The Burrow

I am at a loss.  I have no words.  I've tried all day.  TBG has offered suggestions, Little Cuter told me to stop apologizing for crying for no reason.... or maybe there was a reason.... I'm not entirely sure.  I do know that I was surrounded by love and concern and that I was able to offer the same to friends who were in need. The words to write to you are absent from my brain.  Did Little Cheese know that when she sent me this poem?  Good friends do seem to have your pulse, even from thousands of miles away, don't they? It needs no more introduction that that which Little Cheese had as the subject of the email: Read by Billy Collins at Ground Zero, 9/11/11 The Names Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night. A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze, And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows, I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened, Then Baxter and Calabro, Davis and Eberling, names falling into place As droplets fell ...

On the way to the gym on Monday, I was listening to Diane Rehm . One of her callers was Jeff, a postal worker who identified himself as "just a guy". He suggested that the census be taken by the people who know the neighborhood best - the mail carriers. He pointed out that they are federal employees who already walk the beat. One of the panelists commented, "from your lips to God's ear" and hoped that someone from the White House was listening to the show. I had a West Wing moment, imagining Ginger? an intern? sitting in the bullpen outside Sam and Toby's offices listening to Diane's show. Not a picture I could have conjured up a year ago. But somehow it seems possible that in this administration such a thing was heard and noticed and commented upon. It's nice to feel included, to be talked to as if I might really understand the issues and could actually hold a nuanced thought in my head. When the President or his minions are interviewed, I d...