Long, rambling, and not real coherent.

I promised in last night’s post to write more about what’s been going on with me since my last post in March. Right now I kind of wish I hadn’t, because frankly I don’t like what’s been going on, I don’t like thinking about it, and I don’t particularly want to write about it. But despite what I want, I made a promise, and despite what our politicians seem to think,  one should try and keep their promises.

And with that kind of lead in, you would think that there was a lot to talk about, but fact is the biggest thing that has been happening is that I have been fighting a low grade depression. March wasn’t particularly interesting. Missing Gulf Wars affected me more than I thought it would. Every day of that week I was constantly thinking of what would be going on in Lumberton that day. Opening day…..Opening ceremonies….the BOB party….Gleann Abhann Social, Known World Party…all of that was going on and I was not there. My decision to not attend was the right one, I know that, but it still hurt my soul.

Not really much more to talk about for March. The month is not particularly memorable. The first week in April my Grandmother died. She was 89, and had quite frankly her death was a ….well, it was not a good thing, but it was not unexpected. The fact is that without the benefits of modern medicine it would have occured several years ago. If it had occurred several years ago my aunt’s would have been spared seeing their mother’s descent in to senile dementia, and Grandma would have been spared several years of depression, senile dementia and the other joys of outliving literally everybody she had ever known with the exception of her children and grand children.

Hmm..that sounded kind of bitter didn’t it?

I had not been particularly close to my grandmother in decades. When I was a kid, say before the age of 12, she was a great grandmother. But as I got older and somewhat more observent, I realized that she was, in a lot of ways, not a very nice person. I know that will  probably shock some people, there seems to be a myth that all grandmother’s are nice, saintly people, but it’s not true. She was mean to her daughters, mean to her husband (who died last August and probably experienced the firt peace he had felt in seven decades), a hypocrite, and ….. and a lot of other things I don’t really feel a need to relate. Just trust me, she was not a nice lady.

The only real affect her death had on me was a desire to get in touch with some people I had not spoken to in a very long time. When my family moved to Jackson Mississippi from Omaha Nebraska in 1983 I had just finished my sophamore year in highschool; in fact we moved the day after school let out for the summer. Kris, my sister, had just finished sixth grade. The cultue shock was  rather more than any of us had expected, not just for Kris and I, but in different ways for our parents as well.

One of the people my Dad worked with at the bank in Jackson was a man named Bob Murphy. Bob was an older man, just a few years from retirement when he and Dad started working together. He and his wife, Dawn, were originally from New Orleans, and for the first couple of years the Murphy’s kind of adopted us. Bob helped Dad deal with and understand the business culture of the bank. Dawn helped Mom understand the different social cultures, and both of them helped Kris and I in more ways than I could ever explain. They are truly wonderful people, and to this day I see them as the living embodiement of the definition of “Southern Nobility”.

Of course after I left Jackson, I lost contact with Bob and Dawn, and hadn’t talked to them in literally years. I saw them at Dad’s funeral, but didn’t really get a chance to talk to them that day. In the two weeks after Grandma passed, I found myself thinking more about Bob and Dawn Murphy than I was about Grandma. So, one day I turned on my awesome skip tracing skills and manged to find their phone number. Surprisingly they were still living in the same house in Jackson. I didn’t call them immediately, but after thinking about it a couple of days, I did call, and I’m very glad I did. I was able to tell them how much they had meant to me during a rather rough time in my life, and how much they had influenced me. We talked for about an hour, catching up, digging up memories.  It was a very pleasant conversation.

In fact, it was so pleasant that two days later I tracked down the phone number from my best friend from highschool. Another person I hadn’t spoken to in years. We had been very close friends in school, and for the first six or seven years after highschool, but as people do we kind of lost contact. First he moved, then I moved, and somewhere along the way we lost contact. Finding his current location and phone number took a bit more digging than it had with Bob and Dawn, but I was able to do find it, and that conversation was just as pleasant as the one with Bob and Dawn had been.

I’m not sure who I’ve lost contact with that I’ll try to look up next, but I’m sure there will be someone. Those two phone calls were relatively cheap ways to find myself feeling good for days. Fact is, I’ve been needing that.

For the last several months I’ve been …..not exactly suffering, but dealing with a type of low grade depression and burnout. I’m sure there are several reasons, and it is not really that serious. I’m not suicidal, or anything like that. It’s just felt …..like nothing was much fun any more.It’s felt that way for several months, and that feeling has manifested itself in many ways. I’m not going to go int them here because no one really wants to hear about them. But the fact is I know what’s happening, and I know how it’s affecting me. What I don’t know, or haven’t figured out yet, is how to stop it all from happening. I’ll figure it out. I’m not giving up. Doing so is not in my nature.

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I wish I could bottle this feeling….

I wish I could bottle this feeling. Or maybe make a condense this feeling into a pill. Find a way to save this feeling so that when  I needed to feel this good again, when I needed to remember why I put up with all the things that drive me absolutely bug-shit crazy about the Society, when I need help to recover the “Dream”, when I needed any of that I could reach for a pill, or take a swig of a slightly medicinal flavored liquid and feel this good again.

I’ll probably post more tomorrow about all the things that have been happening since the last post, but tonight I feel to to good to think about that. I just want to tell everybody that was not at beltaine today that they missed  a truly great day. Sir James the Holy’s elevation was a beautiful ceremony, and great way to start the day. The perfect end to the day was Genevote’s elevation to the Order of the Pelican. Truly a great day for the history of Gleann Abhann.

C.