we buried my sister

My sweet sister Caren passed on, in those early evening hours on Sunday.  Caren's partner, Gabrielle, my daughter Becca, and my niece Keelie all were in attendance at her bedside, at her home. She died peacefully - on her daughter Keelie's birthday - waiting and wanting to celebrate as a mother, that important birth date of her only child.

As this was to be a "natural" burial (within 36 hours, no embalming and being buried on her neighbor's property) - I arrived in East Blue Hill, Maine in less than 24 hours.

My sister's kind friends (and there were many) like Richard and Veronica, who put me up in there guest room - and Veronica who offered to let me sleep with her own personal teddy bear - made me smile and helped with the tears.

Up early the next morning, I volunteered to help dig at the grave site just up the hill. And, I gathered as many shovels as possible for the attendees to fill the grave. At the top, in a cold drizzle, I found a young 'local' man,  J. D. "the stutterer" (the way he introduced himself) already near the needed six foot depth.  My job, as always told to me for years by my 'sis' the carpenter, "square it up - smooth it out - and make it beautiful".

My other job, to take a picture of J.D. - and J.D. to take a picture of me.

Caren and Gabrielle's many, many friends contributed to the occasion. Some built her a simple pine box - some decorated it. Some washed her hair and dressed her in red pajamas with socks, some came to help lay her out - and covered her out on the porch.  Pulling back that cover, I had my quiet time with her - held her hand and kissed and hugged her goodbye.

A cold and rainy day brought everyone out - her old, old friends - her ex-lovers, a smattering of  family and tearfully - the towns people. A quiet steel drum accompanied Caren up that long Clayfield Road. And those that walked behind, carried their own personal shovels.

Gabrielle remarkably read some Yiddish poems and sang a few Yiddish songs. And some 'hooped' and 'hollered' in celebration. Some were quiet and some were solemn.  Keelie, Caren's daughter smiled a lot in her own quiet way and was comforted by many. When I held her, she shivered from inside, from that cold grey sky.

The following day, I left Maine - when it started to snow - in an unusual soft way.

An annual Christmas tree ordeal

Every year, it's an ordeal.  For over thirty years, my wife has always wanted a bigger and better tree. Some years requiring cutting off two foot off of the base.  And, about forty dollars worth of tree.

Well, this year was no different. We bought a ten and half foot tree for a nine and a half foot ceiling. With no one to help to get it inside, or off the roof of the truck  - I called a buddy of mine Josh, to 'really' give me some needed help. Tried to stand it up - but no luck - to tall. Got the chain saw out and cut another 6 inches off the base and soon after, I made another needed call, to a buddy promising to come by and re-drill the base one more time.  But, the bit did not fit the drill - so for now, an overlarge tree now lays naked on our floor.

Always in the end, a more than beautiful and overly decorated tree - so much so, it usually stays up until Easter. And me yearly, during the beginning of the procedure - just trying to find the tree base in storage, becomes more than enough of an annual holiday ordeal.

Christmas Parties

At parties, always a strange occurrence - meeting people that you've never met. Or, unlikely to meet.

This year, Sandy became a board member for our neighborhood association. And, for their annual Christmas Party, we ended up somewhere where I have not been, in probably 45 years.

A very long time ago, I lived with my father for a short period, on an old houseboat docked there - and I distinctly remember this yacht club "burgee" (flag).  My father even flew this on the top of his fore-mast, on the schooner "Rambler".  But, the times have indeed changed.

And, last year's Christmas party, with Sandy's cohorts and fellow agents at the boss's house.

Girls Gone Bad - (real estate agents daughters outside filling a bowl and texting).  And, more than likely, this party will be repeated again, tomorrow night - where and when, some things will never change.

church

Was riding with my guys Sunday afternoon, up near Withlacoochee in northern Hernando County.  Stopped for a smoke in the tiny rural town of Istachatta, just as Sunday Services were ending.  The 'Southern Baptist' tradition of social get-togethers, bible reading and just enjoying each others company over a 'potluck' meal, still takes place here every Sunday - outside on a covered porch.

old family friends, sharing ...

Hadn't seen Ulla in many a moon.  Ulla - and my wild & beautiful step-mother, Jo-Ann (wildly known around town, as the "Indian Princess"), were best buddies / friends during my short teenage years.

Well, I ran into Ulla the other other day and she invited me over to share - photos, stories and some of their bad behavior.  Back in the early '60's, JoAnn and a partner had just opened the first Lilly Pulitzer shop on the west coast of Florida - and Ulla, had just recently arrived from Sweden, young and innocent. They worked, played and internationally "jet-setted" together - until my step-mother JoAnn, died in 1968.

Ulla's refrigerator.

And a beautiful young Ulla, modeling Lilly Pulitzer's first daring bikini. (1965)

my refrigerator

Talked to my sister today, tough one.

Made me feel real sad, even though that is not what she would want.

neighborhood

Our, down the street neighbor's, new outdoor-indoor tennis court being built. Pretty serious.

Used to play a lot of tennis when I was kid - grew out of it - grew to hate it.  Not because of the ball & racquet part, but from the competitiveness and the people associated with it.  And today, for whatever quirky reason, I still have my old wooden racquet from all those years - that's now rotting in the shed.

High School friends

Hope to see Paul today - at a memorial for an old Sarasota character. We're always reminiscing.

A couple years back, Paul stopped by and wanted me to take some close-up shots for his mother's birthday gift - printed to fit into a tiny 3" x 5" frame.  Ironically he and I share the same birth date and a strong interest in our troubled past.