For them all...

...the victims and survivors of the senseless violence in Norway. 

Remembrance....

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth 

And danced the skies on laughter silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth

of sun-split clouds....

Apollo 1
Caught fire January 27th, 1963 - no survivors. 

- and done a hundred things 

you have not dreamed of - 

Crew of Apollo 1
Virgil "Gus" Grissom, Edward H. White, Roger B Chaffee

Wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence

Hovering there -  

The Challenger, exploded January 28th, 1986,
No Survivors. 

 My eager craft through footless halls of air

Up, up, up the long delirious burning,  blue

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Crew of the Challenger
Michael J Smith, Dick Scobee, Ronald McNair
Ellison Onizuka, Christa McAuliffe, Gregory Jarvis, Judith Resnick

Where never lark or even an eagle flew

And while with silent lifting mind I've trod

the high untrespassed sanctity of space...

Shuttle Columbia, February 1st, 2003, exploded, no Survivors

Put out my hand....

Crew of the Shuttle Columbia
Rick D Husband., William C  McCool, Micheal P Anderson,
 Ilan Ramon, Kalpana Chawla,  David M Brown, Laurel Clark

....and touched the face of God. 

High Flight

by    John  Gillespie Magee, Jr. 

Sacrilege in Glastonbury

The Holy Thorn Tree of Glastonbury -
in the distance, the great stone Tor of Glastonbury is just visible.

In England in Glastonbury there stands a tree that is known as The Holy Thorn Tree of Glastonbury. Legend has it that the tree sprouted from the staff of Joseph of Arimathea, the great uncle of Jesus who provided the burial tomb for Christ after he had been crucified, and the linen to shroud the body in. Legend continues that Joseph travelled to England after Christ was crucified, taking with him the Holy Grail of Arthurian folklore. He is said to have stuck his wooden staff – which had belonged to Jesus – into the ground on Wearyall Hill before he went to sleep. When he awoke it had sprouted into a thorn tree, which became a natural shrine for Christians across Europe. To add to its sacred status, the tree ‘miraculously’ flowered twice a year – once at Christmas and once at Easter. The flowers are smaller at Christmas, and do not produce"haws" or berries, like the spring flowers do. Also, trees planted from the seeds of the Tree do not carry that double bloom characteristic of the original, and they will only bloom once at spring. However, if the shoots or clippings from the original are grafted or rooted, they DO retain the ability to bloom in the winter and the spring.

It has been cut down, and replanted from shoots and roots of the original tree a number of times, most notably in the English Civil War by Roundheads led by Cromwell in the fight against the crown. Always it has been sustained from the original, replanted and nurtured back to full growth. Experts have verified that the tree - known as the Crategus Monogyna Bi Flora - originated from the Middle East, which is rather fascinating! The current incarnation of the Glastonbury Thorn tree grows on Wearyhill in Sommerset and you can see the great Glastonbury Tor from it's side.
Many people bring offerings, ribbons, and prayers to the site of the Tree, and hang them on the protective fence around the trunk of the tree.
Every winter a 1oo year old tradition takes place - a sprig of thorns is taken from the Tree and sent to the Queen to be used at the table as a holy decoration on Christmas day. Last night, on December the 8th, the Mayor took the clipping and sent it off to the Palace. This morning on December the 9th the people of Sommerset rose to find the Holy Thorn Tree almost destroyed - its branches cut from it and thrown on the ground and left there.

Many wept and all were stunned at the blatant destruction. There are rumors of town rivalries and ugliness as the basis of the vandalism, but no one has been caught or accused of the act. People have gathered to weep and mourn the destruction of the sacred tree, and some are gleaning tenderly branches from the scattered limbs - maybe in hopes that a new shoot might be grafted and encouraged from the remains.


Such a mindless act of wanton destruction is almost more than I can comprehend. I do not understand why someone or someones would do such a thing, and desecrate what is surely a Holy Shrine, made so by the prayers and customs and the very Earth it grew in. All I could think of was the song sung by Loreena McKennit - "Bonny Portmore. I wish to offer that song here now as a lament for the loss of the Holy Tree of Glastonbury.



It must be pointed out that however desperately horrifying this vandalism it, and how gut wrenching it is to see, the trunk still stands intact...it is possible that it will respond as though it was deeply pruned and grow back fuller and richer in time than it was...

And if not, there are shoots and small trees growing in Britain that spring from cuttings of the Tree. It can be replanted, still stemming from the original roots, and the flowers will blossom still then, twice a year - at Winter Solstice and at Ostara, or Christmas and Easter.

Passing....

I grieve to post here that I learned today of the loss of a dear friend - Baron Corwyn Wodeward of the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism - a Medieval history and culture reenactment group that I have been a member of in the past and look forward to

being a part of again when I am done with school.). Corwyn was one of the first people I ever met when I joined years ago. He and his wife Deidre were dear, dear friends of mine. His health had been failing, he had a kidney transplant awhile back and, it appears he had a final stroke yesterday and passed away. Still waiting to hear any further details.

Corwyn, blessed be - Pax Requiem! May the Summerlands be your haven and may you be free now of any pain and suffering.

Let us remember his best friend and his wife, Deirdre with our prayers and our love at this time.

September 11, 2001 - 2010 Nine years.

Amidst the politics and hate and propaganda and rhetoric that are being flung everywhere today, let us remember the lives that were lost, and the lives that were saved and the heroes and sheroes of all races and faiths of that fateful day 9 years ago...

Let us remember.....and be better than hate.

Jeanne Robinson March 30, 1948 - May 30, 2010

This past Sunday on May 30th, Jeanne Robinson of the husband and wife writing team, Spider and Jeanne Robinson, passed away. They are the authors of the Stardance Trilogy, which includes Stardance, Starmind and Starseed. The gist of the books tells of a dancer who goes to space to dance, escaping the definition of up and down imposed by gravity, and in doing so leads the human race to the stars.

Jeanne was an author, a dancer, and a lay ordained Soto Zen Monk. She will be posthumously ordained as a Buddhist priest. As a dancer, she studied under Martha Graham, and was eventually Artistic Director of Halifax's Nova Dance Theater for more than 8 years, and choreographed thirty original works. She was actually scheduled decades ago to go up in the Space Shuttle's Civilian Program to explore zero gee dance, but her dream was grounded when the explosion of the Challenger ended the program.

She is survived by her husband, Spider Robinson, her daughter and son inlaw and her grandaughter as well as other family and friends. Please keep them all in thought and prayer.

Stardance, the first book of the trilogy is in the process of being made into a movie.http://www.stardancemovie.com/index.htm

I cannot begin to express how great an impact this woman's writings and life have had on me - I grieve for Spider and her family, friends and family who are parted from her. I do not grieve for her - such a great soul has passed from the illusions of this world into glory! I include here footage of Jeanne Dancing - her last public dance insofar as I know - and footage of dancers exploring zero gee dance concepts towards the Stardance Movie.

Yesteryears Child

Come with me back to my childhood. I need to muse on this, as there is something I learned over two years ago that has changed the entire landscape of my memories and I am still grappling with this. It's been mentioned obliquely here and there, but has long deserved a post of its own. Tonight I feel like writing it.

When I was small child, maybe of about five and a half, I was taken to an orthopedist by my parents. I evidently was not walking normally and falling some and they had concerns. We were devastated to learn I had a condition known as Legg-Calve Perthes...this was in the 1960's and at that time, the treatments for Perthes were leg braces that kept the body weight off the hip socket, traction, and/or bed rest, until the disease had run it's course. If treated in time, it would pass and normalize, if not, permanent damage, crippling affects and severe arthritis could occur. Supposedly it takes about 6 months to a year to heal, if treated properly.

I spent the next 6 months confined to a wheel chair, staying off the hip. 6 months is an eternity to a child, I might add. I also have to point out that I have a lot of gaps and blanks in my childhood memories that are probably due to medical trauma and depression because of these events. You might ask, can a child that age be depressed? Oh, yes. There are somethings that I will never forget associated with the years I spent trapped in the scenario. The first clear memory I have of these next few years, is from the very beginning - sitting in the back of the car, on the way home from the Doctor's office after we learned of the diagnosis. I sat and cried very quietly in distress. I don't know that as a five year old I truly understood what was happening, but I did understand that something bad was occurring, something that was big and scary and that was going to take over my life. I had been told I was not going to be allowed to walk for awhile, and that was more than clear enough for even a child as young as I was.

6 months later, we were back to check progress. No change, or evidently not enough to matter. The next step was an iron leg brace. The whole idea was for me to be able to "walk" after a fashion without putting any weight on the hip joint. The brace had a circular leather covered ring at the top around my leg at the hip...two iron bars down either side to the knee. At the knee there was a leather strap that went around my knee joint. The iron bars continued down to below and past my feet by a good 4 inches. My foot, in a special shoe (white leather) was tethered by a strap from the bottom of the shoe that buckled to a rectangular iron and rubber tipped bar about 3 x 4 inches in size. This bar was what I stood on, and my body weight rode the leather ring at the top instead of my hip joint itself. Since this stuck out that 4 inches past my foot, on the other foot I wore a built up 4 inch high shoe to match the height. The brace did not bend, period, which kept my leg straight at all times, walking, sitting or standing. At this point I was 6 years old.

So...I labored along on this contraption which was clumsy and strikingly vivid. I could go no where without the most uncomfortable kind of attention. Adults misunderstood00d what they saw; it was at the very end of the polio scare of that era, and most people thought I was a polio victim. My peers were unspeakable. I was lonely, cut off, viciously teased and ostracized. I was very much a tomboy, active and inquisitive, and now I could no longer do even a third of the kinds of activities I had once gloried in - running and climbing trees etc. Actually, I did climb trees, even after I was locked into the brace. But it took some doing! I was also turning into a speed reader...I devoured books as fast as I could get my hands on them, for they were my only connection to the world. I read my way up my grandmother's book collection and library, starting with what I could reach and expanding as I grew taller. (well...a little climbing helped too...) Jack London, Rudyard Kipling, Mark Twain, Shakespeare, Robert Frost and Thomas Wolf, and on and on....One of the good "side effects" of my illness was the reading speed and comprehension I developed early on - by the third grade I tested as reading on a college level! On a sad note - my grandmother died shortly after I was put in the leg brace. I found out later that she was so shaken by my diagnosis, that she believed the situation to be permanant and did not believe I would walk again. Not suprising - her generation saw polio destroy so many lives and cripple many - I assume that association is what contributed to her veiwpoint. But it makes me sad, all the same.

Then a routine x-ray check up appeared to show that I had it in BOTH legs! After an abortive attempt to put me in two leg braces at the same time - which did not work so well, to put it mildly - I then walked with a brace and crutches, holding the free leg up at all times, or sat in a wheelchair, when out of my metal contraption. They also prescribed traction at night in my room which meant every night, my parents put my legs into wrapped weighted pulleys that kept tension on my legs all night long. I spent the first part of the school year with one of my teachers coming to the house to tutor me, during a period when I was told to lie as flat as possible for a few months. Finally, in an effort to see some improvement, they put me in the hospital in traction for maybe 2 - 4 months. I turned seven years old in the hospital, that year. My parents finally put their foot down and said that I had to come home before Christmas. The Dr.s compromise with this was to put me in a body cast that stretched from my arm pits to my toes, with a bar across my ankles to hold my legs at the right angle. So home I went from the hospital, encased in plaster of Paris, and really excited that I got to ride in the ambulance, when they took me home, which was so cool! He even flipped on the lights and the sirens for me just a minute to give me a thrill!

Christmas morning my Dad and my cousin Tarzan (real nick name from his youth - 6'4" and muscular) helped wedge me, the cast and all into the back seat to go to my Aunts farm for Christmas morning breakfast. (it was also the day my cousin and his wife brought home their adopted daughter, which made for a very happy Christmas indeed.)

Now is a good time to speak of my parents in all this. These two incredible people saw me through this situation with resilience, kindness and gentleness. Their love and patience for me never faltered, ever. My mother cared for me with love through difficult situations, helping me maintain my dignity as a small person in difficult straits. She and my aunt designed clothes for me that worked around the difficulty of the brace, so that I could actually wear shorts and pants. Mom never once told me I could not attempt something because I was "crippled" or unable - and cheered me on when I climbed trees with the iron brace dragging behind me. I am quite sure that inside she was quaking with fear to see me up above her head, brace scraping and banging, other leg carefully held free, managing it all on upper body strength and sheer stubborn will power.

During the time I was in the body cast, my parents could have put me in a different room on the downstairs floor for convenience...however, every night my dad carefully balanced me and the inflexible stiff body cast and maneuvered me up a narrow flight of 15 steps to the second floor to put me in my own room. On the ceiling above my bed, he put some beautiful astronomy stencils of the constellations and the planets that glowed in the dark that he had found. I couldn't roll over in the body cast so I was stuck on my back for the duration. I looked up at night in my own room at the stars over head that my father had put there for me.

Finally, after 8 mortal, itchy weeks encased in sweaty plaster, I was hauled back to my Dr.s office to be cut out of the cast. They assured me that the process would not be painful - which turned out to be a flat out lie of monumental proportions. The implement they used to cut off the cast looked like a little hand held buzz saw. It was loud and noisy and left little nicks, cuts and burns up one side and down the other as they sawed through the plaster. I didn't cry, but I remember feeling stressed, anxious and frightened. Then they lifted off the top half of the cast and exposed my plaster dusted emaciated legs. Of course, I now know that the muscles in my legs had atrophied and stiffened up from months of immobilization in the traction and body cast, but they did not explain this to either me or my parents. They simply told Dad and Mom to take me on home. So, Dad stepped forward and put one arm under my knees and one arm under my shoulders and lifted me up. Everything bent for the first time in months and it was absolute agony. I was screaming - the only time in the years I spent like this that I did so. Horrified, my parents laid me as flat as they could in the backseat of the car to go home, and drove at a snails pace...every small bump and variation in the road felt like torture to me. When they got me home, they called my cousin Tarzan again..he came over and between him, my mom and my dad, they managed to lower me flat into a shallow tub of of warm water, without letting anything bend, so they could sluice the dried plaster off and soothe the pain.

Nobody tried to carry me upstairs that night...I spent the night on the bed in the downstairs room, with both parents with me bedded down in various chairs. I never went to sleep, for every time I moved involuntarily, the pain would jolt me awake. Dad and I watched the morning sun come up, and then watched the early Saturday morning cartoons together. By the end of the day, I had figured out how, very stiffly, carefully and slowly, to roll over on my own, and felt very triumphant over this accomplishment.

So, now at about age 7 and a half, nothing had changed after the traction, and the cast. I went back to the leg brace, crutches and the wheel chair, told that it still affected both hips and I must not walk on them, eventually things would get better, we'll see how things are on the next visit...in truth, my orthopedic Dr. was not being cavalier about this at all...he was tearing his hair out trying to figure out what was going on and why I had such an atypical case. He used to take my records with him to conferences and talk to other orthopedists in the field, looking for answers. We had been told six months to a year to recover, and it was now over two years, and I quite possibly was worse. My life became a steady merry go round of Dr's offices and x-rays, and I remained brace and wheel chair bound.

By about the summer of my 8th year I was in a silent internal emotional crisis. It had been over three years since I had set foot on the ground to walk. (and I never cheated, an unusual scenario for a child, but I had been told that if I wanted to walk again ever, I was not to try to walk or put weight on my legs. I took it seriously. I never once set foot on the floor.)

At the beach that summer, I wheeled my self out onto the porch of our rental beach house and sat in the warm darkness of the August night. I was only 3 months from turning 9 years old. It had been so long since I had actually stood on my own two feet or walked normally, that I had no memory of having ever done so, not really. I sat and listened to the roar of the ocean beyond the sand dunes, and wondered for the first time if I ever would walk again. I had an innocent child's faith in my world - one that my parents had never betrayed in their love for me. I believed in God. I believed in what people told me. They had told me I would get well in six months, originally. Oh, well...another six months, lets try this brace...hmnn - a little longer, lets try this, oh...well, now the other leg is affected, but we'll check it again in a few months...hospital, body cast, leg brace wheel chair - a never ending ride on a nightmare on a dark merry-go-round and the brass ring had faded away...

More than three years later, on that night, I finally concluded - and I was a child, with a child's logic, remember - that I was not ever going to walk again. That something had gone wrong that couldn't be fixed and this was to be my life from now on. I didn't cry very much, I just felt hollow and numb inside. I made a desicion to accept this, and to just do the best I could around it. And then I wheeled my chair inside and went off to bed - a little low cot that my parents set up at the beach house that I could get on and off of by myself from the chair. And I curled up on the cot in the dark, listening to my parents and my aunts out in the main room, and beyond that the blending tones of the waves and the great land breeze that blew at night off the coasts. And I went to sleep, somehow with a measure of peace. This is what it was. I would work around it.

Another year passed of x-rays and consultations and no change. Next summer came and went - a memorable one, as I stood on the high dunes in my brace and watched the eerie algae-choked waters of an extremely high "red tide" stain the beach at the base of the dune with blood red color and dying fish. September came, starting 3rd grade, October, November and I turned ten years old. The leg brace I now wore was twice the height of the first one they made for me, though the battered crutches remained the same - worn ring marks in the wood as they were adjusted higher and higher. (I still have those little crutches...) December and Christmas, then January and February....

...and then in March came the big snow storm - a gloriously excessive blizzard of three feet of snow in our southern climate. The afternoon that the grey mackerel clouds rolled in and the temperatures dropped, my mother and I were at my Orthopedist's office for yet another check up. I sat on the high examining table, with my brace and shoe off, swinging my bare feet after x-rays. The door opened and my Dr. came in and looked at mother and me with a smile on his face. He spoke in jargon about targeted goals, and optimum out-comes, and finally said, I think we have gone as far as this will take us in improvements...we're done. A few moments of asking for explanations of the explanation, he said simply - "You can walk. We're turning you loose. No more leg braces or anything."

I sat there on the table, shocked. Walk? What was that? I was confused and actually a little frightened and simply could not bring myself to climb down. I didn't know what "walk" meant any more in anyway that was meaningful. After encouragement from my mother and dr for some minutes and I was still imobilized on the table, he very gently lifted me down and simply put me on my feet. I froze like a frightened creature caught out in the open, exposed and frantic. Slowly, they got me to take one step...then another...then another. I walked to my dr and threw my arms around him and he and I cried together. After all this time I remember still the traitor lines of moisture on his face, and the joy in his eyes as he was finally able to let me go free! The happiness and thanksgiving in my mothers face was like the summer sun breaking though in midwinter!

Of course, now my mother and I were seriously snowed in, with the car trapped in a snow bank that had not been there several hours ago. Phone calls brought rescue later that evening, as my dad plowed his way to us in a heavier vehicle with chains on the tires. We had not told him the good news, and when he stepped through the door, I was standing with my crutches under my arms, for just one moment, and then mom pulled them away and I RAN to my father's waiting arms. Stunned and laughing like a maniac, he scooped me up and carried me out into the snow into the most glorious snowball fight of all time!

It was done and over at last...from age 5 to age 10, over five years of my childhood gone; in fact, I never had a childhood. But it was done and I was walking. It did not become easy over night. I walked clumsily, and still was the butt of cruel teasing by classmates. I had trouble with social interaction - I did much better with adults, than with kids my own age - my peers seemed like an alien species to me. I had few friends (though the one's I did have were wonderful!) and I was lonely alot.

I grew into an adult - one with a passion for things like mountain climbing and camping, pushing into the freedoms I never had when I was small. I was an energetic factory worker, and mural painter, and was physically quick and strong and capapble. And never a day has ever gone by with out me at some point in my day, looking down at my legs and giving silent thanks for the miracle of walking....

But slowly - oh so slowly, as my 20's passed into my 30's, I began experiencing pain in my hips. An assessment by a different dr more than 20 years after the fact showed that osteoarthritis had set in and would eventually become crippling. By the time I was in my forties, the right hip had become so debilitating and painful that I had trouble walking, even with a cane. My ability to paint murals had ground to a halt. However my beloved Dreamweaver actually had a job that offered partners benefits at this time and we made the decision to go ahead and get the right hip replaced.

And here we arrive at the point of this whole, long blog post. At the age of 45 I went to my GP to get an MRI of my hips, and a referal to an orthepedic surgeon. I had told her my entire back story, and when she came in to give me the referal, she had a strained wary look on her face. Yes, she would refer me to a surgeon, and yes my arthritis was as bad as I thought it was, I was definitely a candidate for a hip replacement.

BUT...

...the MRI showed that I had never had Legg Calve Perthes Syndrome at all. Instead, I had been born with the infant shallow socket birth defect, that was completely correctable, without surgery if caught in time in infancy...

In other words, the five years in my childhood were based on a misdignosis and should have never occured at all. Further more I was standing there with severe arthritis pain and disability, that had I been correctly diagnosed as an infant, would not have developed as I grew older. I got the hip replacement and the pain is gone from my right hip, however, I will eventually have to do the left hip as well...

Some research on line and my own knowledge of my own x-rays confirmed what she said. When I looked up pictures of Legg Perthes, and Shallow Socket x-rays and compared them, it was evident even to my layman's eyes that I had indeed been born with the Shallow Scocket birth defect. Of course there was over 30 years of medical advancements between the early x-rays and todays MRI's, but still...

Some research shows the possibility that the diagnostic tests and treatments for the shallow hip socket syndrome were developed in the later 70's, long after the fact for me, born in '61 as I was. So they may not have had the right information in front of them to help me or even know what the problem was when I was born. And there is the fact that being born at 6 months, I was tiny, less then five pounds and and had other difficulties as well...I was born with a inner cleft pallette that required surgery when I was 18 months old (and I really have no memory of that!!!). And if they did not know what to look for or even that shallow hip sockett existed, then of course any consultation or search would not have turned up information that would have changed the direction of the diagnosis. It was also probably easy to over look potential problems elsewhere in the scramble to deal with the cleft pallette. If the diagnostic and medical knowledge of infant shallow socket did not exist prior to the 70's I can see how my Orthopedic Dr. diagnosed it as best he could with the knowledge he had to hand.

I admit that when I found out that because of timing and misdiagnosis, I basically lost my childhood, it was a shattering thing. Everybody always points out, would you be you, who and what you are today, if something like that had not happened, or never occured. That is very true - there is NO question that I would be a total different person today, and what I would have been if my life had gone a different direction, I don't know. There is no way to know.

What I do know is that the loss is real. The pain and grief are real. And the anger! What my parents went through was real!!! And that even if I could go back and change it - and chose not to, because I would not want to be other than what I am, it makes no difference to the horrifying realization that what happened to a lonely frightened child happened needlessly.

I have not told my dad. My mother passed away in the late 70's, and I did tell my step mother. She and I both agree, that telling my dad at this point would be pointless and cruel. He still becomes angry today over the painful episodes associated with taking me out of the body cast. I cannot imagine his fury and pain if he realized that it was truly all for nothing, and unnessesary, if he would even believe it. Even discussing it, if he rejected this in denial, the stress would be cruel in the extreme. So, I am not telling my dad.

I am here, and I survived. Those five years and a little more gave me life skills to survive and insights that have served me well. They have shaped my character, and given me a deeper understanding of many things.

So let us remember the child of yesteryear...

and honor her survival and her strength....
and her pain and sorrow.

I am the adult that grew from that child...

and I am that child still.

Transgender Day of Rememberance

Last year there were 47 transgender deaths remembered by Trans Day of Rememberance. This year there are 101 as of November the 14th. Death is an euphemism. The word is murdered. In most cases, brutally.

It's more than doubled in one year.

Why?

To all my trans brothers and sisters - be careful out there...

To all my allies, please help try to make meaningful change happen, so that we no longer need to mourn those who have died for prejudice, bigotry, hate and fear.

We Are Grieving a Loss....

We were stunned today by the death of one of our younger cats.

Buddha, known as BooBoo, was only four years old.He was an incredibly enthusiastic solid cat who meeped and mrrped and headbutted and loved on us with all the affection in his body for the brief time we had with him.

There was no visible reason for his passing...his weight, health and hydration all appeared good. He was, however, from a very inbred population and I think his heart basically stopped. None of his brothers and sisters survived birth. I suspect we had him as long as we were meant to have him.

I cannot believe he is gone - Dreamweaver and I are both devasted. I thank God for the blessings of BooBoo in our lives.

May he be well in the Summerlands, until we meet again.

The Times, They Are A-changing, Part 2

In 1999, Peter, Paul and Mary went on tour to support their CD Songs of Conscience. The tour brought them to where I lived and I went - once in a life time opportunity!

I had just, under soul wrenching conditions, just come out as gay, which altered my whole life. I was still emotionally raw and wide open, struggling with questions and thoughts and decisions.

Mid way through the concert, they sang "Home is Where the Heart Is" which originally was released on their CD "Life Lines". I had never heard this particular song, and I sat there with tears running down my face as I listened. It gave me hope beyond words to hear such beautiful words of acceptance and love, it gave me hope for a future - one that may still be far off - where homophobia and bigotry are a thing of the past, and we are all just people together, irregardless of gender or orientation. I will always remember this concert and this song as long as I live. Here are the lyrics.

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS
Sally Fingerett-©1991 Green Fingers Music, BMI

On the corner there's this nice man
His name is Mark,
He's always smiling
He's got this mom who comes on Wednesdays
In the evening with soup so steaming
He shares his house with his friend Martin
They're not brothers, they're not cousins
My little girl wonders all about these men
I take hold of her hand, and I begin


chorus:
Home is where the heart is
No matter how the heart lives
Inside your heart where love is
That's where you've got to make yourself
At home

Across the yard live Deb and Tricia
With their tools and ladders
And their room addition
My kid yells over, "Are ya having a baby?"
They wink and smile, they say, "Someday maybe.
"But through their doors go kids and mommies
Funny how you don't see the daddies go in
My little girl wonders'
Bout this house with no men,
I take hold of her hand
And I begin

(chorus)

'Round the corner, here comes Martin
He's alone now, he tries smiling
He roams around his well stocked kitchen
He knows that fate will soon be coming
My little girl wonders where he will live
I take hold of her hand and I begin

(chorus)

Martin sits and waits with his windows open
His house is empty, his heart is broken
We bring him toys and watercolors
He loves to hear my little baby's stories
She's the gift I share
She's his companion
She's the string on the kite
She guides him into the wind
My little girl wonders who will care for him
We take hold of his hand and we begin

(chorus)


Thank you Peter, Paul and Mary, and in particular, this day, Mary. You made the difference that you hoped to make, in one single heart. You lit that one single candle. And it will always shine!

The Times, They Are A-changing...Part One

Mary Travers of Peter, Paul and Mary died on Wednessday in a Connecticutt Hospital. The information below was posted on the band's Website. (http://www.peterpaulandmary.com/)

Mary Travers was an iconic folk singer, a dedicated activist, a writer and a poet, a mother, and, along with Peter Yarrow and Noel (Paul) Stookey, a member of perhaps the most influential folk music trio in American history.

Peter, Paul & Mary became famous for their ability to convey powerful personal and political messages through a repertoire of songs that became, for millions of Americans, an introduction to political awareness and activism in the movements born in the 60’s; movements for freedom, justice and social equity. For many, Peter, Paul & Mary became the soundtrack of their participation in an ongoing commitment to a progressive American vision of social equity, justice and freedom.

Mary Travers was born in November 1936, in Louisville, KY, but spent the majority of her childhood and teen years in New York City’s Greenwich Village, a crucible of creativity and progressive thought. She was an early member of the Village folk scene of the 50s, singing weekly at the Sunday afternoon folk music gatherings in Washington Square Park where the great folk artists of the day would congregate. Mary recorded with a gifted group of teenagers, dubbed “The Song Swappers,” who released two memorable albums, and appeared twice at Carnegie Hall with Pete Seeger. Among Mary's other musical influences were Paul Robeson, Josh White, Jo Mapes, Bob Gibson and Ronnie Gilbert of the Weavers. While still in her teens, Mary sang in a Broadway review starring Mort Saul, a highly successful comedian and political satirist.

The folk group, Peter, Paul & Mary, began with Mary and “the boys”, as she called them, in Noel Paul’s East Village apartment singing “Mary Had A Little Lamb” which launched what was to become an almost 50 year career arc.

With her stature, long, flowing blonde hair and signature bangs, and her arresting and passionate vocal delivery, Mary Travers became an irresistible force in Peter, Paul and Mary’s performances. These performances helped bring the folk scene to the broad American public, ushering in the Folk Renaissance of the 1960s.

The trio first performed in Greenwich Village’s “The Bitter End” coffee house, but soon grew from a village phenomenon to become the dominant force on radio's music programming as the subject matter of songs changed from relatively benign pop lyrics to messages of content and conscience that stirred the nation as it came to embrace the Civil Rights Movement and, later, the Anti-War Movement of the late sixties and early seventies.

Along with Noel Paul Stookey and Peter Yarrow, Mary, beyond the music that she recorded and sang, became a spokesperson for the movements that were to change the direction of America for decades to come. Championing the rights of the disenfranchised and the legitimacy of those who advocated for greater fairness at home, Mary, along with her partners in the trio, advocated for dedication to principle, rather than simple dominance, in America’s policies abroad.

Peter, Paul & Mary’s self-titled debut album, released in 1962, rose rapidly to the top of the “charts,” and remained in the Top Ten for ten months, and the Top 20 for two years. Their first hit single, “Lemon Tree” was swiftly followed by "If I Had a Hammer" which became an anthem of the Civil Rights movement” and was performed by the trio at the 1963 March on Washington where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his legendary “I Have a Dream” speech.

Peter, Paul And Mary touched the lives and hearts of tens of millions of people with their songs -- a message they lived in their personal and public lives as much as they sang it in concerts and memorialized it on records. With the exception of one multi-year break in their touring, the trio traveled throughout America, Europe, Asia and Australia, spreading the message they inherited, and carried forward, from Pete Seeger, The Weavers, Woody Guthrie and innumerable, nameless, creators of the folk legacy.

They sang together over a span of almost 50 years during their career. They won five Grammy's, produced 13 Top 40 hits, of which 6 ascended into the Top 10 - as well as eight gold and five platinum albums, including songs such as "Blowing' In The Wind," "If I Had A Hammer," "Leaving On A Jet Plane," "Where Have All The Flowers Gone," "500 Miles" and, of course, "Puff, The Magic Dragon."

At the end of almost a decade of intense togetherness, the trio gave themselves seven years in which to pursue individual interests. Mary found her own interests and pursuits to be wide ranging. Along with recording solo albums, "Mary" (1971), "Morning Glory" (1972), "All My Choices" (1973), and "Circles" (1974), Travers performed with symphonies, hosted a syndicatedradio show, lectured at colleges on “Society and its Effect on Music,” and wrote newspaper editorials and commentary. She also produced, wrote, and starred in the BBC series "Rhymes & Reasons," which dealt with societal mores and changes in recent times.

In this period, Mary continued her activism on behalf of human rights. Her commitments included an active role in the Washington based Center for the Development of International Policy, a non-profit that sends fact-finding missions to countries where American Foreign Policy has a particularly meaningful impact. Travers participated in missions to El Salvador and Nicaragua. In 1983, through the UAHC (Union for American Hebrew Congregations) she visited the Soviet Union to learn first-hand about the challenges facing Russian Jews. While there, she gave intimate concerts in the homes of “Refusnik” Jews’, those Jews denied application for release and emigration from the Soviet Union.

During the '80s, after their rejuvenating years of personal re-definition, Mary and her longtime performing partners became deeply involved in efforts to raise the consciousness of Americans about US support of a repressive regime in El Salvador, as well as the refusal of the American government to grant sanctuary status to those targeted by El Salvadorian government sponsored "death squads". The trio also became highly vocal in opposing America’s funding of a mercenary army in Nicaragua that was committed to destabilizing and crushing a legitimately, albeit Socialist, elected government.

Later years brought about many advocacies shared by the trio. They joined and performed at national marches for women's choice in the nation's capital, demonstrated in support of the Anti-Apartheid Movement committing an act of civil disobedience that led to the trio's arrest in front of the South African Embassy, including Mary, Mary's mother and daughter. They mounted a campaign to alert New Yorkers to the reality of homelessness as more a phenomenon involving women and children in dire straights than the conventional view of the homeless as irresponsible drunks and vagrants. And, they reprised their support of Cesar Chavez in the 1960s, making an appearance to support the migrant strawberry workers in California.

Many other efforts thread their way through the lives and performances of the trio, and continued virtually until their last concert performed in New Brunswick N.J on May 20, 2009. It was here where Mary received numerous standing ovations that recognized her life and work, her courage and her determination in facing the lingering effects of chemotherapy--a treatment that allowed her to conquer Leukemia through a bone marrow/stem cell transplant. At this final performance, Mary and her two friends of almost 50 years were by her side, supporting and protecting Mary with great love, pride and compassion, sang the iconic songs that always ended their concerts, "Blowing In The Wind" and "If I Had A Hammer" followed by their encore, "This Land is Your Land". This was a testament to their relentless optimism about, and love for, America, and the pursuit of freedom, equality and justice it represents.

“We’ve learned that it will take more than one generation to bring about change," Mary once said. “The fight for civil rights has developed into a broader concern for human rights, and that encompasses a great many people and countries. Those of us who live in a democracy have a responsibility to be the voice for those whose voices are stilled."

Mary is survived by her beloved husband Ethan Robbins, her daughters Alicia and Erika, her sister Ann Gordon, Ph.D, and her granddaughters Wylie and Virginia.

Once Again, Remember This Day...

The news is full of the report. Senator Ted Kenney has died of brain cancer after a career that spanned nearly 50 years in the senate...

Mass. Sen. Edward M. Kennedy dies at age 77

By GLEN JOHNSON, Associated Press Writer Glen Johnson, Associated Press Writer – 23 mins ago
BOSTON – Sen. Edward M. Kennedy of Massachusetts, the last surviving brother in a political dynasty and one of the most influential senators in history, died Tuesday night at his home on Cape Cod after a year-long struggle with brain cancer. He was 77.
In nearly 50 years in the Senate, Kennedy served alongside 10 presidents — his brother John Fitzgerald Kennedy among them — compiling an impressive list of legislative achievements on health care, civil rights, education, immigration and more.
His only run for the White House ended in defeat in 1980. More than a quarter-century later, he handed then-Sen. Barack Obama an endorsement at a critical point in the campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination, explicitly likening the young contender to President Kennedy.
To the American public, Kennedy was best known as the last surviving son of America's most glamorous political family, father figure and, memorably, eulogist of an Irish-American clan plagued again and again by tragedy.
Kennedy's death triggered an outpouring of superlatives, from Democrats and Republicans as well as foreign leaders.
"An important chapter in our history has come to an end. Our country has lost a great leader, who picked up the torch of his fallen brothers and became the greatest United States senator of our time," Obama said in a written statement.
"For five decades, virtually every major piece of legislation to advance the civil rights, health and economic well being of the American people bore his name and resulted from his efforts," said Obama, vacationing at Martha's Vineyard off the Massachusetts coast.
Kennedy's family announced his death in a brief statement released early Wednesday.
"We've lost the irreplaceable center of our family and joyous light in our lives, but the inspiration of his faith, optimism, and perseverance will live on in our hearts forever," the statement said. "We thank everyone who gave him care and support over this last year, and everyone who stood with him for so many years in his tireless march for progress toward justice, fairness and opportunity for all."
A few hours later, two vans left the family compound at Hyannis Port in pre-dawn darkness. Both bore hearse license plates — with the word "hearse" blacked out.
There was no immediate word on funeral arrangements. Two of Kennedy's brothers, John and Robert, are buried at Arlington National Cemetery across the Potomac River from Washington.
Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid of Nevada issued a statement that said, "It was the thrill of my lifetime to work with Ted Kennedy.....The liberal lion's mighty roar may now fall silent, but his dream shall never die." http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090826/ap_on_go_co/us_obit_ted_kennedy

The article goes on to speak of his life and career - he had amazing successes, bitter family tragendy ( he was the only one of the four brothers to die a natural death) and painful scandals in his life. Be you liberal, conservative, or moderate, you cannot escape that this man did much good for his country and dedicated his life to serving it.

And that may be the greatest thing about him - his passion for his country and his willingness to place his life in service to it. It is an example to us all.

Fear No More
Fear no more the heat o' the sun;
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers come to dust.

Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

William Shakespeare