And we plod along...
My old friend Susan lost her Father last week. It was one of those situations (like with my own Father) where it was not a surprise - but of course it was. There is an absence, and it is there, and it is real, and it is very much noticeable no matter how prepared you think you might be for it.
It is at times like these that I and many others lapse into a form of magical thinking - hoping that there is some expression, some collection of words that one can utter that will make things better, or at least add some measure of comfort. But the words don't really exist; the spell remains uncast. We are left muttering about being sorry, and that's about it. Susan - Linda and I are there for you; we know that's not enough, but that's all there can be. It's a damn shame...
Loss can happen at any time, of course - and it does. But to my mind it is particularly pointed at this time of year. I really don't think I suffer from any of the real or imagined seasonal disorders*, but there's always been something about January that speaks to me of loss and a certain desperate feeling. I've written before about nights spent in less than sober abandon wandering about the bars of Gtown or Foggy Bottom (with some of you reading this in attendance...) during this time of year back in the 70's. We faced unemployment, lost lovers, lost opportunities and grimy weather. In late January, DC is still facing another probable seven to eight weeks of gray and cold weather. It's one of those times that leaves you thinking; wondering where you've been and where you're going, (if anywhere). You count your losses and see if you can cover all your bets. Sometimes the tally gets grim.
At any rate, one of the big hits from those days was Al Stewart's "Time Passages", (written for another old friend of mine...). The lyrics express the season perfectly - seeming to look both forward and backward simultaneously. Al is a master of verbal time distortion. It seemed appropriate then, and just as much so now. Enjoy.
As for me, I'll be taking the last train home tonight. See ya tomorrow...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dKEG86cndE
(*I am disordered in all seasons....)
It is at times like these that I and many others lapse into a form of magical thinking - hoping that there is some expression, some collection of words that one can utter that will make things better, or at least add some measure of comfort. But the words don't really exist; the spell remains uncast. We are left muttering about being sorry, and that's about it. Susan - Linda and I are there for you; we know that's not enough, but that's all there can be. It's a damn shame...
Loss can happen at any time, of course - and it does. But to my mind it is particularly pointed at this time of year. I really don't think I suffer from any of the real or imagined seasonal disorders*, but there's always been something about January that speaks to me of loss and a certain desperate feeling. I've written before about nights spent in less than sober abandon wandering about the bars of Gtown or Foggy Bottom (with some of you reading this in attendance...) during this time of year back in the 70's. We faced unemployment, lost lovers, lost opportunities and grimy weather. In late January, DC is still facing another probable seven to eight weeks of gray and cold weather. It's one of those times that leaves you thinking; wondering where you've been and where you're going, (if anywhere). You count your losses and see if you can cover all your bets. Sometimes the tally gets grim.
At any rate, one of the big hits from those days was Al Stewart's "Time Passages", (written for another old friend of mine...). The lyrics express the season perfectly - seeming to look both forward and backward simultaneously. Al is a master of verbal time distortion. It seemed appropriate then, and just as much so now. Enjoy.
As for me, I'll be taking the last train home tonight. See ya tomorrow...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dKEG86cndE
(*I am disordered in all seasons....)
posted by mendip at
10:11 PM
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