Do not stand by my grave and weep

Do not stand by my grave and weep

by Mary E. Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep:
I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the softly falling snow,
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the field of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,
I am in the grateful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight.
I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom.
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing.
I am in each lovely thing.

So do not stand by my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.

A story of modern celebrity: The trials of Anna Nicole

Worthy quotes from the Independent article, by David Usborne

She's given birth to a daughter, seen her son die in her arms - and sold the family pictures for $650,000. Now, she's said to have married her lawyer, one of the baby's two possible fathers. Even by her standards, the past month in the life of America's most outrageous personality defies belief.

They do say that in America any dream can come true if you try hard enough.... It helps if you have a brain, but even that is not entirely necessary. Women should always consider breast enhancement surgery.

...you may have taken the tragic side of the Monroe mystique a little far in the past couple of weeks...

It begs that old film title game again: "Two Fathers, a Baby, a Wedding and a Funeral".

...she gave birth to a girl named Dannie Lynn or Dannilynn, depending on which tabloid version of the happy event you are reading.

Few of us have experienced as much personal trauma as Ms Smith. Surely, September 2006 was the moment for her to put family and soul before headlines. But that, apparently, just isn't her style...

Read the complete article

The Unhealthy Relationship

my lover
for 20 years
we have known each other
you have been there for me
when no other has
consoling me in my darkest hours
never apart
for more than a few hours
lest my failed attempt
10 years ago
to leave you behind
i have tried several times
to leave you
but each time i have failed
you always call me back
i always come running
even though you suffocate me
and i know that some day
you will be my death
but you are an addiction
that's hard to break
an unhealthy relationship
which i know i must end
and when i do
i will celebrate my freedom
while also mourning
the loss of my best friend
nicotine

And I smoke

I created this blog
To take the place of my original blog
Smoke Rings in the Dark
When I was attempting to quit smoking
But
I started smoking again
And started posting on Smoke Rings again
But I still maintain this blog to some degree
Probably as much as I do any other blog
I will attempt to quit smoking again
But this time
I won't even plan to stop posting to my other blog
Smoke Rings in the Dark
Was not just named with smoking in mind
It has many other connotations in my life
It represents the general fog
That I still to this day
Smoking or not
Live my life in
As that blog's tagline states
A look at life through a cloud of cigarette smoke
But it's not just cigarette smoke
It's the hazy uncertainty
That has come to define
My existence
Of course it also references the song
By the same name
And in referencing the song
It in turn references my mother
Just as this blog
The Cheesebox
References my mother
Her cheesebox
Her poetry and other writings
And here I shall carry on that legacy
Which is why this blog
Like my other
Must go on

Dusting Off The Cheesebox

I can't believe I haven't posted in here since right after Mother's Day. Well... I mean... yes, I can believe it -- it just doesn't seem like it's been that long. I intended to post more later on in May -- around the time of the 6th anniversary of my mother's death and Memorial Day, but those events came and went with no posts, as you can see. Then came Father's Day, the Fourth of July, and my 38th birthday. And here I am, August 19th, finally posting again.

You know what? Today is also the anniversary of a significant event in my life -- it's the 19th anniversary of the day I was released from Letterman Army Medical Center after a more than 3 month stay there. The day I left San Francisco for a "brief visit" back to Michigan while I awaited the finalization of my medical discharge. The day my short army career came to an end, and I faced a whole new beginning. The world was my oyster.

On this day in 1987, I sat in the window seat of a plane and watched the city of San Francisco get smaller and smaller below me. I bid the city farewell, but "only for awhile" -- I promised I would soon be back. I had it all set up. The nice lady at the donut shop down the street offered me a job. One of the night nurses at the hospital offered to let me stay with her until I'd gotten back on my feet. I would begin my life anew in the most beautiful city in the world -- San Francisco. But something went wrong...

Here I sit, 19 yrs later -- still in Michigan. And I've accomplished nothing of real value in that time. It's almost as though my life has been on hold. Like I've been here this entire time just visiting family. Like I'm still waiting to return to San Francisco to begin my life again. Do you think the donut shop is still there? Is the nice lady that owned it still around? Would she remember me? Would her job offer still stand? What about the nurse who was willing to let me stay with her? I doubt any of the above. But does that mean it's to late to return to San Francisco? And would my life be better if I did?

Perhaps I should make good on my promise to the city and return to find out...

Just Another Day...

Well I made it through another mother's day... the sixth since my mom died. And of course it's closing in on the 6th anniversary of her death, as well. So, yeah... I spent the day listening to my 'Tribute to Mom' mood on my launchcast station... and remembering my last mother's day spent with mom. Mom's last mother's day was difficult... it was just 2 weeks or so before she died, and we knew the end was near. She was bedridden and so doped up on morphine she didn't know what day it was. When I came to wish her a happy mother's day,

all she could say was 'it's not mother's day is it? no... no... it can't be'. I bought her a card, which I had to read to her. (Did you know they make mother's day cards for dying mother's? Yes... it's true!) I also bought her one of those metallic helium-filled balloons that said 'Happy Mother's Day!' and tied it to the frame of her 'hospital' bed, which we had set-up in her living room. My grandma came and made her famous meatloaf for dinner. My mother was unable to eat, but she managed to nibble on a few green grapes. I noticed her toenails had been painted, but not recently. The nail-polish was growing out and only covering half of her toenails. So I found her nailpolish remover and got her toenails all cleaned up... then I located some more polish and re-did them for her. Later in the day my uncle showed up, bearing carnations... both red and white. It's tradition in my family to wear carnations in honor of our mothers. The red are worn by those whose mother's are still living, and the white by those whose mother's have died. I managed a joke that he should have brought pink carnations for myself and my siblings, given our mother's state at the time. But I took a red carnation and pinned it to my shirt, knowing it would be the last red carnation I would wear on mother's day.