EppsNet Archive: Love

Lightning, 2003-2017

1 Apr 2017 /

Lightning alert

Lightning sleepy

We got Lightning as a Xmas present for our boy in 2003.

Things we learn from dogs:

  • Unconditional love
  • Nothing lasts forever

Later in life, Lightning lost most of the use of his back legs. He had to drag them a little when he tried to walk. He couldn’t jump anymore and couldn’t go up or down the stairs but he never complained about that.

He also lost his eyesight. Never complained about that either. He never got sad or frustrated when he occasionally walked into a wall or a piece of furniture. He had a good mental map of the house and didn’t need or want help to get around.

Last year, the vet thought he might have a leaky heart valve but that turned out not to be the case. His heart was invincible all the way.

The only thing he ever got sad about was toward the end, he didn’t like to be alone. He whimpered if I was in the house and he couldn’t be wherever I was. He couldn’t be fooled on this. He could smell when I was anywhere in the house.

My wife and I were with him all the way to the end. I didn’t cry until afterwards.

Last meal: In-N-Out cheeseburger and a pup cup from Starbucks.

He would probably like to be remembered like this . . . a video of a family trip to the beach when we were all more or less in our prime . . .

RIP Lightning


In a Flash

11 Nov 2016 /

In a flash you could walk by your true love or miss your path in life, and you’d never have the chance to recover it . . .

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In Spite of Ourselves

9 Dec 2015 /
John Prine Live

She don’t like her eggs all runny
She thinks crossin’ her legs is funny
She looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter Bunny
She’s my baby I’m her honey
I’m never gonna let her go

He ain’t got laid in a month of Sundays
I caught him once and he was sniffin’ my undies
He ain’t too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it’s oxygen
He’s my baby
And I’m his honey
Never gonna let him go

— John Prine, “In Spite of Ourselves”

What Parents Know

3 Nov 2015 /

Children grow up. Love is day by day. Letting go is not easy.


More People I’m Sick Unto Death Of: People Married to Their Best Friend

20 Sep 2015 /
Rhett and Scarlett

It’s not very romantic, first of all. Did Romeo and Juliet marry their best friend? Did Liz and Dick marry their best friend? Did Scott and Zelda marry their best friend? Did Rhett and Scarlett marry their best friend?

A married person has to fill so many roles already: husband/wife, parent, sex partner, wage earner, handyman, cook, mental health professional, grammar coach, etc., etc., etc. A little help on the best friend front would be a welcome breath of fresh air.

I don’t know who my wife’s best friend is and I don’t care, as long as it’s not me. Men: if you need a best friend, buy a dog.


In every living thing there is the desire for love. — D.H. Lawrence


Love Conquers All . . .

30 Jun 2015 /

. . . including pleasure, peace, common sense, liberty and self-determination.


If You Love It So Much, Why Don’t You Marry It?

24 Jun 2015 /

Men and women can marry each other, men can marry men, women can marry women . . . someday it will be legal to marry the sound of your own voice because some people are really in love with the sound of their own voice.

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e e cummings wishes you a happy fathers day

21 Jun 2015 /

e. e. cummings

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if (so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who, his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father’s fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer’s keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly (over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father’s dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn’t creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and (by octobering flame
beckoned) as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he’d laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine, passion willed,
freedom a drug that’s bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear, to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit, all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why men breathe—
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

— e.e. cummings, “my father moved through dooms of love”

Is Dignity an Obstacle to Success?

27 May 2015 /

Sometimes life requires that we take jobs below our station until we learn skills, offer apologies even when we are wronged, suck-up to power when necessary, work long hours when we “deserve” some rest, risk embarrassment in front of witnesses, risk failure and humiliation, and get rejected by the people we hope to love. In that sort of game, the player unburdened with human dignity usually wins.


More People I’m Sick Unto Death Of

3 May 2015 /
I'm a Smart Guy!

People who post love letters to their spouse on Facebook:

I’m a fairly smart guy. I’ve done smart things and dumb things. But by far, the smartest thing I ever did was 32 years ago today: I married [wife’s name]. I knew she was beautiful, smart, fun, and kind.

And pregnant. You left out “pregnant.” And that she has a father with a Sicilian code of ethics who was not going to let his daughter give birth out of wedlock.

What I’ve learned over the years is that she is all those and so much more. My wife is loyal, strong, persistent, faithful, courageous, generous . . .

Congratulations, you married a Boy Scout!

. . . and a person of great integrity. Additionally, she’s a gifted musician.

Oh come on, everyone knows that’s not true. She’s not even as good as me and I’m a complete phony.

At 24, I had no idea what a wonderful person I was going to spend my life with. Now at 56, I’m starting to get it . . . a little. Happy Anniversary, [wife’s name]. I love you!

Who is the target audience for this stuff? If you have something to say to your wife, say it to your wife.

Additional demerits if the love letter is a mishmash of trite sentiments that could have been written by anyone about anyone.


Old Wine

7 Dec 2014 /

If I could lift
    My heart but high enough
    My heart could fill with love:

But ah, my heart
    Too still and heavy stays
    Too brimming with old days.

Margaret Widdemer, “Old Wine”

Would Jesus Tow My Car?

8 Sep 2014 /
Jesus

The lot that I usually park in at the high school was full this morning so I parked across the street at what looked like a large church. I checked in at the school office to make sure that was okay . . .

“I couldn’t find a space in the lot out front so I parked across the street,” I said to the woman at the desk. “Is that okay?”

“Did you park on the street or at the church?” she asked.

“I parked at the church . . . I asked myself, ‘What would Jesus do? Would he tow my car just because it doesn’t belong there?’ No, because he’s all about forgiveness and love.”

“Jesus doesn’t love you when you park in that lot. You need to move your car.”


Forgiveness

20 Jul 2014 /

“This article says that lovers are more willing to forgive a partner for infidelity than for leaving dirty dishes in the sink.”

“Just so you know, I wouldn’t forgive you for either one.”


Elite Daily: Why Readers, Scientifically, Are The Best People To Fall In Love With

Posted by on 11 Jul 2014

Ten Steps to Being Fat, Lonely and Broke

7 Jul 2014 /

Some behaviors come naturally while others require more effort. For example, there are dozens of bestsellers on finding love, losing weight and creating wealth but no market for books like Ten Steps to Being Fat, Lonely and Broke.


As every married person here knows, love is a rotten substitute for respect. — Kurt Vonnegut


I Was Never More Hated Than When I Tried to Be Honest

22 Jun 2014 /

I was never more hated than when I tried to be honest. Or when, even as just now I’ve tried to articulate exactly what I felt to be the truth. No one was satisfied — not even I. On the other hand, I’ve never been more loved and appreciated than when I tried to “justify” and affirm someone’s mistaken beliefs; or when I’ve tried to give my friends the incorrect, absurd answers they wished to hear. In my presence they could talk and agree with themselves, the world was nailed down, and they loved it.

— Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

EppsNet Book Reviews: Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates

29 Mar 2014 /

Richard Yates poses the question of how much reality people can stand, and the answer he comes up with is “not very much.” Alternatives to facing reality head-on are explored in Revolutionary Road: avoidance, denial, alcoholism, insanity and death.

Some excerpts:

“You want to play house you got to have a job. You want to play very nice house, very sweet house, you got to have a job you don’t like. Great. This is the way ninety-eight-point-nine per cent of the people work things out, so believe me buddy you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Anybody comes along and says ‘Whaddya do it for?’ you can be pretty sure he’s on a four-hour pass from the State funny-farm; all agreed.”

 

And all because, in a sentimentally lonely time long ago, she had found it easy and agreeable to believe whatever this one particular boy felt like saying, and to repay him for that pleasure by telling easy, agreeable lies of her own, until each was saying what the other most wanted to hear — until he was saying “I love you” and she was saying “Really, I mean it; you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

People’s inability to absorb large, unfiltered doses of reality probably explains why New Yorker fiction editor Roger Angell wrote to Yates’s agent in 1981, “It seems clearer and clearer that his kind of fiction is not what we’re looking for. I wonder if it wouldn’t save a lot of time and disappointment in the end if you and he could come to the same conclusion.”

And why at the time of his death in 1992, all of Yates’ books were out of print.

Rating: 5 stars


What is Love?

17 Feb 2014 /

Los Angeles County Museum of Art

My wife tells me that LACMA has free admission today for Presidents’ Day, and if I want to go, she’ll come along as my arm candy.

I enjoy art museums; my wife doesn’t. If she had clammed up about the free admission, I would never have known about it.

That’s what love is . . .


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