Columns 2006

Absurdly scary and scarily absurd

Last week, in your very own good morning newspaper, there were two stories that, taken together, constitute some of the scariest stuff I’ve read in quite a while.  The stories ranged from the sublimely frightening to the absurdly scary.

The sublimely frightening story concerned Afghanistan where a Muslim convert to Christianity faces death because of his conversion.  That in and of itself is neither new nor particularly scary.  Religions have been killing people for thousands of years in the name of their supposedly just and merciful god.

What was scary about this particular case was this quote from the judge

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Memories can sure shake you up

I opened my e-mail today to find a note from someone I don’t know about a beautiful young man who died in Vietnam almost 30 years ago.  Our connection is apparently a mutual friendship with that young man. What memories came flooding back when I saw Paul DuCharm’s name in the subject line.  It took my breath away.  Sometimes we get so busy living in the present that we forget the emotions of the past, of the time when we were young and hopeful and out to change the world.  That time is gone now.  And I believe my generation

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The headline reads….

The headline on MSN reads, “Minister’s wife confused”.  Well, first of all she’s his widow now, not his wife. And secondly, what’s to be confused about. She shot him.  Duh!

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Columns 2006

The fine art of writing…from Alaska Women Speak Spring 2006

Here’s the thing about writing.  Given the chance, I can be distracted by something as simple as a dust mote falling.  That’s all I need to know that I should clean the house before I can continue my assignment so that my allergies don’t flare up while I’m working.  And if my creativity is not exactly flowing easily by then, that dust mote could also mean that I need to clean my garage, my yard, my neighborhood and my city.  But honestly, I eventually will get back to the task at hand…whatever that might have been.

Anyhow, as I was

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My heart breaks a little at a time

Mr. T now wants to be carried for some of our daily walk. For 14 years we have walked three miles a day in every kind of weather condition from 30 below on the tundra outside of Barrow to 80 above on a hot summer day in Anchorage.  He always liked the cold best.  Now, as spring is arriving and the snow is melting, his back legs seem to be getting weaker. He can make most of the walk but towards the end, if I pick him up for the uphill part of the journey, he doesn’t fight or get

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My parents may have had Sinatra but…

In my childhood, Sinatra was the epitome of the Italian boy made good.  Today, the Italians of my generation have George Clooney.  If he ever ran for president – and he should – I think I would finally move out of my lethargy and into my sixties active mode.  Meanwhile, I’ll just enjoy looking at him.  Way to go, Italian boy.

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Had that dream again

Had that dream again about the captain of Serenity.  I don’t know his name and don’t want to because if I did, I’d feel obligated to send him a note of apology for being possibly the dirtiest old lady he will ever have the privilege of knowing…if only in her dreams.

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March Madness Alaska style

My house is full of Barrow people down for the state basketball championships.  Barrow boys lost but the Barrow girls are still in the scramble for the title. So the excitement continues and I can’t turn a corner in town without seeing a familiar face from home down for the games.  Meanwhile, poor Mr. T cowers on the stairs afraid to navigate the downstairs sitting room to get to his office pillow because the room is occupied by three wonderful but active young boys and their dad and Mr. T is just not sure at all that this is safe

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Please god make it stop

For some reason yesterday I thought of the song “It’s A Small World” and now I can get it out of my mind. It repeats and repeats and repeats. I try to drown it out with Jimmy Buffet but within seconds the refrain reasserts itself right over the words, “Why don’t we get drunk and screw?” – which, for those of you unaware of this fact, was the official love song of my ex-husband…which may have something to do with why he’s my ex.  Oh, look at that. The song is gone.  Now you have it.  Blessed relief.

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