Even Oil Barons get the Blues / October 2012
Yours Truly in a Swamp
We made-witness, as some religious folks say, and saw that day anew. And felt things about it in a new way. Saw the route from there to here more clearly. Moving on.
We '05-ers know what post traumatic stress syndrome is. It is when something happens bigger than you can get your head around, then comes back later -- in a different focus.
And the winning costume this year was Isaac, the Hurricane!
Every year, since 2005, we send a note to members of Temple Shalom, Lafayette, thanking them for fishing us from FEMA's harsh nets. Without them we might have landed on an army cot and an airplane to Boise, Idaho.
"FEMA says they are doing better, now," L. A. Norma said, "but they said that in '05, too."
With each note we enclosed a small gift -- like last year's tiny book of Romanian cartoons none of us much understood. We didn't include a gift this year, just a notation that Isaac was our forget-me-not gift this time.
Like poets and artists, she now sees in metaphor. She is 96, and mostly blind. One day last week a string of little strokes showed her lost-vision that her bathroom was flooding -- from the ceiling and floor! She phoned for help, but she was seeing inner-eye views.
In our dreams water is the sub conscience, Freud tells us. He also knew flooding was a Life altering bump.
LEJ at The Well, Homus House
Photocredit: Melisa Dronet
Our group leader held up a finger and hushed an approaching supplicant, "Leonard's Mother is on the phone," he said in respectful tones. The group fell silent.
Her nurse dialed the phone, she said. She wished me a happy Birthday, but when I asked she didn't remember what she was doing sixty-nine years ago. When I reminded her she laughed.
photo credit: Maureen Brennan