Today is my 55th birthday and i have had a good day. :)
i was awakened to the sound of two former students, jeremy and james, mowing my lawn. this had been prearranged, but i was still happy about it. the lawn had gotten pretty shaggy, and worrisome. one problem out of the way!
after fixing myself a breakfast of hash browns and watching some tv, i went up to take a nap, and was awakened by two birthday phone calls. the last one was from jen chambers, who was in the santa fe flea market at the stall where i buy my green chile powder! i talked to chef assi on the phone, ordered a pound each of the chef's blend, green chile powder, and chipotle chile powder! so, finally, i got my chile powder! hurray!
i got up and then meg called and she came over with colton and tara and they took away, finally, the chair and hassock that the cat's shredded! again, hooray!
Pam called and came down, and we hung out and chit chatted and got caught up. then we went to applebee's for dinner and came back. my great neighbors, the partridges, came over with homemade birthday cards and 4 huge chocolate covered strawberries! YUM!!!
i have gotten a lot of nice birthday greetings on facebook and phone calls from family, including the animal, who told me my birthday gift was that he wouldn't get another DUI...hhahahahah. some people have texted me birthday greetings as well.
a lot of time i think i am alone, but i don't know why i think that. i do have friends and people who care about me. i am learning at 55 to believe that. i am in a pretty good place right now and i hope i can stay there.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
On Ann Reeves 80th birthday...
What you didn’t know about ANN REEVES and what I have learned from her!
My association with the illustrious Ann Reeves began approximately 40 years ago. On the first day I met her, I learned a lesson about GENETICS. I was amazed at how much Cindy looked like her mother. And in consequent years, I learned about cloning when I met Ann’s mother, who was from Baltimore. It was amazing how all three of these women looked alike! It was also amazing how great a geneticist she is, as she managed to create a child who looked like her through ADOPTION. My first lesson at being stupid..
Things you don’t know about ANN…
1) She created the FOOD NETWORK. How do I know that? Well, she is a meal planner. I found out this in 1972 when I ate lunch with Cindy and MJ Kelly. MJ was guaranteed to have some sort of exotic lunch food, like granola or tuna fish in a small thermos. For me, tuna fish for lunch and in a PLASTIC SMALL THERMOS was foreign, but the true lunch wonder was CINDY’S lunch. Food network meal planning: Cindy had 4 course lunches! I was eating mystery meat from the cafeteria, but Cindy! She had Chef Ann packing for her. This is where I learned that CEREAL IN A BOX IS ITS OWN FOOD GROUP! This is where I learned that Fritos came in little individual bags! This is where I learned that you could have DESSERT in a small, individualized packet! And CINDY LEARNED TOO! The miniature Mohr men have grown up knowing that COLD CEREAL IS THE BOMB! IT CAN BE EATEN FOR DINNER! AND AT NIGHT! AND IN THE CAR! Who was responsible for starting this food movement? ANN REEVES!!! 1974
2) Ann has a great appreciation for music! How do I know? I frequently brought my guitar to her house and sang homemade bad songs and ANN LIKED IT!!! Cindy had a piano! And she could play it! I could only marvel. And get this…It was at Ann Reeves house that I held in my hands the only BUDDY HOLLY AND THE CRICKETS original album! Who knew Ann was a devoted scholar of early rock and roll? She must have passed that on to Cindy, who thought I WAS A GREAT MUSICIAN!! You go, ANN! And by the way, I expect that album to be willed to me when you go to the great Woodstock in the sky!
3) Ann is a financial planner. She early on invested in the U. S. Postal Service. How do I know? Because Ann is only one of Three people that I know who still use the Postal Service, otherwise known as Snail Mail. I know this because she is one of the only persons who still sends me Xmas and Birthday cards, in particular Birthday Cards. I have always relished looking for the Ann Reeves card amongst the credit card applications, 20% off discount cards from Bed, Bath and Beyond, and past due notices from my many doctors. However, considering the state of the Postal Service today, I am sure Ann has wisely decided to cut her losses and no longer invest in that stock. So, here, Ann is your excuse for NOT sending me a birthday card this year!
4) Ann taught work ethic! Cindy was the only person I knew who had a job and worked it…forever…They had to finally CLOSE LaVogue in the Cloverleaf Mall before she left there! As a result, Cindy had nice clothes, her own car, and learned the fine art of dealing with fashionistas and their whining with a smile. I learned that working at LaVogue was better than being a waitress at Lord Hardwickes, and that working during the school year AND taking advanced classes was a possibility. Balance! Something Cindy had that I did not!
5) I learned about the fine art of family planning from the REEVES! This translates into this: ONE CHILD IS GOOD!! ONE CHILD IS ENOUGH! I am thinking “Look how well adjusted Cindy is! She is happy! She loves her parents and never, ever bitches about them! She knows her heritage (Can you say Tangier Island?) She smiles a lot! She can do MATH!!! So I attempted to follow this family planning model. Ann MUST have been much better trained at this. I, too, only have ONE CHILD. And he is good at Math! And he is happy…However, he has the attention span of a hamster, and his idea of heritage is knowing who his immediate relatives are! Cindy was NOT an athlete, which was probably a wise choice on the part of Ann and Bill NOT to get her into sports. I failed to catch that particular lesson on child rearing, as I have spent most of my adult parenting time enjoying the fine art of using a port-o-potty at any of 10 gazillion ball fields and I can tell you all about a splitter, a fastball’s velocity, and how much of an ass Brian O’Connor, the head baseball coach at UVA, is. Ann was spared these experiences…oh, how I sometimes wish I had studied her parenting skill a little closer! I should have DONE THE MATH! Cindy tutors children in math, and I have a child who was two years ahead of his own grade in math, but is majoring in baseball and couldn’t find his ass with two hands…
6) Ann Reeves invented the instant cocktail! It was called BRASS MONKEY. I never understood why anyone would call a drink Brass Monkey until I experienced it at the Reeves bar before a hockey game. I recall this alcoholic moment with great clarity, one of the few times that I had ANY clarity when consuming alcohol. Ann and Bill had invited Tom Mohr and I for dinner. Bill had his usual spot outside grilling some sort of meat and drinking a beer. In between flipping burgers, he and I would engage in meaningful conversation, which consisted of Bill saying “When you gonna get married?” And me saying something like “Hell, I don’t know.” In any case, Ann fixed me this wonderful drink, which knocked me off my socks. Cindy, Tom and I went to the Richmond Robins hockey game, where I learned that hockey was very confusing to watch when you are drunk. So I went to sleep between innings, or quarters, or whatever the hell they call it when the Zamboni comes out and shines the ice. This is where I am convinced that Ann was clairvoyant. She knew Tom was right for Cindy. So she got me drunk so I wouldn’t be able to talk, and the normally quiet Cindy had no choice but to talk to Tom. Ann took me out of the picture, created a love match for her daughter, and I got a good nap and never went to another damned hockey game again!
7) Ann Reeves has taught me kindness, generosity, and humor! I have to say that being able to hang out with the Reeves gave me another whole view of what a happy family can be! I learned a lot about how a loving parent can create a great kid by being interested, supportive, loving. The Reeves gave Cindy all the tools to be a great person. This was a good thing to see and a good thing to remember. I have a quirky relationship with my son, but he does tell me secrets. I know WAY too much stuff that would send most parents into a tailspin, but I have to think that part of that is that I listen and I know Ann did the same with Cindy. I know that Ann is, to me, the epitome of the grand Southern Lady! So I am gifting her with a new way to spend her Mint Julep years! It is called FIREFLY…alcohol infused tea! You can sit outside on a nice night, make yourself a nice stiff drink disguised as TEA, and watch the fireflies! How Lovely! I salute you, ANN, the lovely Southern lady!
Friday, September 16, 2011
i forgot i could write...
tonight i went back and reread the blog i wrote in 2006 about my adventures in new mexico and colorado with pam.
that was a truly enjoyable road trip, and i had forgotten much of what i had done. as i read, however, i came to appreciate the fact that i am a good writer. at times i laughed out loud. at times i smiled to myself because i knew as i read it that it was quality work.
as i type away tonight on this blog, i realize that i do still have the potential to go back to writing well. i am very rusty. really rusty, actually. i don't feel much of a flow going as far as creativity is concerned. but i am also open to the concept that i have to start writing something, anything, on a more regular basis. if i practice, i may get my chops back.
sometimes i think about my love for music when i was younger and my absolute need for years to play my guitar and sing everyday. for a long time i routinely played at least 2 hours daily, and that included after i got out of college and was working. it was part of who i was at the time.
and now the guitars are hanging up on the wall, and playing them is surely not quite the pleasure it once was because i REALLY am out of shape in that area. but i do pick them up every once in a blue moon, stand around playing along with the records, singing. i know that doing that does make me sort of happy. it also makes me a little sad to know i won't probably ever be able to be as good or as passionate about this as i was as a kid. i have a tendency after awhile to sigh and put the guitar back up, sort of sad, sort of mellow, sort of tired, sort of happy. i can't imagine what it would be like to be a performer at my age, especially when your voice starts to go a bit, your guitar playing isn't what it was, isn't as fluid, isn't as crisp. i imagine it would be pretty hard to face that, especially if it defines who you are in your own mind. i didn't pick a profession that had me retiring as a lesser version of who i was in the beginning. that comes from not having a job rooted in a lot of physicality. i have a brain centered career. the more i do, the more i add to my brain, the wiser i could become...well, that is as long as i don't start to have the brain farts on a constant basis! :)
so i will continue to sit in front of computer at 2 a.m. on a friday night listening to old 70's tunes, scratching the rotating parade of cats who are walking in front of the computer monitor, blocking my view, slowing me down, demanding attention. i stretch my neck, yawn, try to find a reason to stay here and keep writing. i would like to just lie down right here and not move. i'd like to stop yawning. i guess i should just stop typing now and go to bed...yes, i think i will. good night, muses of writing.
that was a truly enjoyable road trip, and i had forgotten much of what i had done. as i read, however, i came to appreciate the fact that i am a good writer. at times i laughed out loud. at times i smiled to myself because i knew as i read it that it was quality work.
as i type away tonight on this blog, i realize that i do still have the potential to go back to writing well. i am very rusty. really rusty, actually. i don't feel much of a flow going as far as creativity is concerned. but i am also open to the concept that i have to start writing something, anything, on a more regular basis. if i practice, i may get my chops back.
sometimes i think about my love for music when i was younger and my absolute need for years to play my guitar and sing everyday. for a long time i routinely played at least 2 hours daily, and that included after i got out of college and was working. it was part of who i was at the time.
and now the guitars are hanging up on the wall, and playing them is surely not quite the pleasure it once was because i REALLY am out of shape in that area. but i do pick them up every once in a blue moon, stand around playing along with the records, singing. i know that doing that does make me sort of happy. it also makes me a little sad to know i won't probably ever be able to be as good or as passionate about this as i was as a kid. i have a tendency after awhile to sigh and put the guitar back up, sort of sad, sort of mellow, sort of tired, sort of happy. i can't imagine what it would be like to be a performer at my age, especially when your voice starts to go a bit, your guitar playing isn't what it was, isn't as fluid, isn't as crisp. i imagine it would be pretty hard to face that, especially if it defines who you are in your own mind. i didn't pick a profession that had me retiring as a lesser version of who i was in the beginning. that comes from not having a job rooted in a lot of physicality. i have a brain centered career. the more i do, the more i add to my brain, the wiser i could become...well, that is as long as i don't start to have the brain farts on a constant basis! :)
so i will continue to sit in front of computer at 2 a.m. on a friday night listening to old 70's tunes, scratching the rotating parade of cats who are walking in front of the computer monitor, blocking my view, slowing me down, demanding attention. i stretch my neck, yawn, try to find a reason to stay here and keep writing. i would like to just lie down right here and not move. i'd like to stop yawning. i guess i should just stop typing now and go to bed...yes, i think i will. good night, muses of writing.
refocus
the night before i returned to school i woke up around 5:30 from a dream that involved my old friend MJ. as i lay there in and out of sleep, i was drawn into a calm place in which i suddenly felt as if i had finished a mission. it made me a bit sad. i have been skipping around the subject of mortality a lot in the last few month, most likely induced by my slow bodily disintegration. not that i haven't been calmly coming apart for a long time, but it is getting harder, and after long periods of just feeling tired and unmotivated, it gets hard to refocus and find something new to concentrate upon. a good day, one in which i felt pretty ok and had some satisfaction about how i spent my time, can do wonders for my motivation.
i had been in sort of zen state of calm despite the left turn i have had to take with my relationship with austin. i sort of felt like i was completed with the missions. there didn't appear to be anything else that i felt like i had been sent to do or achieve. so i just laid there, sort of sad, and sort of resigned.
on the way to work i came up to the first stoplight after i got off the interstate and the light turned yellow. i had one of my moments of hesitation about whether to shoot the light or stop. usually, i shoot it. this time, i slammed on the brakes.
i didn't realize how hard a stop it would be, and i skidded to the lip of the intersection. rightly so, i had braked, for the light was at red by the time i came to a halt.
my foot was solidly planted on the brake still as i happen to glance into the rear view mirror in time to see a huge white tree trimming truck, complete with trailer, barreling full blast right towards me. i saw him sliding sideways trying to miss me, but i knew it was coming and could only watch...
and then he somehow slid past me into the right hand lane and roared across the intersection well after the light had turned red, seemingly not slowing at all, even after he had cleared the intersection.
it seemed like i sat there for 2 minutes with my foot frozen on the brake, stunned. it was more of a shock, however, the next day.
for a week i had had something annoying rolling around in my trunk, and i had been too lazy to get out and check on it. i was at WAWA filling up the car with gas, and i was going to head from there to charlottesville to deliver austin's baseball playbook to him. while i was filling up the gas and had the time, i opened the trunk.
what had been rolling around was the full tank of propane gas that i had purchased the week before in anticipation of hurricane irene and not being able to cook. the empty 5 gallon gas tank that i had never filled up was also in there. then i got it.
i took the detour home to rid myself of those items and spent some wondering time. wondering why i had not immediately taken those things out of my car when i had returned the day i got them. normally, i am phobic about driving with gas in the car, period. how i could have ridden around for a week with flammables in the trunk is beyond me.
but what was NOT beyond me was the fact that had the trimming truck hit me, i would have been immediately incinerated.
i got the message. i still have work to do.
i had been in sort of zen state of calm despite the left turn i have had to take with my relationship with austin. i sort of felt like i was completed with the missions. there didn't appear to be anything else that i felt like i had been sent to do or achieve. so i just laid there, sort of sad, and sort of resigned.
on the way to work i came up to the first stoplight after i got off the interstate and the light turned yellow. i had one of my moments of hesitation about whether to shoot the light or stop. usually, i shoot it. this time, i slammed on the brakes.
i didn't realize how hard a stop it would be, and i skidded to the lip of the intersection. rightly so, i had braked, for the light was at red by the time i came to a halt.
my foot was solidly planted on the brake still as i happen to glance into the rear view mirror in time to see a huge white tree trimming truck, complete with trailer, barreling full blast right towards me. i saw him sliding sideways trying to miss me, but i knew it was coming and could only watch...
and then he somehow slid past me into the right hand lane and roared across the intersection well after the light had turned red, seemingly not slowing at all, even after he had cleared the intersection.
it seemed like i sat there for 2 minutes with my foot frozen on the brake, stunned. it was more of a shock, however, the next day.
for a week i had had something annoying rolling around in my trunk, and i had been too lazy to get out and check on it. i was at WAWA filling up the car with gas, and i was going to head from there to charlottesville to deliver austin's baseball playbook to him. while i was filling up the gas and had the time, i opened the trunk.
what had been rolling around was the full tank of propane gas that i had purchased the week before in anticipation of hurricane irene and not being able to cook. the empty 5 gallon gas tank that i had never filled up was also in there. then i got it.
i took the detour home to rid myself of those items and spent some wondering time. wondering why i had not immediately taken those things out of my car when i had returned the day i got them. normally, i am phobic about driving with gas in the car, period. how i could have ridden around for a week with flammables in the trunk is beyond me.
but what was NOT beyond me was the fact that had the trimming truck hit me, i would have been immediately incinerated.
i got the message. i still have work to do.
music is a circle game
at this point, a normal person would be in bed. but here i sit, typing, listening to music from my past, and it seems to me all a circle game. i just keep coming back to the same soundtrack and it makes me happy and sort of mellow.
the edges of those teenage memories aren't really sharp anymore. sometimes it is like watching a blurry tv with the sound turned down. and then other times i listen to the music and see myself in my bedroom with my guitar trying to play a peter, paul and mary song, getting up and resettling the needle back into the same groove, again. i just never got tired of listening over and over to the same song until i had it down. a lot of time spent in my bedroom sitting on my bed, playing a song, no one hearing me do it. i liked playing, i liked thinking about performing in front of people, you know, the rock star thing. but really, i just wanted to play. i never could learn to read a lick of music, no matter how hard i tried. but i could play by ear and read chords out of a book. but music...nope. and i never did get over the awkwardness and nervousness i felt when performing in front of a crowd. alcohol helped a lot once i got to college, but in high school i didn't have much to soften the anxieties.
joan baez and peter, paul and mary. folk songs. then jim croce records and john denver's greatest hits. and there were others - cat stephens, loggins and messina's first album, sittin' in, and then linda ronstadt's heart like a wheel album. one linked to another one, and on to the 45's of carly simon and anticipation and you're so vain. roberta flack's first time ever i saw your face, hey, that's no way to say goodbye, killing me softly.
the odd thing about this circle game is that 40 years later in my head i still come back to that bedroom, stand around with my guitar, look out that window and down that long driveway and it isn't the same as it was 40 years ago. it wasn't a happy time for me, period. as a matter of fact, it was pretty fucking miserable. but time has done the right thing, i guess. it has blurred the sharp edges of life a bit, softened them. but it has left the good stuff, the music, sharp and crisp and vital. it brought me a lot of pleasure, a lot of confidence, a lot of escape then. and it does the same for me now.
the edges of those teenage memories aren't really sharp anymore. sometimes it is like watching a blurry tv with the sound turned down. and then other times i listen to the music and see myself in my bedroom with my guitar trying to play a peter, paul and mary song, getting up and resettling the needle back into the same groove, again. i just never got tired of listening over and over to the same song until i had it down. a lot of time spent in my bedroom sitting on my bed, playing a song, no one hearing me do it. i liked playing, i liked thinking about performing in front of people, you know, the rock star thing. but really, i just wanted to play. i never could learn to read a lick of music, no matter how hard i tried. but i could play by ear and read chords out of a book. but music...nope. and i never did get over the awkwardness and nervousness i felt when performing in front of a crowd. alcohol helped a lot once i got to college, but in high school i didn't have much to soften the anxieties.
joan baez and peter, paul and mary. folk songs. then jim croce records and john denver's greatest hits. and there were others - cat stephens, loggins and messina's first album, sittin' in, and then linda ronstadt's heart like a wheel album. one linked to another one, and on to the 45's of carly simon and anticipation and you're so vain. roberta flack's first time ever i saw your face, hey, that's no way to say goodbye, killing me softly.
the odd thing about this circle game is that 40 years later in my head i still come back to that bedroom, stand around with my guitar, look out that window and down that long driveway and it isn't the same as it was 40 years ago. it wasn't a happy time for me, period. as a matter of fact, it was pretty fucking miserable. but time has done the right thing, i guess. it has blurred the sharp edges of life a bit, softened them. but it has left the good stuff, the music, sharp and crisp and vital. it brought me a lot of pleasure, a lot of confidence, a lot of escape then. and it does the same for me now.
Monday, September 5, 2011
old music is a blanket
"won't you please read my signs, be a gypsy...tell me what i hope to find deep within me...because you can't find my mind, please be with me..."words from an old eric clapton album, 461 OCEAN BOULEVARD. i find that old music is sort of a thin, comforting blanket, a worn pair of shorts, a cat in the lap. i guess listening to my high school and college music in a certain time period does it for me. i am not sure WHY that time period is so important. i was pretty unhappy and screwed up then. but i was playing my guitar, singing, escaping in a lot of ways. music was certainly probably the most important one. despite crappy things, the music seems to stay, and the memories, or at least the feelings attached to them, have faded into grey. sort of like a tv on with the sound off.
last night i spent a fast five hours downloading music from all eras, all types, all associated with something in my life. country music, music from tv shows, 60's tunes from when i was a kid, high school stuff. as i write this, i am playing the playlist entitled 1974-75. i downloaded all of the music that popped into my head from that time that was something i associated with it. there is more to download, but i was happy to have it to do what i am doing right now...listening to music that makes me relaxed and happy, and writing.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
reachin' landin's, turnin' corners...
i have reached a point where i think i have completed a couple of my life missions, which puts me in a very strange space.
is my work here completed? am i in a wind down phase? what am i supposed to do next?
to answer the first question, i would say that i have completed mission #1, which had something to do with be a support system for MJ. this is not to say that i didn't learn anything from the long trip over the years. i have. i realized a lot about my need to be important to someone, or not to be as the case may be. Where has that old friend gone...on to her own life, finally. I don't feel the need to be there anymore. as far as friends go, this was never a relationship of equals. it was more of me being the fierce guardian angel, one who hoped at point i would be recognized as having some important value in her life. that is not the case, and really, it never really was. regardless, it has taken me 35 years to be ok with what it was all about, and i have flown away from that spot.
more than that first mission, i have thought for awhile that i have completed the second, most important mission, which was to be some sort of guide for my son. i don't feel that i have failed in that mission, only that part of it is having to fly away from that spot and observe, not participate. separation is hard for anything that you do. most definitely hard for me. i am sort of wandering into a wilderness that seems both familiar and distant. i am not scared per se. i am just sort of tired and willing to move on.
i like this song for its majesty. the video shows that. the song is a good reflection of my thoughts.
"February Song"
Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes, opens his eyes
Where is that simple day
Before colors broke into shades
And how did I ever fade
Into this life, into this life
And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you I, I'll come back to you one day
Morning is waking up
And sometimes it's more than just enough
When all that you need to love
Is in front of your eyes
It's in front of your eyes
And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
Sometimes it's hard to find the ground
Cause I keep on falling as I try to get away
From this crazy world
And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you I, I'll come back to you one day
Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes
Opens his eyes
is my work here completed? am i in a wind down phase? what am i supposed to do next?
to answer the first question, i would say that i have completed mission #1, which had something to do with be a support system for MJ. this is not to say that i didn't learn anything from the long trip over the years. i have. i realized a lot about my need to be important to someone, or not to be as the case may be. Where has that old friend gone...on to her own life, finally. I don't feel the need to be there anymore. as far as friends go, this was never a relationship of equals. it was more of me being the fierce guardian angel, one who hoped at point i would be recognized as having some important value in her life. that is not the case, and really, it never really was. regardless, it has taken me 35 years to be ok with what it was all about, and i have flown away from that spot.
more than that first mission, i have thought for awhile that i have completed the second, most important mission, which was to be some sort of guide for my son. i don't feel that i have failed in that mission, only that part of it is having to fly away from that spot and observe, not participate. separation is hard for anything that you do. most definitely hard for me. i am sort of wandering into a wilderness that seems both familiar and distant. i am not scared per se. i am just sort of tired and willing to move on.
i like this song for its majesty. the video shows that. the song is a good reflection of my thoughts.
Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes, opens his eyes
Where is that simple day
Before colors broke into shades
And how did I ever fade
Into this life, into this life
And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you I, I'll come back to you one day
Morning is waking up
And sometimes it's more than just enough
When all that you need to love
Is in front of your eyes
It's in front of your eyes
And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
Sometimes it's hard to find the ground
Cause I keep on falling as I try to get away
From this crazy world
And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you I, I'll come back to you one day
Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes
Opens his eyes
hallelujah
i am finally sitting in front of this computer, typing, listening for the umpteenth time the song "Hallelujah" in its various versions by jeff buckley and k. d. lang.
it has taken me a year to get here.
a lot of key logs have been moved in my log jammed life. big ones. and maybe i will get to talking about some of them if i come back here, and maybe i won't. so i will just deal with today.
today i went to school to work on a saturday to complete a purge of my desk and files that i started yesterday.( hurricane irene hit us last saturday, a long day of stress waiting for the electricity to go out, which it never did. ) in the purge i found a few pictures of austin when he was young, elementary school beginnings. i was struck with how happy he looked, innocent, open.
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