Comments for

Comment on Arms in Motion by Buena Schimler

Buena Schimler — Wed, 02 May 2012 05:09:17 +0000

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Comment on Our House by rakkity

rakkity — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 22:27:21 +0000

Sounds like the Prologue to Mike’s Memoirs, coming to us all via The Blog. Looking forward to more!

I have fond memories of that old Somerville house. Beth and I stopped by it last year, and I snapped a picture. The shot is included in my deep files, and will eventually go into Ed’s First 7 Decades–The Good Parts. (coming to some random site someday).

Comment on I Meant To by ko

ko — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 20:17:00 +0000

Another conversation (if that’s what that was) which cracked me up…. really needed it today. Thanks you two.

Comment on I Meant To by El Kib

El Kib — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 12:37:30 +0000

Methinks the blog chokes on the USPS’s dust as an efficient means of dispensing urgent information. Why not invest some time trying to clone the extinct passenger pigeon so one could carry a hand-written note? That’d eat up years if not decades, rather than mere days …

Comment on Back to Pahrump? by Glenn

Glenn — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 03:15:47 +0000

It will be in the mail Monday. Thank you for including me in such a worthy cause.

Comment on Back to Pahrump? by Goose

Goose — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 18:24:05 +0000

The fact that you posted this on my birthday…..i find meaningful…something great will come of this. My video camera is ready, time to fly!

Comment on Our House by Goose

Goose — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 18:19:20 +0000

so… i guess i am the lone ranger so far to not tear up. But from the feathers in my back i plucked one and sent it to the wind! Love you and matt to my death, the values that you brought to my life has only expanded my personal outreach to the mega folds! Come up and visit up here sometime! Be well

Comment on Our House by Han

Han — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 01:10:15 +0000

You got me with this one, Mike. Few of my friends have seen me cry, and the sight of me openly weeping was startling for more reasons than one. Thank you for sharing, this and your home.

Comment on Our House by michael

michael — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 11:51:48 +0000

Teach Your Children
by Graham Nash

You, who are on the road
Must have a code
That you can live by.
And so, become yourself
Because the past
Is just a goodbye.

Teach your children well
Their father’s hell
Did slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picks
The one you’ll know by.
Don’t you ever ask them why
If they told you, you would cry
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you.

And you (Can you hear and)
Of tender years (Do you care and)
Can’t know the fears (Can you see we)
That your elders grew by (Must be free to)
And so please help (Teach your children)
Them with your youth (You believe and)
They seek the truth (Make a world that)
Before they can die (We can live in)

Teach your parents well
Their children’s hell
Will slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picks
The one you’ll know by.

Don’t you ever ask them why
If they told you, you would cry
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you.

Sarah, someday I’d like to better explain how much you (all) teach/have taught me.

Comment on Our House by Sarah T

Sarah T — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 17:57:50 +0000

Michael, you almost made my cry at work. That’s unacceptable. You, Diane, Matt, your home, and the people you attract have made an immeasurable difference in our lives; particularly in mine. From flat tires to family blow-outs, if I cannot count on blood, I know you or Matt would happily pick me up, listen and make me laugh, welcome me home, and feed me snacks. A family supports through thick and thin and provides unconditional love. A strong, ecclectic, DNA-unlinked extended family has grown in that house, nurtured by those who live there (full time. And pay bills. And taxes). From the bottom of my heart, thank you for sharing that story with us. Many of us know it in bits and pieces, but I was unaware of its chronology and certain details. It makes me feel closer to Diane and feels good to know where we came from. Maybe we will not gather as often, but we are family, and we will be back.