The Burrow

I wrote this 8 months and 3 days after CTG and I intersected with bullets. I miss her. ***** Remember when we spent the afternoon taking pictures of the flower pot in my courtyard?  You started out directing the shoot but quickly assumed control over both the creative and technical sides of the equation.  My role was to keep my shadow out of your light..... and to explain, once again, just how to press the button half-way down to focus and then shift the camera for visual interest.  You held your finger down and tried to look at me at the same time that you were re-framing the shot and it was all I could do not to laugh. "Like this?" Yes, sweetheart, just like that.  Just exactly and perfectly like that.   Remember when you and your brother and I were at the Chinese buffet restaurant and I said that you could eat whatever you wanted and promised not to rat you out to your parents?  We discussed, seriously and thoughtfully, the question of...

In 2012 I was too wrapped up in planning the commemorative event to write about the shooting that created the need for an anniversary.  Or, maybe I was too wrapped up in the sad and the sorrow to allow myself to think about it right then.  In  2013  I was looking forward, planning good deeds and civic engagement and confident that I could make a difference.  There wasn't a lot of retrospective then, either.  Was it because I wasn't strong enough to look backward, or was it that I didn't have far to look.  Backward was with me all the time, every day.    2014  and  2015  were cut from a different cloth.  I was saying good-bye to CTG, although I didn't know it at the time. I know that the distance which time has put between that sunny day and the rain I'm looking at right now has softened some of the edges.  I'm not healing the way I was a year ago, and I'll probably approach it from a different perspective next ...

FlapJilly went to the playground today. It was her first experience with outdoor equipment. By the time she was able to sit up on her own, the snows had descended on her home turf. Grandma was happy to show her the ropes. That's an accessible swing for movement impaired children, but it fit FJ and G'mu just fine. SIR and Little Cuter were excited to put her in the bucket swing, but she kept sliding down. Her little hand had the bar in a death grip. With the addition of Mommy's purse as a backstop, the entire adventure took on a much happier cast. Daddy held her back and she sailed to Mommy   and if she could have formed the words she'd have been yelling " HIGHER!!!!"   The slides were less successful. SIR barely fit on the smallest one, and FlapJilly wasn't that thrilled with the tube, but standing in Daddy's arms is pretty wonderful no matter where you are. We paid a visit to Christina-Taylor's angel ...

It turned out to be a party for my friends.  Some came to help, some came to stroll, some came to bring their kids and their grandkids, sometimes they brought both at once.  Lots of people brought their dogs, all of whom seemed delighted to meet one another. There were little ones who got their pictures in the paper while existing totally in a world of their own, snuggling VIP Pets  or showing sisters how to draw on the sidewalk just so . Parents stood by, smiling, unconcerned, feeling the sun's warmth and the glow, standing around, watching their kids and the dogs and feeling the love. The Nicest Couple on the Planet organized the Cornell Cares volunteers, who stamped and greeted and gave out sidewalk chalk and hustled donations disguised as raffle prizes. They raised several hundred dollars, a little bit more than last year, and everyone seemed satisfied with the goodies received. A few t-shirts were sold, many were given away, and everyone agreed that the  s...

Three years ago today, we left your driveway for the start of a small but wonderful adventure.  We'd shake the hand of a famous and powerful woman, then have lunch and a manicure, do some shopping, and return to my house to play with bubble wrap as we put away my holiday decorations. It was a cool, bright, clear Tucson morning. You didn't need that sweatshirt your mom had you retrieve from the front hall before she'd let you leave with me. I know that because you left it on the front seat of my car, parked in the middle of the lot, within my sight if you needed to run back and get it. I knew enough to keep you safe from errant drivers.  It never crossed my mind that I would need to keep you safe from flying bullets. Since you left us that morning, so much good has been done in your name.  Gymnasiums have been built and refurbished, classrooms and playgrounds have shiny enhancements, children are learning civics and playing sports and your aura surrounds them.  ...

There never was such a thing at Oceanside Junior High School. It was never considered. We bullied and were bullied and no one noticed. We lost family members and friends and there was no public outpouring of love or concern. We were there to learn the facts and figures the teachers had to offer. Our emotional lives were secondary. That's not the case these days. Schools are rising to the occasion, teasing out feelings and offering opportunities to share in public. Sometimes the activities are event specific, responding to a current horror. Sometimes the activities are more general, touching deeper pieces with a lighter touch. The day before Thanksgiving Break was just such an activity. Amphi Middle Schoolers spent the day moving from classroom to classroom with their homeroom advisories, writing letters to servicemen, creating Beads of Courage bracelets, sculpting beads from clay, and painting Ben's Bells flowers. As always, the principal invited me...

I went to church on Sunday.   I felt no strong pull to attend synagogue, despite the High Holy Days and Days of Awe which my family and friends are celebrating this week. I've been speaking to my heart this week, examining corners and wondering where the new year will take me, but I've been unmotivated to pray in public. There was nothing for me to say, there. Today is Christina-Taylor's birthday, though, and last Sunday was the second Sunday in September, the day on which a mass is celebrated in her name. So, there I was, at St. Odilia's, her family's church, two traffic lights away from the Safeway where bullets took her from us. Honestly, I'd rather have been at her 12th birthday party. But, the day and time were announced on Facebook, and everyone was invited. I rolled out of bed and through the shower and my closet without thinking too much. I was in the parking lot fifteen minutes later, leaving my car next to her parents' car, and in front of ...

Someone with standing on the issue thinks that she may well have been a short, brief, gift from God.  Bringing joy to a tragic morning, leaving on another sunny day nine years later, was her life meant to be circumscribed by those events? Was she so full of life because her time was to be so short?   In a crowd of one hundred children, she was the one you noticed.   I've said it so often that I have to stop and remind myself that it is more than a catch phrase.  It's true. There was a lot packed into the body and soul and heart and mind that made up Christina-Taylor Green.  One might almost say it was a full life, condensed, too much to be held in so it burst from her eyes and her arms and enveloped you in the wonder that was her life. These are hard concepts for me.  I turned my back on formal religion early and definitively. My relationship with a higher being is a private one, one that does not need external rituals.  There's something out there...

I swam.  I ate.  I got a haircut.  I met TBG for lunch, read a book, cooked dinner, watched the Blackhawks, and went to bed.  It was a regular, ordinary, Saturday... except there aren't any regular, ordinary, Saturdays any more.  There haven't been for two and a half years. Exactly two and a half years ago today the world was turned upside down.  A nine year old was dead, my Congresswoman's brain was held together by a staffer, and I was riding in a Med-Evac helicopter. Med-Evac.... Medical Evacuation... those are two words you really don't want to have associated with your name. I drove past the scene of the crime today.  It made no impression on me at all. Why?  The storefront is hidden in the middle of the parking lot.... I drive past that corner three times a day.... it's only a place.... I have no idea why the location has not imprinted itself on my soul, but I'm glad for its absence.  There have been field trips to the memorial st...

It was a beautiful party , sweetheart. Your mom looked svelte and your dad was beaming.  Your brother keeps getting taller and taller and he kept laughing, louder and louder, as we stood, back to back, measuring how small I am in comparison. I squelched the tears that came, unbidden, as I flashed back to the times we've done this before, those times when you were laughing along with the rest of us. We miss you. There were stars in the sky and a golden cast to the moon and the patio at Marriott's Starr Pass  was filled with casually elegant adults.  You'd have been impressed with the accessories and the shoes; oh, how you would have loved the shoes.  I did pretty well in my Taryn Rose black flats. You can't fault me for leaving my heels behind; I thought walking should trump style.  I can imagine you arguing the point, and it's making me smile.  Thanks, for that. Janos Wilder was there, creating ceviche and looking extremely James Bea...

I've spent the morning trying to find the bodies. The ideas are in place.  The programs have been vetted and organized and created and advertised.  Where are the humans? It's not just Pilates at the middle school that's giving me trouble.  My girlfriend has a fundraiser scheduled for Monday and she's having the same issues. Everyone is interested.  No one signs up. It's hard to stay focused when your dream is evolving but the people are no where to be found.  It's hard to maintain enthusiasm when people don't participate.  One begins to doubt the wisdom of the entire endeavor.When that endeavor is part and parcel of who you have become, as it is for my friend, the wounds are much deeper.  I used to laugh when I'd enter a room for a new project only to see the same 12 faces I saw around every other table for every other project I was doing at the same time.  We weren't all stay-at-home-moms, we weren't all looking for a way to fill our f...

Certificates of Insurance …. Facilities Use Permits.... Request for In-Kind Donation Forms.... my life is populated with people who need me to fill things out and not make any mistakes. The people who need the forms don't always have the on-line links available. The people who proffer the forms are often unknown to the people who answer the phones. The forms all ask the same basic questions, but no two of them look alike. There's no such thing as cut and paste with these agencies. I am intersecting with the Sheriff and the Transportation Department and the Town and the Natural Resources and Parks Department and several school districts and Waste Management. Each entity has its own strategy and approach to my event. It's hard to keep track of who wants to schmooze and who wants to cut to the chase. What I do know is that everyone wants to be sure to be indemnified. What I didn't know was how complicated a process that would turn out to be. Even ...