Abby Grasso, M.S.W.
Social Service Liaison
Brooke Glen Behavioral
Hospital
Fort Washington, PA
Abby and I finally met - at one of OUR favorite restaurants - Pho and Beyond, near Weinrich's Bakery, in Willow Grove. We ordered No. 38.
She and her husband and two young children live in Abington, voted by Money magazine as one of the best places to live in America.
Deming fils and family live in Abington. I know, she's not a baby anymore.
Abby and I had so much in common. She's a deeply spiritual woman who converted to Catholicism. I sent her the link of a Radio Times show I listened to while preparing my morning mushroom omelet about the controversy between the so-called infallible Vatican and American nuns.
One of my favorite jobs ever was working at the spectacular grounds of Maryknoll Missioners in Ossining, NY, as secretary to Father John P Meehan and sexy Father V who looked like Richard Burton.
It was no secret that he had manic-depression and when manic would record people's license plates looking for clues!!!
I had no idea what the illness was since I wouldn't be diagnosed for another 17 years at age 38.
Maryknoll Father Roy Bourgeois, who not surprisingly was recently excommunicated for his participation in the ordination of a female priest. Read his amazing Christ-following life here.
After hugging Abby g'bye, I drove away listening to the audio tape of Never Leave Me, a dystopian novel about - don't be freaked out! - cloning people in England in order to make them organ donors. Usually by the third donation, the individual was "completed."
Euphemisms abound. What we learn is the people in charge do not think of the donors as emotional individuals. Chilling!
News from my Coffeeshop Writers Group:
Donna Krause called me and was hysterical. Her husband dropped dead at age 56. "What more can happen to me?" she asked.
The worst loss was her 15-yo daughter Mariel to meningitis. Burial is today at Wetzel and Son in Rockledge, the same place I was hired to conduct the funeral of Lester Shannon.
Our Carly Brown is recuperating nicely in the ICU at Abington Hospital after five-hour surgery to insert a pig valve in her heart.
Abby and I had so much in common. She's a deeply spiritual woman who converted to Catholicism. I sent her the link of a Radio Times show I listened to while preparing my morning mushroom omelet about the controversy between the so-called infallible Vatican and American nuns.
One of my favorite jobs ever was working at the spectacular grounds of Maryknoll Missioners in Ossining, NY, as secretary to Father John P Meehan and sexy Father V who looked like Richard Burton.
It was no secret that he had manic-depression and when manic would record people's license plates looking for clues!!!
I had no idea what the illness was since I wouldn't be diagnosed for another 17 years at age 38.
After hugging Abby g'bye, I drove away listening to the audio tape of Never Leave Me, a dystopian novel about - don't be freaked out! - cloning people in England in order to make them organ donors. Usually by the third donation, the individual was "completed."
Euphemisms abound. What we learn is the people in charge do not think of the donors as emotional individuals. Chilling!
News from my Coffeeshop Writers Group:
Donna Krause called me and was hysterical. Her husband dropped dead at age 56. "What more can happen to me?" she asked.
The worst loss was her 15-yo daughter Mariel to meningitis. Burial is today at Wetzel and Son in Rockledge, the same place I was hired to conduct the funeral of Lester Shannon.
Our Carly Brown is recuperating nicely in the ICU at Abington Hospital after five-hour surgery to insert a pig valve in her heart.
I also do his exercises several times a day.
After I began gardening two weeks ago, a sciatic-like pain returned to my left leg. Not as severe, but quite terrible nonetheless.
Went wild clipping my teacup rose bushes.
Dr Karl Rickels listens to CDs in his car. I'm on p. 50 of his memoir. When he's in the mood he'll listen to Lili Marlene from WW2 days.
Every morning when I make my omelet I go outside to cut fresh basil or oregano. Imagine my surprise when I went out to cut basil and found
I told Scott I'd drive him to the train station so I could listen to Never Let Me Go. Along the way I saw lovely Japanese Dogwoods, also called Kousa Dogwood.
"Why, I'll write a poem about this," I thought to myself.
THE LAST JAPANESE DOGWOOD
Stand strong
o tall voluminous petticoats
that reign across Davisville Road
a small crotchety house
has the novelty of your
thousands of petals
Kremp Florist
knowingly planted you
while Eddie Washington
works in the brightly lit basement
hands weaving funeral wreaths for
tomorrow’s dead he’ll never see
I see them all
lit with my headlights
on the way home from the train station
not knowing that tomorrow
my poppies will bloom.
First, my condolences to Donna. May she indeed have the strength to sustain her - same for Carly, strength of a different nature.
ReplyDeleteOne day, I must plant a garden again. Generally speaking, nobody plants directly into the earth around here until after Memorial Day weekend, although many serious gardners get their plants growing inside first. And then, of course, there are people with greenhouses.
None that I know of write poetry about dogwood and poppies nearly so effectively as do you.
Now, I don't want Abby of Abington or any of the citizens of her good town to take this wrong, because I am certain Abington is a great place to live for those who live there.
But that list isn't worth a damn. I did not read the word, "Alaska" behind the name of even one of the communities listed in the top 100.
Yet, the 100 best places to live in America are all in Alaska.
That list is worthless. Throw it away. Cancel your subscription to Money Magazine and demand your money back.
how come i always laff like a g'dam hyena when i read your comments, bill? you do know, i visited AK in my early twenties and loved it! janis joplin had come out w a new album w big brother and the holding company (ah, my memory is holding me) and an air force guy and his wife invited me to their trailed and we listened to the album. i visited anchorage, fairbanks and good ole sitka where you-know-who can see the russian people and know their hearts.
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