I got the call this morning while I was on the bus headed to work.  My grandmother died during the night.  It wasn't much of a surprise - she was 95 years old, restricted in her own body by the passage of so many years and the onset of Parkinson's disease and, more recently, congestive heart failure - but it still stings inside me like very few events during my life have before.  I'll always have the memory of the very last time I saw her though.. she had just been moved into the facility where my mother works (mom's a dietary manager), and when I came in the room her eyes and smile got as big as I'd ever seen them.  I hadn't seen her that alive in years, and I'm glad I got the chance to see it one more time.

Disjointed ramblings, and two, TWO stories in one!

James Cady Robinson
October 22, 1942 - February 23, 2008
English & Latin Teacher, Madison Sr. High, San Diego, CA
Bon Vivant, goad, irritant, class clown, harlequin, word whore, & one of the smartest men I knew.

JR Superstar... Gauzy sun drenched days and autumn hued sunsets of summers in San Diego in the late '70s, when all things were possible, the beach called your name, and no one could conceive of growing older.  Pablo Cruise and Peter Frampton on the radio, and boys... Suntanned, long haired, surfer boys... The memories are often better than the reality one lived at the time, but some things, some people, always ring true.  You are the only teacher at Madison who stands out clearly in those memories.

This is my first diary. I've been reading this site for a few years now, but it wasn't until now that I felt the need to register and write a diary.

This isn't a donation drive, I'm not asking for anyone to dig in a little deeper. If, however, you were already planning on donating some money to Obama or if you've never donated before and you were waiting for a time/situation or something like that to come up, I thought I might put this out there.

Well, crap. Just got an email saying the truly special American folk hero hobo storyteller human Utah Phillips has passed away. His friend Chris Chandler says it in a way only he can:

While serving as a member of the Army Rangers, he made it through the tough physical challenges to graduate from Ranger School, but broke an ankle on his first test jump.  It might serve as the definition of a lucky break.  While he was recuperating in the hospital, his sergeant stopped in to hector him, assuring him that he would soon be back with the rest of the men.  From the window of his hospital room, he watched his platoon tromp off in the rain, laden under full packs.

No sooner were they out of sight, then he got himself up on crutches and rowed himself across the base to where tryouts were going on for a USO variety show.  He couldn’t sing, and with his leg in that condition, he certainly couldn’t dance, but he had a sharp delivery and a knack for comic timing that made him a natural emcee.  For the next year, he turned Europe, introducing comics and musical acts.  Later in life, people would frequently compare him to Johnny Carson.  He hated that.

I came accross with Arianna Huffington's piece today entitled "A Historic Triumph Out Of Defeat."A Historic Triumph Out Of Defeat It reads well, even wonderful, civil in its tone, and inspirational for the readers.

Nevertheless, I couldn' help but wondering about its efficacy for Obama's continuing campaign. Arianna has painfully tried to paint Hillary's struggle has resulted in a new politics, particularly as far as women and their struggles for political rights in the country are concerned. In fairness, I can share with most of her arguments. Certainly, Hillary has brought about new phase in American political history in which women's candidacy for the top job in Government would no longer a mere political accessory.

Wally was, is, my friend.  This has nothing to do with politics and I am sorry if I am breaking some rules, but I have this need to eulogize my friend if only for myself.  I have sat on this for a couple weeks afraid of the feelings that my come from writing this, but I need to get this out.

When I was in my freshman year of college, I was friends with Oren Bauman.   He was the resident optimist in our group of friends.  In a table full of people who are jaded in only the way that intellectuals in their late teens can be, he made the case for the good in humanity.  He wanted to be a rabbi and for some reason, he thought that attending Bard would be a logical step along that path.  We used to debate a lot about the relative importance between math and religion; I suspect you can guess which side I took.

I remember one particular conversation that happened right before Spring Break.  We started telling him all of the ills of the world (corruption, pollution, Ronald Reagan) and how they were destroying everything.  He kept explaining that things would get better.  "In 20 years," we said, "we'll tell you that we told you so."  

"No, I'll be telling you guys that I told you so."

(This is a repost, by request and with permission, of an essay by Maryscott O'Connor from MyLeftWing.

Also known as BeagleandTabby

Maryscott O'Connor wrote:

The father of our one-time friend and blogging colleague, Donovan Barks, informed me last night that his son jumped to his death from the Golden Gate Bridge yesterday at approximately 3pm yesterday:

I'm sorry to tell you that Donovan is no longer with us. He jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge at 3pm today. He is at peace. For that I am thankful.

Donovan suffered from a crippling mental illness for most of his life; despite his struggles, he was known to many -- including me -- as a good friend and comrade-in-arms.

With the Kennedys in the news again this week, I have been reminded of powerful words from the older generation that have touched my own life.

Robert Kennedy: On the Mindless Menace of Violence

We live then we die
Perfect in every way
Everything's perfect today

Doug Snodgrass

(From the diaries. As a community, we grieve together -- kos)

was the e-mail response to my request of Matt for a “sidebar.”  It made me laugh.  Soon we were keyboard pals.  Kindred spirits being alternately mildly amused and slightly horrified at the dKos, post-Dean implosion, madness.  And truly horrified by what was in store for all of us come November ‘04.  Yet, Matt was the optimist to my pessimism.  While we agreed that it was “bye, bye Daschle,” he thought my projections of a 53-54 seat GOP majority in the Senate and a Kerry popular vote win by three to four million and EC loss was unduly pessimistic.  Two days later, we weren’t laughing about anyone’s optimism.

When I brought you home, you were a white ball of fluff not much bigger than a football.  You were a rolly polly, rambunctious puppy that terrified my cats, chewed on my shoes, peed on the carpet and stole my heart.  

Today I buried my father.

The night I learned of his passing, I wrote a diary that made the rec list.  This sort of embarassed me, as it was not the sort of eulogy I wanted to give him, but the outpouring of support, {{{hugs}}}, and words of kindness made it all worth it.

So I'd like to say a few more words about my father, based on all I've heard from his friends and family over the last couple of days.  Rather than recommend, I wish people would comment, leaving rememberences of loved ones they've lost and how they left our world a better place.

I learned last night that a law school classmate and friend died suddenly on Saturday.  Danny was easily the most universally liked person in law school.  And the funniest.  As Joan Didion writes, You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.  He will be sorely missed.

The Poet's Eye has a tear in it this morning. It's partly a tear of sadness because Molly Ivins is gone and partly it's a tear of joy that we had her while we did.

Michigan's own son, Gerald R. Ford. A man of integrity, humility, servitude.

Not words I'd associate with our current Commander in Chief. But I certainly appreciate his words today about the late President.

Now only if he'd take a lesson of his own and follow in Ford's example.

Today I watched President Ford's services and it was a beautiful service, many said kind and caring words about President Ford, god rest his soul.  I was just thinking about what people will say about George W. Bush when he goes to meet his maker, right now I just can't think of anything good that I would say about him. Maybe when George W. Bush dies they will just skip the eulogy and take him to his final resting place, how his soul will rest I hava no idea after all the deaths and chaos he has caused. I'm pretty sure Peter won't open the pearly gates for George W. Bush, bad people don't go to heaven.