Love Is A Sentimental Heart

We dropped in on my brother-in-law's family last night and everyone seemed to be holding up. Yes, there was food. Yes, there were tissues. Yes, there were kids running in and out, blissfully unaware of all that was happening around them. My youngest nephew kept on talking about building a human ladder to heaven, while the older one talked about how "Mimi, Pop Pop, and your Dad are going to have a party in heaven and get kicked out"

I've retreated today inside Smashing Pumpkins' 1996 Aeroplane Flies High singles box set. I've made good on my long promise to myself to digitize it, which I need to make sure I still listen to it in physical form, digitally it's just too convenient! I'm cataloging recording and production techniques as I begin to plan our new recordings. New songs = new chances to approach the same equation with a whole new kind of math. Plotting recording set ups is a good distraction while preparing to concentrate on the OTHER reason everyone gets together. There is such a taboo around talking about death, but how much closer to life can you get than either weddings or funerals?

Driving around yesterday, looking at the sleepy, placid white on grey on blue Pennsylvanian clouds that dotted the sky, I thought of Bob, having spent his entire life in the area; and how the sky looks the same whether or not he is here. Oddly comforting, I wondered how it looked to him the last time he laid eyes on it, and said a little prayer to myself that somehow he could see it through my eyes, or that of his family or grandchildren. There is a photo of him with his youngest granddaughter (my neice) that captures the contrast of young and old, but between you can see this air of humility that hopefully someday Elizabeth can connect to. This was your grandfather. He was fiery, but he was loving and would spare no energy to let you know how excited he was to be holding you, and wanting to get a picture with you.

I'll post the obit link when I can find it.