Some Days Are Simply More Interesting

Today did not seem to hold any special promise. It is grey and chill and typical New England winter fare but, as I wandered around town in my car munching an all too calorific lunch, I happened across a film crew setting up its equipment in the middle of Lowell. It occurs to me that Lowell, though small by the standards of most cities, is quite a vital and interesting place. I glanced briefly at the activities as I drove by then called a friend who lives in Lowell afterwards to find out if she knew anything about it but that, and a web search, yielded little to no relevent information. Darn! Curiosity is not a lot of fun unless you are able to ferret out the information at some point.

There has been so much going on, so much to write about,that I have chosen very deliberately to wait until the first emotive moments have passed before I sit down to write. This is something I have chosen to do not because I feel my writing will be better or that I will somehow communicate more effectively, but because I have so desperately needed, for a very long time, to take a few steps back and rest. There is something exciting and moving about writing during the throes of an emotional moment or period of time, but it can also be quite taxing when the emotions in question are the ones I and my family have been dealing with over tha past several years; grief, loss, anger, fear, despair, emptiness - vast and unrelenting emptiness - as we have been forced to say "good-bye" to loved ones, hopes, dreams, wishes, and joy repeatedly. I repeat as firmly as possible; I needed a rest.

One of the issues I have wanted to address more recently, but have shied away from, was that of the loss the Travolta family has so recently experienced. Instead of writing while I was likely to shed tears during the writing, I have waited - for my own sake - to mention their son Jett. I cannot begin to imagine to sense of grief and loss they, as parents, must feel right now, although I feel I may be somewhat more able to empathise with their daughter on the loss of her brother. When the news of Jett's tragic passing was first broadcast, I was stunned. The Travoltas seem to have managed to live a fairly quiet and private life despite their fame and it was something of a shock to read of their loss. My next reaction was one of rage that anyone would want information so badly they would harass a grieving family, still in shock from their loss, for information and details of the incident that left them so bereft. I sincerely hope this was not the case for this family. My heart and sympathy go out to them. I wish I was as good as my niece used to be at sending hugs over the phone, it seems as if this family could use several right now.

For most people I suppose it would have been the other way around but I found that the whole Arab-Isreali thing served as a backdrop for the more intimate tragedyies this past week, rather than the more personal for the more international. Certainly a matter of perspective but also, I think, a matter of preference. I prefer to focus more upon those issues I have had some experience with and am therefore more likely to be able to offer something of genuine use or comfort to others going through such trials.

What I might have of use to contribute to a major international debacle I cannot fathom at the moment. They are all too old for spanking, spraying them with water might not work as well as it does with our cats, and taking their guns and bombs away would only annoy them and they would go out and get more which would leave me with a bunch of stuff I wouldn't know how to dispose of properly.

Maybe my Grandmother's method of making them sit facing each other without saying anything for a lengthy period of time (I think the length of time was determined by the type and severity of the infraction, etc.) might work although they seem to have already taken that to extremes. I suppose a major time out would prove ineffective as well. As that is the extent of my disciplinary and diplomatic repetoire at the moment I hope anyone reading this understands why I tend to focus more on the personal than on the global issues in the news.

The kitty fountain sings in the background and I imagine the tummy rumblings of several pussycats coming to mug me as I type all of this. I really need to go feed our family of five cats before they "mewtiny" against me and attack my knees and feet. The greyness of the January day has slowly crept into the house as the light wanes and early evening begins to set in. There have been numerous small birds munching the seed on our deck - juncos, chickadees, cardinals, blue jays, and the wandering and forlorn sparrow now and then. It is fun to watch them as they vie for food even thought they all seem to get enough and always leave some sitting in the snow to germinate in the Spring. I love the simple beauty of the plain New England birds, their colors, their gentle demeanors, their feistiness, their music. Something in their nature speaks gently to my soul and heals much of the pain I must live with from day to day. Physical pain is more easily dealt with than the emotional pains we encounter as we continue to survive while some of those we love dearly do not. It is that emotional pain the sights and sounds of these small creatures helps to asuage, and I love them for the peace I feel while watching them go about their lives, at least the parts of their lives played out on our back deck.

Peace, joy, happiness, and healing to all.

Love, Izzlebug