Well, I guess I never got around to posting today–except for this.
Oh, I had intentions–great intentions. To go into any detail would be boring even to me, but suffice to say there were many little glitches, including some unforeseen car problems and computer problems and even some mother caretaker problems (an aide who was supposed to take care of my mother no-showed). So I never even got around to posting a “taking the day off, see you tomorrow” post.
Consider this it, friends. See you tomorrow!
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Previously a lifelong Democrat, born in New York and living in New England, surrounded by liberals on all sides, I've found myself slowly but surely 
March 3rd, 2007 at 12:00 am
Neo, please accept my well wishes to you and your family and know how much your writings have meant to me and several others whom I have shared your blog with. Please keep up the good work, in your own way, on whatever terms you need to do it. I look forward to any and all of it with patience and much gratitude.
March 3rd, 2007 at 12:00 am
- sort of like an open mike then..?
Here is a poem I wrote many years ago upon seeing some old-timers sitting on a bench, blue in color:
Blue Bench
Parkside sitting
old-timers lonely
blue bench blues
rehashing their ancient news
of days and lives and wives
gone by
and
perhaps wondering why
old men never seem to die
March 3rd, 2007 at 12:00 am
Dear Neo,
Normally I do pretty well at keeping my mouth shut when I have no clue what to say, but The Cairn kept jumping in my skull so here it is, for what it’s worth:
Mark
The Cairn
When I think of the little children learning
In all the schools of the world,
Learning in Danish, learning in Japanese
That two and two are four, and where the rivers of the world
Rise, and the names of the mountains and the principal cities,
My heart breaks.
Come up, children! Toss your little stones gaily
On the great cairn of Knowledge!
(Where lies what Euclid knew, a little grey stone,
What Plato, what Pascal, what Galileo:
Little grey stones, little grey stones on a cairn.)
Tell me, what is the name of the highest mountain?
Name me a crater of fire! A peak of snow!
Name me the mountains on the moon!
But the name of the mountain that you climb all day,
Ask not your teacher that.
– Edna St Vincent Millay