One NIght in June

We met one June
on a noble night
We had gathered that June
to continue our fight
On that night in June
clouds of menace gathered
They drove us to shelter
They introduced us
We caught our first glimpse
That spark of life in your eyes
Your drive, your zeal,
your passion for the prize.
Over the next year
you took the reins
you were our guide
you motivated, encouraged us,
you led the way
For our next night in June
to be our finest day
Stricken by the very foe
against which we fight
you never lost hope
you kept up your fight
The cancer was strong
and it fought to consume you
But your spirit was stronger
and it could not break you
Through the agony, the frustration
you were always you
That smile, the kind words
the sparkle always shone through
Now you have lost
and we have all lost too
the world is less bright
here without you
One night this June
the night will seem colder, darker
For we won't have your smile
our beacon in the dark
Of course knowing you
has made us all better
and One Night This June
We'll celebrate you together.

Rest in Peace and God Speed, Carol Beardslee.
You were a shining example to us all. We are better for having known you.

New Erinism- Doughnut Existensialism

Here's a quick one.

This really happened.

Erin had a nightmare on Saturday night and joined us in bed. The ensuing hurricane of flailing arms and legs that is our wrestlessly sleeping 5 year old drove Laur out of the bedroom to the couch. Consequently, I woke up Sunday morning to Erin's face hovering inches from my own, her finger poking me in the center of my forehead. As the world came into focus and I gained my faculties, I groggily realized she was speaking to me.

"Dadoo... Dadoo... DADOO!!"

"WHAT?" I shot a glance at the clock and realized it 5:45 AM.

"I'm starving. Like, REALLY starving! I've been starving for like 200 hours," she whisper-whined. Clearly my little girl has a distorted grasp of time and hunger.

I removed my C-PAP mask and sat up in bed. "What would you like to eat?"

"A Pop-Tart."

So, in an effort to stave off Erin's death from starvation, I went into the still-dark kitchen and retrieved a Cinnamon Pop-Tart. When I handed it to her, she set about ravenously devouring it.

After a couple of minutes of relative peace, she suddenly stopped chewing and looked off into the distance, as if some deep thought had just occured to her. I could actually see the precise moment when the light bulb went on in her brain. Then, as if possessed, she turned to me with a serious look in her eyes. The she spoke.

"Dadoo. Here's the thing. What's the deal with you and the plain doughnuts?" I know what you're thinking... when did Erin morph into Jerry Seinfeld, right?

Dumbfounded, I said the only thing I possibly could. "What?!?!"

"What's... the... deal... with... you... and... the... plain... doughnuts?" As she so often does when dealing with me, Erin found it necessary to slow down her speech, putting extra emphasis on each word. It must be hard for her, having such an incompetente for a father.

"Um... I LIKE plain doughnuts. I don't think I understand your question, Erin."

"Well, you see Dadoo, plain doughnuts are just plain. They don't have good stuff like frosting, or sprinkles, or chocolate on them."

"OK, but I think they are sweet enough by themselves and I really like them. They're one of the best kinds of doughnuts."

"Dadoo... think about it. When the plain doughnut is in the box with the other doughnuts, it's thinking to itself, Boy I wish I had some sprinkles, or some frosting, or some powdered sugar."

"Wow... or maybe it's just happy to be what it is."

"I don't think so Dadoo. You see, it's plain."


WOW

Sheriff Doof-nik needs to resign

A lot has been written and said in the past week about the piece of human trash that shot 20 people out in Arizona in his attempt to murder a US Congresswoman. As is so often the case in our modern, "24 hour news cycle", much of this information has been plagued by half-baked speculation and partisan pandering. Chief among the panderers has been one Sheriff Clarence Dupnik, who will henceforth be referred to as Sheriff Doof-nik. This man has seemingly spent more time and energy since the shooting running around doing morning talk shows then he has actually perfoming the duties of his job. His lack of professionalism in the face of an ongoing investigation is a disgrace to law enforcement officers everywhere. His behavior in spouting his personal armchair psychologist's view of what caused this psychotic nut job assassin to carry out this evil plan is irresponsible at best. Were he a patrolman on a professional police force rather than an elected official playing sheriff, I'd wager he would face disciplinary action or even dismissal. And call me cynical and jaded, but I don't recall Sheriff Doof-nik or his compatriots on the left decrying the lack of civility in our national politics when every frothy-mouthed borderline Commie halfwit with a microphone, a camera, and a signal was screaming from mountaintops that "Bush is a Nazi", or "Bush is a Fascist", or "Bush is a Liar," or "Bush is terrorist", or "Bush is evil". Need I go on? Now, substitute the word Bush with Rumsfeld, or Ashcroft, or Cheney, or anyone else that the Left despised during the Bush Administration. He, like so many like-minded individuals, is totally transparent. As a law enforcement officer, Sheriff Doof-nik, you should understand better than any of us common folk that facts matter. You see, facts are facts. They cannot be as we would like them to be... they cannot be bent and manipulated to fit our convenient, fundraising party-circuit friendly world-view. They simply are. And had the facts bore out that this piece of scum was truly a right wing fanatic driven mad by the rantings of Michael Savage and Glenn Beck, then your theorem about the Right Wing Hostility towards elected officials would appear sage-like. Alas, poor Doof-nik, your theory doesn't hold any water, as it has become clearer that this murderer was just some unhinged nutjob who had been reading The Communist Manifesto, a book I would imagine not commonly found in the possession of Right-Wing Hate-Mongers. Former classmates have described him as apolitical, while one classmate actually referred to him as a leftist. Meanwhile, one need only devote a couple of minutes to looking at his writings to see that he was clearly deeply disturbed and that Left/Right politics had little if anything to do with his rampage. This is why you are wrong, Sheriff Doof-nik. This is why you should resign as sheriff and perhaps pursue a job working for the DNC, or maybe Move-On.org, the Huffington Post, or some other outpost where your loony left wing ideas would reach a sounding board of like-minded loonies. Hey, maybe you could even utilize your new position to bring your cherished civility back to politics. I won't hold my breath.