So I’m sitting here, taking a break from the addressing of the massive mess that is “home”, and listening to the weird/cool mix-CD when it occurs to me that I haven’t been back here in a long while.

Troopah asked about the blog – why, &c – and I had no answer, really, except that in my mind it is a place to keep exercised the writing muscles that atrophy so quickly. Once…lord, once my fingers flew daily, scribbled nightly, and my languid language flowed with ease. But now…silenced, more, with life…preoccupied and busy, really…but I do miss it.

I miss that easy rapport with the page and the release of the details, trivial and not. I miss a lot of things, actually, and they come to me more these days. I think of my Mom and his Grandpa…miss them terribly but like to think of them gardening some nice piece of heaven together. I miss my old garden and the pond and the roses. I miss the swing and the arbor. And I miss the long days at home, doing nothing but what I wanted to do for a year.

Oh, that’s not to say I spent money on whatever I wanted. No, it was more about…seeing a movie in the daytime in an empty theatre, going to Whole Foods and not worrying about the time, not rushing through a workout, or just swimming with grace and care lap after lap…

It was about slowing down and seeing the sunrise and the sunset both in a day. If I were to advise anyone of anything it would be that – to take a sabbatical. To stop the damned roller coaster of life, even if it’s only a couple weeks or just a long weekend. Whatever your budget allows. It cost me – ah – it cost me a great deal, indeed both monetarily and…otherwise. But I call it fair. And I think often of how if I could just settle these fingers into a tale and weave it tightly enough that I could perhaps have enough to do that again. To slow life down.

But there is a kitchen to gut and reorganize after the hasty unpacking to any open slot…there is laundy to care for and a desk to clear – again. I simply have to back things down to the simplest format possible – the least clutter, the least crap…because I can’t bear to have it around me anymore.

The ephemera of youth, that I must retain. Who can surrender those touchstones, after all? I’ve never quite understood people that can just let the past go. Who carry nothing with them from it. A lighter load, to be certain, but I am not sure its worth the loss.

Of course, it is also election eve. And all that it engenders. I like, generally, the take that Billy has on the entire matter. While I cannot quite get to his point of belief, I reckon my holdout is based on very few points. And dear sweet Melissa whom he spoke with this evening – I do hope she remembers this for a very long time. Or at least, when that crucial juncture is met, she will have a sharp intake of breath and a dusty memory of a slightly disturbing, one-sided conversation with a modern day oracle. And yet I have to wonder if perhaps his calm, clear language will spark in her a reason to look further, to consider another view. It would have if it’d been me.

Instead, I hang out in the fringes, hoping to go along unnoticed and unmolested. Just live and cause as little a ripple in the pond as I can. It’s a strange time we live in…education is no longer a matter of right and wrong answers nor even of exploring facts old and new. An entire generation has been dumbed down so very low that it ensures a future of…futility. I really cannot comprehend its impact. Even now, I shiver at the sight of the authorship put in plain view. And I am no genius. Far from it. But…just reading a book now and then would lead to better grammar, no? Sadly, no.

I’d told someone a couple decades ago that I had a sincere belief that the public schools were purposefully being used to create an electorate of imbeciles – sheeple, as it were. And I believe that more fervently than ever. And am trebly glad to not have a child to educate. I assure you they would not step one foot into such an institution. No, better to be home and learning than that.

It is madness that awaits us, you see. I firmly believe it. This country will have a Dark Age that will have it spiraling into utter ruin. But there will be patriots of a sort. There will be a small percentage of the populace that will be well-read, that will know their history, that will understand what must be done. And perhaps done quietly, slowly, invisibly. But one day, their grandchildren will step up and try again to return the country to its former glory.

Oh, I know – grandiose language and maudlin fluff. Sure, sure. And I do hope so. I haven’t given up that hope yet. But it loses its luster daily. No amount of spit and polish could make it shine again. Not in my lifetime. That hope will die with me. So all you young folks…forget the rubbish in the books today. Find the most torn up, linen covered and broken spined tomes in the History section and Philosophy and read them. I once did. Because that knowledge is what will save you. It is what will set you apart. You’ll be lonely and alone and those thoughts will batter inside you like caged birds. But you’ll know Truth. And that is better than anything. ANYTHING.

What a difference…

…a month makes…

Okay, so it’s not as lyrical as the original. So, here I am in our new home in TX, typing away on the laptop I received with which to work from home. It has been quite the banner day – my first day as a spoiled rotten work from home type (though said spoilment is only two days/week) and his as a Trooper.

We spent the first part of the morning trying to get the laptop to talk to the office (the solution being far too embarrassingly simple to relate to you, gentle reader) and the latter part of the day getting him ready for his first night out.

I’ve photographed nearly all of the process and hope to make a nice album and scrapbook. It has been quite the journey and today was the culmination – an arrival bracketed with his departure. Of course, he’s got the FTO for about 6 months so he won’t have his own car nor drive the FTO’s for some time. Still, it’s done. Now, I get to run out for assorted things since I am officially off the clock. And, soon, I shall sleep. For I am exhausted.

The details of the actual move remain relatively hazy in my mind. There was not enough time to do any of the work that needed doing so we wound up having to remain an extra day in town just to finish. Then, a very long trek…the very end of the road trip required that I drive while just barely awake – a thing of horror for me to even recall. I would never do something so foolish but it was 3am with no one else but he and I, following the broad rear of his vehicle, just 10 minutes from home. Of course, a trooper pulled in behind me and I saw two heads which made me think that maybe I was wrong. But I was not. Thankfully, they were also tired and merely took the turn off as soon as they could, leaving us to the last 4 miles alone.

Of course, I hadn’t packed the “overnight” gear so we slept in our clothes on the floor and didn’t care at all. The cats, too, must have slept for ages once they were released to the relative peace of the “safe room”.

I wonder, now, at how we managed it. He has taken so much abuse over the last few weeks as my last energy and nerves were depleted. I was trying to not make it personal, to couch the anger and frustration in terms that related their basis but at times there were nothing but tears to give voice to that exhaustion. I suppose he found in himself a strength to deal with all the same stresses as well as my own nonsense without retort or recrimination. He truly is that much of a man – and I could not do this without him.

So it was I watched with deep pride and happy tears as he tossed his gear in the trunk of the car and hopped into the passenger seat, on the way to his destiny. And someday…someday, it will be in his own car and it will be the badge of a Ranger on his pocket. We know this. We believe this.