samedi, janvier 03, 2009

Virtually over

I only know Natalie (not her real name) in cyber-time.

She contacted me via Facebook last year, asking me if I wanted to join a Facebook group of people who had the same (last) name.

I know she has two boys and is somewhere in her thirties. I know she lived in France, and that her husband commuted to England for worker as a banker.

I know she had a child this year who lived only a short time -- and that the priest was not nice to her, the grieving mother.

We've chatted, shards of girl talk, sympathy, encouragement -- but I know less of Natalie than one Second Life avatar knows about another.

A few days ago, she posted the cold fact: Natalie and Richard (not his real name) have ended their relationship.

She changed her status to single.

And now we wrestle with a question of etiquette; how do you announce a seperation or divorce on Facebook?

Maybe this was the only way to do it. But it still seems strange to read about the end of someone's marriage in a world where love, and heartbreak, are as close or as far away as a keyboard.

jeudi, janvier 01, 2009


Last night, as we watched Ryan Seacrest, Kellie Pickler, and the eerily made-up Dick Clark host the New Year's special from New York, Mr C asked me if I'd made a resolution.

Actually, I hadn't --until then. But since he and the DQ apparently had ones, I quickly delved into my files of things I thought I needed to improve. Resolution? To worry less, I said to him. Did he think that was a good one for me. Yes, said Mr C -- you can be sure if he felt I was going down the wrong rabbit trail he would have corrected me.

2007 was a hell of a year. In 2008 I began to grapple with the aftermath of my dad's death and my ex's cancer -- always wondering what lay ahead, and how to be prepared.

Jesus knew lots of men and women who lived on agita... who can add a cubit to your height by stressing over something that isn't in your power? he asked them.

Well, I don't know (though I could easily look up) what a cubit is, but I'm going to try to find more fun ways of spending my time in 2009 than anticipating the worst -- unless there's something I can do to change either the potential outcome, or my own behavior.

For this to come true, I'm going to need more than for you to clap your hands--I will need serious prayer.

So what was YOUR resolution?

mardi, décembre 30, 2008

Dating Henry Kissinger

Has it come to this? Are a glass of Lillet and conversation about classical culture with Henry my lot in life?

My kids and two friends gather around the computer, playing a fantasy online game somewhere between Club Penguin and World of Warcraft.

Bursts of hilarity rock the living room occasionally -- at dinner, they were so silly that I nearly choked on my food. When being tailed by some dame in an SUV, or trying to figure out what check 1567 was, I would love to have a tenth of their ability to see the ridiculous in the ridiculous.

Tonight I'm feeling the weight, not so much of years, as of my cautious nature.

A while ago I got an email from the dating service--a 55-year-old guy across the Delaware Valley wants to get to know me. He's cultured, he's well-educated, he probably earns a good living -- and I can't imagine kissing him.

Last night I observed three guys or so look at my profile again and again. I couldn't help but wonder -- what is it they saw? What was it they didn't find? Or what was it they wanted to find the courage to say?

A 35-year-old guy in California asks me whether I ever visit his state. "Anything is possible" he writes. How I wish I felt that way, I told him.

Last night someone wrote me that he couldn't imagine not finding "the one" -- or what was he doing on Match?

I don't need "the one" I wrote him back. I just want "a one."

He can't be self-righteous, but he hopefully could be a bit of a rebel. He should respect my financial independence, but it would be great if he had a generous streak (so I could unleash mine).

He should be incisive without being a huge egghead.

Adventurous and creative.

And it would be nice if "he" had learned from his mistakes -- maybe not everything he should have learned, but enough to get by.

I can see how "Henry" found me. I could even imagine what he could find appealing about me. He doesn't know that I've spend part of my life unlearning how to be Henry Kissinger's girlfriend -- and I'm ready to try something a little different.

dimanche, décembre 28, 2008

Stars and garbage

Often, I have to have a good talk with myself before I take the trash up to the street. You see, I have a long driveway. Longer than my neighbors on all sides -- maybe the longest one in the development. Could be it's the longest in Glenmoore, and possibly in the five county area. I know there's a word for this type of exaggeration (bull?).

Yet tonight I was happy to have the chance to carry the recycled paper up to the end of the driveway. It's been a very long time since I actually took a few minutes and looked, really looked up at the heavens. The stars are phenomenal--one in particular, in the west, glowed like a lamp in the night sky. I admit, I have no idea what star that is. I'm guessing it's not Venus, the morning star.

If anyone else knows, please let us know -- if everyone BUT me knows, I will eat crow and find a stars for kids book.

Around the world, there is such tremendous suffering, much of it meted out by self-righteous zealots, that seeing the glimmering stars on a winter evening is a privilege --and a call to listen harder.