Category: Faith and Such

Since 1994, I’ve ended every 4th of July by listening to the song “Wahington’s Day” by the Hooters. The tradition began that year in Los Angeles where I concluded the holiday by watching fireworks from the base of the “D” in the Hollywood Sign.

I got the idea from the song’s first verse…

Did you think I could ever forget
The night by the arlington flame
In the silence I heard it
Through streets so deserted
You whispered and called me by name

Did you think I could ever forget
That powerful look in your eye
Where Lincoln stood strong there
You held me so long there that night
On the fourth of July

I wasn’t a typical 4th. Our friends came over for a BBQ then declined to watch the fireworks through the fog. We played board games instead. I also didn’t read Jefferson’s letters, didn’t listen to Aaron Copland’s “The Lincoln Portrait”, didn’t feel any of the benign patriotism that normally marks the holiday for me. It’s a different time, darker, sober, filled with foreboding and regret.

Which is why, at 1:30 AM when everyone had gone home, when it wasn’t even July 4th anymore, I went up the roof of our building and, in fog so thick I could dive into it, I listened to Washington’s Day.

When the wars that men wage are all through
And their monuments put on display
Tell the hungry and stranded
The poor empty handed
We’ll meet them on Washington’s day

I hope and I pray that you’ll be here with me
When the mountains that rise tumble into the sea
And the visions that come are the visions that stay
Hope you’ll be here with me
Home on Washington’s day

If you haven’t yet disposed of your Christmas Tree, may I recommend finding a friend with a truck, collecting a few abandoned trees, taking yourself to a nearby body of water and setting them ablaze. I did this with Suzan, Kristin and Wendy this weekend and the effect is amazing.

Oh and congratulations to Derek and Heather!

A couple have asked to see a print version of the poem I did at 20×2 during South by Southwest. Here it is, addressing the question “What are you waiting for?”

What are you waiting for?

When did I last wait for anything?

When did I last open my eyes and wait for the day rather than cursing that it was here?

When did I last wait and say “What am I doing now?” rather than “What should I be doing next?”

When did I last listen before speaking,

ask before assuming,

wonder before judging?

When did I last take the long way home,

take the scenic route,

take an old friend to dinner and say I can be home…whenever?

When did I last, walk instead of hurry,

eat instead of eat and run,

plug the correct time into the microwave instead of :22

:44

:55

thinking that would save me…a little time?

When did I last wait and………..

Take a deep breath before speaking?

When did we last listen,

talk “to” rather than “at”

commit to under-committing,

commit random acts of understanding?

When did we last all, here, wait?

For peace, serenity, clarity appreciation, a moment?

When was the last time we all decided…

to just wait?

I’m still in disbelief over the destruction (explosion, implosion what?) of the Space Shuttle Columbia that I’m don’t feel quite like it really happened. All I can say at this point is that the tragic end to the Space Shuttle Challenger happened when I was in the seventh grade and was one of the defining civic moments of my childhood. I liken it to how my parents felt about the Kennedy Assasination.

The next spring, I attened the Space Academy in Huntsville, AL with a friend from school. Each of us were divided into teams named after one of the Space Shuttles;. Naturally there was no team Challenger. My friend was on Team Atlantis. Me? Team Columbia.

For the last few years, I have only made one New Year’s Resolution per year, a celestial wish that I hope gives meaning and shape to the 12 months ahead, a theme even. Since 2002 has not been easy but I have great hope for 2003, I’m tempted to say “Don’t change a thing!” but that’s kind of the easy way out.

I’ve had a lot of time to be by myself this month, often uncomfortable from the pain and exhaustion from post-surgery rehab. While I spent many of those hours zoning out in front of movies, books, video games and other piles of witzy ditzy entertainment, it got real old real fast. By about day 5, I felt like I was continuously getting off a long airplane flight, which my ears clogged and the world sounding like an unending hum of noise rattling around in my head, a lunatic trying to free itself.

It was horrible, the inability to be quiet and hear myself think, the once-removed-from-reality by constant distraction. I love movies and books and culture as much as the next person, but what am I really getting from it if I’m stuffed to the point of bursting?

For 2003, I’m like some peace, some, as Mary Chapin Carpenter once said, “cool quiet and time to think.” I’m going to try to shoot up with noise less, to enjoy a little silence and to produce some of those words and images I’ve had such fun snarfing down. I’m going to try and savor the noise I do allow in, rather than gulping and frantically searching for more.

My best to all of you for a safe, healthy and happy New Year. And if you’ve got some New Year’s Resolutions, I’ve love to hear them.

See you tomorrow, when we start it all again.

Happy holidays and safe travel/celebrations to you all. All 81 of you as of this morning,, my biggest turn-out ever. I’ve been getting mad hookup the last week or so ever since WTS started showing up on Zeldman.com. Hooray for hook-up.

Surgery recovery is almost complete. The stitches are starting to fall out, I can eat a few solid foods (although I’m a long way off from say, taco chips) and the pain medication is no longer making me tired all the time. Thursday, I’m going to start exercising again, and I may head into the office before the week is out.

Many thanks to everyone who sent me well wishes during this very difficult time. Hell I even got a few late Chanukah gifts from my Amazon wish list from a few of ya’ll (for the rest, it’s not to late. *guilt guilt*). I feel very lucky to healthy and to be me.

See you soon.

“What you feel you cannot, do.”

–Eleanor Roosevelt

Fasting is over. Had a lovely breaking of fast (which is indeed where the word “breakfast” comes from) with Derek and Heather. Now and serene, relaxed and very, very happy, the fortunate result of a day spent soul searching.

The lesson of this Yom Kippur: Each year, I write a letter to someone I feel I need to make amends to. This year, for the first time, I wrote this letter to myself. I feel I’m pretty nasty to me a lot of time, quietly yelling at myself for being a less than productive writer, a half-assed friend/son/brother, and an out-to-lunch boyfriend. I rarely cut myself a break and spent most of my waking hours juiced on some unholy concoction of work adrenalin, fear and self-loathing. This is not the recipe for a balanced, happy life.

What, brothers and sisters, is the point of exercising, eating well, not smoking or drinking in hopes of living a long time if you can’t appreciate it, if you spend most of those overtime years berating yourself for not spending them better?

So I’m going to try to do it a little differently. I’m going to try and remember each day to thank God that I have a pretty good life, dang nab it. And that I earned it from hard work, good karma and being a decent human being, not through trickery, deceit or blind luck. I’m entitled to a little happiness with out my daily routine of convincing myself otherwise. So that’s the new motto. Relish in the joy. Because there’s lots of it around, if I let myself off the hook long enough to accept.

Today is Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement. Yom Kippur occurs exactly ten days after Rosh Hashannah, the beginning of the Jewish new year. During that ten day period, as the legend goes, the book of life is open. All of us have the the opportunity to make right with our high powers, to apologize for those we feel need apologizing to, to clense ourselves, and promise to lead with the better angels of our nature. Yom Kippur is the last day in this period. We fast as a reminder of the solemnity of the day. At sundown, the book of life is closed.

Each Yom Kippur since 1995, I have spent the day by myself, thinking, writing, reading, praying. Each year, I write one person a letter to whom I feel I owe forgiveness. Mostly, I just try and “Get Good with God” and put myself in a serene spiritual place. But something tells me this year will be different. I’ll let you know at sundown.

Apparently the Catholic Church has decided that trying to convert us Jews to Christianity is not allowed. Yesterday, I was thought to be going to hell. Today, well today is another day (via Jer).