concerning culture shock at the grey submarine

I was voicing some of my concerns to A.G. about someone who had visited the Grey Submarine for the first time this past week.  Culture shock?  I would think so.
 'So, observations?' she said.
'Uh..I don't know. I guess I just wondered if he was a little...uncomfortable?  It seemed like he laughed a lot, like in the frisbee game...he would laugh for no apparent reason.  It could be something as little as "hey pam! right here if you need me..." and he'd laugh.'
Anne looked disappointed. Not necessarily in the content of my reply, but rather the truth it gave away: that I had not analyzed this thoroughly enough to come to a layman's conclusion on the subject.
'Rey!' she said, chagrinned at my lack of insight, 'See this from his point of view.  He was playing with midgets who all ran around in circles and yelled and would get feisty and worked up and who would knock each other down and blaze right through anyone who had the frisbee....I'm sure it was hard for him not to laugh the whole time! If you think about it, there's nothing not funny about it.'

       And so of course, after thinking it over, I think I must confess this to be true.

  

concerning the solar eclipse, or lack thereof.

  We camped out on a back road last night to watch the eclipse.  The sun sank before we could see it, so no eclipse for us.  Five more years...maybe we'll nail it then.  But we did a beautiful sunset.  And then we drove the long way home with our hands out the windows, singing 'swing low' with soul, and as many scripture songs as we could think of.   

        i can't imagine what our world would be like without cosmic radiation.

goodnight, genteel people.

sunday

Heart of Life 

is Good

I don't really have something specific to write tonight.  I'm just happy, mostly.  I think you would be too if you were here right now...there's not really any way not to be happy. Or at least content.
 Michael is here.  So my windows are open and he's playing to all of us girls in the room.  Dawn is wearing a straw hat, asking me if the weight on my renewed driver's license is the same as the first one.  'Is it better or worse, gabe?'
  Anne to Melody,
 'New Hampshire?'
 'Concord.'
But they insist on pronouncing 'Des Moines'  (derh-m'ohns) because it was settled 'by the Frinch.' ...At least the river was named after something French.  Merry is lying on the bed propping her feet on Dawn's back and reading some secret book.  Mama sticks her head in the door and says 'whoosh! y'all need the air on back here...Michael, I'll play your cd in my kitchen if you'll make one for me,'  and Anne keeps smiling at something.  Crickets and guitar playing.  It's just right.  And so is the world tonight at the Grey Submarine.  Disappointment is a part of life.  I guess pain is too.  But beauty is also a part that is only intensified through both of those once we can see it again.  Some how - in some good way - all that is bitter and hard and saddening will be beautiful one day.   Days like this remind me of that.

Patrick

Patrick has dark brown hair and dark brown eyes and is 24. I saw him in the first isle, with all the licorice and bagels and for some reason really wanted to talk to him.  So I did.  His Mom was wheeling him in his chair and said, 'He can't talk, but he loves people to talk to him.' I asked him questions, which is silly I guess when they might be frustrated that they can't answer back but I talked to him about Mother's day and books and summer.  She said he has a type of syndrome which hinders his movement or capability to care for himself or even express himself with coordinated movements.  She had told me that when I reached to shake his hand.  Of course, as I discovered, his hands wouldn't to do that so I held it instead and the way he turned his face and head, even though his eyes didn't focus...I don't know.  It was if he was stimulated just to have someone touch him and talk to him, as if he was eager for it.  It made me sad.  Who knows what his mind is like?  He probably thinks and comprehends more than people generally give him credit.  It made me thankful for what a rich life God has blessed me with and thankful too, that I met Patrick.

Parable of the Faucet

He calls me Incorporation and this was Abe's advice to me tonight. 

'It's like this, Incorporation.  Hear the Parable of the Faucet.  You can either drink the city water where you have crazy rednecks in the high tower, skinny dippin' at night - which water then comes through that big faucet over there; or you can get a major filter system which filters the water even a thousand times and comes out that other little faucet right there.  In the end it comes down to a question of quality: What do you want to settle for? Or do you?'