I made a policy decision two years ago: on my birthday, I get to have a daily pic! Last year, I didn’t get to have one because the site was down. But here we are, Nov. 10, 2014. I pause to think about the fact that I was born five weeks premature, put in an incubator (back when they often pumped in too much oxygen, blinding babies and creating other serious defects), and I contracted infant diarrhea, which they did not know how to treat in 1950. The doctors told my parents that I would not live.
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
Dream Letter by Tim Buckley
Lady time fly away
I’ve been thinking ’bout my yesterdays
Oh, please listen darlin’ to my empty prayers
Sleep inside my dreams tonight
All I need to know tonight
How’re you and my child?
Oh, is he a soldier or is he a dreamer?
Is he mama’s little man?
Does he help you when he can?
Or does he ask about me?
Just like a soldier boy
I been out fighting wars
That the world never knows about
But I never win them loud
There’s no crowds around me
But when I get to thinkin’
‘Bout the old days
When love was here to stay
I wonder if we’d ever tried
Oh, what I’d give to hold him.
And one more, always appropriate:
It’s “Turn and face the strange” not strain!