Aloha Dear Ones,
I'm beginning to realize that my blog entries are on island time. I seem not to be a frantic blogger. Those of you who know me well likely recognize the pattern, if not the motif; slow and easy. I've been thinking about that lately, the aspect of slow and easy and how I've finally come to accept that fact of who I am in that regard. I'm comfortable with it now. For years I thought I was just plain lazy (which I well may be, but that's a different subject entirely), but really, it's not that. I just take a while to warm up. So in figuring that all out I thought I'd give you some background on where it all came from. It's biography. Personal history. Fond memory, for the most part, working it's way to the present.
I know my parents through old pictures, vivid memories, visceral identity, God, and magic. Magic is my term for all I can't explain or reason; even if someone , somewhere, has an explanation, scientific or logical, that i never heard or imagined. Oh, yes, and then there's imagination. Where did that come from? The older I get the more I believe things that were once , in my mind anyway, nonsense. I now prefer to look at science as just another way of thinking, not THE way of thinking. It's really been quite liberating, but perhaps, it's just that I've finally come to realize that there are more ways of looking at things, and, though my brother Kevin and I disagree, there is no absolute truth. So what I want to write about tonight is where I think my thought process has come from (as if I really have a clue).
My Mom met my Dad in new York sometime in the 1940's. She was a payroll clerk for Pan American Airways in Manhattan. Dad was a young flight engineer on the old Boeing flying boats. They met and fell in love- Lord I'd love to have been a fly on the wall; she black Irish, he the reserved son of a French Canadian chauffeur and a red haired Bavarian. Talk about magic. I am of a generation that was conceived during and after horrific worldwide calamity. We are now more than a generation past our parents ages then, yet I often feel so innocent to their experiences. I'm 63 and I still feel like a child at times. Take a look at some pictures of the pilots of WWII bombers and fighters- obviously young, yet somehow possessing a maturity that no longer automatically comes with age now. Our parents.
My Mom, Mere, is the heart force- she instilled in us a universal adherence for the acceptance of others-she did it by loving everyone. I'm not saying she liked everyone, but, with the conviction of her faith, she believed, and taught us, to extent a hand of welcome to everyone- whether or not you remained in her good graces depended upon your behavior; but, with her, I believe, even if you screwed up she gives you the benefit of the doubt. She inherently knows that once you truly engage someone and show interest in who they are, the beauty of a soul shines through. Ours was the house that was descended upon by legions of friends and family; it was home. I can say more in that vein, but it would take much more time, perhaps a book , to chronicle that.
Charl, Charles, my Dad, was the rock- in more ways than one. While we lived our lives in the melody of our mothers heart, we learned the ropes of reality through my Dads routine and beat. No- he didn't beat us, he never laid a hand on us- it was his steady uniformity that gave us a view of order that was much different than Mere's. He was about the practicalities, the sweeping and maintenance , the rhythm. Together they produced the harmony that produced some fine people, if I don't say so myself. And I do.
I am part of a large, special, wonderful family. I have been blessed with that. One of my greatest pleasures in life has been to share that family with others, not out of pride(though I do feel that), but out of the belief that we are all better people when we realize that we are one big family, diverse, not perfect, but believing that love is by far, the most potent force in the world.
Much Love,
Buzz
