Too Many Bodies, And Not Enough Grass (Snow, or Wreaths)

Christmas at the Arlington National Cemetery
December 2005
U.S. Air Force photograph by Master Sgt. Jim Varhegyi

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo,
Shovel them under and let me work--
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

I am the grass.
Let me work.

Grass, Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

The Department of Defense has identified 2,915 American service members who have died since the start of the Iraq war. It confirmed the deaths of the following Americans over the weekend:

Jesse J. J.Castro, 22, Sgt., Army; Chalan Pago, Guam
Kristofer R.Ciraso, 26, Staff Sgt., Army; Bangor, Maine
Micah S.Gifford, 27, Specialist, Army; Redding, California
Jason I.Huffman, 23, Cpl., Army; Conover, North Carolina
Travis C.Krege, 24, Pfc., Army; Cheektowaga, New York
Henry W. Linck, 23, Staff Sgt., Army; Manhattan, Kansas
Joshua B. Madden, 21, Specialist, Army; Sibley, Louisiana
Yari Mokri, 26, Specialist, Army; Pflugerville, Texas
Travis L. Patriquin, 32, Capt., Army; Texas
Vincent J. Pomante, III, 22, Specialist, Army; Westerville, Ohio

•••

Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra: Big Man
(Buy: Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra: Who Is This America)

Akoya Afrobeat Ensemble: Star Wars
(Buy: Akoya: Introducing The Akoya Afrobeat Ensemble)

Linton Kwesi Johnson: Reality Poem
(Buy: Linton Kwesi Johnson: Forces of Victory)

Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes: Wake Up Everybody
(Buy: Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes: Wake Up Everybody)

Aretha Franklin: Someday We'll All Be Free
(Buy: Malcolm X: Music From The Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Let There Be (More Day) Light

Winter Solstice
December 21, 2006

Tomorrow, the daylight begins its return.

Tristeza
The deep sadness a heart feels
Let it leave mine forever,
Let my lips sing again.

From this day on my days are days of sun and roses.
My life's a carnival of song.
From this day on my dear the door to sorrow closes.
This day when you came along.

•••

Jethro Tull: Ring Out, Solstice Bells
(Buy: The Jethro Tull Christmas Album)

Astrud Gilberto & Walter Wanderley: Goodbye Sadness: Tristeza
(Buy: A Certain Smile, A Certain Sadness)

It Ain't Nothing But A Tree Thing, Baby

Brown's Head Light House
The Rock
February, 2005

•••

With a house full of little critters (Babette, Maneki Neko, and the newly welcomed Marcel Duchamp) — a tiny little tabletop tree seemed the appropriate decor this season. We figured that it would be easier then yelling — "Get out of there! Get down!" — at the 'kids' every 10 minutes. We put the leash on Marcel, hopped in the car, and drove out to the woods in search of the perfect specimen.

After a long walk through the wilderness (of The Rock) and a little beach-combing, we stumbled upon the little tree — about waist high, and ideally conical. With my trusty, rusty bowsaw in hand — I bent down and took care of business. A minute later, we were walking back to the car, tree perched over my shoulder.

When we returned home, I opened the trunk of the car to the unpleasant smell of, what can only be described as, cat urine. If you have never had the smell visit your olfactory receptors, consider yourself very fortunate — if you have, however, you know the smell I was smelling. The tree did not make it's way into the house.

I conveyed this story to a friend who, at the end of my telling, said, "Oh, you must have gotten a skunk spruce." Indeed, I had.

A little research, please, and yes, Picea glauca or, the White Spruce (also known as Canadian Spruce, Eastern Spruce, Black Hills Spruce, Skunk Spruce and, oh, yeah, the Cat Spruce) — it was the last two caught my interest (and attention). Apparently, the white spruce, as a defense mechanism has, not only, stiff and sharp needles — but when young and immature, a distinctive odor; foul (when young) — but pleasant when older. How very interesting. How very foul.

We will be out looking for a new (kinder, gentler, sweeter smelling) tree this weekend — or making one out of an old Readers Digest.

•••

The Klezmatics: Hanukah Tree (Hanukkah)
(Buy: The Klezmatics: Woody Guthrie's Happy Joyous Hanukkah)

Vince Guaraldi Trio: O Tannenbaum
(Buy: Vince Guaraldi Trio: A Charlie Brown Christmas)

Radiohead: Fake Plastic Trees
(Buy: Radiohead: The Bends)

Brenda Lee: Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree
(Buy: Brenda Lee: Jingle Bell Rock)

Belly: Feed The Tree
(Buy: Belly: Star)

Dr. Dre w/ Snoop (Doggy) Dogg: Nuthin' but a 'G' Thang
(Buy: The Chronic)

This Is The Worst Christmas Ever (or, You're So Vain, You Probably Think This Season's About You)

'Sad Jesus'
Paint-by-Number Art
Artist Unknown

I leave for my morning commute in the dark these days — because of the ever depressing Daylight Savings Time — with an ever growing number of people leaving The Rock for the mainland to do their holiday shopping. On the last ferry of the day (which at 3:15 PM, is also in the dark), the same people are back aboard — arms and carts overflowing with the days booty.

"Mushi, have you started your shopping yet?" someone will often ask.

I smile, carrying the same bag — holding my laptop, camera, a book, notepads, shuffle, thermos, and any other things I think I might need during the day — and answer, "We really don't celebrate the holidays with all the gifts and presents."

There is often not much to say after that. Some just smile awkwardly and walk a little faster ahead. Some understand and will say that they too, wish that they didn't have to do so much — but the kids wouldn't understand. One parent told me that every Christmas – regardless of how much was under the tree on the final day — after the final present will have been opened, his child will stand up and say, "This was the worst Christmas ever."

I think the holidays were meant for something else. Give it a shot.

•••

De La Soul: Me Myself And I
(Buy: De La Soul: 3 Feet High and Rising)

Lene Lovich: Lucky Number
(Buy: Lene Lovich: The Best of Lene Lovich)

Al Green: Love and Happiness
(Buy: Al Green's Greatest Hits)

Dance! Chicken Dance!

Haiku! Chicken Haiku!

Orange feet in soil,
Scratching and pecking for grit.
Chickens in the sun.
Chicken!

As the annual 'Feast of Overindulgence' approaches, the turkeys that will have made it through the first massacre can rest a little easier (until the Christmas slaughter, that is. Get your orders in now.)

But that reminded me of a story our neighbor, the little child in this picture, told us the other night. She said that when her parents went 'out to haul', they would put her in the pen with the chickens until they'd return. She said they would peck at her feet until she danced — all day long. It was this experience that made her want to become a professional dancer.

(Please, don't tell me that you believed any of that. That is just wrong.)

•••

Brave Combo: The Chicken Dance
(Buy: Brave Combo: Group Dance Epidemic)