[	mood	|	moody	]
[	music	|	Massive Attack - "Angel"	]

I want to thank everyone for coming, for the distances you traveled, from those who saw my mother nearly every day, to those who only spent time with her a few days a month, or a couple times a year.  My mother would have been embarrassed by this turnout, yet deep down would have simply known that you all would be here.

Maxine, or as we called her by the clever nickname, “Mom”, was an important part of my life, as well as my sister’s and my father’s.  She loved us and in return was beloved.  I want to examine that word a moment: beloved.  Be-loved.  She allowed herself to be loved, a quality that is harder to practice as we might think.  Everyone can love, it is more work to be loved.  And whether it was her husband, her children, her grandchildren, or her siblings, in laws, and friends, she had the strength to be-loved.

Today we celebrate our times with Maxine, while at the same time we are grieving because our time with her on this earth has ended.  It’s difficult for me personally to reconcile the two emotions because it’s still too near.  I find myself leaning toward what I’ve lost, rather than remembering what I had.  I am going to hold a personal second memorial a year from now.  By then most of the sorrow will have run it’s course and I will be better able to remember the many gifts my mother gave me.

I will cherish that because of her, I got to see and even clumsily help out on a real working farm.  She taught me to play Parcheesi, as well as poker using Oreos for chips.  I got the opportunity to see the movie “Grease” a dozen times, because she liked to sing out loud during it, and she thought having a child with her would make her look less crazy.

My mother and I shared a love of movies, and growing up I would look forward to when the local TV station would play all five “Planet of the Apes” films over the course of a week, and mom and I would sit mesmerized for two hours a day.  She loved to laugh.  So much so that she would sometimes take me and my sister, and sometimes our friends, to R rated comedies when we were only 13 or so.  We were tasting forbidden fruit, and I knew it, but somehow having mom there made it okay.

Though she didn’t have much of what she would call an “artsy fartsy” bent, she recognized and encouraged it in all of us.  My father and my sister who expressed creatively through images, and myself, who did the same through words.  I know she felt special because of all of us, only she could sing.  Only she in our house could make a joyful noise unto the world.  I looked forward to Choir Sunday, and Easter at the church, because singing made her happy.  Sometimes when I think about the injustice of my mother being gone, I think “well, I guess heaven needed a soprano.”  God’s choir is that much richer for having my mother’s voice adding to it.

Mom was a Christian, and tried to understand and respect all the different world beliefs.  She felt you don’t have to be a Christian to believe in heaven, and that’s where I believe she is.  I imagine upon arrival, Jesus opening his arms and saying “Welcome, Maxine.”  And I imagine mom kind of impatiently saying “Thanks, now where’s Elvis?"

As the voice of her family, I want to say goodbye to you, Mom.  You will be missed.  And you will continue to be-loved.

Well, the good news is that I've gotten through this holiday season with my sanity and emotions intact.  Not too much in the way of the blues, know what ah mean?

Just tired.  So very tired.  Been working a lot of night shifts.  Cleaning up after the Christmas shoppers who have no where to go at 10:40 at night on the 23rd.

Or as I call them, maggots.

This is one of the rare times that I'm on the same page as the Christian zealots.  I am TOTALLY on board with the "reason for the season" stance.

They're like zombies (and not in a cool way):  "Muuuusst shop... muuuussst shop..."

They ask me to recommend books for people they don't even know!  "I'm need a book for my friend's son."  "Okay, what does he like to read?"  "I don't know, I only met him once when he was 2.  He's 7 now."

Maggot.

It'll be over soon.  BEAUTIFUL night tonight.  Cloudless, a wicked bright full moon, and strong wind.  I spent some time outside in the melting snow just enjoying it.

And, hey!  It's only 27 days between Thanksgiving and Christmas in '08!

Fruit.

[	mood	|	good	]
[	music	|	Watching "Blade Runner"	]

 What an interesting evening.

The Connecticut Wiccan and Pagan Network (CWPN) held it's Yule ceremony tonight.  I didn't have to work tonight, so I got to go.  A nice diversion from Xmas work, I thought.  It was cool.

It was held in Danbury, which was nice.  In a banquet hall.  The ceremony was done as an Anglo-Saxon feast.  Cool, very Beowulf-ian.  I, of course, sat at the end of the line of tables and didn't speak much.  After the feast was music and dancing and socializing.  I didn't dance, all there was for music was 70's classic rock.  Not my cup of tea for dancing.

[while on this subject, an open message for my Wiccan/Pagan brothers and sisters:  There are OTHER Celtic/Pagan sounding musicians than Lorena McKennitt.  If I hear "The Mask and the Mirror" one more time at a ritual, I think I may snap.  Thank you.]

Anyway, there was the tradtional fundraising raffle.  As well as the traditional Jim Doesn't Win Anything in the raffle.  So I was sitting by myself just watching, and content to do so.

There were these little brother and sister kids.  They were a blast to watch, just running playing and having a silly good time.  The boy was maybe 5 and the girl 6 or 7.  After a while, the girl is walking toward me.  Probably running from her brother, I think.  No, she's looking right at me.  Sure enough, she comes right up to me.

"Did you win anything?" she asked.

"No, I bought a bunch of tickets and got zero." I said.  She shows me the crystal necklace she won, or rather her mom did.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Tiana."  She says.  I introduce myself and ask if she's having fun.

"Yeah." she says.  "How did your hair get white right there?"  I explain I don't know, it just happened when I was a little kid, like her.   She looks at her feet.

"I like your hair." she says.  "Will you dance with me?"

Wierd.  Earlier that night, I was thinking if the music was dancable (for me) it would be cool if I got to dance with someone like at the last Witch Camp I attended.  And, here, I get an offer.  It made me smile.

"Sure." I say.  She leads me by the hand to the dance floor, we dance in that awkward way that adults do with small children.  To the "Pirates of the Caribbean" soundtrack.

In its funny way, it was really cool.  I spent the next hour or so playing with Tiana and her brother.  The parents were amazed I got along so well with them.  I explained about my own child and nephews.  This led to me getting in conversations with other adults that were there.  A good time was had by all.

A kind of magic, I'd say.