The · Revels · of · the · Dead

This has been a week of waking up to the sound of rain pattering along the driveway and against the roof. I've been opening the door to let the cooler air in, and have watched the pink buds from the gnarled tree out front drop with the wind and wet. My car has had a coronation of petals every morning; the incongruity is charming. Haven't bothered turning on the news at all, really. Just a nice quiet morning. When the traffic kicks up, the door gets closed, and Jon Stewart fills the rest of the prework time.

Finances are a bit muddled right now -- been making some some-day-I'm-going-to expenditures recently -- which means lower key stuff is going on at the moment. At Halloween I nabbed a bunch of Hammer Horror and classic monster movies from AMC, and have been going through them. Chrissie and I are making a habit out of going over to the tennis courts for.. well not so much tennis really.. but catch-with-rackets. Arcon was a lot of fun a weekend or two ago -- for games and buds both. And as bunches of friends across the world (literally) are having babies, I'm going down to see my niece for her 3rd birthday this weekend. Quiet fun, but I am feeling antsy for something new/louder. In part soothed by a NYC trip at the end of August, but I think I need to scratch that itch beforehand. We'll see.

I've been rereading (and mentally rewriting/reordering/recomplicating) my novel. There's a bit of hesitancy to start affixing words to screen again. It's weird. It'd be nice to be published. To sketch out the order of events, or to just write and see where it goes? That's the bear I'm wrestling with these days.

Been finding a bunch of new music. I really need to offshore my iTunes list to the backupbrain.. my poor laptop is groaning under the weight of 'em all.

Work is work. Y'know. A bit too much resting on my laurels after the BigThing(tm) ended up working better than we all thought it would. Lots of projects need attention. The kids are just now going into finals, and we're all waiting for the slow sigh of a collective unclenching to soundlessly spread across campus again. It's an interesting tension study -- none of my staff are taking classes, but we all feel the finals stress. Stress as vector. Communicable stress.

A slow damp cool Spring so far at the Herk. Looking forward to the summer.

Ever onward.

This piece has been banging around in my head for days. Some songs do that, they hang out, echoing around in brainspace, not getting stronger or louder but also not going quiet either. They persist. Certain songs can be on infinite repeat for days, without loss of interest or growth of boredom. And I wonder if this charitable haunting has to do with the song as much as something connected to the music itself. Is it more nostalgia, or is it the music itself -- the math, the production, the hook?

Mansell has a habit of making music that does this. Moon, Requiem for a Dream, Pi.. and now ME3. There are a few tracks on the Moon score that if it catches me in a right mood, puts me on a Mobius Listening Loop. The use of echo coupled with the simplicity of notes.. plugs me in, man. But then again, Moon as a story was likewise haunting and of depth and melancholy.. and there are some scenes in that flick that are compelling for the way they mesh sadness with joy.

"Leaving the Earth" -- the name of the track above, works similarly. The simple echoed piano, the Inception foghorn, the quiet coupling with the loud, the growing strings adding grandeur/gravitas.. love it. But then again, the story of ME3.. wow. It blew me away. And I felt like I was closing a novel when the credits rolled. The same way I felt when I finished all the leavetakings from the Lord of the Rings; these friends are gone forever now, there will be no more.

Wish I had a tenth of the ability that Mansell has. Just, wow.

(I have heard this particular piece of music in numerous films, Pandora finally gave me the title and composer.)

So, our librarian died in the night.

I only met her once, at my interview. She was silent. Because her body was slowly killing itself. Since before I arrived at the Herk, she's been out, fighting, losing, and fighting on regardless. I told my staff that I don't know her, but that I was proud of her: The outpouring of consideration for her when she was moved into hospice care spoke of someone who had earned a wide swath of esteem, respect, and human connection. And that she refused morphine until the very end, wanting lucidity, spoke to someone who fought. An honorable epitaph to a life I never knew.

But, y'know, words. Sometimes they land, but othertimes.. well, grief is big. And loud. And fills up rooms. Folks were okay, it was expected and various strategies of bulwarkedness were built over the 18 months+ by my folks. I took my secretary out for a Lenten lunch, though. Her heart lives on her sleeve, and her eyes were red and puffy. She discovered the notice in the paper, and took it upon herself to tell the staff while I was out of the building. We ate fish at the Diner, and there must have been some serious body language.. the staff there usually calls me by name and jokes around, but they steered clear and kept things brief.

So, tonight, I'm awaiting word of any funerary plans. I'm not sure how it will be. When my grandmother died, as with all things in my family, matters were subdued and private. Formal. Everyone was holding it together for everyone else. We take a certain pride in the formal, at times. When I met my exwife's family at her father's funeral things were messy, loud, venomous in certain cases. The grief was plainly writ and writ all caps, all bold. Today I was wiggling in and out of putting myself in Mary's family's shoes, to varying degrees of success today. Calculating. I said to my secretary today, "I cannot imagine losing my wife".. and had to stop myself. It's different, but I think the applicable skills are still applicable. Grief is grief. Mary left behind sons and a husband. I had talked to Don months ago and he couldn't maintain the polite facade even then. The funeral I think will be inelegant, but real, and kind.

I'm sad for my staff. Not a lot of eye contact today, a lot of closed office doors. No one was real interested in their jobs. I talked to a few of them, who responded in short bursts of words. And I spent the day calling former directors and librarians across county, state, and national lines who knew her, and had hard conversations. Some people invoked god and science as a way to not talk about what was going on in them, and that's fine. I just let them talk. These are the times when there is more mileage in silence then in trying to render it into language, I guess.

So today work didn't get done, but big conversations were had. Funeral tales swapped, thoughts about what comes after if anything, a lot of sympathy for Mary's family. I'm not sure how well I navigated the waters today. I'm sad for their sad, no matter how well managed or avoided or embraced. Seeing the older generations tear up is hard stuff. Soon to be all our turns, I reckon. How'd I do? I guess as always I was just me. Flaws and clumsiness personified. :)

Hey Mary, you were worthy. The day stopped for you today, and people reflected. Congratulations, you mattered.

Ever onward.