At this writing, my brother Chris is safely back on U.S. soil after a seven month deployment to Iraq. Well, actually, he is not exactly on soil as he is currently flying from the East Coast to his home base on the West Coast. But he is back! And he is safe! And I am so happy I could cry. In fact, I am crying.
Now, let's just end this damn war and bring the rest of our troops home. Every big sister of a man or woman stationed in Iraq deserves to feel this overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude.
11.07.2007
11.01.2007
10.30.2007
just an observation about life in a small city
Perhaps one of the biggest adjustments in moving from Chi-town to C-ville has been the change of pace. Nobody is in a hurry to get anywhere here. Perhaps because you can be anywhere within 15 minutes. And this makes for very courteous drivers. Indeed, "southern hospitality" is evident, even on the roadways:
"You go first. "
"No, after you."
Now, as a genuinely aggressive driver hailing from Chicago, I find this genteel or friendly way of driving a bit maddening. "Come on, go already!" I yell at my windshield.
Oh, but I have learned not to honk my horn. In Chicago, you honk to say, “Hey, *$%#! Get in your own lane!” or “Watch it, #$*%!” or even, “Come on, go already!” But here, when I honk, folks turn around and wave. They seem to think I am just saying, “Hello.” So, I have stopped honking. I’d hate for somebody to mistake my frustration with mere friendliness.
"You go first. "
"No, after you."
"No, please you go."
"I couldn't possibly take yout turn. You go."
"I insist, you first."
Now, as a genuinely aggressive driver hailing from Chicago, I find this genteel or friendly way of driving a bit maddening. "Come on, go already!" I yell at my windshield.
Oh, but I have learned not to honk my horn. In Chicago, you honk to say, “Hey, *$%#! Get in your own lane!” or “Watch it, #$*%!” or even, “Come on, go already!” But here, when I honk, folks turn around and wave. They seem to think I am just saying, “Hello.” So, I have stopped honking. I’d hate for somebody to mistake my frustration with mere friendliness.
10.22.2007
Anointing
In his brief life, he had experienced so much violence. If it wasn't violence in his home, it was violence in his body as cancer invaded and attacked his tiny frame. Through it all, he possessed a mischievous smile and a contagious laugh. Everyone who met him, loved him. Yes, they even fought to see who would get to love him the most.
But as parents fought with each other, with the state, with foster families, all staking their claim on that little child, ultimately, cancer won out.
We attended a family meeting at the hospital, learning what the disease had done and was doing to the boy. Those who loved him most listened to the doctors. And though the decision was difficult, their choice, their unaminous desire that he not suffer, ended their battles once and for all.
As we left the meeting and walked back to his bedside to say our goodbyes, we encountered two nurses tending to him. They had cleansed his body. They had rubbed lotion into his skin. They had anointed him, preparing his body for death.
In his brief life, he had experienced so much violence. But in those last few minutes, I believe all he felt was love.
But as parents fought with each other, with the state, with foster families, all staking their claim on that little child, ultimately, cancer won out.
We attended a family meeting at the hospital, learning what the disease had done and was doing to the boy. Those who loved him most listened to the doctors. And though the decision was difficult, their choice, their unaminous desire that he not suffer, ended their battles once and for all.
As we left the meeting and walked back to his bedside to say our goodbyes, we encountered two nurses tending to him. They had cleansed his body. They had rubbed lotion into his skin. They had anointed him, preparing his body for death.
In his brief life, he had experienced so much violence. But in those last few minutes, I believe all he felt was love.
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