Something happened this morning. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t life changing. If anything, it was a simple shift from something noisy to something quieter.
I’ve moved this web site to a new system. So it feels appropriate to make some pointless remark about resiliency and longevity. But there really are no fancy words. At this point in my life my survival is not a dramatic statement or some misguided defiance.
I decided to kill myself last week. December 11th, 2019. It was a Wednesday. Since I’m writing this now, it’s fairly obvious I didn’t go through with it. Suicide has been on the table since I was a kid.
My cousin, Debbie Duffie, died last Sunday. It was the end of a long battle with leukemia, which, obviously, she lost. The most basic urge at times like these is to write poems and elegies in honor of the departed, or offer up well-worn phrases to the family such as “sorry for your loss”. None of which really help.
Not long after her death, I found a doodle Mama made in one of her notebooks. I scanned it and made a t-shirt design out of it just because I liked the idea of wearing something that Mama had drawn. But I never added any color to it. It seemed… wrong somehow. But today while looking for other images, I pulled that drawing up. Today, for some reason, I added some color to it.
If you’ve ever had to replace ignition wires on a Land Rover Discovery II, you’re probably already of the opinion that whoever designed the placement of the ignition coils should be dipped in honey and thrown to the bears.
This is the 28th anniversary of the death of my father, Bob Lovelace, who died on September 11th, 1984. Every year I take at least a moment to think of him.
I dreamed of Mama last night. Not in the way I would have liked, though. I’m still hoping to have that dream where I get to sit down and talk to her.
Years before Mama died I’d always said that I couldn’t bear the thought of not having Mama’s biscuits anymore once she was gone. She’d tried to show me once or twice, but Mama hit everything at a run and I never really had a chance to pick it up. I’d hoped to get her to… Continue reading The Ongoing Quest For Mama’s Biscuits
There have been a lot of stories I’ve wanted to tell about Mama that I just haven’t had the strength to approach. But for some reason I feel strongly in my heart today, on this Easter Sunday, that I should mention the ring that Mama was buried with. A lot of people asked me about… Continue reading Mama’s Ring