It is hard to know what to write, this Mother's Day.

My mother was born in 1908. When she was buried last Saturday, there was no one in the church who had lived a single day in a world without her in it. That she is no longer here is incomprehensible -- unthinkable. Our minds -- mine at least -- simply cannot wrap themselves around the concept. The matriarch has fallen? Not possible. And yet...

I heard another interview with a whiny Democrat today, a supporter of Senator Obama, who stated that if Senator Clinton becomes the candidate, she simply will not vote in the general election.  This isn’t the first time I’ve heard or read remarks like that, and I can’t believe the self-centered asininity of such people.

There’s a lot of stuff going around the Web, the conservative talk shows and blogs, and the Christian right-wing press about how Christianity and The Church are being badmouthed, demonized and otherwise mistreated by those terrible atheists and other unbelievers of whatever stripe. To hear them tell it, they’re beleaguered on every side, and unless all True Christians stand up and be counted — hopefully at the polls — the Will Of The Lord is in danger of being contravened, all that is Good toppled, and the Reign Of The Serpent will be upon us.

What’s that all about, anyway?

We have so many things happening in our lives that I suppose the idea of a day when we reflect on the good things makes a certain amount of sense.  However, it seems a bit of a shame that, as a society, we don't stop to think about our blessings more frequently.

Some of the folks I hang out with are prone to having get-togethers with a gratitude theme.  There is a discussion, with each person taking a turn and expressing the things in their lives for which they are especially thankful.  On other occasions, when I was allowing life to get me down, it was suggested that I ought to make a "gratitude list" to help me concentrate on the positive aspects of a life that has been, overall, not only decidedly positive, but in some respects absolutely miraculous.

Those of us who have lived on the outer edges of existence -- whether through physical sickness, mental illness, poverty, addiction, war, or combinations thereof -- are perhaps a bit better-equipped to recognize the extremes than most folks.  That, alone, is a lot to be grateful for.

Humans have been around for quite a while.  Even if you accept Bishop Usher’s figure of 6011 years ago (as of October 22nd) for the date of Creation, there have been 300 generations of us.  If you believe in evolution, the figure expands to at least 7,500 generations in the case of Homo sapiens, and much longer if you include our cousins who preceded us.

The main thing distinguishing us from the other members of the hominid family is our big brain.  Not only has it permitted us to develop intellectually, it has also set certain constraints.  For one thing, we require more energy to operate our brains than any other animal that has yet been studied.

I find myself annoyed, around Hallowe’en, by the folks who feel it necessary to make a statement by arranging "alternate" celebrations so that their kids (and, presumably, themselves), won’t be tainted by association with this horrible "pagan" holiday.

In the first place, Hallowe’en--originally All-hallows Eve--is in most of the Christian world celebrated as an important religious holiday, the purpose of which is to honor the souls of the departed. It precedes the feast of All Saints and was for hundreds of years one of the more important unofficial holidays of the church year. (The official All Souls Day -- remarkable for the way it is widely ignored -- is November 2nd.)

I had occasion, on Saturday evening, to send out an email to family and friends, wherein I referred in passing to the unfortunate gridiron contest of that afternoon involving a rout of my Kentucky Wildcats by the unfortunately endowed Florida Saurians (may the fleas of a thousand camels infest their armpits). This consisted of a long, drawn-out "BOOOooo!" after my reference to that group of — well, let’s just leave it at that — an attempt to inject a bit of jocularity into an otherwise dry missive — one so broad that even a Gator ought to have gotten the joke.

One family member took it seriously.

I was just looking at a copy of Ocean Drive that someone left in my office, browsing through hundreds of pages about some of the world's least important people and things.

I remembered how riveting that sort of thing used to be -- the glamor, the reaching, the scrabbling to get to and stay in the public eye, the fame (or at least notoriety), the balancing act, the ideal of a Porsche, a Rolex and a blonde with big...well, you get the idea -- and actually found myself embarrassed and blushing.

I'm not claiming to be a better person than I used to be, but I surely am different!

Well, Albert A. Gore Jr. has copped what most folks would consider the highest honor on the planet — problematically, the greatest in history. Not taking anything away from his co-laureates, the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the fact is that Al will be the face of the Nobel Peace Prize from now until someone as well-known is named a winner. That may be a while, even though Mr. Gates is definitely in the wings. Given Bill’s privacy preferences, Gore may remain the star even then.

The big question now is what, if any, political plans he may have for the future. Although the logistics at such a late date would be considerable, it is quite probable that — should he choose to do so — Gore could mount a credible bid for the Presidency. From a personal point of view, I think it would be delicious to watch him succeed, with highest accolades, the man who stole the presidency from him and put him in a position to become, not a politician, but an elder statesman
(sort of "Bend over, rhinestone cowboy, the Man from Tennessee is back!).

There's an old saying to the effect that "Home is where, when you go there, they have to let you in."

I've never heard of a similar one about friends, but there ought to be one.  Or maybe friends are just too much for an aphorism to handle.  Lately, I've had cause to give some real thought to the matter of friendship.  Instead of trying to concoct some slick lines to cover it, which is often my wont, let me instead tell you a story -- recent, true, and illustrative.

 

    I happened to be on top of an I-95 overpass this morning at 0734 when, looking to the north, I saw a rocket from the Cape speeding eastward.  I guessed that it might be the Delta II carrying the DAWN probe to Ceres and Vesta, and a check of the DAWN page at nasa.gov proved me right.

    In looking at the paragraph above, I can only feel awe.  What a matter-of-fact, ordinary pair of sentences to describe such an incredibly extraordinary event!  A group of hyper-intelligent apes, who only discovered how to grow their own food about 10,000 years ago, have banded together and built a machine that will travel more than a billion miles away from their home to investigate the origins of not only their own planet, but the entire Solar System.  And I noted it in passing.  Only later did I really think about it.

Yesterday brought with it the sad news of Marcel Marceau's passing at age 84.  Possibly the greatest mime who ever lived, Marceau had entertained the world with the humanity and pathos of his character, Bip, for an even 60 years.  Trivia: he had the only speaking part in Mel Brooks' "Silent Movie."
 Big wave goodbye