So here we are, entering into the lucky number 13. Last night I returned from a trip to my beloved Texas, where I spent most of my time feeling under the weather, coughing, with a fever. I only saw about half the friends I had hoped to see. I am sure it was all just exactly the way it was supposed to be. Lots of quality time with Richard, three nights at Chateau René, a couple of meals with Dylan, and a Danny Britt gig at Donn's Depot. I really wish Monday night had not been New Year's so I could have done my usual Monday night thing, going to Mystery Monday, to see Sarah and Christine at El Mercado and Chris at Donn's but there is always next time.
The holidays season is normally a very happy, bustling, busy time for me. This year was different. I had no studio therefore no art shows. I sent store bought Christmas cards. My thirty some odd year old collection of Christmas decorations were in storage and I missed every annual party that I have attended for twenty or thirty years. I didn't go to Christmas Church Service at Willie's. But hey, change is good right? Ugh.
I don't remember a December ever that I had time to set and catch up on recorded TV shows. Good news is that Christian and Carrie have an excellent huge flat screen TV and it was too cold to go out and oh wait... I am in Missouri, I have no place to go. A couple of days before we went to Texas, I was catching up on "Long Island Medium" and Christian was making fun of me because Theresa, the star of the show communicates with people who have passed over. He thinks it is morbid so it was even funnier, on the way back to Missouri last night, Andrew and I were in the back set watching one of his favorite animated movies "ParaNorman," a movie about a little boy who talks to people who have crossed over. LOL
So today... I was on the phone with a friend, talking about how normal it seems to us that there are spirits among us and it dawned on her that it seemed like she had felt the presence of someone who had passed away on Christmas several years ago. Suddenly, across the room, the book "Where the Sidewalk Ends" by Shel Silverstein fell off of the bookshelf onto the floor. I told my friend on the phone and she said that it was odd because she was just looking at the same book on her bookshelf. She opened the book to this poem.
~ Shel Silverstein
This morning I jumped on my horse,
And went out for a ride,
And some wild outlaws chased me
And they shot me in the side.
So I crawled into a wildcat’s cave
To find a place to hide,
But some pirates found me sleeping there,
And soon they had me tied
To a pole and built a fire
Under me—I almost cried
Till a mermaid came and cut me loose
And begged to be my bride,
So I said I’d come back Wednesday
But I must admit I lied.
Then I ran into a jungle swamp
But I forgot my guide
And I stepped into some quicksand,
And no matter how I tried
I couldn’t get out, until I met
A water snake named Clyde,
Who pulled me to some cannibals
Who planned to have me fried.
But an eagle came and swooped me up
And through the air we flied,
But he dropped me in a boiling lake
A thousand miles wide.
And you’ll never guess what I did then—
So I am dedicating this poem to you my dear May 12th buddy. May your soul rest in peace.