Bundle of Joy and Sorrow

He wore red sandals and bib overalls,
tanned stripes on his chubby little feet,
long blond hair halfway down his back,
a brown men's dress hat even in the heat.


Walking free and making friends,
he charmed everyone at art fairs,
other artists coming to meet us,
the proud parents with no cares.


On the big flat board we painted,
He played with cars and trucks,
loved Winnie the Pooh and poetry,
"bundle of joy and sorrow" was the crux.


That song I knew was his about him,
I knew not why then.

Sharing...I don't know why.

Saturday-morning...clear and sunny, and it should get into the 80's today! (an aside... Hi Chris!) I have photos to shoot and work on...so not much time to play today. Have fed the squirrels and birds, put the California seaside continuous looping DVD into the player...had my coffee and such. Am posting this photo of little Gannon and me. It's been at my computer work station for eons, as is the one of Ari being eaten by a starfish..will post that one later. It always feels good to share something here in this sweet blog space before I start work...sending it out into cyberspace in combinations of zeros and ones...I don't know why.

My Ami, Florida

When Gannon was about three years old, we had a living room full of stoned hippies, watching the flames flickering in the fireplace. Someone was talking to me about Miami, and Gannon who could hold his own in most adult conversations, even at that tender young age, became indignant. He said," it's not your Ami, it's Lynn's Ami. Such a child he was.

Rockabilly Swell

I had a sweet dream,
he was Rockabllly swell,
I could only reach that far,
far enough to hold him,
my arms wrapped around,
walking arm in arm.
I asked if he had any idea of how much I loved him,
he answered he had made a mistake and then I ran,
not wanting to hear him with regret,
wanting only to hear he was happy now,
no longer in pain.
I had a sweet dream,
he was Rockabilly swell,
Time reminds, does not heal.
Other contact,
remember being in his fire presence,
I try to reach that far,
talking and calling and waiting,
for another hipster taste
the door of sleep
opening inner worlds,
all jive as we wait.
Is he with Joe & Joey, rockin'?
with Johnny walkin'?
No time passing, no time there,
The sweet dream world of crazy,
no harsh corners and surfaces,
fluid being, wild dancing,
all things new, thought creating,
colors making sound,
our home.

News / Daily Bummers

Withdrawing from the News has been good. I find my spirits lifting! Natasha Richardson has passed from Earth...so very sad for her family. I adore her in "The White Countess". It is one of my favorite movies, though the near loss of her child to another woman stings a bit, as I have been there. Her triumph over adversity in life and in the movie is inspiring. Not bad news, but sad news that she has left us.
Death is transformation. Just the other day I got a glimpse of my son in a photo, and experienced a fleeting moment of happiness. I was timidly curious, as most often what I have felt in the past was a tragic sense of loss and sadness. If you break down the word "miserable" you get miser-able, holding on to things which are not ours, the pain of that. I am trying to realize how fortunate I was to know Gannon for 35 years, to remember the good times and all of the magic he was. To get it right. The cup being so full, not empty.

What is it about the human race, that we called the daily bummers news, that obsession? Why not the other way round? News could be all of the positive things that are happening in the world, the triumphs, where there is peace, love, consideration for all things. Would not the world be a profoundly different place?