Summer Fundraiser, The Wrap-Up
Ah, the last day of an unusual bleg. Yeah, I do indeed always say “this one was different” — that’s because they all have a particular rhythm and flow. While I was out of operation for some of those days, still… I don’t recall a week when we had our hands out — “Please, y’all. One more time” — whilst the terra was much less than its usual firma, and the oceans roiled in concert.
Messages from the Karma Dude? Hardly. Or, if those were intended as cosmic memos, they were certainly delivered
sotto voce. Strange, though, that we were relatively near the epicenter — which was close by in Cuckoo according to the Google Map — yet Washington D.C., many miles further north in a reclaimed swamp and certainly not part of the Blue Ridge Piedmont where be this quakier geology — experienced more damage.
I suppose one has to label that extended tremble as an “earthquake” since it registered on the Richter Scale, and it knocked stones off the National Cathedral, and it continued to send out aftershocks as far as New England and Canada — to remind us how little we know of what teems and steams and pushes far below this seemingly hard ground upon which we move…
Earthquake Cuckoo left its particular imprint on those who experienced it because forever after we’ll associate that brief jitney ride with where we were and what we were doing as it began to make itself felt as a whole body experience. For me the remnant impression will be one of absence, for what it turned out
not to be. Suddenly brought out of my snooze (that’s ‘meditation’ with your eyes closed) from the severe repeated jolts, I was utterly certain the Baron was lying next to me in the throes of an epileptic seizure. Thus my immediate reaction to the sight of an empty bed was profound relief. Bouncing though it was, that bed did not contain my husband’s unconscious body. This immediate reactive fear continued to abate as I leaned over to inspect the floor beside the bed; a space where, again, his body was
not lying. A second later the Baron appeared at the door, hale and hearty. It was only then that reality hit, and it was only then that I became alarmed, even as my great relief continued to make itself felt, even through the disconcerting waves of involuntary movement.
We headed out the front door (ladies first), our cat frantically moving past the too-slow human legs toward the safety of the yard. We stood there in what now seem long suspended moments, listening to the contents of our home jingling to their earth music. In retrospect, our calm now seems surreal; how curious our interested curiosity appears from this distance. Perhaps if we lived in ‘real’ quake country our reaction would have been less one of interest than of fear and foreboding. For me, though, we were still too close to that waking instant when I thought my heretofore healthy husband was in the throes of his own brain quake.
I remember the silence too. After the tremors, everything seemed so very still. We returned hesitantly to the house, looking in each room to see what might have fallen. The next day we were to find a small vase under a chair in the living room. I think it fell off its perch on the bookshelf during one of the aftershocks, though. I remember looking under the chair almost immediately after our first re-entry.
And then there were the days leading up to Irene’s impending visit to the long coast of the eastern United States. The Baron followed it closely because he cares deeply about the fate of the Barrier Islands along the coast of North Carolina. Each severe hurricane changes the topography, those haunts of his childhood, of his young adulthood spent camping on the Outer Banks. Even Irene managed to cut a new channel or two on that slim spit of land.
I never quite believed in Irene, at least not for us. We’re not
too far inland to be hit, or to lose our power, but she seemed a media hype from the beginning. Those media flunkies wanted this one so badly. It would be the great opportunity for our commander-in-chief to strut his anti-Bush stuff. No Katrina for him. In reality, Irene was the anti-Katrina. The LOL ’cane, I called it (as did someone else), but the media and the Dauphin played it for all straight, as though this were the Real Deal.
Sure it was. Dude had to come in out of the rain, quit playing golf so he could do his stint as The One who calms the seas and gentles the winds. Yes, he can. Indeed he can, if someone would just get the damn winds up to speed or let him go back to the golf course. But even if his golf game has to wait, what sacrifices is this gallant not willing to make for us all?
[Meanwhile,
his illegal immigrant uncle was arrested in Massachusetts for drunk driving. Sorry, for suspicion of drunk driving. It would appear that Obama Onyango is to be represented by the same lawyer who handled Auntie Zeituni Onyango’s charges regarding her illegal alien status. Isn’t that nice? The Onyangos have a family retainer for all their asylum needs.
Meanwhile, Obama moves past Jimmah Carter for the number of embarrassing relatives attending a sitting president. I doubt Uncle Obama will be nearly so entertaining as Bubba Billy Carter or his momma, Miz Lillian.(The latter was heard to declare she might have made a mistake in having children after all) The Barack Obamas are taking no chances: Michelle’s momma is safely
under wraps ensconced in the warm extended First Family at the White House. Ol’ Jimmah from the Ummah was just a Georgia cracker peanut farmer back then. What’s Obama’s excuse?]
So in the midst of the quick quake and the hurrycane, our bleg sailed on. As we continued, my own “flare” of fibromyalgia receded enough to allow me to sit up for extended periods. Now, like Irene, it’s mostly gone. Till the next one, but I’ll worry about that when it gets here. We never hit a reef, nor did we tack too close to the wind. (
if you don’t count last night. A few worried people have written us to “watch our backs”, but we’re in this for the long haul.) There are only two known factors in play:
A hazardous materials alert was issued at Scott Air Force Base in Illinois today after several employees encountered a suspicious package in the mailroom of the base post office, and became ill. The affected people were sent to a hospital, a decontamination unit was set up, and extensive tests were conducted. As far as the experts could determine, no harmful substances were present in the environment. The cause of the illness is unknown.
Thus, during this here particular bleg, we’ve had earthquakes, a hurricane, and a severe fibromyalgia flare of several days’ duration. The hurricane — Irene, I believe her name was — passed on to hassle Rhode Island, Vermont, and points north. We hope it’s another few years again until the next earth tremor, while this flare seems to be easing. I think.
The 