letter to a secret agent

Yo! my secret agent friend,

I remember meeting a shy young woman in art school who was the first to reach out and connect with me. I am truly pleased we are at least reconnected over the lines of web talk. I would really like to talk with you and hear about your life in San Fran, and see how you got where you are today. But, I don't want to feel like I am pressuring you. I am sure you've got plenty to deal with right now. My schedule is about to go crazy. Life in sunny florida is at its peak Jan thru May, so my free time gets unpredictable. Also, since Mom is to have surgery at some point (hopefully) I am walking the edge of fear and non-tranquility, waiting for the moment I have to up and run to Winston to await her return from anesthesia. I fear that just as I reconnect I will lose another friend. Is this an epidemic starting? Is it a viral thing like AIDS, that we haven't gotten our collective medical minds wrapped around? I know 7 people who have been treated for, are in the process of treatment or are being tested for lymphoma right now. You, my dear friend, are the latest. And after so long of not talking I am afraid that if we don't talk again I will lose something important and shining in life. Life is a jewel I wish to share the sparkle of. And your rays of light add to mine. Call me sometime.

"You're as loved as you were
Before the strangeness swept through
Our bodies, our houses, our streets --
When we could speak without codes
And light swirled around, like
Wind-blown petals,
Our feet
I've been scraping little shavings off my ration of light
And I've formed it into a ball, and each time I pack a bit more onto it
I make a bowl of my hands and I scoop it from its secret cache
Under a loose board in the floor
And I blow across it and I send it to you
Against those moments when
The darkness blows under your door
Isn't that what friends are for?"
--Bruce Cockburn

Thank goodness for Jose

After a very long 9 months we have finally said goodbye to the "Mac Daddy Blue Cadillac" that was featured on the cover of Mike's CD, BROADWAY. A very nice man named Jose had called for it again and again. Finally, tonight, he came for it. It was sad to see it go, but Jenna and I had discussed it and decided it was time. We couldn't hold on to it for sentimental reasons any longer . The money will help with rent for the next few months, which is a good relief, at least for a while.

Everything will be OK

I'm driving north on I-95 to visit my mother for Christmas. I finally get tired of the small pieces of trash that have accumulated in my car since my trip out west. I stop at a rest stop and throw away some stuff. I go to pee. While I am washing my hands I look to my left and spy a cleaning cart with a sticker pasted on its side. It says, "EVERYTHING WILL BE OK." It's perfect. I take a picture of it.

Space...the final frontier

Near the outskirts of the Small Magellanic Cloud, a satellite galaxy some 200 thousand light-years distant, lies 5 million year young star cluster NGC 602. Surrounded by natal gas and dust, NGC 602 is featured in this stunning Hubble image of the region. Fantastic ridges and swept back shapes strongly suggest that energetic radiation and shock waves from NGC 602's massive young stars have eroded the dusty material and triggered a progression of star formation moving away from the cluster's center. At the estimated distance of the Small Magellanic Cloud, the picture spans about 200 light-years, but a tantalizing assortment of background galaxies are also visible in the sharp Hubble view. The background galaxies are hundreds of millions of light-years or more beyond NGC 602. http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/astropix.html

Sorrowful Joy

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Kahlil Gibran

Inspired by Sarah

My cousin Sarah sent me a holiday card with a poem of sorts, outlining many great milestones and events she had in the last year. This has inspired me to do a similar thing to remind myself of the wonderous, if painful, events of the last year.

I was at Mar a Lago, loading out a show when 2006 rang in. Trump had fireworks, which I only heard because I was working.

I had a birthday party in Mike's hospital room. Mike and I were the only ones invited, though our friend Debby stopped in and we gave her some pizza. We watched a movie, but I can't remember which one. Mike found a renewed love for popcorn.

I worked on an Opera at Palm Beach Opera. I can't remember which one it was. I realize my memory is failing under the stress of my life. But I am ok with it.

Mike came home for a brief time.

Mike went back to the hopsital for a fourth round of chemo.

Mike's friends threw a big party and ride for him that raised $24,000 for his and his daughter's monthly expenses. He made it to the front page of the paper the next day.

Mike came home and gave me chocolate for valentines day.

Mike and I learned together how generous strangers can be, as we opened letters from people who responded to the newspaper articles.

Mike was in remission, and an appointment was set to visit Sloan Kettering hopsital in NY.

Mike and I spent a few days in NYC. I got to show him some of my favorite spots. We went to Ground Zero. We ate great food with great friends. The little pie company is tops in Mike's book, but Times Square at night when the theatres let out is over the top.

Mike relapsed. Admission to Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami was scheduled for the following Monday.

I got to see Queen with Paul Rodgers for the second time. (I saw Queen with Freddy in 1980) That night Mike had to go back into Good Sam hospital because he got sick and fevered. A sign the cancer was raging again?

I got lost in a four block radius trying to find Jackson Memorial. We went to two other hospitals first.

Mike is admitted, and in line for a stem cell transplant.

I ran sound for Seatrade and learned about modern day Pirates.

My brother Michael succomed to an infection. His loss is the most painful and beautiful experience of my life.

I slept solidly and soundly for the first time in 6 months; since my dear friend and feline, Sneetch, died.

I told the story of my brother's illness to over a hundred of his friends in Florida, then again to more in North Carolina.

I got in touch with some old friends I had lost touch with years ago.

I learned that life isn't fair, and when you play by the rules, sometimes you get screwed. Mike's estate goes into probate instead of paying for Jenna's bills.

I went on a three week "walk about" (driving), which included Kerrville Folk Fest, Southwest New Mexico, and the Grand Canyon. I got my ass kicked by the canyon, but it was a cleansing and beautiful experience.

I learned My Mom has cancer.

I discovered that the socialized medicine of the veteran's administration is lacking in a lot of things.

I start to get my "A Game" back, though it lapses every once in a while.

Friends have bike racks installed in memory of Mike.

I experience depression for real.

I learned I am stronger than I ever thought I could be.

I understand that I am not alone.

I learn that I love my niece more than I ever thought I could.

Here is a picture of Mike at one of my favorite places: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Egyptian exhibit.