• We returned from France wholly refreshed and beaming. I was sad about my Gramma’s death, but felt her so very close in my heart and memories that it didn’t really seem entirely real…
• Until I went down to Florida for the memorial. Being with my family was a bit rocky from time to time, but it all worked out into something good and meaningful before the end. My brothers were especially wonderful during this time, and even the trip to the emergency room (oh, poor Uncle Ronnie’s nose!) had its moments of sweetness. Aunt Ute and I had some good time together. I was able to set up Papa Tom’s computer for him and help out a little bit with some things while I was there. We had some great food (Roy is a great cook!) and some time to talk. The church ceremony was ok, but the backyard goodbye with flowers was much more authentic and touching. Mum set a good example for the ceremony, and we kept the tone for our own goodbyes. All good.
  

  Nancy (Mom) and Ronnie

  

  Ute and Ronnie

  

  Heidi - Michael - Mom - Roy

• The next weekend after Florida, I went to Colorado. The first stop was in Boulder. I managed to drop my camera hiking, and it was so dented at the edge of the lens that it wouldn’t even turn on. That made me pretty mad, because I only managed to get a handful of photos – and just when I wanted to capture my surroundings! I wanted to be reminded of that great sense of expansion and height and perspective.

  
  I just missed seeing Kelly (boo!), but I did get to spend a little time with my friend Vance and we shared a very pleasant dinner (figs and polenta – yum!). It was good to talk about the usual topics in person for a change. Sometimes it’s easy to misunderstand someone when you can’t see facial expressions. I did a fair bit of people-watching in Boulder, too – it’s a really interesting town. Bonus! I found a salesperson at Red Wing Shoe Store who understood both my weird feet and the exact pros and cons of their stock. I was very impressed. Picked up a pair of sneakers and a pair of hiking boots that don’t hurt when I wear them. Finally! Of course, it helps when you have the right size – evidently I’m now a 9-1/2! Heidi Sasquatch!

• Next, off to Littleton, where I was finally able to pry the dent back enough for the lens to work again on the camera. I had a total blast at the annual BBQ/Volleyball gathering, and especially liked meeting Danny’s family (at last). I chickened out of the volleyball game (even after getting new sneakers and a “serve tutorial” from Danny). I hadn’t seen my dear cousin Kim since our canoe trip, and Kim has been working really hard all year – so the gathering was all for Kim (according to Danny). “Kim deserved it!” Hee hee. Their son Zaqq is all grown up now and very reflective and good to talk with – and I learned how to grill unshucked corn. Yummy! It makes my spirit feel grounded just to be around Kim – wish I could see her more often.
  

  Kim and Heidi

  Her sis (my cuz) Jillian was there with her boyfriend Bill and her daughter Jynessica. I can’t even think of the last time I’ve seen Jillian! I got some great pics of them, and even caught Jynessica smiling The whole day was shiny and happy, even in the shadow of the Columbine memorial… of course, if Kim had been on the scene then, I honestly don’t think it would have happened. She’s that good.

• I’ve been really productive at work – enjoying it, actually looking forward to going to work. That’s a good feeling. I think vacations help a lot.
• Enjoying Molly kitten so much! She is so cute and funny! The newest thing is that I’ve discovered how she is getting black stuff on her – she has been napping in the fireplace! Guess I’ll have to clean all that out, but I’m not sure exactly how to deter her other than putting the fire on. That might be too scary….
• As far as items in the news go, I can’t help but think that the United States sure has turned into a strange place…we’ve completely lost our sense of priorities. Sometimes all I can do is shake my head ruefully and laugh.
• So I’m finally home on the weekend and I’m enjoying a sunny, breezy Saturday. I’ve been messing around on Facebook for far too long today, but I’ve enjoyed feeling a bit zoned-out. It’s been an emotional summer; I think I needed the down time.

Have a great weekend!

The beautiful Beverly has tagged me for a photo challenge. Here are the rules:

1. Open the 4th photo folder of your computer.
2. Choose the 4th photo of that folder & publish it on your blog.
3. Explain the photo.
4. Challenge 4 bloggers to do the same.

And now the 4th pic in my 4th album ~ DRUM ROLL PLEASE . . .

Steve and Pat

This photograph captures something essential about (John’s older brother) Steve and Pat, and looking at this really makes me miss them. It was taken a couple three years ago (as they say here in Georgia) when most of John’s side of the family met for a few days of fun and sun at a beach house at the Alabama Gulf Shores. We all had a really fun time, despite my trying to turn them on to Lewis Black (hee hee).

Don’t you just get a smiling feeling inside looking at their faces?

I play, but I don’t vector anymore. So – hey, 3 out of 4 ain’t bad. Don’t let that stop you! If you’d like to play, please comment with your post link. I’d love to see some photos, I just don’t want to pressure ya!

That’s a claim that really takes some nerve – or desperation. Could it be that there’s some worry about losing the South after all? Now they’re trying to claim MLK – now? Unbelievable.

Memes to you all… because there’s no real argument or justification left to vote Republican except fear of the demonized left wing, right? Please tell me that there is only a very very minuscule subset of the voting population that could in any way fall for this one. I wish I had more confidence in my countrymen, but discernment has been lacking in the last couple of elections.

Thanks to Rob Kall at OpEd News.

” Told about the billboards, the Rev. Joseph Lowery let out a soft chuckle that grew stronger as he began to think more about the idea.

“These guys never give up, do they?” said Lowery, who co-founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference with King. “Lord have mercy.”

In a statement released through the King Center, Martin Luther King III said, “It is disingenuous to imply that my father was a Republican. He never endorsed any presidential candidate, and there is certainly no evidence that he ever even voted for a Republican. It is even more outrageous to suggest that he would support the Republican Party of today, which has spent so much time and effort trying to suppress African American votes in Florida and many other states.”

Read the entire AP story.

The Use of DNA In Rape Cases
To the Editor:

In New York’s Crime Against Women (Op-Ed, June 18), Sonia Ossorio correctly observed that New York State’s statute of limitations for prosecuting rape was nearly the shortest in the nation: only Florida, North Dakota and Utah had shorter time limits during which a rapist may be brought to justice.

However, in 2004, Florida legislators substantially extended the statute of limitations for rape cases in which DNA evidence from an unknown assailant is present. In these cases, the deadline for bringing charges is extended to one year after the suspect has been identified through DNA. Thus, a rape case can remain open indefinitely in Florida, and victims there need not be subjected to the injustice of being told that the stranger who raped them has finally been identified but cannot be prosecuted because the clock has run out.

Thanks to a late agreement by legislators in Albany, New York no longer ranks among the dwindling number of states that have failed to take full advantage of DNA’s ability to identify and remove serial sex offenders from the streets.

Tina T, Atlanta

It was late morning near the Pier on Flagler Beach in Florida on Sunday the 19th.

It’s not uncommon to see small planes pulling banners across the sky, although it’s certainly not as common as at the typical “spring break” beaches such as Daytona. Perhaps this one came from there and just continued up the coast.

I didn’t notice anything special about the plane itself.

The banner was shorter than the typical ad banner. It was black. The message was in white:

OK, I see the obvious 666 reference. Is this a threat? A scare tactic? If so, who is behind it? Apocalyptic Evangelicals? Terrorists of some kind? Has there been any news coverage of this? If so, I couldn’t find it.

It was chilling.

Please comment if you know anything, or have heard anything, about this.

(Thanks for the comments – it was a tasteless publicity stunt for the new Omen movie)

We went to a family gathering in Florida in honor of my grandmother Evelyn’s 89th birthday. In addition to my little family, my mom and uncle, and my two brothers and their families were there.

I went into the situation with some good advice from a dear friend: Let adults be adults, no matter how strange it seems. A hard lesson for me, since I tend to try to fix things and mediate and all that kind of thing. Actually, it turned out that almost everyone was fine. One glaring exception seemed (very unfortunately) beyond any mediation or healing from me or anyone else. I hope whatever was going on resolves itself. Perhaps I’ll write about it some day, when I’ve gained some kind of understanding or perspective. It’s beyond me today.

One thing seems worth mentioning here. It has been some time since my father died, but there had been no chance since then for his three children to scatter his ashes. Not wanting to take anything away from my grandmother’s birthday, we (semi-secretly) went off by ourselves to do the deed at last.

We shared some memories and anecdotes, cried a little, and ended up in a big three-way hug that felt utterly comforting and good. We each tossed a handful of ashes, then my youngest brother threw the rest just as far as he could. The lighter ashes rose into the air like steam, bending light to suggest a rainbow. A wide swath of what looked like some kind of sage was covered in white, and some few bits of metal that remained from his implants clattered against the ground. It wasn’t an ideal place, but it was very peaceful and open and clean and in the midst of nature. He wouldn’t have preferred Florida – but it was better than behind his mother’s old house, and it was the best we could do. If there is an afterlife, I hope that he is pleased. It was just the sort of informal but heartfelt occasion that he had wanted.

On the way down, we got a chance to spend a night with my friend Sharon at her house in Jacksonville, and John was able to get at least a little time with his friend Bob. Sharon offered her vacation house on St. Simon’s Island as a stayover place for the trip home. We arrived there by midafternoon Sunday, had a good meal, and – utterly exhausted – fell into deep slumber by 9. The trip back was uneventful, and I am very very grateful to be home.

The first night, we all met for dinner. We spent some time with the remaining sibling (my sister-in-law) Laura and John (who had dropped a good bit of weight since the last time I saw him). We also got to spend a little time with (my brother-in-law’s sister) Marsha and Randy. I remember them quite fondly, especially because of a rollicking dinner we had once at their place. Randy has a twirly waxed mustache, and Marsha has a beautiful warm face, and they are both wonderful charming people. She works for the Forestry Service, and is especially charged when things actually get accomplished there despite whatever political agendas happen to be on the table. It’s always a good time when they are involved.

We had a drink or two while waiting for the table. From the balcony where we finally settled in we could hear some kind of jazz performance taking place in downtown (or is it uptown?) Tallahassee. The atmosphere was invigorating, carefree.

We arrived at the wedding rehearsal the next afternoon a few minutes late. Feeling foolish, we anxiously wandered all over the grounds looking for where it was supposed to take place. Finally we ran into Laura and she didn’t know where it was either! Finally we met up with the others and convened under a huge live oak – rehearsal went well and the bride-to-be was incredibly poised – and on high heels! Ben solemnly practiced his ringbearing duties. As we were leaving, people were getting set up in the next field to watch Glenn Campbell play. Yes. Glenn Campbell. Just as we were passing a man that Laura thought might actually have been him, I happened to be saying, “Well, he’s no Johnny Cash, but…” Faux pas of the day, my turn.

I got a chance there to talk a little bit with Lance, my other nephew and the younger brother of the groom. I’ve had a soft spot for him since we first met, because I was charmed by his desire to sing (and play his guitar) and the way that longing was tempered by a very real shyness. The result was that he sang Eric Clapton songs to me in an almost impossibly soft voice. He’s always been curious about a lot of difficult questions concerning life, the universe, and everything. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so taken aback to hear that he has become religious. He’s become part of a fellowship that meets in homes – pentacostal, healing, anti-trinitarian. We traded some bible verses and doctrinal perspectives. His eyes were bright with the unmistakable spirit of the newly converted. I tried to ascertain where along the spectrum (from “compassionate believers gathered in a spirit of love” to “time to drink the Cool-aid”) this group might fall. He had personally invested in boxes of bibles to send to New Orleans – no fundraiser, no distribution network. He also mentioned that he dropped a course in New Testament when the professor introduced the “Q source” (within the realm of possible biblical scholarship, a fairly innocuous bit of critical text research) that he felt was too challenging to his faith. There were a couple of other red flags for me as well, but I was very comfortable talking to him and look forward to some deeper, more lengthy discussion. I care about him, and I hope it will all turn out all right.

On the day of the wedding, I looked fabulous, even if I do say so myself. John had gotten me a gorgeous burgundy floor-length dress and I felt smashing. I think he had become nervous in reaction to my joking comment that I was planning to attend the plantation wedding in a hooped flowered dress and a hat.

It was my job to pin the flowers on all the guys, including the groom. I managed to do it without puncturing their chests or my fingers and none of the flowers stuck out funny or fell off. Accomplishment!

I did have a weird moment of cognitive dissonance when JT’s (black) professional colleague arrived with his (also black) wife. They were “ooh-ing” and “aah-ing” about how gorgeous the plantation was. Um. Well. Suddenly I felt so strange to be walking around on the grounds of a plantation. It’s a historial site. It’s quite beautiful. Still, for a moment, I was in the twilight zone.

JT and Tonya had a sweet ceremony under the oak tree. It was a little full of talk about God’s will, but that’s probably just my JW scar tissue talking. They had written secret letters to one another, which were read by the best man and the maid of honor (matron, really, but she still looked like a maid). There were moments here and there when they each had suspiciously glistening eyes, and I lost it for a moment myself. Ben was given a little bird’s nest for carrying the rings (excellent idea!), which I’m saving to give back on their tenth anniversary.

After the ceremony, we all walked over to the courtyard at the stables, where a band had already set up, and drinks were served. Ben (age 5) garnered an admirer named Elizabeth (age 6), who wanted him to dance with her and visit with the Clysdale horses (My stepson Evan claimed that he – himself, not Ben- had actually hopped the fence and rode one of them). Ben and Elizabeth spent much of the night running around the place together. They taught each other their best dance moves. She had the biggest, most adoring brown eyes I have ever seen. It was outstandingly cute.

I shared some back and forth banter with my beloved “political nemesis” brother-in-law John. He didn’t call me a feminazi this time.. only a socialist. He informed me that not only did I take myself too seriously, but that I was on the wrong side of history. In his opinion, what we really need in this country is a dictator. Sure, and that’s an American value. A benevolent reading would be that sometimes he exaggerates to push my buttons. We’re never going to agree on anything political, but I told him I loved him anyway (”not fair!” he charged as he wagged his finger at me). I can’t help it. As frustrating and unreachable as he is, I think he is an interesting guy. I’m always trying to figure out how this could have happened to him. He says his alliance was formed when JFK was shot, but that doesn’t make any sense to me. He is someone that really ought to be able to connect the dots to understand the ways in which he and his family (not to mention countless others) have been shafted by the right. But he doesn’t see it. He’s too invested in counting himself in with what he perceives to be the “winning side,” whether or not he is actually the sort of person in whose interests the “winners” ever act. Anyway, I think he’s one of the very few far far right wing people that I actually care about and with whom I can converse – and who tolerates me (to varying degrees) as well.

JT wrote and performed a song to his bride. How many weddings have you gone to where the groom pulls out an electric guitar and performs for the first time in public?

We all danced. The band introduced “I Will Survive” as a song for the WOMEN! That made me laugh because my associations have more to do with gay parades I’ve walked in, but I guess that’s what you say that close to “Jeb country.” Why would you play a song about continuing on after a bad breakup at a wedding reception anyway? At least they didn’t play “Paradise By the Dashboard Light.”

It ended with a loud hoot ‘n holler parade around the courtyard – a New Orleans style send-off. They had gotten engaged in New Orleans, and had recently provided a place to stay for friends of theirs who lost everything there. New Orleans is a special place to the bride and groom for a number of reasons, and somehow that seemed exactly the right kind of conclusion.

We wish them a life together of laughter and love.

(Oh, for my friends at Blogazoo, here’s a gAzoo)