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A blog for Claire
Friday, February 20, 2004
 
We'll Be Away

Jane, Rebecca, Nathan and I will be away for the next week. We are going to La Bella Roma for a week. We got a deal on tickets plus hotel and are going away over Winter break. The 10 day forecast is pretty bleak...rain is predicted for all but one day and the temps are going to be in the 40s for lows and 50s for highs. Sounds like England. Of course, we know that Rome is on about the same latitude as Providence. The Gulf Stream is what saves Europe from being more like Canada. I remember that weather of that sort can be more uncomfortable than a typical winter day in Vermont. Just like the summers down South it's the humidity that makes for the misery. Gimme a cold, crisp New England day over a wet, penetrating English winter day any day (he say redundantly). We are really looking forward to this trip. I miss you. More later
 
Monday, February 16, 2004
 
In America

Tonight Jane and I went to see In America, a movie about an illegal. Irish immigrant family who come down from Canada to live in Manhattan so the father, an aspiring actor, can try to get work. They have just lost a child, a boy, and the grief is a raw and painful force still in their lives. The oldest is a young girl about the age of Claire and, like Claire, she is bright, beautiful and precocious. There were some powerfully sad points in the show and the tears, the grief and loss and the beauty of the actress set me off. I wept.

The Latchis is a grand old theatre left over from glory days long gone with fake Greek statuary, a (nonfunctioning) fountain, murals and the signs of the zodiac on the high, vaulted ceiling of the main auditorium. It has just the right blend of decay and restoration. What a marvelous place to watch a film. The seats are a little old and lumpy but one takes the bad with the good I've been told.

It was minus 8 degrees this morning when I went out to start the car. That's too cold. What's a Mississippi boy like me doing in this arctic clime, I ask you.
 
Thursday, February 12, 2004
 
I missed you again today

I saw a little girl, about three years old, and thought of you. She was beautiful (not as much as you of course). I smiled because she seemed so happy but my smile faded quickly because I missed you so. It's now been a year since I have spoken to you and I find that incredibly sad. I hope you are doing well.
 
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
 
I've been away

I just got back from Tallahassee where we celebrated my mother's 80th b'day. We flew down and that's the first time I've flown since Elizabeth's wedding...maybe 4 or 5 years ago. I gave up flying because it had gotten so packed and impersonal. Besides, I love to drive and have enjoyed a number of long road trips in my Camry. That car has 155,000 miles on it in 4 1/2 years of driving. I wasn't looking forward to it but the trip turned out to be quite pleasant, really. We left early (about 8AM) and returned late (we got in about 11PM) so the planes weren't too packed. The new security precautions weren't as onerous as I expected. The connections were fine and the airplanes were all on time. A good trip.

The celebration was held at an old hotel in Wakulla Springs circa 1937. It was a grand old place and just perfectly fitting for a grand old lady like my mother. We all enjoyed it thoroughly. Relatives came form the (Mississippi Gulf) Coast. Matthew flew in from Boston. My sister's friends from around Tallahassee were there. I gave the blessing, Jerry gave the toast and we told stories about Mom. One I told got a good laugh. Once, years ago, we were at the Officer's Club at Keesler, dancing to a live band. My date and I danced by my Mom and Dad just in time to hear Mom say, " Waltz a little faster, Eddie, this is a foxtrot." It illustrates how my Mom was always telling Dad what to do and that he often needed just that. Everyone laughed, especially when Mom nodded her head in affirmation that the story was true. Like the country song says about our stories, "They may not be true but we remember them well." Also at several times we spoke about how much we missed Claire and how we wished she were there. More later.
 
My son, Ted, has cut off all contact with his family, primarily with me, but effectively with all of us. A major consequence is that I am unable to have contact with my grandchildren, especially with Claire, nieta de mi alma. This is one of the most painful events of my life. I love my grandchildren dearly and missing them has caused me grief that is at times nearly unbearable. Friends I trust have told me to journal and to keep a record so one day she'll know I missed her daily. This is it.

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