Simple Gifts and Magical Moments

I grew up watching those dramatic TV movies with the happy ending. You know the ones, where someone is dying of a horrible disease or some catastrophe has struck. At the end of the movie there's a dramatic moment where somehow it all has meaning. The music comes up and you're left with the idea that all the hurt was part of some greater scheme and everything is now going to be alright. I understand why those movies are made and why we want to believe. The idea that there's some greater purpose to tragedy and pain allows us to deny our powerlessness. I know that life is unfair. Bad things happen without plan or purpose. Death more often brings fear and pain, then nobility. The people I admire most in the world are people who know and accept those realities and yet still have hope and the ability to inspire. People who strive to do what they believe is right, with no certainty of success. I hope that I can be like that. I don't aspire to greatness. I live my life on a ver...

Just over a year ago Coal died. Early in the week I tried to sit down and write about my old dog. I found I couldn't. I struggle with the the fact that forgetting is a part of grieving and healing. When I was 15 my friend Sean died. After a time no one talked about him and I was furious. I was young and I could not understand how people had "just forgotten about him". It seemed like a betrayal. It made the loss real. I wanted to hold on. More then 20 years later, I still remember him. Memory is strange. I doubt everything I remember about him is accurate. I remember some odd, disconnected pieces, like standing in line with him to get our report cards. I have no doubt there is much I've forgotten too. What comes first to my mind is Sean's goofy laugh. The memory that comes first and strongest, when I think of Coal, is security and comfort. I would lay on the floor with him. Sometimes I'd give him a hug, and sometimes push my face against his big furry body and...

Today, I volunteered to help set up a tent city at it's new location at my synagogue. This is an organized homeless encampment that travels around;  mostly to churches  Moving Tent City requires a host of people willing to do hard work .We were hauling stuff like pallets, plywood, tents and boxes. Some of the people involved  were residents of Tent City and some were volunteers. Yes, you could recognize some as either residents or volunteers but labor is an amazing equalizer. For many it was really unclear what label applied. Some people were from churches, some from the synagogue, some were not native English speakers, some were young and others very old. We were all just people working hard together. You would hear these conversations, where a resident realized they were talking to someone who was a volunteer. I heard several people say thank you, but then the conversation would move on. I was talking to someone who I thought was a volunteer and turned ou...