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Free Write rules: just write down words freely. You get what you get. Like this…..

January 19, 2009

Maybe there’s a way to whip rhythm into a frenzy deep and low enough to balance some time on top of what used to be time before there was sand down under the sea to support it all. And yeah maybe there is another reason to dance with closed eyes long into the night like we used to do when I remembered my grandparents so much clearer. Wish I could remember the sounds of the Gaelic words of Papa more. I remember the idea more so than the actual sounds. Such a rotten reality to become aware of it is this. But look at what I do have. (smile) Look at where the music of his voice has taken me even though I may not remember it so much now all these years after the funeral. Look at the windows with the little magical hand prints and drifting finger prints on there like paintings in old caves, marking months and years of growth and which I refuse to wash – I like to see real time there on the picture window overlooking our field and the distant hills of East Montpelier and Plainfield. The church steeple in between the field and those hills. Look at where his real laughter and his quiet, happy thinking have made their own place in my own ways. Look at where he came from and where he ended up. When he left Ireland, he had just his wife and brothers and sisters and when he died so many years later, he had so much more: multiple, full families to carry on in his ways and for me, not just to take his name as my own , but to try to simply keep on being the kind of person and man that he was, which is where I draw the only (not-so-clear) line on my Map of Goals.

Say there really was a Map of Goals. What would my map consist of? I have plenty of fast and good ideas coming to mind, but this takes time and thought and I’m not ready to throw down with my goals on the night before Obama takes the reigns. Much more important things at stake right now this very moment. The verge of a new feeling, a new pride, a new family to define America. This is beautiful and more than that, this is the moment. No need to look too far forward this week and no need to think too much about the past, with so much right in front of us. But how can you not? How can you not look back to what we’ve read about how the country used to be just in time to see a black man take the oath? And how can you not look forward, when our baby will be joining us in a matter of days and wonder who it is, and how this place we’re bringing him/her into, this world and this country, is suddenly so filled with hope, just like a macrocosm of our small family. (Is macrocosm a word?) We are ALL HOPE right now.

And so what will be will be. Yes, what will be will be. We can try to bend the bars a little here and there and we can try to plead our case to whomever will listen and maybe it’s just words on a blog, with about as much weight as a filtering fog, but sometimes you just feel like you have to pay a little more attention to the details a bit more because there is a memory of a grandfather in a man’s head that is not as full as it should be tonight.

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