A Cold, Cruel Joke...

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Spring ground snow-covered
Robins eat sumac flowers
Frozen worms laughing
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The Velveteen Rabbit

....."What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

....."Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

....."Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

....."Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.

This morning in the woods, the Velveteen Rabbit crossed my path. I thought back to the little boy who had helped him to become real, and a lump came in my throat, for now the boy is grown and far away, and his toys are of a different kind.

I thought too of the parallel between the Velveteen Rabbit and the aging children who share this space: sometimes they, too, become real. The ones who do, do it gradually, first hiding behind carefully chosen identities, then slowly exposing themselves. I do not love them into reality like the little boy did, but they become real by the consistency of what they write and the messages they leave. They enrich and brighten my world.

You cannot truly love a fictional character, nor can you grieve the death of someone who is “pretend.” This week I learned that Lance, the blogger known to us as Baron Ectar, died very unexpectedly, and I am grieving that loss. He was a good person.
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He was someone who had become real in this pretend world of blogging.



Thank you, Baron, for your thoughtfulness and your willingness to help. Thank you for the music you shared with us. Your introspection and striving to "get life right" were an inspiration.
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May peace be with you and your family.
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You may click here for the full text (with pictures) of The Velveteen Rabbit by Marjorie Williams.

PSYCHO

As I look out at the falling snow, I know that it’s all my fault. Yes, I caused the return of winter.

A week ago, when all was sunny and spring-like, I cleaned out my dresser drawers. Daffodils were peeking up through last fall’s dead leaves and robins were singing as I packed my woolies away and hauled out some t-shirts and khakis. Then – as if I hadn’t been brazen enough in my disregard for PSYCHO – I gathered up all the wool mittens, hats, scarves and socks, washed them with Woolite and gleefully put them in storage… It’s been snowing and I’ve been freezing ever since.

You all know about PSYCHO: wash the car or hang the laundry on the clothesline and it will rain; sign up for an all-day indoor event and the sun will shine gloriously; buy a kite and April’s breezes will turn into doldrums; buy a sled and the snow will melt; plant tomatoes and watch a late frost settle on them; schedule a fall foliage tour and enjoy the two-foot-deep snow dump of a Nor’easter.

Yes, this weather is all my fault. I disregarded the theory of PSYCHO: Personal Stupidity Yielding Cosmically Hellacious Occurrences. I’m sorry.

Home Again

"You can't get there from here." That's the problem with most trips we take.

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Four hours of driving gets us to the Albany airport, where Homeland Security, baggage checking, gate finding, rental car procurement and everything else most people associate with travel begins. Nine hours after leaving home, we arrive in Washington, D.C., only two hours sooner than if we had driven the entire distance.

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Unfortunately, winter traveled with us, but despite that, we had a wonderful few days.

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It was a trip filled with "firsts" for our grandson: first airplane flight, first zoo, first subway ride.

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We saw the cherry blossoms and hiked in Rock Creek Park; the Easter Bunny left some eggs in the yard. It was a chance for four generations to laugh, eat wonderful food and play together.

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On Sunday, we traveled the route in reverse. It was a good trip. We had a wonderful time, but it's good to be home.

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