I wasn’t going to write anything about anything the back end of this week. I was going to let Kris Murray speak for me:
“Today is now one of the hardest days of my life. Never before had I a day of mourning that was so personal and so universal. This is my grandparent's December 7th. This is my parent's November 22nd. I suppose there will be a day like this for my daughter but I'm on my knees praying there won't be.”
But I can’t blog from work any more. (New job, slow computer, not allowed, really) so that didn’t get up yesterday.
Then this morning I heard third-hand word of the passing of a figure from my childhood, whom I remember as a little ginger bundle of fun. This is painful to me because it has brought pain to my old friends, and also because it reminds me of the distance between me & some of the folks who were and are important to me.
Whether that distance is time, or miles, or life-stages, or whatever, I have decided to work harder to be a traveler in my life and not a tourist. Even when I don’t know where I’m going I want to have a very strong and clear sense of where I’ve been, and I want that sense to be built on connections with people who were there, and may still be. So bring me some 80 cent stamps & a DSL connection. It is time to build some bridges.