Archive for October, 2002

Wednesday, October 30th, 2002

National Day of Action: Don’t Buy ExxonMobil: Corporate Culprits: Global Warming & Energy: Greenpeace USA

Wellstone!

Tuesday, October 29th, 2002
A Prarie Home Companion by Minnesota Public Radio.’);” onMouseout=”return nd();”>

Well it’s a cold cold dark dark day in Minnesota.  Terrible plane crash broke everybody’s hearts.  And so it means a lot to us that you came to our show… so glad that you came, and all these wonderful musicians here.  Not here to do a eulogy or make a memorial.  The guy already has a city named after him, this one right here that we’re in, so what else can you do?  <applause>   So we’re just going to do our show, just do our show, with a heavy heart which makes it all the more important to do it. 

Garrison Keillor, introducing ‘A Prarie Home Companion’ on October 26, 2002, in St. Paul, Minnesota

Can I tell you that I cried tonight, listening to A Prarie Home Companion by Minnesota Public Radio.’,CAPTION,’phc.mpr.org’,LEFT);” onMouseout=”return nd();”>this

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the light surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young

They say every man needs protection
They say every man must fall
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Somewhere high above this wall
I see my life come shining
From the West unto the East
Any day now, any way now
I shall be released

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young

Forever Young and I Shall Be Released
by Bob Dylan, as sung by
Garrison Keillor and Stephanie Davis
on ‘A Prarie Home Companion’
October 26, 2002, in St. Paul, Minnesota

mounting

Monday, October 28th, 2002

Last winter’s depression never quite lifted.  Spring came and I observed it through a glass; a silent film of sun, life, and fear. 

(I know you don’t want to hear any of this.  But then again, it is only a blog.  Besides, if I was going to write without whining, I should have begun twenty-five years ago.)

By mid-July it was clear that this season’s depression ice cap would never entirely recede and I reduced my plans for joy to a somewhat cooler, more brief event that I hoped would occur in late summer.  But when that time arrived, the familiar glaciers that had never given up sight of me, were already advancing.  I pretended until October there would be joy. 

How does it happen at the end?  When all is said (and written) and done, do our lives become enough because that’s all they were?  Does anything and everything constitute an adequate response to the challenge we accepted by coming to life?  If so, what happens to what could have been?  What happens to the achievements unattained, the magnificent machinations of human heart and mind that were splintered beneath depression’s dumbing ice and cold?  And are these unfinished hopes proof for the logician that something more must come; an afterlife?  Reincarnation?  A chance to finish? 

(I know this is all just tedious, rhetorical BS.  But then again, it’s all I have.)

I have lost some weight.  For many months I have been host to a ferociously itchy rash.  Night sweats, once rare and negligible, have become frequent and extreme.  A long awaited illness is afoot, I fear that nevermore will the landscape of my health be flat and even.  I fear that I am upon the flanks of my last mountain.