On June 24 1947, pilot Kenneth Arnold reporting seeing nine UFOs over Mount Rainier, which he described as like "saucers skipping over the water." His sighting kicked off the modern UFO era and led the press to coin the phrase 'flying saucers.'
50 years later on June 24, 1997, the U.S. Air Force issued a 231-pagereportdismissing the long-standing claims of an ET crash near Roswell, New Mexico.
They suggested that recovered bodies were not those of aliens but crash test dummies used in parachute experiments.
Yodas ben-Jedi amidst things of this earth, sit they do Jedi already being a plural word I believe ... Just thinking out loud here ...
And for something from a different mythology ...
"Thou shalt not worship idols"
I don't. However, I can say that each & every stone, shell, rock, Yoda has special memory for me. I love to hold each one separately. I love to feel their shape, texture. I close my eyes, eager to recapture the memory of a moment suspended in time.
Collectively, the smile that comes to my face is a small reflection of the easy, breezy sense of serenity that goes through me when I reconnect with this small cornucopia of collectibles.
One of the pieces is a particularly special gift. One from someone who knows me very well. Julita brought this from an area of her motherland in Puerto Rico well known for decades worth of, yes I am going to say it, UFO & paranormal activity.
I remember watching one of my woo woo shows years ago with Vic in which the Puerto Rican connection was discussed, footage aired, photos, locals interviewed. I told Julita about the show & asked if she had been to that area. I also rememberd the surname of the local journalist who covered the story. Martin.
As in Julita's cousin, who shares her maiden name.
And the woo goes on ...
My Puerto Rican stone always gets its full moon cleansing along with all the other rocks, crystals, feathers,, tsotches.
I like to have that one particular stone near me at night.
Armed the mandatory intergalactic hitchhiker's towel, night after night, I patiently wait, hoping to hitch a ride on an intergalactic VW bus, desperately hoping to avoid Vogon poety.
As is my way, I love to stumble across an older tv series, now syndicated. "Seinfeld" was the best find of all. A mindlessly clever laugh now available almost any time a day on some channel or other. George, of course, is my fave.
"World's are colliding. This is NOT good. George is not happy about this at all!"
Well, hello! Talk about a completely off the wall, gorgeously dark "find" for sista k. Everything considered, the irony is beyond delicious.
"Six feet under."
For someone who could not watch more than the first 3 minutes of "My sister's keeper", or a full 15 of "You don't know jack", the HBO Al Pacino as Jack Kevorkian, "Six feet under" just tickles & provokes my thoughts in so many ways.
Oh, it makes me sob at times but mostly, I get to observe the myriad of made-for-tv sound bytes of various forms of grief.
Conclusion: I am quite, quite normal in my own Abby Normal way.
Ta ta, for now ... I think I am starting to come out of the dark side ...
The summer solstice sun setting in the west, dipping in & out of the clouds.
The summer solstice moon slowly rising in the southeastern horizon.
What better way to celebrate this most sacred & magical
of nights than to float around in a beautiful pool with a beautiful friend? Excellent tea, a cool pool, two old friends reflecting on their lives past while both look to the starry sky, wondering what the future has in store?
Bathing in the moonlight. No SPF required! Delish.
All over the world, for thousands of years, people have born witness to the significance of the solstices.
Tonight, in my own fashion, I also pay homage, lay disciple of
heliolatry that I am.
Perhaps our brain was separated at birth? Whatever, 41 years, still BFFFFFFFFFs & still amusing the heck out of each other.
I wish everyone have just one Vicar in their lifetime! And not the naughty, hand up your frock during vespers, Benny Hill type of Vicar. Not the one with open sandals & dirty toe nails. Not the scone & clotted cream scoffing one from Digby either.
No, I am talking about my BFFFFFFFFF, aka TBV = The Big Vicar Nothing to do with her dimensions, petite as she is/was/shall always be, amen. Rather to distinguish us by height ergo I remain TLV = The Little Vicar. I might update that to TWV = The Wide Vicar Or how about TJV = The Jewcy Vicar
Don't ask. Don't tell.
Remember: PECULIAR IN THE HEAD
and that's the way we like it!
Our wedding photo June 18 1991
Vic was radiant. I had swollen feet!
Vic's wedding band was inscribed:
"Two lives, One destiny. 6/18/91".
I wear Vic's wedding band together with the beautiful pyramid shaped amethyst
that is my most cherished 50th birthday gift.
Vic was fascinated by the number ratios of circles
& pyramids. He found solace in a numerically explainable world.
So our trinkets remains intermingled.
A pyramid overlapping a circle.
A circle overlapping a pyramid.
It's just our energy still with me.
Our last photo October 8 2009
Vic was dying
No one gave me a straight answer
So I just did what I did best: I stood by Vic's side,
his front & his back.
Together, we fought.
We fought for Vic to live on & on & on
It has been quite a while since I last sat to put my thoughts down.
Not that I have been without experience after experience, some that added a slight grey tinge to the hairline above my right temple.
Tonight is different. The moon in rising. There's a warm, wet breeze in the air.
Tonight I acknowledge that Vic & I were married at our home in Ft. Lauderdale on this day in 1991. Corey was our 7 month in utero witness.
Vic cried as we exchanged our self-written vows before the tennis playing, macrobiotic, attorney & part time rabbi, later to be Representative Barry Silver.
As soon as the ceremony was over & he had a healthy slice of heaven sent Croissan'Time mocha cake, he left for a tennis game in Boca, not before asking if he might possibly get a date with Shay ...
Today, I look back at our photo, standing on the dock of our Lauderdale home. How many lifetimes ago it seemed. The overjoyed man standing next to me bore no resemblance to the Vic I kissed good bye 8 months ago tomorrow (19th).
Our eccentric marriage ceremony was but a prelude to an eccentric, magical, fully charged marriage.
As it was back on this day 19 years ago, I quoted Kahlil Gibran on marriage, so it is today that I look back once again, find tremendous comfort & grace in his words;
"The a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto your, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Sunday is Father's Day. The 20th. It will be a glorious day despite the namesake will not be present. We both agreed that the greatest gift we ever gave each other was our children.