(no subject)

My dad's cousin died this weekend because her doctor prescribed a diuretic that turned out to work a little too well. She called and said she'd been peeing every 5 minutes, and she'd lost 10 pounds in 2 days. The doctor said "Come see me first thing Monday morning at my office". But at that rate, she lost electrolytes so fast that she had a heart attack before the weekend was over. I guess the correct answer was "Meet me at the emergency room right now".

I'm relieved to know it was the doctor's mistake and not a congenital heart problem -- mainly because I don't like to think about my parents dying.

But I still want something very bad to happen to the doctor. It might -- her widower is a damned good lawyer.

Paula put guests instantly at ease in her home, which helped them digest the bounty of wonderful food she served. I ate Thanksgiving dinner at their home near cardinalximinez and fizzgig_bites's once, and it was probably the best vegetarian-friendly Thanksgiving spread I've ever seen. I know two of her children, dedicated activists for civil liberties, one of whom took Miami to court over curfews when he was a high school student, each of whom is a real mensch. I'm going to miss seeing her at my wedding.

The Herald death notice tells me that there are more children grieving than I remembered meeting, so I've altered the previous paragraph.

From WORDS-L

Since I'm not a regular participant in the lives of my words-l family, my questions about tithing surprised one friend, who said:

I must have missed something or assumed something, I thought you were Jewish.

Here follows my response.

Forgive a spiritual inventory:

My parents are a Christmas Catholic and a Hanukkah Jew, although their parents are/were more observant. I think my mother does the work of a saint (social work with high school students who are most at risk of dropping out, being kicked out, or getting themselves jailed or shot) and my dad is a non-denominational Good Person who, if he thinks about it, would probably conclude that there may or may not be a God, but either way we'd better help other people down here.

I went to Temple Israel (reform) occasionally, never had any coming-of-age ceremonies, and went to a Presbyterian high school youth group for boxball, snacks and the fun of arguing religion with a minister; I declared myself Christian in high school, and didn't stop seeking other true things. I don't value logical consistency per se in my religious beliefs: to paraphrase Bro. Walt, very well then, I contradict myself, God is large, God contains multitudes.

I know I feel at home among reform Jews, Unitarian-Universalists, Quakers, Presbyterians, and agnostics. There are probably other traditions that would seem right to me, too.

For Paula

I'd like this to be read at my funeral one day, so I present it here in her blessed memory.

Stanza 6 from Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself"

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands,
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the comers, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps,
And here you are the mothers' laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women.
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?
They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

iTunes

I'm tempted to buy the TMBG cover of "Savoy Truffle".

I was looking for Anti-Flag but couldn't find it. And searching for Justin Sane turned up the classic Your search did not match any results. Did you mean Austen Jane?

Oh well.