play, let's see if you know any of these peoples names without googling:

- The King of Jordan
- First female African President
- First female head of state of an EU country
And for major bonus points: which nutcracker will get to address the General Assembly tomorrow shortly after Bush. I'll give you a hint: he's repeatedly called for the obliteration of Israel & the anhilation of the Jewish race and their western supporters.

Answers will be in the comments towards the end of the day. I wanted to play this game of Spotting Politicos w/Eric last year when he came to visit but worked for the witch from hell and was having a bad week so I forgot.

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To [blog] or not to [blog]: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them?
~ based on Shakespeare's Hamlet: Act 3:Scene 1

That's what's been on my mind. Whether or not to succumb to the forces that successfully silenced my blogging temporarily through a very skillfull cyber attack that brought down my entire network (& fried 2 of my pc's), OR to take up cyber arms against these cowardly bastards in a never ending cycle of technical one upmanship.

So as I contemplate my cyberfate, I lie here in my bed exhausted from the efforts of unsuccessfully countering the attack, fighting a flu-like cold and recovering from a chemo treatment that has kicked my a$$ this week. At the core of the matter is: can I live without blogging? Can I just walk away from it all and hang up my keyboard without looking back for the sake of my well being. Or can I simply exist in the gag zone of cyberspace without expressing factual yet consevative views & stirring up controversy. I wonder how Matt of Black5 & others deal with this crap.. The threats I ignore cause I've gone to great lengths to protect my anonymity, but cyber attacks are something else. This is my 2nd since I started blogging almost 3yrs ago. This is the first time that my pc's have been fried. Then there was the munu outage this weekend and I wonder if that was also a threat fulfilled.

So I ask myself, do I go ahead and get my pc's replaced & comeback to do battle against the slinging arrows, and by doing so, simultaneously bring down the wrath of moonbats & islamo-fascists on all of us?

Truthfully, most of me is willing to do battle, but not at the expense of others and my health.

One thing's for sure, with everything that's going on in my life I can't continue to replace hard drives & motherboards & expend the time & energy necessary to rebuild these pc's. more...

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Because I like to share the laughter I'm sharing this true item with you. This little gem came to my inbox this morning in one of my State Dept. briefings. I think its an unbelievably funny story you'll love.

US President George Bush will host White House talks with Kazakhstan President Nursultan Nazarbayev when he visits the US next month. On the agenda is British comedian Sacha Baron Cohen.

It seems that Cohen, 35, creator of Ali G, has infuriated the Kazakhstan government with his portrayal of Borat, a bumbling Kazakh TV presenter. Cohen scheduled movie release of BoratÂ’s adventures in November has caused a major diplomatic incident.

President Nazarbayev has confirmed his government will buy "educational" TV spots and print advertisements about the "real Kazakhstan" in a bid to save his countryÂ’s reputation before the film is released in the US in November. President Nazarbayev will visit the White House and the Bush family compound in Maine when he flies in for talks that will include the fictional character Borat.

To understand what the hoopla is all about (and to get a few chuckles in the process) please view the trailers for the movie (see worksafe trailer 1 below and trailer 2).

Let me know what you think about the trailers. Should Bush waste his time on this or not?

Yes, I'm feeling better thanks to the support I've received and the humorous items I get in the mail. Enjoy!

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WeÂ’ve become so familiar with our regular exchange of letters that IÂ’ll dispense with some basic courtesies in order to make an overpowering confession. There are times when I read your letters that a strong envy begins to rise from within and takes hold of me for hours. When it finally does subside, it leaves a strong disatisfied taste with my life that lingers on for days.

In reading your exploits IÂ’ve often thought you lead the life I wish I had. It's a familiar feeling and one I've not had for a very long time. When I was young I often got in trouble for my dangerous exploits and tomboy ways. In truth, I was craving the enormous freedom and swaggering independence of all the boys I knew. This past week my envy surfaced intensely. It left me searching for an explanation as to why, of all my correspondents, I have such a reaction to you. What makes matters worse is that in spite of my reaction I'm very drawn to your letters. I return time and again to re-live those moments which may be insignificant to you, but bring me so much closer to where I wish I could be. In doing so I feel the little green monster grow within me without warning.

After much reflection, I've realized tonight that its not so much your life that I envy, but rather you. In other words, I wish more that I were a man like you living your life, than a woman like me living mine. As a woman's life goes I really do enjoy mine, but when comparing mine to yours, my life pales in comparison. When it began happening I asked myself if it might be a matter of “your grass being greener”.

Simply put, my life would be radically different if I were you, than most of the men I know. For one thing, I believe I wouldnÂ’t be enduring as much emotional pain as I have these past few days. My blog brother Eric, spoke of the feeling of helplessness one of my posts conveyed last week. In reading that I realized he put his finger on my woundÂ… and it was a deep one, based on the level of pain I felt. I've been wanting to do something to strike back at those that harmed my loved ones in 2001 and caused fear to enter the hearts of my co-workers in 1993.

One thingÂ’s for sure, if I were a man I definitely wouldÂ’ve had the opportunity of making different choices. I definitely would have taken more risks and liberties than would be considered (by my standards) good for a woman. I'd probably be more like your brothers in arms stationed at the front, protecting our country and exacting justice for what was done to my beloved friends and city. There are times I so desperately want to be there.

But the truth is painfully obvious, I can never be there, I will never be you. So instead, I live vicariously through you... through your stories, your shared anecdotes, and your unexpressed heartfelt thoughts that linger silently between the lines and which often leap silently and eloquently off your page.

I wish I could go on those hikes with you and your men. I wish I could be a man like you, who rights the wrongs with much conviction and without hesitation. But IÂ’m not. I am a woman. A woman constrained by the expectations and mores of society, who's restrained by height and muscle mass and trapped by my gender.

So instead of being there with you and your men, I will be here, waiting. Waiting and enduring nasty emails from women too weak of character to write openly and from men using their manhood to intimidate covertly. And while I wait, IÂ’ll continue to wish and hope. Hope that through your strength and courage IÂ’ll somehow regain my own strength that was lost with the death of the incredible men in my life.

I'll simply wait... it's something that as a woman I was trained to do well. Being disempowered for now all I can do is wait. So I wait, for jealousy to rise once again, and with I take a step toward a deeper and braver existence.

Thank you for sharing your journey with me and in so doing taking me on such wonderful adventures.
m/

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We go through life hoping that as we live, it not only holds meaning for us, but that it has an impact on the lives of those around us. This post is in celebration of one such amazing life that accomplished much, very successfully, during his short time here on earth.

Larry: This song is dedicated to you.

LarryÂ’s love and enthusiasm for his life, was only exceeded by his love for family and close friends. This was followed closely by his love for his city and his country. To know Larry was to like him. To like him and be lucky enough to spend time with him was to have the wonderful opportunity to get to love him. I was one of those lucky and blessed enough to have had him in my life for a number of years. I always thought of him as an angel who walked the earth.
more...

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The Heroes of 9/11 never hesitated for a moment on the morning of 9/11. Ignoring personal safety they sprung into action and saved thousands. This song is dedicated to my friends, Mike and Larry, and to the thousands of public servants who risked their lives and the 347 fire fighters who lost their lives that morning.

Into the Fire by Bruce Springsteen

The sky was falling and streaked with blood
I heard you calling me then you disappeared into the dust
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs into the fire

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love bring us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

You gave your love to see the fields of red and autumn brown
You gave your love to me and lay your young body down
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need you near but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere upstairs into the fire

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
more...

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I want to thank you all for the kind and supportive messages you left and emailed. Your words are a healing balm for my soul.

more...

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Five years ago I participated in my first 10k race on Labor Day. It was also my first major practice with Tom, the running buddy assigned to me by The Achilles Track Team, whom I was to spot for. Tom was blind, and like me loved running, even though we weren't very fast. He had trained me on how to run tethered to him and also taught me how to listen to his breathing as a way to know how he was doing in a run without asking and wasting precious energy and time. Tom explained it was the best way to identify the first signs of trouble. That Labor Day, all my friends were there to cheer me on. It had been a high point for all of us, because we were all finally ready to compete in the NYC Marathon that fall.

I used that listening technique many times when running with my best friends. It really gave me insight into how they were feeling during a run. For years we had worked out together, but our running together gave us a closeness and a feel for each other that was uncanny. For the first time few words needed to be exchanged between us.

The morning after Labor Day we were all supposed to meet early at the gym to do a quick 5 mile run along the Batter Park City Waterfront that goes past the World Trade Center, but my plans changed.

When Mike called me later that morning he was on the 72nd floor of the North Tower. I had been on the phone with him for about 15 min. let him know what was going on with the South Tower when Larry called and asked me to conference him in on the call. We'd done that a thousand times on Fridays or Saturday afternoons when no one could agree on what we were doing that evening. This time it was for a different reason.

The FDNY radios were not functioning properly and it was total chaos inside the towers, so this time I was conferencing them in so they could communicate with each other. I listened silently and stood by as I'd done countless times during impromptu rescues. That day my role was once again as witness and bystander, but I was to be a messenger also. I interrupted only once to let them know the Pentagon had been hit and we all grew silent as their suspicions were now confirmed - we were under attack. Knowing they had walked into a "tinder box" they gave me messages and information for their families in the event they didn't make it out alive.

While Mike and Larry spoke, I heard their labored breathing from the strain of heavy equipment and acrid smoke getting through their masks. They continued going up the narrow smoke filled staircases in full gear, in spite of the rising temperatures and enveloping darkness. Hearing the loud creaks from the straining weight of the floors above, I began to panic. I broke in, calling out Mike's name. We'd known each other for so long that he knew what I was about to say, to ask of him.

"Don't say it, Michele. I know what you're going to ask, and you know we can't turn back now. So I clutched my cell phone, closed my eyes, and hung my head in prayer. A few times I bit down hard on my lips knowing that anything I said or any sound I made would only distract them and force them to talk and waste precious oxygen.

So instead, I listened... silently and intently, as Larry & MIke communicated with each other in quick short words. I listened as they gave commands to civilians on what to do. I listened as they reassured people that were frightened and choking on acrid smoke, that they would be fine as long they continued going down. I listened as they continued to climb through the thick dense darkness that enveloped them, and grew hotter and more difficult with each step they took. And in my silence, with my closed eyes, I had been with them as I had many times before, and was privy once again to the sounds of their breaths.

As the creaking sounds grew louder, everyone came to a standstill and their voices became quieter. I held my breath, as I listened to Mike and Larry's labored breathing. Everyone had stopped to listen to the sounds above them. Mike and Larry remained quiet even as the rumble of thunder from the upper floors began giving way. There was no panic, no screams, no frantic yells for help; there was only Mike's voice whispering a "Dear God" before the sounds of loud crashing ended in an abysmal silence that reverberates in my soul to this day.

It's taken a long time for me to break that silence. It's still not easy to write about it. And I still can't about it. But for some time now, this blog has helped me utter the first innermost sounds since that day. I remain hopeful that someday I'll be able to find my full voice again. Till that happens, these small whispers of pain will have to be the small breaths that open a closed soul to let the airy light in.

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This is part of the 360degree view I had tonight while sighseeing atop the new observation deck at Rockefeller Center. Great views and virtually no waiting to go upstairs. Because it was an impromptu visit I only had my cell phone camera with me and not my digital camera, so this is the best pic I could get. Still, not bad if you ask me.

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I'll be playing host and tour guide to my house guests (ex-inlaws) who are just begining their 6th week with me. They'll be leaving middle of week 7.

Now that they are intimitely acquainted with Manhattan I am venturing to the outer boroughs. Tomorrow is Brooklyn day and I wil be doing some live picture blogging and use once again the new hi-res digital camera they gave us for my son's bday (see pretty picture below).

We are going to start at Coney Island Amusement Park which features Astroland (name the Woody Allen movie made there), visit Natasha the beluga whale in her tank at the NY Aquarium. Afterwards we'll hop on a train and head on over to the brooklyn Promenade (where I will try to forget the Spielberg scene filmed there) enjoy the view for awhile while snacking on some brooklyn delicacies, and later try to finally find the entrance to the magnificient structure in the pic below, with the aim to cross that baby on foot over to Manhattan. That's just Friday. I've got fun plans for them (which they've okay'd) for the remaining days too in the Borough of Queens, etc. Monday is my beach day... YAY!

Tuesday, well, that's summer's death knell around here, as that's when the harbingers' of gloom set in on my son in the form of 2.5 hrs of homework a day. I pray they start him off slow, like maybe give him an hour's worth to ease him into it. Hopefully the weekend fun will still be fresh in his mind so he'll have something to hold onto.

Whatever anyone else is doing, I hope they enjoy themselves thoroughly... rain and all. I know I will! But please do share as I'm curious what you all are up to.

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Write your own response/post in the comments if you want. I simply needed to post this pic to admire the view.

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1 Beautiful photograph.

Posted by: Tink at August 30, 2006 04:00 PM (wi/sM)

2 Yeah, that picture, sure is purty... Kinda reminds me of an "outdoor" hooters, all the lights and stuff. It could only be better if there was a little fella in there somewhere with a fishin' pole, and a fish on... Check Oddy... She and her little fella have that fishin' thing goin' on now.

Posted by: RedNeck at August 30, 2006 05:05 PM (a6pA8)

3 That is a lovely picture. Do you get to see that view often?

Posted by: Teresa at August 31, 2006 10:02 AM (o4pJS)

4 Absolutely stunning picture!

Posted by: Dazd at September 06, 2006 08:11 AM (Pn992)

5 WOW!.... found your blog through Straight White Guy.....your last post about the Towers had me in serious tears.....wishing you peace.

Posted by: Jean at September 07, 2006 10:12 PM (GIL7z)

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"A fondness for power is implanted, in most men, and it is natural to abuse it, when acquired."

-- Alexander Hamilton (The Farmer Refuted, 23 February 1775) - Founder of the NY Post - the oldest continuingly published newspaper in the country.

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IÂ’ve been quiet for the last few days because it was easier.

It was easier not to sit in front of a blank screen and have the truth seep into my consciousness and torture my brain. Well, it seems that the more I tried to push things out of my consciousness, the more it would come to haunt me. As a result this past week has been nothing but torture. Torture from my son; torture by my house guests (Bro & Sister in Law - BIL & SIL), and self-torture from my subconscious dogging me constantly at my heals. All the while, struggling with not wanting to look at the truth, which IÂ’ve been trying so hard to deny or delay facing.

It all started by me reading this post on BouÂ’s blog. It finally brought everything to before me, making it impossible for me to continue to avert or deny the truth any longer. As a result, IÂ’ve finally realized that my son has taken after me in more ways than one. This past week, while getting phone calls at work from my SIL, BIL & son, all complaining about each other with stories on how they were torturing each other over my son's book reports, I told them I'd listen in through speaker phone and intervene when necessary. While trying to get my son to write 1 single book report, it was painfully apparent to me (as I listened to them silently) that my son processes information differently than most. Well, they all gave up on each other and I was faced with doing much damage control before my son starts school next Monday.

This morning, I finally cried UNCLE, as we lagged further behind on my sonÂ’s assigned summer reading/writing/book report schedule. There was nothing else I could do but finally google what the symptoms were for someone in his age group. IÂ’ve posted these below so you all can get an inkling of what IÂ’m going through with him. HeÂ’s luckier than most though, IÂ’ve been trained in different methodologies that have enabled me to learn on my own once I was diagnosed with a mild form of dyslexia. IÂ’ve been using a few of these techniques with him for the math and it's worked great. Unfortunately where I fail and have no experience is in helping him with his hand writing. ItÂ’s not only illegible, to get him to write barely neatly is worse than pulling teeth and it has finally brought me to my knees. Below is part of an email I received from an expert, whom I contacted via their website, inquiring about classifying my sonÂ’s issues, has enlightened me quite a bit. Now I begin the work phase.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The difficulties noted below are often associated with your sonÂ’s age group. A qualified diagnostician (see attached list for the centers in your area) can test your son to determine if he is truly experiencing one of the many forms of dyslexia, and to what extent.

- May be unable to follow multi-step directions or routines.
- May have poor "fine motor" coordination.
- Has difficulty spelling phonetically.
- Makes consistent reading and spelling errors in common words
- Relies on guessing and context.
- May have difficulty learning new vocabulary.
- May transpose number sequences and confuse arithmetic signs (+ - x / =).
- May have trouble remembering facts.
- May be slow to learn new skills; relies heavily on memorizing without understanding.
- May have difficulty planning, organizing and managing time, materials and tasks.
- Often uses an awkward pencil grip.

Finally, I read this today and it literally broke my heart because I remember being the one sitting at the kitchen table going through this myself:

"The frustration of children with dyslexia often centers on their inability to meet expectations. Their parents and teachers see a bright, enthusiastic child who is not learning to read and write correctly. Time and again, dyslexics and their parents hear, “He’s such a bright child; if only he would try harder.” Ironically, no one knows exactly how hard the dyslexic is trying."

I remember almost not being able to graduate 2nd in my class in high school because my Math teacher couldn't decipher how on earth I always got the right answers on my tests, yet I couldn't logically prove my work via complete algebraic and linear equations. It was only when my State Exams were challenged, and I had to go before their Exam Board and take the exam while 3 testers stood over me, that everyone realized something was wrong. One of the tester's asked me a few questions about my work after I completed doing a formula and asked me to solve the problem outloud. It was then they realized that not everything that was in my head made it on paper, and thus I was identified as possibly dyslexic. Further testing proved it, and I was able to keep my honor's/salutatorian status at graduation. The diagnosis was liberating in many ways, but this is when the experience with my curse first began to change.

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In a recent decision, the members of the International Astronomical Union's (IAU), have reclassified what is considered a planet. In doing this, they reduced Pluto and 50 other celestial bodies that have recently been discovered to the status of a dwarf planet. In Pluto's case he receives dual classification as a dwarf and icy planet.

In one swift move they have saved millions of school children from having to learn 50+ more planets in our solar sytem. I say Hooraaaay for Astronomers! In an effort to help said students, I am listing below the new criteria for a celestial body to be considered a planet:

- it must be in circular (not elliptical) orbit around the Sun
- it must be large enough that it takes on a nearly round shape
- it has cleared its orbit of other objects

One more argument used by scientists to demote Pluto: if it were any closer to the sun, it would simply be a chunk of ice as the sun's heat would melt and evaporate the ice.

So there you have it folks, even the biggest of guys gets demoted.

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People who I think should take this test? Mr. Helpful, RSM, Jon, Ted & Tuning Spork. Why? 'Cause I'm a curious cat and I want to know how THEY see themselves.

You Are 24% Control Freak

You have achieved the perfect balance of control and letting go. You tend to roll with whatever life brings, but you never get complacent.

Thanks to blog-sis Tammi and Quality Weenie for posting this!

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In the extended entry there is a very, very long post of my side of a conversation that would have taken place had I not had lots of committments going on yesterday, which prevented me from calling and thanking you personally. We did not get home till very late and I didn't call at 10:30pm because I know you had an equally long day and needed as much rest as I did. I really hope you understand. more...

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"What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value."

-- Thomas Paine (The American Crisis, No. 1, 19 December 1776)
Reference: Paine, Collected Writings, Library of America p.91

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This evening, I was brought back to a gentler time and a sweeter place that I often long to revisit. A time when the sound of crickets and soft lapping waves lulled me to sleep every night, and in the mornings, I'd be awakened by the calling of sweet song birds. Barely awake, I'd jump out of bed, and while still in my pajamas, and without even stopping to put on my shoes, I'd run barefoot out of the house and cross the road. Without slowing down I continued running full speed onto the beach all the way almost to the waterÂ’s edge. I was anxious to see if any of my make shift crab traps had caught anything the night before. To my amazement, and my motherÂ’s horror, I would often arrive at breakfast with a bucketful of live crabs.

On nights like tonight, when I was restless or worried and thinking too much about all the unknown's in my life, I'd slowly walk across that same road to the beach, picking up a few wild flowers along the way, hoping that in my hand IÂ’d have the right flower that would divine and secure my happy destiny.

I would usually sit in the same spot of sand, leaning my back on a low coconut tree that had grown sideways and in which someone had conveniently carved out a back rest. As I sat there, taking in the flowerÂ’s features, I'd pray to God in the sky for my heart's deepest desire to come true, and for a sign to somehow tell me to be patient for it was so. I'd sit there for what seemed like an eternity in a meditative trance, hoping that by staring at the flower I could pick the right moment for my destiny to unfold. I was afraid that one impetuous move or premature moment might wreak havoc with the rest of my life. At twelve, 60 years loomed over me like a huge gray wall of water just waiting for the right moment to crash over me and begin the unbearably long sentence of living a life of discontented quietness and unfulfilled dreams.

So I’d sit and wait for the right time... the right moment to begin. Then, and only when I felt it was the right, divine moment, did my sweaty trembling hands begin the rituals as I whispered to God: “Il m'aime... un peu, beaucoup, passionnément, à la folie, pas du tou.t” (He loves me... a little, a lot, passionately, passionately, not at all.) If I was successful during the first flower I’d stop then and there having achieved the fate I had wanted. If I didn’t I’d move on the next flower, holding it interminably longer than the first, all in an effort to manipulate the desired outcome.

Today I caught myself staring at the phone, hoping he would call. Looking down at the number I had for him I vowed not to call until the appointed time. I kept peeking at the card through the corner of my eye, then back up at the phone wishing, praying and hoping it would ring and that I'd be successful in seeing him. All my hopes hinged on that one call. I had no one else to turn to. Once again I prayed, hoped and pleaded with God for destiny to give me a positive outcome.

Picking up the receiver I hesitated before dialing. Upon hearing the receptionistÂ’s greeting I took a deep breath and quickly exhaling said: Good morning, my name is ME and IÂ’m calling at Dr. MiddleÂ’s suggestion. SheÂ’s referring my son to Dr. Stout for a surgical consultation. Dr. Middle believes that dental surgery needs to be performed on him as soon as possible and spoke to Dr. Stout about my sonÂ’s case this morningÂ….

While put on hold I once again held my breath hoping that I could somehow hold time still, long enough for my racing heart to slow down, and for even the possibility that this was all somehow a dream tied to an errant petal I forgot to pluck from so long ago. After a few minutes, I had no choice but to let go and inhale once again in the hope that in doing so, I could secure composure and decisiveness with my next breath.

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After a busy and grueling week IÂ’m looking forward to some weekend fun starting today. Summer to me means sun, sand, surf, and turf in the form of soccer and baseball fields. I got my World Cup soccer fix in July and tonight IÂ’m getting my baseball monkey off my back by seeing my AMAZINÂ’ Mets live (as opposed to sitting on the couch)! In case you didnÂ’t know, the Mets have the best record in the NL and leads Philadelphia by 13 games in the East. WOOOOOOHOOOOOO!

Mets, how much do I love thee? In college I got my first C for thee! During class my professor caught me on several occasions listening to the game via my walkman's earpiece. Sigh!

Anyway, I wanted to leave you all with some laughter and a smile so IÂ’m going to point you a bit north for a story that has a Spew Alert Rating of 4. Hey, canÂ’t say I didnÂ’t warn ya!

May you all have an incredibly wonderful and life affirming weekend!

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In a recent post DC asked how our tributes are going. IÂ’ve been sorta working on mine for a week now. Rick, Nancy, Mike and the others will be covered by other bloggers. I've written about them before in the past so I was glad to see they are being memorialized by others. IÂ’ve corresponded with 2 of these bloggers to offer them personal intimate anecdotes of my beloved friends that would help give them a different perspective than the brief profile done by the New York Times.

Through the 2996 project I asked to be given 2 people to post tributes for, because so far they only have 63% of people covered. My first assignment, Allison Horstmann Jones, was a random assignment by the program developed for this project. Her tribute was easy to do, then again, I really donÂ’t know her and all I had to do is research her info and pick the items I thought were important to share with everyone. IÂ’ve already completed the first draft of my tribute and just need to do clean it up before posting hers.

The second tribute is for someone I asked DC if he would assign to me. Its for one of my dearest and closest friends, Larry. Ironically, when I checked the list he hadnÂ’t been assigned to anyone. IÂ’ve written about all the others at various times but never about Larry. DonÂ’t know what the mental or spiritual block is but IÂ’ve just never been able to. Just even writing this has made me break down in tears. At his funeral service I turned down his girlfriendÂ’s request to go up and eulogize him. How do you encampsulate over 15years of friendship in just a few minutes. My excuse back then was that by the time his service came around I had already participated in 4 others services and I just couldnÂ’t do another. But somehow I knew there was more to it because I barely made it to the church in time for the service.

That morning I laid in bed unable to move. My spirit and body remained frozen in the same position for hours even after my PDA reminder kept going off. Eventually, Larry’s famous catch phrase and the last words he said to me after I pleaded with him not to go up the tower immediately came back to me: “I’ve got to go, duty calls.” and with that example and reminder in my head I rolled out of bed and onto the floor on all 4 limbs. I kept talking to myself to get up off the floor, much like he did when I had fallen at the hospital during my endless Rehab sessions as he pushed my brain to send messages to my leg muscles to begin to move again.

That day would be filled with memories of him and how he touched my life through the years in a thousand different ways. It has been no different than the 1799 days that have followed. Once again thereÂ’s a thousand small reminders of you dear friend. As I made dinner for my son and house guests last night I recalled how many times you must have stopped by after your shift just to see what I had cooked and whether or not it merited you sitting down with me for dinner or whether it merely would be a quick snack for your drive home. At one point last night I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of you over my eyeglasses, plate in hand, mouth full and chewing while making loud sounds meant to indicate how good it tasted. When I refocused my vision through my eyeglasses I saw it was my brother in law who just wanted to let me know he loved what he was eating so much he wanted to check and see if there were leftovers.

Larry, this morning you may see tears on my face but they are not just tears of sadness and of lossÂ… they are also tears of gratitude and thankfulness that you were there for me every time I fell or faltered and helped nudge me, move me, even push me along my path. And yes, I finally do agreeÂ… failure (even in this) is not an option!

Thanks for being part of my heart in tears and joy!

Posted by: Michele at 11:41 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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