So there together! With Hillary — history as backdrop ...

Oh, Carole, we were so together ... you in a white pantsuit, not like Hillary's last night at the DNC, she MAKING history, yours was white cotton with short sleeves and you were worried the gardeners would clip too close to you bushes, a take from Curt voicing his concern at meeting with Village of Pinecrest, as in Pinecrest Floods,   http://pinecrestfloods.blogspot.com,  he  making sure our back fence remains intact when they build the wall in back — a wall on porous limestone, what a colossal fuck up that property development is — filling in wetland, sumpland  that had saved us from stormwaters — had protected, and since filled and elevated for mansions, floods us!!! Butchery, a double whammy and now with ZIKA mosquitoes near.  Can you imagine????

Four local cases, meaning not from traveling, local mosquitoes!!!  And the FDA saying S Fla. should NOT donate blood w/o having it screened. 

Anyway, back to us, we talking and laughing, and I was taking a shower at your house and forgot  a towel but had mistakenly taken cell phone, was large, older type and called you to ask for a towel!!!!! You tossed one in ...

Seeing Hillary Clinton accept the nomination was exhilarating! Being with you this morning in dreams an extension ... tangible, touchable. Real. Realized.

Little Genie stayed over nights before and we were glued to democratic national convention on computer, PBS kept going out, Curt bought  new antenna with rotator, PBS practically the only TV station we watch, PBS  and Svengoolie http://svengoolie.com on Sat nights---very old horror flicks, so campy ....

July 10, 2016

Hi Carole,

Mom's birthday and missing you terribly.

Different worlds.

Love, H

There you were

Hi Cole, dreamed (or dreamt?) or had a dream! about you last night, or who knew what time, I was coming around a corner, modern building, you had a slightly bloodshot eye, not uncommon, hair or dust, and were so happy saying, 'I bet toy didn't expect to me, we are all here.' I never made it to who else was there, starring at you,  and I looked and saw and  began to faint and you held me until I reached the ground and awoke, tears streaming.

Mother's Day, 2016

Hi Carole,

Loving and missing you, the chocolates and flowers, and giggles, 'after all we are mothers, too' .... you'd said with that full, generous smile of yours.

Sentience, April 2016

Hi Carole,

Dreaming still.

Does that imply sentience and/or in a life yet undefined?

Thought from feeling, feeling from thought.


This 2009 Apple computer isn't quite right, literally.

Or maybe it is Google with its algorithms,

or the red truck with its leaking radiator.

Or the full Pesach moon without its Seder and you.

_______________________________________________


Passover,  Second Night

Setting sun. Stone crabs ~ oh my goodness, shellfish, divine!!!~ From Celeste, early Mother's Day, late Pesach. Scrumptious.

Curt and I on the patio, fantastic! I imagine you, your gaiety with us.


Sam stopped by to check part for red truck.

Hoping Josh and Danny will make it Wednesday with Celeste and Sam, plus grandkids Miguel and William.

Flux.


_______________________________________________

12:28 Sunday morning ....  a Prince Tribute on SNL ~~~~~ 0h CArole!

Tinkers, March 11, 2016, clockless ....

Hi Carole, I dreamed of you last night. Someone was making a family video, and there was a rocky background maybe touristy like Viscaya with seats molded into the stone and you curled up in a seat-cave and recited a poem perhaps as if to remind me as if I'd need a reminder! 

Maybe you came because I am reviewing the book "Tinkers" by Paul Harding today for a book club today and one of the question it asks is: what is memory and how do we preserve it, pass it down. A Pulitzer winner, 

"Tinkers is about the legacy of consciousness and the porousness of identity from one generation the next. At once heartbreaking and life affirming, it is an elegiac meditation on love, loss, and the fierce beauty of nature."

Time and what it is not, the prose is exquisite.  I cried and cried seeing you.

February 14, 2016. Candies, hugs, warm arms ....

Another Valentine's Day without you... a box of Russell Stover's underneath your picture on the mantel, those old thumbprints; the poem you wrote to Donna when her first husband died, and then she gave to me ... the difference is that you are not lifeless, not mute rather forever present in the years without time.

http://www.extralove.com/carole.html

Untitled

Revisions of home.
Books on the mantel.
Chair of ten years.
Dust, the old thumbprints.

Not unusual,
this life after death.
What connects all things:
either habit,
the daily routine
that binds two people
when one is gone

Or an energy
the survivor sits with
in a dark corner talking;

the spirit struggling
to live through all it had known,
until even
these pieces of furniture

seem drained,
no longer practical?

Answers never come.
Accomplishment
the acceptance
of this fact –

then the slow beginning
of nothing familiar,
changes that had never
stopped coming,
distance and its evidence –

until like a dream of a woman
being pulled back,
unable to continue running,
the memory rolls over
gently, lifeless.

Carole Leslie Marcus, 1977

January 3, 2016

HI Carole,

January 3, 1950 to January 3, 2016 ...

Route 66, the path without solid ground under our feet.

Happy Birthday my other half ... two Russell Stover's with you on the mantel, one a doggie tin, the other a genuine after holiday ... our silly glee in finding.

January 2, 2016

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and tomorrow ... your picture on the mantle ...  love you always

Halloween 2015

Hi Carole, had the sweetest dream about us, maybe college age, we under the trees on the sumpland behind my house that is being gutted for houses.

That reality brutal, I still can't imagine it even as one lot has been cleared— in the time of of sea rise— land permitted without drainage, the greed and arrogance stupendous.

Yet under the trees lovely, the shade of them. Not sure how many will remain after, maybe none.

In the dream, you won a scholarship and we were so happy, at peace. There were children in the dream, sitting in the shade with us, that perhaps hopeful.

Two years ago on this day in real time, we had major flooding. Images are posted on Pinecrest Floods http://pinecrestfloods.blogspot.com. I worked so hard to get the land reclaimed, restored. Preserved.   There is an image on that site of the very spot we sat.

Now, trying to reconcile the dream of scholarship with the lowlands and its bounty, the beauty of nature, even marred after its desecration but still vital and now again trashed, no thought to keep it as green acreage, a floodplain for the pumps ahead.

You and I together, in another place — perhaps a parallel universe — twined time — before the dystopia to come.