Guess How Much I Love You?

There's a story book that I like to read to little children entitled: Guess How Much I Love You. It's a book that Amy gave me when I was recovering from cancer at age 25. My biggest worry at that time was whether or not I would be able to have children after undergoing radiation and chemotherapy. The book was meant to inspire me and help me think positively about my future.

After The Cat in the Hat, which I know by heart, this book is my favorite. There was a young marine who I used to write to who's innocence and strength of conviction reminded me a great deal of Little Nut Brown Hare, the main character in that book. After corresponding with him while he was in Iraq, I was glad to hear the news that he was finally home in Long Island. For me it meant that one more Marine had done his duty and was now safely home.

After he returned, our communication dwindled and we lost touch when I was going through my battle with carpel tunnel, my computer getting infected and my website getting hijacked.

Several days ago, as I was doing my daily walkabout on the net, I came across his name in the most unlikeliest of places, on a French website that I visit daily. In disbelief I followed the link to where I discovered that not only had 1Lt. Ronald Winchester gone back to Iraq for a second tour of duty (after serving 7 months), but I learned that 8 days into his second tour he was killed by a roadside explosion while he patrolled on foot outside of Baghdad. He was my fist soldier correspondent to be killed in action. My heart still reeling from 9/11, was scattered to pieces once again.

In the storybook Little Nut Brown Hare talks about how much he loved Big Nut Brown Hare and goes through several wonderful motions to show how much he loves him. Ron loved our country very much, and he showed us how much with his untiring dedication and willingness to serve, remaining positive and extending his hand to Iraqi's throughout his time there.

In the end, Little Nut, while being held tenderly in Big Nut Brown's arms, falls asleep. Big Nut Brown Hare then places the sleeping Little Nut gently on a patch of soft green grass for the night. That's how I want to remember Ron, sleeping peacefully on a patch of soft green grass.

Ronnie, may you rest in peace. I'll remember you forever, and just in case you didn’t know it, "I love you to the moon and back."

2001 - 9/11

Two thousand one, nine eleven

Five thousand plus arrive in heaven

As they pass through the gate,

Thousands more appear in wait

A resplendent man with haloed hat

Steps forward saying, "Lets sit, lets chat"

They settle down in seats of clouds

A greeting angel calls names aloud

Groups of soldiers in blue and gray

Others in khaki and green then say

"We're from Bull Run, Yorktown, the Maine"

The Newcomer said, "You died not in vain."

From a man on sticks one could hear

"The only thing we have to fear.

The Newcomer said, "We know the rest,

Trust us sir, we've passed that test."

"Courage doesn't hide in caves

You can't bury freedom, in a grave,"

The Newcomers had heard this voice before

A distinct Yankees twang from Hyannisport shores.

A silence fell within the mist

Somehow the Newcomer knew that this

Meant time had come for her to say

What was in the hearts of the five thousand plus that day.

"Back on Earth, we wrote reports,

Watched our children play in sports

Worked our gardens, sang our songs

Went to church and clipped coupons

We smiled, we laughed, we cried, we fought

Unlike you, great we're not"

The tall man in the stovepipe hat

Stood and said, "Don't talk like that!

Look at your country, look and see

You died for freedom, just like me."

Then, before them all appeared a scene

Of rubbled streets and twisted beams

Death, destruction, smoke and dust

And people working just 'cause they must

Hauling ash, lifting stones,

Knee deep in hell, but not alone

"Look!  Blackman, Whiteman, Brownman, Yellowman

Side by side helping their fellow man!"

So said Martin, as he watched the scene

"Even from nightmares, can be born a dream."

Down below three firemen raised

The colors high into ashen haze

The soldiers above had seen it before

On Iwo Jima back in '44

The man on sticks studied everything closely

Then shared his perceptions on what he saw mostly

"I see pain, I see tears, I see sorrow - but I don't see fear."

"You left behind husbands and wives

Daughters and sons and so many lives

Are suffering now because of this wrong

But look very closely.  You're not really gone.

All of those people, even those who've never met you

All of their lives, they'll never forget you

Don't you see what has happened?

Don't you see what you've done?

You've brought them together, together as one."

With that the greeting the angel said

"Take my hand," and from there he led

a legion of Five thousand souls,

New angels to heaven and heroes to all. 

anonymous 11/12/01

Going Under

My NU Home

Apologies for any filth that might have been here while my site was hijacked. Some kind digital neighbors used their mad tech skills to help recreate my posts at a new home.  I vow this will be the first and only time this happens to me!  

I'm now living at: Letters from NYC

Can Bloggers really make a difference?

For those of you, who like me love Florida, know someone living there. or have family living there, they are in great need of assistance.

Having lived in the caribbean and knowing first hand the devastation to the environment and to one's life that occurs from a hurricane, I'd like to use this forum to ask that you consider helping those greatly affected by donating to the American Red Cross. In that way Floridians can receive immediate assistance in an organized and effective manner.

You've only seen limited coverage in the news about the devastation becaues the McGreevey affair, the Olympics and the Najaf Offensive are competing with Florida in the headlines.

If you want to see/know more please visit the Orlando Sentinel or the St. Petersburg Times websites. Walk a mile in their shoes and consider how you might be able to help. As one Florida (now homeless) Arcadia resident said: "this is a loss of enormous proportions, but it helps to know that there are people that care and want to help.

Update: Via Sgt. Hook, is a link to the Command Post's efforts in helping Floridians more directly by organizing bloggers across the web. If you're a blogger or a websurfer, interested in joining the efforts across the digital landscape, or you simply wish to make a more localized impact, go to Strengthen The Good. There you will see how bloggers are getting organized and directing readers and other bloggers efforts, in finding local Florida charities giving help by spreading the word. I've already reached out to help, I hope you do too.

Let's show everyone we can really make a difference!

Thanks!

Cosas/Things by Gabriela Mistral

Cosas

Pienso en umbral donde deje
pasos alegres que ya no llevo,
y en el umbral veo una llaga
llena de musgo y de silencio.

Me busco un verso que he perdido,
que a los siete años me dijeron.
Fue una mujer haciendo el pan
y yo su santa boca veo.

        Things [my own translation]

I think of a threshold where I left
happier paths no longer tread,
and the footprints now seen
are full of moss and silence.

I look for a verse that is lost,
which at seven was told to me.
It was a woman making her bread
and her blessed mouth I still see.

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Posted by: Michele at 01:34 AM | Comments (1) |
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1 Well, I torture Harvey when he posts a poem, so let's see what I can come up with here ... Things [my own version] I remember a home I visited in the past I've not been back yet these memories last, The address and street I still recall but I wonder if the house still stands at all. The things I learned there, the experiences we shared. It was so fleeting - I've left it behind, yet so permanent it all is in my mind.
Posted by: _Jon at August 14, 2004 09:29 AM (RZ4Hy)

"This one goes out to the ones I love"

Where did the time go? It was just yesterday that I was in Grad school, working 3 part-time jobs and teaching. Living and loving my life and friends with great intensity, at break neck speeds. Time was measured in semesters and the length of school breaks.

Having survived cancer at age 25 many years before, I lived life with a drive and eagerness known only to cancer survivors. I remember clearly the excitement I felt the semester I was cleared to go back to school. I decided that no matter what, I would not have any regrets about school or life in general. I planned my life so that I could go to college full-time and have "the full experience", as my friends used to call it. I became very involved, joining one of the top sororities on campus, then later becoming student government president for 2 terms. The list of things I accomplished, as if time were running out, were endless. I was living faster and harder than Lance Armstrong.

During that time, my friends were my stability. they were there during all the high’s and lows of my emotional and financial life. I would never have made it without there help and support. During every joyous moment and accomplishment in my life, they were there. During every major disappointment and crisis, they were there.

Last night, while I sat in the emergency room with my son, waiting for the results of his X-rays to come back, I missed them very intensely. How I wished that a few of them had survived. Last night, I believed I would feel less isolated if at least 1 or 2 of them had made it. Who knows, maybe I’m just kidding myself. But there were a couple of anxious moments last night that I would have given anything to be able to talk to one of them on the phone, or to have at least looked forward to receiving one reassuring hug.

So the dream gone, I focused on being comfortably numb, in order to be there for my 4 year old son.

Hearing my son was OK was a relief; but I still missed them. After I put my little angel to bed, the void felt more intense. It always does after a crisis. Curling up in bed with the cell phone next to me, I hoped that the phone would still ring, just as I did for many nights right after 9/11. I did so in the hope that a miracle would happen, that I would hear one of their voices calling me peanut, shortstop, or doll face.

Eventually, the tears faded and were followed by the comfort of silence found in the pre-dawn hours. That time of night always provides my spirit with the solace it so desperately needs. The silence being the resting place for all my prayers of hope. Prayers for souls departed, and for some new dear ones fighting the good fight overseas. They are all I have now. They are my only hope for a safer, better and brighter tomorrow. May God bless and protect them all!

Posted by: Michele at 01:31 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment 

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1  Wow. What an amazing post. This is the first time I have been here. -Q

Posted by: Queenie at August 11, 2004 04:17 PM (3+LTh)

2  I'd never read your blog's history, had no idea about your cancer (something which has had a major impact in my life), and I didn't know how great your loss on 9/11 had been. I doubt I will go back and read, as it is probably too much for me. When I lost My Love to cancer, it had very a bad effect on me. I had countless nights in the hospital, doing as you did. Just kinda phasing out, hoping to be strong and supportive. For the most part, I was successful. But it wasn't easy. I've never curled up with a phone, as there never were calls. But I've looked at the PC next to me, with no one sitting at it, and missed My Love greatly. I used to check the e-mail account, then notify cyber-friends of what had happened. But I don't even do that anymore. I am sorry for your loss.

Posted by: _Jon at August 11, 2004 09:13 PM (RZ4Hy)

3  I'm so very sorry you had such a rough day/evening/night. I understand, to an certain extent, about the loneliness you are talking about. And I do know what you mean about curling up with the phone waiting for that encouraging phone call. For what it's worth, you are in my prayers everyday (honestly). Plus, if it gets bad, shoot me an e-mail. You'd be amazed at how late/early I'm sitting here. I'll always answer.

Posted by: Tammi at August 12, 2004 02:55 PM (4Ls5e)

4  Well, I don't pray, so I can't say what Tammi said, exactly. However, you're on my blogroll and I stop by religiously, which is about the equivalent for me :-) And my inbox is always open :-)

Posted by: Harvey at August 13, 2004 11:45 AM (tJfh1)

Star Light, Star Bright...

It's Mike's star I look for tonight...

Dear Mike

Last night, I had yet another one of my rough sleepless nights wishing you still lived down the block. It was the kind of night where nothing filled the ache in my soul, and even surfing didn't help me remain grounded in the present as I sometimes descend into the quick sand of emotional turmoil. I surfed and read in search of healing until exhaustion set in and I surrendered to the comfort of my bed. While there, I stared at the glow in the dark stars I glued to the ceiling. It’s one of the things that I miss of living overseas, looking up to see a blanket of stars light up the night sky. I remember as a little girl spending hours looking out the window identifying constellations and seeing what other figures I could make out in that brightly lit sky. 

In my sleeplessness I missed you greatly, as I always do in those quiet early morning hours. As I lay there, I searched for why this sadness had been coming on so slowly since the afternoon. After all, nothing interesting or different had occurred at all.

As I reviewed the day, I began to get a glimpse of what might have made me think of you. I had scheduled my day so that I could tune-in and take notes during the last 90 minutes of the women’s marathon. I made a point to watch because I'’ve been thinking of fulfilling the promise we made to each other of running the NYC Marathon at least once in our lifetime no matter what happened. Suddenly I remembered what triggered my sadness. It was seeing the Kenyan woman, whose teammate was running behind the crowd, cheering her on, as he kept pace with her. The memory of you doing the same for me during my first 15k, just when I was struggling and thinking about quitting, as I neared the finish line... it came flooding back to me as if we were there again.

That’s when a little gasp escaped my throat and the realization weighed so heavily on my heart and soul. The deluge of silent tears quickly began to fall, coming as if they had been ready for some time for my soul's recognition of a memory that is no more. All I could do, was hug my pillow tightly around my face so as to muffle my uncontrollable sobs.

There are times that I wrestle with the fact, that had I gone on that morning's training run like you and Larry wanted, you both might be alive today. But then I realize I'm only lying to myself. No matter where you were or what you were doing you still would have gone up, into the bowels of hell to help others.

Eventually, exhausted from my emotions and the late hour, the room became quiet again. I was finally able to think of the kind but firm words you used to say to me whenever I wanted to give up on anything. The words you told me that day during that race that not only made me finish, but helped me finish 3rd. Through our 15 years of friendship, you never, ever let me give up. You used words of encouragement, words of inspiration and when none of that worked you would simply say, "I know you have it in you if you just dig deep inside. Come on, go deep....".  I so miss my cheering section, of which you were the head cheer leader.

Last night I would have given anything to have you, my best, oldest and dearest friend, back amongst the living. Towards the early morning hours I pinned my hopes that you were on one of those far off stars I often look at through my telescope. I guess since they never found you, I'm still hoping against hope that one day I'll be able to have that last goodbye. Where I could hold each and everyone of you very tight and tell you all that "I'll love you forever".

This morning, tired and yet even more exhausted from not having slept at all, I just felt grateful for having had you all in my life during the years that you were here. 

Cartier-Bresson Dies at age 95

The New York Times reported today that "Frenchman Henri Cartier-Bresson, one of the great photographers of the 20th century and a founding father of modern photojournalism, died at age 95 in the south of France on Monday."

Cartier-Bresson made a name for himself by capturing exceptional images in black and white at "what he called the `decisive moment'.''

During his career he travelled extensively, capturing important people and moments in the most poigniant or evocative moment.

To see some of his exceptional work, where composition, space, and black/white hues converge into a dream like image, visit Red List or Photology.

I modeled or patterned much of my photography after Bresson's style. Unfortunately a fire in the apartment above me on New Year's eve destroyed all my photos (including my award winning pictures), negatives and equipment, so I'm not able to show you any of my work. Instead, please visit his and I'll guarantee you'll be visually swept away.

Waxing Patriotic

"In the beginning of a change, the patriot is a scarce man, brave, hated, and scorned. When his cause succeeds however, the timid join him, For then it costs nothing to be a patriot." -- Mark Twain

"America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves." -- Abraham Lincoln