So just to be honest I only read two blogs on a regular basis. One of them is my best friend in the whole world, the other is a casual aquantance from Chicago, two young woman of whom's writing has changed my life. Tessa is a young artist, about my age. I met her at jumpin java read and enjoy.


Friday, November 11, 2005

At only 10:12 am this day so far as been beautifully full of life. I woke up early to walk through the neighborhoods of my city to a coffee shop a mile 1/2 away. I read Saint Augustine's "The Confessions" as I walked. It's all autumn outside. I passed the nursing home down the street from my house. I saw an skinny old man, wrinkled and stiff, trying to catch his garbage cans which were escaping in the wind. I ran over and helped him. His name is Arthur, I found out. He lives right across from the nursing home. I asked him if he'd lived there a long time (hoping to hear a "30 years ago, this city was etc. etc." story). No, though. He had a better story. He moved there 5 years ago to be close to his wife, Polly, who was living in a Nursing home. She had a stroke 6 years back, and he couldn't care for her alone. So she moved in to the nursing home, and he moved in to a house across the street from it. He goes there every morning. He dresses her; he teases and hair sprays her fiery red hair. He ties her shoes. He eats breakfast with her, and reads her the morning paper. He takes her for walks in her wheelchair. He listens to her talk (which, he said, few people can understand. The stroke severely altered her ability to talk, but he understands her just fine.) He writes letters to her from his little house across the street, and mails them to her; then reads them to her when she receives them in the mail the next day. He loves her very much, he told me. I'm thinking of doing a photo doc. story and pitching it to the local paper. Or at least portraits. I continued on my walk to the coffee shop. Down town was alive with people setting up for the Veterans Day Parade. I saluted every Veteran in uniform I passed, and realized that I'll never not feel Ten years old. It's okay, though. As I continued, I saw two people who I love dearly. First, my friend Zechariah, a huge African American man who directs a small gospel choral that was to perform that morning during the Parade. I've known Zechariah for 4 years, and he is one of the coolest people (and most fashion savvy) I know. He's full of love. Also, he's a great dj and dancer. He gots soul. I walked in to the coffee shop, and two seconds later, benjie hughes walked in. benjie is one of my dearest friends, and is very precious. we together recalled that we've known each other over 5 years, and i think that's lovely. I walked home. Packed. Now I'm heading out the door for a weekend in MI with some more people I love dearly. Love is lovely. Life is lovely. Because it's interesting. It's so hard and difficult and beautiful and ugly and fluid.

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