Mood: crackly

We’re back onto Tuesday. Seems like it was Tuesday just last week.

Today is December 5, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the sidewalks are becoming above average but the roads are getting below average. It’s a solid flat white sheet of clouds lording the sky. Breezes are blowing and rain is coming but it’s 52 F now and we’ll see 61 before orbital mechanics drops darkness on us again.

It’s my little sister’s birthday. That would be little sister #1, who is a three-time granny. When she has 20 great-great-grandchildren, she’ll remain my little sister. Happy birthday, sistah. She didn’t have the best of times when she was a child and then teenager. It’s a story often told about some things going wrong in modern America. But she pulled out of it and is now the family’s solid center, the responsible one who looks after the rest.

Her birthday was celebrated last week because little sister #2 goes in for her ileostomy reversal surgery today, did in fact go in for it several hours ago — different time zones. She’s in the east and I’m in the west. This is the next stage for her cancer treatment, which has gone well, knock on wood, as Mom always said, something we children all carry forward.

Today’s song is by The Pogues, and The Neurons and I came up with it together. The song came out in Europe in 1988. Stationed there at the time, I first heard it at a friend’s house one Christmas a year later. He loaned me his CD because I wanted to learn the lyrics.

The song is “Fairtale of New York”. I sing along with it as best as I can as it circulates the morning mental music stream (Trademark fried). A duet, it’s a sad, bitter tale about a life between a man and a woman, and how it went from being one thing of love, hope, and dreams, to a weary edition of drinking, drugs, and hanging on. Sung with jaunty sarcasm, it’s also a brief remark on the differences on those who make it and those who don’t. ‘Faggot’ is in the lyrics, which was a verboten term by the time I was in high school in the early 1970s, so its inclusion was conroversial. The songwriter insisted it fit and needed to be there because of who the woman was singing the word; the word’s use shows her desultory character and was part of the times.

The male vocalist, Shane MacGowan, died last month from pneumonia, and was just a few months younger than my wife. With a lifelong problem of alcohol and drugs, he suffered from lingering maladies brought on by falls and was confined to a wheelchair before he was fifty because of a broken pelvis.

His female counterpart, Kristy MacColl, died when she was 41, over twenty years past. She was on vacation with her sons, diving in Cozumel, when she saw a speedboat coming at them. One son was out of the boat’s path and safe, but the other was in danger. She saved him, but was killed in the effort. The boat involved was owned by a millionaire so justice was a facade.

Lean forward, be strong, and stay positive. Keep working on it. I’m working on this cup of coffee, myself. Then I’ll work on the rest. Here’s the video. Cheers