Scribbles and Photos

I am a facile writer – by that I mean I am comfortable writing a wide range of documents and can generally write pretty quickly. Lately, at work, I’ve been looking to make every word count, putting myself on a word diet as it were. That kind of work writing is always with purpose – I know where I want to go when I sit down to write. It’s about writing the most compelling grant proposal (show me the money!), the strongest letter of support, the best analysis of a piece of legislation, the most strategic memo. It’s not always easy to write with purpose but I always manage to get it done. I am also an omnivorous reader. It started in the first grade when I read my way through those laminated cards that we had instead of primers. Although I’ve slowed down a bit – too much else to occupy me (work, friends, newspapers, magazines, television), there is nothing I treasure more than a finely written book. I look forward to traveling because that is when I get most of my reading done. And, I ado...

Last week, I went to a memorial service. Filled with memories, music, and love. It was beautifully planned. And there was meaning in what family and friends had to say. Portraits finely drawn -- everyone touching a different piece of this man's life, of his legacy. This was the memorial service of a great man -- a much beloved icon who was the change he wanted to see. The death was unexpected and quick -- a vibrant soul in his 80s with a lot of life left to live. He died as he wanted -- with his boots on. The house was packed with those who had come to pay their respects -- a veritable who's who of the world he inhabited. It reminded me of a memorial service for one of the dearest friends I will ever have. Passionate about what she did -- a natural advocate for her patients, her family, her friends. She grew up with parents who were marching on Washington and advocating on behalf of migrant farm workers. She had a childhood that I, from my safe middle-class upbringing, could on...