F2F, 63: Israel Edition, Saturday-Sunday

After a lot of airplanes and airports, after a run-in with security wherein they did not like me and I did not like them, after a bag not making it on a plane, after lost & found being at least somewhat kind, after a taxi ride with also-arriving-now friends--

I made it to the conference. [Photo cred: not me, because: charger confiscated by security people and placed in bag not put on plane.]

Later, I wandered up the street from our hotel with friends, finding a convenience store for water, and an Italian restaurant [not much open on the Sabbath in Nazareth...] for the most interesting Italian/Middle-Eastern salad ever created, and then I crashed into my bed.

And that was Saturday/Sunday/what day is it really?

From Friday to Friday, 62

Thought of the Week:

Summer Magic is not handing your 

kitchen table over to piano babies on the daily.

From Friday to Friday, 61

Thought of the Week:

"I will never stop thanking you, for this place I call my home."

Today I am Writing: On Another Somebody's Baby

The name comes through my email, a name that rolls off my tongue
so that my tears can catch it;
another somebody's baby died today.

Another somebody's baby rings through my mind
while the angry beethoven trio plays,
my record player set to bring what I thought
might be peace for the day;
it's as if the record knew what the day really held,
before I knew his name.

I remember then the luxury of 'I forgot';
there's another somebody's baby in somebody's arms,
in somebody's fears prayers tears,
today and every day.

The record shows us, that.

I can hold his name here, in his death
but did I hold it in his life?
His and every other some body's name,
the entry point of another somebody's baby.

From Friday to Friday: I Got Home and Got So Organized Edition