tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528618286780037328.post4172389704387302522..comments2024-03-08T15:48:33.897-05:00Comments on when love comes to town: Errant avec leurs proches à Montréal,,,RJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15204894769061828015noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528618286780037328.post-56101281733851397072014-06-28T22:15:04.931-04:002014-06-28T22:15:04.931-04:00Wow am I knocked out by that one, ddl. Incredible....Wow am I knocked out by that one, ddl. Incredible. It is my joy to share this time with my family - and as we all get older it becomes ever more precious. And damn but does that poem ever cut it on so many levels: OMG! Blessings right back at you, too. Can't wait for you to write out your antenna/car keys tale.RJhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13545420303456278246noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528618286780037328.post-65437922314338803862014-06-28T13:40:37.604-04:002014-06-28T13:40:37.604-04:001. Wow-- never take these moments for granted with...1. Wow-- never take these moments for granted with your family, RJ. (not that you ever would) I would love to have a reunion picnic something like you are experiencing and thank you for allowing all of us to live vicariously for the moment through your jazz/poetry/cuisine/and good, wholesome splendid family adventures and just plain unburdened fun. :)<br />2. The U2 Song with or without you is pretty much the theme song of my life.<br />3. The last poem kicked ass. Seriously. Antenna -- I keep patching it. I once fished for my keys out of a manhole in Sommerville MA with nothing but a broken antenna and a bunch of passersby and a Buddhist nun and several grad students who, for different reasons, found a huge need to help out --on principle, or experiment, or just damn goodwill and true compassion, -- and cars honked and people waved, and we fetched trash bags (to cover ourselves from the filth) and climbed in and took turns getting that manhold bailed out (a bucket brigade) and yes, my keys were in there on the very bottom and after bailing out most of the water, a Brazilian (I think) proudly lifted those keys and I cried and threw everyone a "key fishing thank you party" after the 2 hour event/ordeal and it was one of the BEST moments in my life because it was-- well, it all started with an old antenna, if I remember correctly, and a cord from a curling iron, and some duct tape. And the sheer belief-dream-delusion that I could retrieve those keys in a 5 ft manhole (it had a grate)which we unbolted. It was rank though. And yes, it demands to be written about. So-- the antenna-- even now, it is hard to believe that antennas can work with broken signals and broken people and just rotten pissy luck. Sorry for the swearing...I never fixed that. But the poem is GREAT. Seriously-- I am putting it in my journal. Thanks for the trip down antenna memory lane.ddlhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12767547694421441712noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528618286780037328.post-75521921780675306172014-06-28T13:26:01.767-04:002014-06-28T13:26:01.767-04:00This comment has been removed by the author.ddlhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12767547694421441712noreply@blogger.com