By now, Diane should have received the check I sent. Unlike her, I am not a Believer, but I do hold in my heart the hope that the best of the human spirit will prevail in times of trouble. This hope has been kept alive, yet again, through the efforts of everyone who sent a donation or a kind thought to our friend in her time of need. I hope it's enough. I hope that all the Dianes out there have Enough. I hope that, someday, we reach a point where it's just understood that everyone should have Enough.
Again, I thank you all for your generosity. I may call on you again, and, if I do, I hope that you will be there. You are the best that humanity has to offer.
Through the collective efforts of Atriots past and present, readers of Diane's blog, and other friends, we have managed to surpass the goal of collecting $1,800 to pay Diane's last month's rent at the care facility where she resides. At the end of the week, I will be mailing her a check for $2,200. I can't thank you all enough for your generosity, and for all the kind emails you sent expressing your love and concern for our friend in her time of need. Rest assured that your good wishes will be conveyed to her along with your financial contributions. I have tried multiple times to compose this post, and each time I was overwhelmed. First, by the simply stunning outpouring of affection and generosity of those who care for Diane, but second, and somewhat surprisingly, by anger. This may not be the most appropriate place to express it, but it really makes me angry that this fundraiser even needed to happen. A dying person should not have to concern herself with these matters. Her friends should not have to rally to scrape together the funds for her last expenses. I'm so heartened, and so relieved that we were able to manage this, but what if we had not been able to? What, then? What would happen to Diane? What happens to all the "Dianes" out there who don't have a network like this? This is something that simply should not happen in a civilized society, and it makes me incredibly angry. I'm not sure what to do with that. For now, I suppose it will be enough to be happy and grateful that we were able to bring some comfort and peace to a friend in her time of need. Thank you for that. Peace, K..
I'm about to shut it down for the evening, as my tired old ass has done
all I can for this day, but I wanted to let you all know that due to
your generosity, we have well surpassed our goal of collecting $1800 for
Diane, and that's just through the PayPal link I put up. I will have
something to say about all this tomorrow, when I'm not so tired and not
so completely verklempt, but, damn, youse are the best fucking fucks
I've ever had the pleasure to know. Anyone who says Internet friends
aren't "real" friends can fucking blow me, and by that, I mean, again.
As many of you know, one of our own beloved, Diane, of Cabdrollery, has been experiencing serious health issues for quite some time. She is currently in good hands, receiving excellent and loving hospice care in California.
I have been corresponding with her, as she no longer has Internet access (although efforts to re-establish that may continue, if she is willing and able), and one of the things that she mentioned is that she is in need of financial assistance. The facility in which she currently resides has asked that she pay her last month's rent (although that is not necessarily this very month, please do note), to the tune of about $1,800. If I had that much to spare, myself, I would simply send her a check, but, fact of the matter is, I don't. However, I know the Atriots, past and present, to be an overly generous and extraordinarily kind group of human beings, and so, on Diane's behalf, I humbly beg for your help.
Diane will surely not be with us for too terribly much longer. For now, she is receiving good care and is not in pain. I think it would be a kind thing and a blessing to at least ease her passing by helping to relieve her worries about finances.
All donations large and small will be most gratefully accepted. Thank you so much for whatever you can do to help our friend.
I (and many others) have been accused of "politicizing" the recent murders of 26 people in Newtown, CT. I have been berated for not showing sufficient deference to the victims and their families by not talking about the "gun issue." I am told that I should set this aside in favor of simply feeling badly for them, of offering thoughts and prayers and sympathies to them, that "now is not the time" to discuss the reasons for this bloodbath. What kind of person am I that I could put my own feelings above those of the people most directly affected? Have I no shame?
First of all, I do feel badly. I feel incredibly badly. As a woman, a mother, a grandmother, hell, as a human being, my heart absoutley breaks for each and every one of those gunned down, for their parents, their grandparents, their husbands and wives, their families, friends and neighbors. I simply cannot conceive of the level of pain and suffering that comes with such a thing. How will they ever mourn? Will they ever stop mourning? But how can my offers of sympathy, my empty prayers, ever offer any consolation? What good will they do? The bile rises as I think of those 26 coffins, 20 of them far too small, being rolled down the aisles of places of worship and placed in cold December graves. I look at the bright faces of those children, the obvious love and dedication to them on the faces of their teachers, those who died trying to protect them, and the tears well up in my eyes. What good are my tears? Will they comfort the survivors? Will they bring back the dead?
Secondly, this issue was politicized long before the rampage at Sandy Hook Elementary. It has been politicized for decades by people like Wayne LaPierre, and the organization he heads. Under their influence, millions of people have been convinced that their absolute right to own any sort of weapon, with no regulation whatsoever, outweighs the right of children and their teachers to be safe in schools, of people to go see a movie and come out alive, of Christmas shoppers to buy gifts for their loved ones without being gunned down where they stand. When I see that Merchant of Death give a speech, even before the latest bodies have been buried, encouraging, no, demanding, that the only solution to such mayhem is more mayhem, in the form of yet more weapons in the hands of yet more people, under the guise of "security," the bile that had been rising reaches its destination, and I retch. When he stands in front of the nation and dares to put the blame on movies, or music, or video games, instead of where it belongs, on him and people like him, who peddle fear to the masses, offering the comfort only of weapons of mass destruction against it, I scream in my head, and sometimes aloud. It makes me physically ill that monsters like this are taken seriously and given a place in our discourse. The only place for men like this is in a locked ward where they can't do any more damage.
I think to myself how different peoples' reactions might be if, instead of being shown the smiling faces of the victims, before their young lives were snuffed out, they were shown the results of decades of fear-mongering and lobbying for the gun industry. What would gutless politicians and babbling talking heads say if they had to see the bullet-ridden bodies, the blood-stained party dresses, the brains of their precious children splattered on walls and floors? These are the things we ask people like those police and rescue crews to look at. They had to see that. Why are we spared? How different would our discourse be if people were forced to face the bloody, violent ends of their pontifications about "rights?"
You're damned right I'm going to talk about this, and I will do it in the strongest terms I can muster. Because this never should have happened. It could have been prevented. And I don't want it to happen again.
Here, have a tree. My pretty little maple. I love Fall.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see’st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the deathbed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by. This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.