Memorial Day

I am in utter awe of the men and women who are serving or have served our country. Although I am fundamentally against war, I honor the memory of those who gave their lives. It was easy to oppose the wars in Vietnam and the Middle East. I don’t know how I would have felt about war if I had lived during the Civil War or WWII. It’s easy to be a pacifist when there isn’t a gun at my head.

My grandfather fought in WWI. My mother had flowers placed on his grave every Memorial Day. Now that she is gone, it is my privilege to honor this tradition. I called the florist in Pennsylvania, and made the arrangements. What amazes me about this is that I am honoring a man who fought in a war that happened nearly 100 years ago. It’s amazing to think that I knew someone who had fought in WWI. I recall my father saying that he talked to someone who had lived during the Civil War. To think that we can still touch history – now that is truly remarkable.

We write to remember, because if we don’t, we will lose these connections.

Memorial Day
spilled blood gone from the fields
poppies bow their heads

Writing through Grief

I have been out of blog-commission due to the death of my mother. I really admire people who can write or blog no matter what the circumstances. I am not like that. I wrote in my journal about my mother's death, mostly because I wanted to remember it. She was surrounded by family and friends, and it was as lovely a death as I have ever seen. However, blogging was the last thing on my mind.

A recent episode of House featured a patient who was an avid blogger. She blogged personal details about her life, through her illness, and pending death. (Dr. House figured out what was wrong with her and she didn't die.) It was interesting to see the extremes blogging can take us to.

Despite my reserve, I can see the point of blogging. It is a way to connect, to establish a network, and to communicate. It is also a legacy. We get to decide how personal we want to make it. The funeral industry understands this, as evidenced by the opportunity it gave our family to create a place where people could leave condolences to us on the Internet. This was free, but for a fee, we could have made a permanent web-based legacy.

We made a slide show of photos along with my mother's favorite song, and played this at her memorial service. It was moving, and although a part of me wants to create a lasting tribute to her memory, it is not going to be with a 2 minute slide show or a blog entry. The legacy is in how I conduct my life. I can't think of a greater tribute.

True Confessions

“. . . a thermos of tea, a quiet room, in the early morning hours.”
       — Carson McCullers

I love Carson McCullers even more now that I know we share the same secrets of writing. I have one more to add: pajamas. If I start writing in my pajamas, I don’t stop to change my clothes. I might work in my jammies well into the day. Why not! I think pajamas make me a better writer. First, I am comfortable, and second, it states my priorities. It’s my announcement to the world that writing is more important than appearances. Fortunately I live in the country and do not receive door-to-door solicitors. But if I did, I’d still be in my jammies. In fact, I love my pajamas so much that I might wear them for the photo of my book jacket.

Did you know that pajamas were worn by Muslims in India and adopted by Europeans? Thank goodness for travel. If no one explored the world, I’d be writing in a dress.

Dangling Conversations

“Writing, when properly managed…is but a different name for conversation.” – Laurence Sterne, 18th century novelist

I suppose that if Mr. Sterne were alive today, he’d be blogging. Blogging has more of a sense of a conversation, particularly when I receive comments. I do appreciate them, and although I don’t usually reply to each, I am thrilled to receive them.

On my last post, I received a comment which prompted me to check out the blog of one of my followers. (Gee whiz – “one of my followers” sounds kind of creepy – like I am a cult leader or he is a stalker. Perhaps “reader” is a better description.) Anyway, he has a wonderful blog, and this is where the “conversation” really begins. By reading his blog, I got a sense of who might read something I wrote. I mean someone I don’t know, someone who isn’t a friend, and has no need to be kind. Someone who is busy too and yet takes a moment to read something I crafted.

Sure seems like a huge responsibility. Yes, writing must be properly managed or there will be no conversation.

Thank you for reading my blog. Thank you even more for responding.

If you have a moment, check out his blog The Church of the Open Road