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Browsing Tag: love

Monsters, Monsters Everywhere–And Only Love Can Scare Them

I got news last week that a relative of mine, one of my mother’s cousins, Alice, had passed away. Her funeral was this past Saturday in Broomall, Pennsylvania. My in-laws were coming up from Baltimore to visit us the same day, but I snuck out to the service, a drive of about two hours each way, because, well, it was Alice. And it was a funeral. I’m big on showing up to funerals. Always have been. I just…we need to show up. So I try to. But here’s the thing about Alice. She was the kind of person you wanted in your life, even if it was as remotely as she was in mine. She was 61 when she died, but with the mind of a child, someone in the age range of eight years to 12. What this meant for her family–as accounted by her immediate family at the funeral, as known by me and everyone who’d ever had the chance to interact with her–was that she saw life in the absolute best possible way. Alice was treasured. Treasured. She was happy, positive. She…

Oops

Look, it was just supposed to be a quick trip to get pumpkins. David and I had had a crazy-busy weekend (because normal families spend 3 1/2 hours at a time in Lowe’s, right? And normal women venture out to replace one light fixture in a bathroom and decided that they’ll repaint and re-appoint every single fixture in two? And buy new pendant lights to put in over the kitchen island while they’re at it? DAMN YOU, LOWE’S, you beautiful place. You ate our money), and we didn’t do the fall-weekend-pumpkin-patch visit like all of Facebook tells us to. So I called my mom yesterday morning and told her that I was going to zip the kids down to our local farm market for a bit after school to play and pick out their future jack o’lanterns. She was up for it–David has seen my mom more often than I have these past weeks, so I think we needed some fall-Monday-pumpkin-patch bonding time–and off we went. They all start with a simple question, conversations like…

U2 and Love and Death and Hope

I once had a friend I’d like to tell you about. Actually, he was my brother Paul’s friend–one of his best–and, in that cool space of time in my and my brother’s late teens and early twenties, when a lot of our interests and friends mingled and bounced off of each other, when we hurtled back and forth to each other’s cities in South Orange and Philly and Carlisle and Baltimore, I guess his friend was mine, too. I only knew him for a little while–and certainly not as well as my brother did–but the memories of this friend have stuck with me for years. I have snippets of memories of him: the way all seven of his siblings jumped on him when he came home, for instance: they actually came RUNNING out of rooms and through doorways and leapt on him in absolute excitement to see him. The way he was unapologetically enthusiastic in his faith is something that made a huge imprint. I remember talking with him one day–we were sitting in my ancient ’88 Accord outside a restaurant…