***
Had been dreaming of things Indian all night. Woken up few times, totally gripped by circumstances in the dream, lied there, in the dark, letting the room, the curtains, the plush rugs, the colored light from lead-glass church windows outside to be adopted by the realm of the dream. It all felt so natural, logical together. Knew, within the dream, that I needed to go somewhere connected to Indian food and maybe a boutique of artifacts?- a party with friends? A wedding? I better hurry, I thought, there is so much I have to do in preparation. And I had doubts of my culinary proficiency [well, if one never cooked anything remotely Indian, naturally there will be doubts..], but not seriously. In the dream it was just a normal anxiety of a hostess with not much time on her hands. But it was also about something beyond domesticity. A very rare occurence: when I woke up the last time, in the morning, I remembered the premise perfectly, and the only reason I didn’t wrote it down was that I was sure I will remember it without the note, it was so clear…all of a sudden, after coffee, when I turned in my mind to plans of the day (do I have to go someplace? ..er..Indian food?) I realized it is lost forever.
***
My very dear friend’s son’s life will be coming to an end, as I write this. He was born 20 years ago with severe brain damage, due to medical malpractice, and had to suffer through endless brain operations. But more than him, suffered his parents. My friend A, his father, is one of the most courageous and strong people I know. He has been the rock of his family (and my own personal example of grace and good cheer under pressure) through all these grief-and-struggle filled years. D’s condition deteriorated to the point of practically no-response to outside world, partially due to massive medication – and mercifully, thanks to massive medication, I should say; all his organs refuse to function. Further life support has no prospects; my friends decided, after much heartbreak, to take him home from the hospital after Christmas, invite help from hospice and let him pass peacefully. They are devastated, and I’m devastated for them.
Reading blogs today, I found this translation from Chinese poet, by Odious.
This is the saddest thing to me:
Not waking to find you gone,
After a night spent
Composing poems on these walls,
But there on the table to see
Your wine cup, still half-full.
My friends’ house is centered around their long-suffering son; I don’t know how they will be able to wake up and see his room or the wheelchair ramps they recently put on the deck…
***
Between this post and this, and numerous others read elsewhere, I became very tired of kitchen psychologists and self-appointed preachers – on the Left, and more tired of those on the Right. Putting aside irritated and smug tone of the ignorant rant by adequately named Twisted Spinster, let me just note that socialism was – and is, in every place it is welcomed, – a grassroots movement. Especially – in Russia; it is in so called “communal spirit” that foundation of socialism lies. Anybody who was born and lived in socialist country will recall numerous busybodies, from one’s neighbors in communal flat, to passengers on a bus, to teachers in school and day care, to one’s co-workers who were constantly getting in other’s business -a person’s life was surrounded with people practicing collectivism, whose biggest pleasure was to point and “correct” behavior of others that, in their opinion, was insufficiently selfless. Statism is not a directive from above, it is the product of “community organizing”. Miss Harris will make an excellent low-level Soviet bureaucrat, she got the rhetoric and demagoguery perfectly, up to a suggestion for me to leave this country. Actually, I’m right at home here; it’s her who should go live someplace socialistic…mmm…North Korea? I hear they are very big on communal spirit and collective action.
Slaves, always and everywhere, hate and envy free people.
***
This year has been rather hard. I’m glad it is almost over, glad for a chance to take time off work, glad I can take a much-needed break. Tomorrow I’m leaving for a week in Quebec spa; I try to visit at least once a year- it’s a perfect place to stop, examine yourself, and recharge – a place to let yourself to be spoiled by excellent food and divine massages, to speed-walk in the winter woods and jump from sauna into a snowpile. A perfect place to brace oneself against upcoming year. If my camera will work in -C temperatures, I’ll take some pictures; the ones I already have of the place were all taken in non-winter months.
For a totally different winter landscape, let me point you to Jay Manifold’s photos. He spends few days in Florida, far away from his cold city. Look at these colors…and imagine yourself sharing solitude with the gull. Fre-eeee-eee!
I’ll see you next year. Have a fun New Year party and a coming year that is not too hard on you. Is it too much to ask?
Oh my, that’s terrible. I’m sorry to hear about your friend’s son-I can’t even begin to imagine their torment at this time. I think their decision to bring him home is for the best though. I can tell you, after seeing my father suffer and die in countless hospitals, and horrible, incompetent nursing homes, that it was a lot worse for him than the relatives I have who were given hospice care at the end-stage of their lives.
I’m glad that you’ll be getting away from New York City for a while. There’s been at least half a dozen instances this week alone, including tonight, when I had to wait for a woman wearing five-inch heels to gingerly get on an escalator-instead of using the stairs, or an elevator-where I’ve wanted to drive a drill spike through my skull.
I agree with your opinion on busy-bodies and martinets, who are just less powerful versions of tinhorn dictators, BTW. If people want to live on a commune, or kibbutz, or cult-like compound, that’s their business, but trying to gang-press the rest of society into their ideological schemes is another thing altogether.
Most Popular In His Class
See you in 2009.
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Thank you, Gerard. My friend moved his son home yesterday, he’s on O2 and morph., his vitals are slowing down; I’m afraid he’ll be gone while I’ll be away.
BBC avoids the elephant in the room: what is the ideology of the then-and now – regime? They just repeat “it’s KGB in power”, make it look like some hunta. They are of same cloth, just not engaging in and excusing mass repressions – but on the side of socialistic statism, nevertheless.
I’ll see you in 2009, have a fun NY’s Eve – and no 5″heeled ladies to torture you.
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Best wishes for the new year, and for a restorative winter stay in the north. I remember well the austere beauties of Canada in winter. Quebec City in twenty inches of fresh snow was sheer magic.
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Thank you, Alan. I wish for a good year for you, too.
I will post pictures soon.
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Tatyana, I’m so sorry to hear about your friend’s son.
MD
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I don’t think he understands what’s going on; hasn’t been for a number of years.
I am sorry for my friends. Just returned from Canada, didn’t contact them yet. Afraid to call.
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