Dying on the vine

Left hanging there...ripe and ready, yet unplucked. What cruel joke is this? How much can one stand before madness. Spies everywhere...Observing, mentally recording. Will this fruit ever become wine?


Dying, dying, dying on the vine

Whitesnake & John Rutter

"Requiem" vs "How do you know when it's love"

I remember the day Sondra moved out. Quite a few people helped her. I recall being so grateful that she had friends that cared and would help her. The majority I didn't know. But there was another inter-racial couple from church that helped. I'm still not sure how I felt about that.

I remember it all like yesterday. It was a cold day in January, snow on the ground...I made Coffee and hot cocoa and some things for people to eat. I just could not help them...I was paralyzed. I threw up as they drove down that very long driveway. For several hours after they all left I could hardly breathe. Funny as I think back on it...no one checked on me or called me to see if I was ok. No one. Not my family, friends, priest...I hadn't really thought about that till now. Ted and Noah (my other super great friend) probably didn't know it was happening. I was more macho then...not much but more.

Not sure where this is going, so hang on it could get messy. I've been thinking about profound losses in my life. Dad's father, Mom's mother, Sondra. My Mom is so very sick, morbidly I think of her death and for some bizarre reason I always feel like I'm going to be obligated to sing the bass solo from Rutter's Requiem. Dumb huh? I mean I've sung it before, but it's quite difficult and there is no way I wouldn't get choked up. None.

So how do you know if it's love? I can't tell you but it lasts forever. Bull shit. How do you know when it's ok to say; "I love you". When it's love is the good better? Help me please I don't remember. For sure the bad is worse. Disappointment, expectations, rejection, anger.

So Rutter, the man who wrote much of the most beautiful sacred music and had no faith whatever, and death...mainly death...Where is thy sting? People die, relationships die, faith dies...sometimes hope dies. Death collecting it's spoils and still we write songs. God bless the songwriters that amidst the death, disappointment, anger and etc...still write the songs. And God help us the day the music dies.

Peace all...peace