Hummingbirds and Papa

I put up a hummingbird feeder just after Mother's Day. There are at least three birds that visit it, daily. (Meaning three different birds, visiting it at least once an hour.)

My Papa and I used to feed the hummingbirds. I was probably eleven or twelve, when I saw an old hummingbird feeder hanging off his patio awning. When I asked him what it was, he told me. The rubber had degraded and if it was ever red it looked white. It was ancient. But we made the sugar syrup and hung it. Then we waited. But we really didn't have to wait long. I don't know how (since there was no red on the thing) but an Anna's Hummingbird came and drank from it, within 15 minutes. My grandfather and I were hooked.

He called me a couple days later though, because the feeder had broken. He said he'd run by the hardware store that afternoon and picked up another. After my nani died, my Papa was very lonely. Oh, he went on dates with his widowed lady friends. He golfed regularly and did taxes gratis for all his friends, yearly. He was a Knight of Columbus and went to Mass three times a week. But there was always a sadness about him, once she died.

We named the hummingbirds after famous dancing couples of the movie-musical era, Fred and Ginger, Mickey and Judy. He adored watching those little birds. The males would have dogfights outside his windows. He would describe their antics to me, during the week, before our Sunday visits.

My grandfather died when I was 13. Eight years after my grandmother died. He died of complications of peritonitis. He thought he had stomach cancer and seeing the sheer hell my Nani went through with lung cancer, he wasn't about to tell his doctor his suspicions. He went in for a fairly routine intestinal surgery (removing a section with polyps, stitching the two parts back together.) But he never came out of the hospital again. He didn't have stomach cancer. He had an ulcer. He didn't tell his surgeon or his GP about the pains in his abdomen, so they went ahead performed the surgery and stitched him back up. And unbeknownst to anyone, his stomach was poisoning his body.

And while this is what killed him, I think he really died of a broken heart. He missed my Nani so much he wanted to be with her. They eloped in Omaha, Nebraska when he was 18 and she was 16. They left her house and got on the streetcar and went straight to the priest to be married. They were married and were back to their respective houses before curfew. When my Nani's mother found out she kicked her out of the house (not a very nic woman, really.) My Nani came with a suitcase to my Papa's house and said she was John's wife. Well, all hell broke loose then. My Papa was sent to California to earn money to buy a house for his new wife. My Nani became part of my Papa's household. I'd like to say she was welcomed and loved, with open arms and hearts but she wasn't. She was another mouth to feed. And my great-aunts were not very nice to her.

After he died, we were cleaning out his house. We stumbled upon a box of letters from this time period in their relationship. They were tender, sexy, endearing, wistful. I must stay, I still blush when I think about my grandparents writing like that! But they loved each other, so very much. And that's why I think he died only eight years after she did.

When we interred my grandfather's casket, the funeral home brought all of his sprays to the gravesite. My mother had a cross arrangement made, from my brother and I. I don't remember what flowers were in it. I do remember that once everyone had gone, when just my immediate family was standing by his grave, a hummingbird flew to to the cross arrangement and began drinking from the flowers. It was a magical moment for me, filled with love, grief, sadness and peace.

Now, whenever I see a hummingbird, I think of Papa. Maybe it's superstitious and silly, but I don't care. The ancient Aztecs believed that their warrior dead were reincarnated into hummingbirds, because the little birds are such fierce warriors. I like to think that they're little reminders of the love my grandfather and I shared.

I still love you Papa.

Hooray for gay marriage in Massachusetts!

It's about damn time.

As a bisexual individual with an xy male partner and an 18 month old, I look pretty hetero. But I'm not. I'm as queer as a three dollar bill.

Why does the fundy-influenced government have a right to tell me which gender I can or cannot make a civil commitment to? Where is the logical reasoning in that? Thirty-four percent of lesbian households in the US have children under the age of 18 living in them. Twenty-two percent of US gay male households have children under 18. Over 600,000 homosexual couples identified themselves as such, in the 2000 US census. That's 1.2 million gay people (who weren't afraid of letting the government know they're gay)who cannot legally marry and in many states second-parent adopt. It's a travesty of American ideals.

I think Genesis says it well:
"Land of Confusion", Invisible Touch, 1986

This is the time
This is the place
So we look for the future
But there's not much love to go round
Tell me why, this is a land of confusion.

This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we're given
Use them and let's start trying
To make it a place worth living in.

Wake up, America. You can't stop love. You can't stop 1.2 million of your citizens from demanding equal rights under the law. Get used to it.

Some weeks are better than others...

Some days are better than others by U2 off
Zooropa, 1993

Some days are dry, some days are leaky
Some days come clean, others days are sneaky
Some days take less, but most days take more
Some slip through your fingers and onto the floor

On Wednesday night, as my husband and I were going to sleep, we heard a cat meowing under our window. I had returned a certain gray female cat to her owner about a month ago and I figured this same cat was lost again.

My husband went outside. He called the cat over to him and it came, purring. He brought the cat in and upon closer inspection we realized this was not the same cat. This cat was distinctly male.

Once inside, this cat rolled over in my husband's arms, began loudly purring and begged for his belly to be rubbed. Upon the requested rubbing, the cat began drooling in delight. I could see Cupid's arrow strike my husband between the eyes; I saw the little hearts floating around his head. Love had walked in on four paws.

We put him in the garage, fed him, gave him water and a cat box. We agreed I would take him to the vet the next day. We needed to get him tested for feline leukemia. Feline leukemia is a contagious debilitating disease. My cat, Sydney, has chronic renal failure and I could not in good conscience bring in a cat that could compromise her immune system, further.

There were a few tense moments as we waited for the test results. Thankfully, he came back negative. So, we had him deloused and vaccinated. He had found himself a home. We've named him Sterling, since he's shiny silver white, with a dark gray undercoat patina.

Some days you work, most days you're lazy
Some days you feel like a bit of a baby
Lookin' for Jesus and his Mother
Some days are better than others

Friday was a bit of a disaster. I had to drop off some cookies and brownies for a school carnival. The school population is mostly children of migrant farm workers and our church has given books, time (ESL tutoring) and money to help improve the school. Their annual fundraising carnival is today. I volunteered to provide some treats.

I also had to drop off some items for a garage sale we were supposed to be having with some friends of ours. My van, however, decided to have a hemorrhage in it's cooling system. Luckily, my husband was driving, because it stalled on the highway. I would not have wanted to handle that by myself. Then, once we got to the school it died. We tried filling the reservoir with water, but it came gushing out. We had it towed to the dealer -- it was just there a week ago getting a new starter sensor. The vehicle is 14 years old - I think it's waving the white flag.

So, we're not sure how much it will cost to fix it. The service department will let us know on Monday. We can't afford another car until we're done paying child support for my stepdaughter. Just one more year...

Some days... it all adds up
And what you got is enough
Somedays are better than others

Peace

Staying home...

I am a stay-at-home mom. I love my son. He is a joy and a delight. I cannot believe how beautiful he is. Everyday, I am amazed at how he's growing, changing, becoming a child.

But...

I had no idea how lonely this job would be. It's difficult to articulate. This job is the most difficult thing I've ever done. A little life depends on what I do or don't do. The gravity of that boggles my mind.

In the vast expanse...

I've been on the net since 1994. This is my first blog. I have no idea why I waited so long.

aurora borealis: [forget about the phonetic keystrokes, folks ;0)] [[L, lit. norhtern aurora: see Aurora & Boreas]]irregular, lumonous phenomena , as streamers , visible at night in a zone surrounding the north magnetic pole and produced in the ionosphere when atomic particles strike and excite atoms; norhtern lights

I have this thing for the Auroras Borealis and Australis. But, I guess someone else does too on Blogger.com, because I couldn't use any of the permutations of names I came up with. And rather than add numbers, I decided to abbreviate the Webster's New World dictionary entry for the words and go by Luminous Phenomena.

So, for my initial post, I shall cast my particles into the vast expanse of the net and see what illuminates.

Peace