Remembrance

By, Ray Bradbury


And this is where we went, I thought,
Now here, now there, upon the grass
Some forty years ago.
I had returned and walked along the streets
And saw the house where I was born
And grown and had my endless days.
The days being short now, simply I had come
To gaze and look and stare upon
The thought of that once endless maze of afternoons.
But most of all I wished to find the places where I ran
As dogs do run before or after boys,
The paths put down by Indians or brothers wise and swift
Pretending at a tribe.
I came to the ravine.
I half slid down the path
A man with graying hair but seeming supple thoughts
And saw the place was empty.
Fools! I thought. O, boys of this new year,
Why don’t you know the Abyss waits you here?
Ravines are special fine and lovely green
And secretive and wandering with apes and thugs
And bandit bees that steal from flowers to give to trees.
Caves echo here and creeks for wading after loot:
A water-strider, crayfish, precious stone
Or long-lost rubber boot --
It is a natural treasure-house, so why the silent place?
What’s happened to our boys that they no longer race
And stand them still to contemplate Christ’s handiwork:
His clear blood bled in syrups from the lovely wounded trees?
Why only bees and blackbird winds and bending grass?
No matter. Walk. Walk, look, and sweet recall.
I came upon an oak where once when I was twelve
I had climbed up and screamed for my brother to get me down.
It was a thousand miles to earth. I shut my eyes and yelled.
My brother, richly compelled to mirth, gave shouts of laughter
And scaled up to rescue me.
"What were you doing there?" he said.
I did not tell. Rather drop me dead.
But I was there to place a note within a squirrel nest
On which I’d written some old secret thing now long forgot.
Now in the green ravine of middle years I stood
Beneath that tree. Why, why, I thought, my God,
It’s not so high. Why did I shriek?
It can’t be more than fifteen feet above. I’ll climb it handily.
And did.
And squatted like an aging ape alone and thanking God
That no one saw this ancient man at antics
Clutched grotesquely to the bole.
But then, ah God, what awe.
The squirrel’s hole and long-lost nest were there.
I lay upon the limb a long while, thinking.
I drank in all the leaves and clouds and weathers
Going by as mindless
As the days.
What, what, what if? I thought. But no. Some forty years beyond!
The note I’d put? It’s surely stolen off by now.
A boy or screech-owl’s pilfered, read, and tattered it.
It’s scattered to the lake like pollen, chestnut leaf
Or smoke of dandelion that breaks along the wind of time...
No. No.
I put my hand into the nest. I dug my fingers deep.
Nothing. And still more nothing. Yet digging further
I brought forth:
The note.
Like moth wings neatly powdered on themselves, and folded close
It had survived. No rains had touched, no sunlight bleached
Its stuff. It lay upon my palm. I knew its look:
Ruled paper from an old Sioux Indian Head scribble writing book.
What, what, oh, what had I put there in words
So many years ago?
I opened it. For now I had to know.
I opened it, and wept. I clung then to the tree
And let the tears flow out and down my chin.
Dear boy, strange child, who must have known the years
And reckoned time and smelled sweet death from flowers
In the far churchyard.
It was a message to the future, to myself.
Knowing one day I must arrive, come, seek, return.
From the young one to the old. From the me that was small
And fresh to the me that was large and no longer new.
What did it say that made me weep?
I remember you.
I remember you.

Robert Moxley Underwood

Of Gainesville, VA on February 25, 2006. Preceded in death by his beloved wife of 63 years on September 1, 2005, Catherine E. Underwood; devoted father of Kathleen (James, III) Lambiasi, Mary (Randolph) Tucker, Robert M. (Elizabeth) Underwood, Jr., Ida (Michael) Ragan, Linda Milburn, David M. (Sandra) Underwood, Theresa (Charles) Glass and the late Christopher Mark Underwood. Also survived by two brothers, Paul and Charles Underwood; 29 grandchildren and 19 great-grandchildren. The family will receive friends on Wednesday, March 1, 2006 from 3 to 5 and 7 to 9 p.m. at MOSER FUNERAL HOME, 233 Broadview Ave, Warrenton VA. A Mass of Christian Burial will be offered on Thursday, March 2, 10:30 a.m. at St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church, Warrenton. Interment Cedar Hill Cemetery, Suitland, MD at 1:30 p.m. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be directed to the American Heart Association, 7203 Poplar St., Annandale VA 22003 or to the Holy Trinity Catholic Church Building Fund, 13260 McCartney Court, Bristow, VA 20136.

Oh Yeah, I Forgot The Best Part...

So the best part of my ER trip was by far my wonderful husband's faux pas.

As he was registering me at the front desk, the lady asked him what my Social Security Number was so she could verify that he truly was my husband. He immediately rattled off MIKE'S Social! The lady was like, uhhhhh...

So it's good to know that if Mike is dying in an ER, John will be able to register him no problem. Me? Not so much.

:)

Reality TV: ER

Well, for the first time in 24 years, I managed to snag myself a ride on an Ambulance last night. We still don't really know what happened for sure, but for some reason, I had a sudden onset of lower abdominal pain around 9:30 last night. The pain was so bad, I was rolled in a ball on the floor screaming at the top of my lungs and unable to move or breathe. I must have said a million times I was going to die.

John called 911. As they were pulling me out of the house, I felt like I was on Desperate Housewives, as our neighbors were standing on the porch wondering what was going on.

The entire ride to the hospital, I felt like I was going to die. All I could do was scream, I was in so much pain. My pulse was 130, and I was hyperventalating pretty bad.

When I got to the hospital, they moved me onto the bed in the ER. It was a sudden movement which created a shooting pain throughout my whole body that caused me to scream one last time. Then just as quickly as it began, all my pain just stopped.

Odd.

They ran a million tests, and came to the conclusion that I either had a ruptured ovarian cyst or ovarian torsion. Although, if the ovary twists, it usually does not "untwist" itself. They said it's possible they may never know what happened. They sent me home at 1:30 AM.

I am exhausted mentally and physically and have been told to take it easy for the next few days. I start my new job on Tuesday -- I hope I can handle it!

The Times They Are A Changin'

Tommorrow is going to be a big day for me. I'm going to submit my resignation to the only employer I've ever had. I've been working at USI/Integic/Northrop Grumman since I was 19 years old and have learned everything I know from that place. I have finally decided that the climate and culture that the Northrop buyout has produced, is not an environment that I want to be a part of anymore. I am going to spread my wings and start a new job. If all goes according to plan, my first day will be on February 21st.

Leaving my office is bittersweet. I am going to a better oppourtunity that will allow me to manage 3 people and 1200 clearances. Currently, I manage myself and 300 clearances. I will have a lot more responsibility and with responsibility comes, well, responsibility. I believe I am capable of succeeding, but it does not mean that I am not scared to take on everything I have signed up for.

I have always been the baby my entire life. I am the youngest of 4, I was always the youngest in my department at work, I was always the youngest in my group of friends. Now, I am going to be a leader and a mentor in a new place and although I am excited, I am sad to be growing up.

C'est la vie, et la vie doit continuer. Je dois apprendre à changer, ou je ne me développerai jamais. Voici ne disparaître rien!

BAN DIHYDROGEN MONOXIDE!

Dihydrogen monoxide is colorless, odorless, tasteless, and kills uncounted thousands of people every year. Most of these deaths are caused by accidental inhalation of DHMO, but the dangers of dihydrogen monoxide do not end there. Prolonged exposure to its solid form causes severe tissue damage. Symptoms of DHMO ingestion can include excessive sweating and urination, and possibly a bloated feeling, nausea, vomiting and body electrolyte imbalance. For those who have become dependent, DHMO withdrawal means certain death.

Dihydrogen monoxide:

* is also known as hydroxl acid, and is the major component of acid rain.
* contributes to the "greenhouse effect."
* may cause severe burns.
* contributes to the erosion of our natural landscape.
* accelerates corrosion and rusting of many metals.
* may cause electrical failures and decreased effectiveness of automobile brakes.
* has been found in excised tumors of terminal cancer patients.

Contamination is reaching epidemic proportions!

Quantities of dihydrogen monoxide have been found in almost every stream, lake, and reservoir in America today. But the pollution is global, and the contaminant has even been found in Antarctic ice. DHMO has caused millions of dollars of property damage in the midwest, and recently California.

Despite the danger, dihydrogen monoxide is often used:

* as an industrial solvent and coolant.
* in nuclear power plants.
* in the production of styrofoam.
* as a fire retardant.
* in many forms of cruel animal research.
* in the distribution of pesticides. Even after washing, produce remains contaminated by this chemical.
* as an additive in certain "junk-foods" and other food products.

Companies dump waste DHMO into rivers and the ocean, and nothing can be done to stop them because this practice is still legal. The impact on wildlife is extreme, and we cannot afford to ignore it any longer!

The American government has refused to ban the production, distribution, or use of this damaging chemical due to its "importance to the economic health of this nation." In fact, the navy and other military organizations are conducting experiments with DHMO, and designing multi-billion dollar devices to control and utilize it during warfare situations. Hundreds of military research facilities receive tons of it through a highly sophisticated underground distribution network. Many store large quantities for later use.

Stolen from snopes.