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Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's Bête Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
It was the late, lamented Steve Gilliard who first, to my knowledge, publicly speculated that my other favorite political blogger, Digby, might be a woman.
Steve was right.
Jane Hamsher of Firedoglake has written about her friendship with Digby, and so it is no surprise that when Digby decided to reveal herself, she did so on Jane’s blog -- and it brings a mix of deep emotions to see Steve proven right.
In Jane’s words -- Ladies and Gentleman, Digby.
* * *
My mom has kept my dad's greeting on her answering machine. Today when I called I had forgotten, and I was really happy -- for a moment -- to hear his voice. "Oh, Dad, there's so much to tell you."
* * *
And a lot of it bad news -- an acquaintance of whom I am very fond lost her third and last brother, to liver failure from alcoholism. She had lost another brother to alcoholism, and her other brother was murdered.
Another acquaintance is facing a rather terrifying surgery, for which a specialist must be scheduled weeks ahead of time and flown in. I was shaken up when I heard.
Other troubles, strictly personal -- trouble and sorrow about which I can't do much.
* * *
With my dad gone, my connection to his childhood is gone. He has a brother and an uncle still living, but I'm not close to them in nearly the same way -- I don't, for instance, know their birthdays. My mom keeps me connected to my grandparents in a way that nobody else will be able to, because I was close to her parents in a way that my siblings were not -- though they know our grandparents' birthdays. My siblings will always keep me connected to our dad. Relationships are contextual. We're going to visit my mom in a couple of weeks, and it will be my first trip back since Dad's funeral. Talking with my sister the other day, I broke down sobbing when she talked about driving through a small town where grandparents of Dad's had lived. I don't know if I've ever driven through that town without Dad, at least not for many years, and always there was a story, which nobody now remembers. He was the lore master.
* * *
"We can't come to the phone right now," says my dad's voice on the answering machine. No, Dad, I don't suppose you can. It's nice to hear from you anyway.
Steve was right.
Jane Hamsher of Firedoglake has written about her friendship with Digby, and so it is no surprise that when Digby decided to reveal herself, she did so on Jane’s blog -- and it brings a mix of deep emotions to see Steve proven right.
In Jane’s words -- Ladies and Gentleman, Digby.
* * *
My mom has kept my dad's greeting on her answering machine. Today when I called I had forgotten, and I was really happy -- for a moment -- to hear his voice. "Oh, Dad, there's so much to tell you."
* * *
And a lot of it bad news -- an acquaintance of whom I am very fond lost her third and last brother, to liver failure from alcoholism. She had lost another brother to alcoholism, and her other brother was murdered.
Another acquaintance is facing a rather terrifying surgery, for which a specialist must be scheduled weeks ahead of time and flown in. I was shaken up when I heard.
Other troubles, strictly personal -- trouble and sorrow about which I can't do much.
* * *
With my dad gone, my connection to his childhood is gone. He has a brother and an uncle still living, but I'm not close to them in nearly the same way -- I don't, for instance, know their birthdays. My mom keeps me connected to my grandparents in a way that nobody else will be able to, because I was close to her parents in a way that my siblings were not -- though they know our grandparents' birthdays. My siblings will always keep me connected to our dad. Relationships are contextual. We're going to visit my mom in a couple of weeks, and it will be my first trip back since Dad's funeral. Talking with my sister the other day, I broke down sobbing when she talked about driving through a small town where grandparents of Dad's had lived. I don't know if I've ever driven through that town without Dad, at least not for many years, and always there was a story, which nobody now remembers. He was the lore master.
* * *
"We can't come to the phone right now," says my dad's voice on the answering machine. No, Dad, I don't suppose you can. It's nice to hear from you anyway.
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