With thanks to Led Zeppelin

This week has been a mixture of looking to the past, the present and, a little, the future. I came across the YouTube video of Heart singing “Stairway to Heaven” for the remaining members of Led Zeppelin at the Kennedy Center Awards back in 2012. Watching Robert Plant and Jimmy Page I felt almost as if I was in their minds, the eyes, the moisture, Page looking at Plant, remembering. I am their age, I was young as they were back in 1975, I listened to “Stairway” and while the music just suffused me, I confess I didn’t understand what the lyrics meant. Still unsure but listening to them now I think of that lady thinking she could buy her way into heaven. A parable for today? But, mostly, watching that YouTube reminded me of a time when I was young. And now I am not but I am still here, still healthy, still feeling so much. And for that I am thankful. (Sunday morning, being thankful for Led Zeppelin, what a funny thing.)

And this week my heart ached for the children of Gaza. Every time I thought to complain because of rising prices and the lies in our government I thought of Gaza. I had a vision: what if instead of armed soldiers coming across the border, there was an army of Israeli aid workers. Instead of being armed with guns and rockets, their own arms were filled with food packages, with medical supplies, with, as the soldiers who liberated the Netherlands after WW2, sweets and treats for children who have done no wrong. To those children, and to their parents who had tried to keep them safe for so long, those soldiers were their saviors. The world still needs saviors and we need to celebrate such “saving.” Salvation comes from the word salve and nowadays salve means balm, soothing, applying salve.

Finally, I watched an Irish film this week. “The Last Rifleman.” A 92 year old Irishman, who was part of the landing force on D-Day, determines he will return to Normandy for the 75th anniversary of D-Day. I started this post by thinking about the past and, watching the film, I was once again drawn to the stories I grew up with, taught by a generation so formed by WW2 and its aftermath. In the end life is about not only survival but it’s about love and awareness and caring. I turned to my husband at the end of the film and said that there was not one character in this film who was ‘bad’. The film is filled with caring and love even if the underlying theme was such tragedy.

I recommend it. It reminded me that life is about not giving up and it’s about believing. It’s a good way to start another week.

Comments

Life on board the Queen Mary

Passenger's log on the Queen Mary 2: Dec 9th - First Day at Sea Didn't sleep well--think it was the soused mackerel at dinner. Anyway, R and I woke up at about 6:00 am and discussed the order of the day. Quite the swell outside and I can feel the roll of the ship. (No seasickness thank goodness!) Despite the mackerel, I was hungry so we went to King's Court at 6:30 a.m. Buffet with loads of choice of course. We sat in an alcove looking out at the ocean. Our server was from Croatia, Slavan. I asked him my burning question of the day--why did we get a free bottle of wine but a regular bottle of Diet Coke cost $3.75? Diet Pepsi is $1.00 less. Fruit juices are free on tap. Coffee, tea, milk, ditto. But you have to pay for soft drinks. Very odd. Slavan says it is because Cunard can't get a good contract with Coke. Hmmm.... our local School District back in Sierra Vista can negotiate .50 a can for the soda machines in the teachers' lounges but Cunard has to cha...

Sunday in Richmond Park & Memories

One of the reasons I came back to London after Ireland was to keep a date with my cousin Elizabeth: a Sunday morning walk in Richmond Park. When I moved to England in May of 1978, I rented a room in a house near Richmond Park. I'd heard of the room through a colleague at McGill University's Human Resources Department, where I was working as a Senior Clerk. Montreal had become a bit difficult for me to be in owing to a twice-broken heart and a feeling I wasn't going anywhere at McGill. It seemed like an omen, then, on the plane returning from South Africa in January of 1978--I keep promising to write about that--that I came across an article in a magazine about young Canadians living in London. I'd always loved the idea of being in London what with growing up on a diet of British movies and then all of the articles about Swinging London in the 1960s/early 1970s. By the time I arrived at Mirabel Airport, I had the perfect antidote to my wounded pride over South...

Duckett's Grove/Castle, Co. Carlow

Golly I am tired tonight! We had a really busy day. We went into Carlow town to return a pair of sweatpants that R. bought and didn't like. I also went to the Bank of Ireland and started up my bank account. They do things very differently here than in Sierra Vista. There are no tellers for simple deposits or withdrawals; the bank branch in Carlow consists of four ATM machines and one international exchange cashier. And three personal bankers who are extremely helpful. I discovered that you don't make a deposit, you make a lodgment. Weird, eh? We went to Tesco's after the bank to get our every-other-day food shopping done. Small refrigerators--have to be careful in buying. We also bought some new "orthopedic" pillows that will hopefully help our neck issues. Bought a couple of pre-made sandwiches and ate them in the car when we parked at Duckett's Grove. Duckett's Grove is a ruined 19th century great house whose owners kept redesigning the original house ...

valeriesbookofme

Search This Blog