I'm not often political, at least in print, but sometimes a little rebellion is good for the soul! Before making comments like this, I put my money where my mouth is—I've enlisted to assist in sea bird clean up if it reaches us on the Atlantic side of Florida. Here's my complaint.
Oil and water don't mix. In order to mix, you have to create an emulsion. Will it be BP or Washington, DC?
Cajun shop vacs! That's just down home, get dirty, American genius! Holding our hands out and waiting for someone else to fix things is so pre-Katrina.
Why aren't Americans fund-raising for this singular, unprecedented, monumental catastrophe? We've aided every other foreign disaster for decades. Who cares if it was manmade or natural? Since when have we started making those distinctions before reaching into our pockets to help? Since when have we ever depended on Big Oil for anything except higher gas prices unless we are fortunate enough to be stockholders?
9/11 was a manmade disaster. Did we wait for the Saudi government to take responsibility and clean up their mess? Like that was going to happen!
Months have now gone by with heads being scratched, fingers being pointed and hands held out for aid. Giving a hand is what needs to happen and now.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Ghosts of Detroit
There are ghosts in Detroit City. They are tall, abandoned buildings made of brick and stone. Broken windows form the blind eyes of Detroit's ghosts. Frozen in time and linked forever to the automobile's fading golden age, they stand strangely still.
In another era, red brick homes were filled with families, streets teemed with life. Now, countless neighborhoods of these same houses stand boarded and silent. In an attempt to cleanse its soul, the great city of the automobile expands ever outward, leaving a once loudly beating heart sadly stifled.
Some landmarks I remembered still stood. Newer landmarks had replaced others that had been destroyed. Places from my childhood were no longer part of the skyline. Occasional blocks of restored architecture stood out here and there among the rubble like diamonds in the dark.
The ghosts of Detroit were not unkind. Captured in the golden slivers of a sunset, their windowless eyes reflected cautious optimism. I shared their hope. One day, Detroit would rise again. I promised to return.
In another era, red brick homes were filled with families, streets teemed with life. Now, countless neighborhoods of these same houses stand boarded and silent. In an attempt to cleanse its soul, the great city of the automobile expands ever outward, leaving a once loudly beating heart sadly stifled.
Some landmarks I remembered still stood. Newer landmarks had replaced others that had been destroyed. Places from my childhood were no longer part of the skyline. Occasional blocks of restored architecture stood out here and there among the rubble like diamonds in the dark.
The ghosts of Detroit were not unkind. Captured in the golden slivers of a sunset, their windowless eyes reflected cautious optimism. I shared their hope. One day, Detroit would rise again. I promised to return.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Saying Goodbye
Once in every woman's life, we loose our mother. If we are lucky, it is after a long, adventure-filled, exciting and memorable lifetime.
I am one of the lucky ones. My mother had a long life filled with beloved parents, friends, lovers, husbands, children and grandchildren. Florida was one of her favorite places on earth and she lived here for over sixty years. She was fortunate enough to have her father and mother living close to her in Florida and she lovingly cared for them in their old age until they passed.
I lost my mother in October, 2009. Her last wishes were to be cremated and placed in the family plot in Detroit's Woodlawn Cemetery where her mother, father, uncle, grandmother and grandfather are buried.
Last Friday, I helped my mother complete her last journey. She didn't want any memorial or service. With that I complied. After a wonderful breakfast at the Inn on Ferry Street where we were staying, my husband, Dan, my cousin, Shari and her husband John, tucked her in at Woodawn at 11:00 in the morning. From my understanding, her instructions about no service or memorial did not mean we couldn't bring flowers so my brother David sent flowers along with my mother's friend of 35 years, Rune from Sweden. My cousin and I had yellow and white roses we placed on my grandparents' graves. We took photos for those who weren't able to attend the "non-service".
There were tears, hugs and smiles. I had Dan take a photo of me behind the massive Nunemaker headstone just like the one Mom had taken of herself when she tucked my grandparents in at Woodlawn in 1990. I sent the photos from my iPhone as we drove through the cemetery on our way out. It is a beautiful, peaceful place with lots of shade provided by huge oaks, maples and other northern trees. There are monuments and mausoleums, birds, ducks, ponds, squirrels and chipmunks. The birds sing most of the time.
When we left, the sun was shining and the temperature was more like Florida than Detroit. So I guess everyone knew that my mother had arrived and brought her own personal weather with her. She was like that!
It wasn't easy but the beauty of Woodlawn made it bearable. Her final resting place is only far away from me in human miles, but she will always remain near in my heart.
Elizabeth Carol Grill
Forever Young
Friday, May 28, 2010
I am one of the lucky ones. My mother had a long life filled with beloved parents, friends, lovers, husbands, children and grandchildren. Florida was one of her favorite places on earth and she lived here for over sixty years. She was fortunate enough to have her father and mother living close to her in Florida and she lovingly cared for them in their old age until they passed.
I lost my mother in October, 2009. Her last wishes were to be cremated and placed in the family plot in Detroit's Woodlawn Cemetery where her mother, father, uncle, grandmother and grandfather are buried.
Last Friday, I helped my mother complete her last journey. She didn't want any memorial or service. With that I complied. After a wonderful breakfast at the Inn on Ferry Street where we were staying, my husband, Dan, my cousin, Shari and her husband John, tucked her in at Woodawn at 11:00 in the morning. From my understanding, her instructions about no service or memorial did not mean we couldn't bring flowers so my brother David sent flowers along with my mother's friend of 35 years, Rune from Sweden. My cousin and I had yellow and white roses we placed on my grandparents' graves. We took photos for those who weren't able to attend the "non-service".
There were tears, hugs and smiles. I had Dan take a photo of me behind the massive Nunemaker headstone just like the one Mom had taken of herself when she tucked my grandparents in at Woodlawn in 1990. I sent the photos from my iPhone as we drove through the cemetery on our way out. It is a beautiful, peaceful place with lots of shade provided by huge oaks, maples and other northern trees. There are monuments and mausoleums, birds, ducks, ponds, squirrels and chipmunks. The birds sing most of the time.
When we left, the sun was shining and the temperature was more like Florida than Detroit. So I guess everyone knew that my mother had arrived and brought her own personal weather with her. She was like that!
It wasn't easy but the beauty of Woodlawn made it bearable. Her final resting place is only far away from me in human miles, but she will always remain near in my heart.
Elizabeth Carol Grill
Forever Young
Friday, May 28, 2010
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