The Burrow

That's the name of the memorial designed by  Chee Salette Architecture Office, and selected by the panel of artists and architects and philanthropists and survivors to commemorate and inspire our community when thoughts turn to January 8, 2011.   The Embrace  is a perfect name and a perfect image for how we felt after the shooting.  Random strangers hugging me in the produce aisle, sympathetic smiles from those who make the connection between my name or my face and January 8, but more important, and grander, and worthy of celebration, is the general embrace which Tucson gave itself after that awful Saturday morning.   Although only 19 of us will be personally remembered, all of Tucson shares a piece of the memory and the memorial itself.  Chee Salette recognized that; there's a living wall with nooks and crevices into which visitors can place seeds. I can't tell you how happy that makes me.  It's creating new life, moving on, bringing joy and en...

  So much love and warmth and kindness came my way. So many strangers reached out. I cried on a bench at Tohono Chul.... and then made Ben's Bells beads.... and talked to a tv person.... and put up my hood because it was cold... and there were visitors from Montana and Arizona and California and we all missed Christina-Taylor very much.   They were reflections of my own sorrow. Sharing it eased the burden.     It will always slice me.  I accept that. I can learn to lean on the joy which remains.  It's a much better prop. I can face the facts bravely, because to turn away is to let him win.   I have much more work to do. How lucky I am to be here to do it. 

I never answer the house phone; it's always tele-marketers.  But I answer this call.  Was it meant to be?  "Hi! This is your Representative, Gabby Giffords, inviting you to join me at Congress on Your Corner tomorrow, Saturday, January 8th between 10 and noon, at the Safeway at Oracle and Ina.  Come and tell me how government can work better for you." Hmmm.... it's close, it's free, she's a Cornellian..... I'll go.  Husband is going to spin class, as usual for a Saturday morning.  I'll call the Crayola Kids and see if one of them wants to join me.  Mom and Dad and Big Brother are busy, but Christina-Taylor is  free, and "she loves going places with you!" We make a plan.  Who knew that 9:45 the next morning would be the last time I'd pick her up at home? I dress for the diva in my 9 year old friend.  I accessorize (to the best of my limited ability). I select my favorite cowboy boots and the newer earrings TBG chose for th...

I keep hoping that this year, whichever year, it will be easier to get through the days.  I'm able to hold it together during the first seven-eighths of our family's Holiday Celebration Tour but once TBG's birthday  passes all hell breaks loose in my being. My hands shake.  My stomach roils.  The tension knots in my shoulders have tension knots of their own.  I'm distracted and distractable and can't hold a thought for more than a minute or two. I'm leaving more and more piles of projects I start and then surprise surprise surprise am distracted from.  Living with me is not easy this week.  Just ask my husband.  He's trying to put his own issues aside, trying to be my comfort, but since I have no idea what might work, he's reduced to being a bystander.  Hugs and kind words are fine as far as they go, but what happened to me four years ago needs more than loving verbiage and physical contact before it can find its proper place in my s...

I received the invitation verbally, 18 hours before the hearing.  Would I write an email in support of the January 8th Memorial Foundation's request for a bond to support the project?  Would I ask my Tucson-email-list to do the same... as long as they could do it before 8am the next day?  Would I be free tomorrow to attend the hearing, lending my physical as well as written presence to the process?  Sure, sure and sure... as long as I could leave in time for Pilates at 10. I typed an email from my account and one from TBG's account and thanked Amster for the work she'd done in a similar vein for The Fire Chief, and herself.  I encouraged Elizibeth to write one, too; it's her history as much as it is mine or her parents'.  My email list was polled early Friday morning; some were actually awake and able to send a sentence or two themselves.  I put on my Fall-in-the-desert-go-to-meeting dress (cotton, sleeveless, dark brown in deference to the se...

A very nice man came to interview me today.  I had totally forgotten that he was coming.  I usually check my calendar for the following day before I go to sleep; last night I didn't.  I went to sleep thinking that I was meeting Miss Vicki for lunch and meditation, that I'd spend the morning finishing the boxes I created when I cleared off the desk.  Sitting at that desk, I watched a little white car cruise up the street, back up, pull into JannyLou's driveway, drive past my house, back up again, turn into my driveway and drive down one side and then around the bottom of the U... and not reappear in the window on the other side. In my nightgown, I went to the garage, opened the door, and asked if I could help him.  Ooops. He unpacked his equipment while I threw on some clothes.  Future generations may be interested to note that the blouse I am wearing on the tape I created for historical purposes should not be considered an indication of what a ...