Down a Different Path

I took a different path today.  I drove a road I would have preferred to detour around.  My heart is heavy. As a mother, there but for the grace of God go I. 

Today we said goodbye to a United States Marine.  I pulled into the already full parking lot at the funeral home, looking for a spot.  What I saw brought the first of many tears to my eyes.   Simultaneously I saw uniformed service men and women.  And kids.   This Marine was 23.  Younger than my own sons.  

His mother, as I am, is a member of the Houston Marine Moms.   We are a support group that extends in many directions.   Packages to the troops, fund raisers, all questions answered about any subject, and sometimes fun lunches with a shot of Tequila to toast our Marines. I joined them before my son left for boot camp and with their guidance, was able to know exactly what was going on for my son.

 

This mom and I have carpooled together and stopped to chat in the aisles of the grocery store.  She is someone who laughs easily and loudly.  You cannot help but want to be with her.  As hard as it was for me to BE THERE, I HAD to go to show my support. I could not imagine how hard it was for another mother.   

I approached the body, said a prayer, and added my son’s photo to the row of photos and boots lined along the floor near the casket. The boots are arranged at a 45-degree angle, just as they would be if they were worn at attention, a symbolic act of protection and respect.  Holding small flags and the pictures of their owners, they are this Marine’s fellow warriors, there to support and honor him.

The first five rows on the side were reserved for us HMMs. Even there, we supported each other in small ways that meant so very much.  At one point we all stood, holding our bandannas, and recited the 91st Psalm. 

Since 2005 the Houston Marine Moms have adopted the 91st Psalm Bandannas as one of their major programs. We've sent over 5,000 of the Psalm 91 bandannas to Iraq. We work with churches to adopt a Marine or soldier. They pray over the bandannas and we send them to Iraq. We work with Chaplains of whole battalions to pass these out.1

This Marine, a Lance Corporal, served two tours of duty in Iraq. He was awarded several distinguished medals. But he did not die in combat.  He was struck down by a drunk driver in town, not far from his home. 

I cry as I type this.   My own son will soon be home for a visit.  I will hug him and laugh with him.  

There but for the grace of God, go I. 

 

I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

1. http://www.houstonmarinemoms.org/bandana.asp

Los Angeles. Sept 2010

Los Angeles.  Sept 2010

My trips there always seem too brief.  Once again my friend’s home was open to me. We had two nights of shows and fun and having our diet Cokes never run dry.  We met an online friend for lunch and had a lovely afternoon.  I wandered the shops in San Pedro in my never-ending search for dark coffee to bring home as my souvenir.

Scarlet Grey at St Rocke

The Grove-Anaheim SKA night

 

This time I got to see a bit of Hollywood, where the kid was living.    VERY interesting exhibition of street fighting with Dog Brothers Gathering Of The Pack 2010.   Watching your child in a school play does NOT prepare for watching him fight with knives and sticks.   When it was his turn, I was so focused on getting some photos of him that I didn’t have time to worry.  Afterwards, we went to have lunch and a few beers at a local pub.  Met one man I had been watching fight.  He was very good.  Like the kid, a computer geek!  I think the best part was seeing these guys in their street clothes:  Skinny, blobby, dorky, nerdy with glasses.  Just the types that others want to pick on.  Knowing that they could/would hold their own in a fight made me smile. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTKqYkvmdkU

Then a bit of driving around.   Interesting houses.  Interesting people living inside them.   Yup.   Drive bys are fun.   ;-)  Maybe next time I’ll stop and take some pix. 

The kid is back in town now, and with no shows planned in L.A. in the near future I don’t know when I’ll return.   But I can dream….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dN3GbF9Bx6E

RIP Continental Airlines

A moment of silence for a friend’s passing. I became acquainted with you in 1982 when I moved to Texas.  I have known you intimately for nearly 12 years.  Your proud name will be consumed by one that brings bad manners and a checkered past.  It is with great sadness that I see you go.

May your tail someday rise again.

My "secret place" in SFO

This is my review for our company magazine:

San Francisco, California, USA
The Mosser Hotel
54 4th Street
San Francisco, CA 94103
800-227-3804

Date of stay: Several times since 2005


 “I almost hate to give away my ‘secret place.’ TheMosser is an independent family-owned property in the heart of SFO.
Located on 4th Street at Market, directly across from the Marriott, but
at about one third the cost. It’s a very short walk to the BART and cable
car turn-around. But best of all, it provides a safe and welcome respite
after a long day of hiking those hills. As a single, female traveler, I
always feel safe there. The doorman and reception staff are friendly and
helpful. The rooms are quiet and clean. The hotel is eco-friendly and
nonsmoking, and very "family friendly". You can get en suite or down-the-hall bath, and robes are in your room. The morning coffee is divine. Next time you are in the City by the Bay, give the Mosser a try.
But don’t tell anyone.)”




Other information: The hotel has 112 deluxe rooms and 54 rooms with
a shared hall bath. Originally opened in 1913 as the Keystone Hotel,
this historic property underwent a major renovation in 2003.

How cool is this?

A FULL PAGE of my Ramblings in the neighborhood newsletter! This, along with my SFO hotel story, make me a "published writer". Not paid, just published.

Coming Soon...

Sunny Seoul and the Narita Nightmare.

International day

Man and I saw Swedish movie (GREAT The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) Then Vietnamese dinner (with V'ese iced coffee after). Now I need a Belgian chocolate. :-)

Charlotte Pinewood Cemetery

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Here’s a joke from my childhood. “Why is a cemetery like the toilet?

 “Cause when you gotta go, you gotta GO.”

Arriving in Charlotte, NC a day earlier than needed, I found little to do or see in the immediate walking area near my hotel.  Just next door was a cooking school and I suppose I could have gazed longingly through the windows as the students prepared foods.  They might be used to it, but I felt embarrassed and moved on with only a passing glance.  

Five minutes more and I was at the Elmwood/Pinewood Cemetery which originally opened in 1853 as a 100-acre plot that included Pinewood Cemetery, a segregated African American cemetery, and Potter’s Field, a pauper’s cemetery. It is one of Charlotte’s oldest public cemeteries. 

Prior online research prepared me for some of the tombstone symbols I had wondered about.

 

The cemetery was quiet, although along one side trains lumbered by periodically. The city skyline rose over a few larger tombs. On the paths were joggers and a dads with strollers and small children walking.   The weather was cool and calm.  I paid special attention to the different funerary art, but something else struck me as I wandered.  

No matter who you are, or what you do, sooner or later you “gotta go”.

 

London Calling

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London, England, UK.  I love it.   Always expensive, yet always exciting and fun.  Usually my travels are last minute thoughts but this trip was months in the making.   When AFI first posted their European tour dates I gave it small thought. I do enough damage with shows here in the States. Then an online friend indicated that she might travel the great distance from South Africa to see them.  It would be her second time, once again in London.  “I’m in! Buy a show ticket for me”, I wrote. Let the plotting begin. 

One month before, my friend (AR) became ill.   Up until the last moment she was not sure if she could travel. With plane ticket and hotel already booked, she waited for the doctor’s approval.   I too waited.  She had my show ticket!  In the mean time, I was panicking because I did not have the right week off!  I had official vacation the week BEFORE the concert.  This took some finagling on my part, seeking out an upper lever manager to ask for a change.  I was granted the correct time off and made my own plans.

We arrived at Heathrow about 7am.  Train to Paddington and a very short walk to our hotel.  Dropped the bags, added a layer of  warmer clothing and headed off.  First stop Abbey Road. It’s a busy road and you have to time your “walk” between cars and busses lumbering by.  There is actually a site (I suppose there is a site for everything these days) so you can watch people as they Beatle-ify themselves.  No one took his shoes off though à la McCartney.  The weather was rather brisk.   

Some of the underground trains were not operating due to maintenance so we hopped buses.  Slower, with all the holiday traffic and pedestrians, but definitely better for people watching.  On top of the crowded double-decker bus we listened to the other tourists and locals on their phones. Had me wondering if there were any Brits in Britain this weekend. On the crowded upper deck of the bus we heard not a word of English.  French, German, Arabic, several Eastern European languages. Most of the places we ate, the workers had strong accents.  Our breakfast and late night coffee café workers were Croatian.

When in Rome, or London, we try to eat in local places.  If you wanted to pub crawl, there seems to be a certain order to do it.  Or so it seems. The Cock, The Bung Hole, and Dirty Dick. Probably in that order.

London is where you can still find people walking the streets, not just at shows, in full punk regalia. Parts pierced that even made me look twice.  Perfect ’hawks.  Clothing accentuated with metal and rips. I felt right at home in my comfy SWAT boots.

What to see…Wellcome Collection.  A free destination for the incurably curious.  This was so interesting we spent over three hours wandering and reading.

Identity: Eight rooms, nine lives. What influences or determines our sense of who we are? What makes one person distinct from another? How does science inform human identity? This major exhibition explored the tension between the way we view ourselves and how others see us. Twins, phrenology and brain imaging, gender and sexuality, 

race and prejudice, and acting and improvisation

Then a short trip to Brixton to scope out the venue. It’s in a rather “ethnically diverse” area but had a nice center of town calm spot to sit.  Markets galore. Spitalfields/Brick Lane. Old fruit and veg market and several very interesting shops.

Brief stop at the Bristish Museum where we learned a little bit of American History of the indigenous peoples of North America.  Funny…our last trip here we saw the Early Virginia Settlers collection. 

The Tate Museum is always a stop.  We have seen “The Crack”, Olafur Eliasson's spectacular Weather Project,and this time, Miroslaw Balka's black box

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/visual_arts/article6873401.ece

Then we headed to the wharf area, not Camden, but the OLD section.  But there is no OLD section any more.  Just tall buildings and shopping malls.   The sun was setting and the wind picked up.  Quiet and peaceful strolling, but too late for the little museums there.  I finally connected with my AR and made plans for the next day.

Turns out AR’s hotel is a 2 minute walk from ours.   Man and I find her in the lobby and exchange gifts and new-friend hugs. Then, off to the S&M café.  The man had found this eatery on his last business trip.  The web site was slick and I expected a kitchy place.  Not so.  I was just another hole-in-the-wall eatery, but the food was very good and the staff friendly.  Sadly they were already out of Potatoes in Jacket.

We took a brief rest at the hotel and changed into appropriate BLACK clothing.  LOL  AR and I headed off to Brixton and the man went to see Hair.  The line system was very strange.  Usually we are told to “hug the wall”. This venue had us doubling, then tripling up.  There was no DF line but an O2 phone line.  Didn’t matter for us as we had Upper Level tickets and headed to the front row while most of the crowd scurried for the rail. The show was incredible, as always.  The acoustics great, but NO CROWD SURFING. Well shucks, three goes MY fun.  The show was extra fantastic when they did Days of the Phoenix and one of my faves, File 13.  Of course I bought more T shirts.  It’s only money, right? :-\ We couldn’t hang around as AR’s leg was acting up and the trains stopped running at midnight.  So the two Cinderellas headed back to hotel land to say good night and goodbye.

 

Our last day took us to Kensington Palace – a palace for everyone. Well, not everyone as we agreed that £18 was too steep. So we enjoyed the grounds. Then we headed out to Teddington, near Hampton Court.  The man’s coworker and his wife invited us to visit.  We had a great lunch, caught up with our lives, and then headed out for a bike ride.  Mind you, it’s been near 15 years since I rode this much!  The weather was chilly and drizzly.  I borrowed a windbreaker and bravely set out.  Through the park, along the Thames. I admit I was a bit slow as the day wore on, but I hung in there.  We biked into town, browsed the bookstore, and then had yummy Indian.  

Five nights is longer than I usually stay.  Had to buy another package of Wispa bars as we depleted the first package in the evenings.  Missed a few of my planned tourist stops with holiday closings and location logistics. There’s always a next time for London.

Cheers.

AFI Charlotte Filmore in Charlotte , NC 3 / 13

5 out of 5
AFI Charlotte
Filmore
in Charlotte, NC 3 / 13
Posted 3/19/10 by lorra  for LiveNation

                                             From the back rail by sound guys. Phone pix.

My good buds were going. “Sure”, I said. “I’ll go too!” So I booked a hotel and I bought a show ticket, and hopped a plane.

As we drove to the Filmore we saw many peeps attending festivities and wearing GREEN. “Where are the people in BLACK”, I lamented. Finally we turned a corner and there they were: the DF and diehard fans waiting. Old friends and new met up. As the sky darkened and rains poured, we huddled under shared umbrellas. The drain overflowed with muddy water sucking at our feet. There were no port-a-potties for relief. Then the doors opened…

Good spots for viewing on the upper rail if you wish to avoid the Pit. Drinks on either side. Bartenders really nice. Restroom easy to get to. Best of all, the acoustics VERY GOOD.

As always we endure the opening bands. Scarlet Gray was good though. Then the reason we are there. AFI takes the stage. Davey forgoing his full gold suit for black jeans and his Zu shirt again. Jade and Hunter as energetic as fleas on a summer dog but much more bewitching. Adam stepping forward for On the Arrow is always lovely.

The voice: Better than ever, maturing gracefully. The music: Great mix of new and old and one very old. The show: Way too short. I could listen to them all night and sing along to every song.

If you’ve never been, it’s like a religious experience. For me, it was the 7th time this tour. Amen.

London Calling

London calling to the faraway towns
Now war is declared - and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls.

Well, here we go again!    Headed to London for mischief and Mayhem.  Man is coming with.  (yay) Meeting up with online friend, and seeing AFI.   What could be better?  Spring time may bring rain but I shall pack the 'brolly.    Wish us luck.  

More later.