February 19th, 2013

HP || Rolanda || Watchful eye.

(no subject)

Big Doc, the father of my night-aunts (to the point that I just call them aunts), died on the evening of the 17th. It's sad, certainly, but it was long in coming and with that I am not torn up overmuch (he'd have hated that anyway I imagine; he always wanted people gathering to sing and celebrate).

I lost my English Grand-Dad at 9 and for all intents and purposes my English Nana already, for I will never again sit in a room with her the way I did at 17 (when I visited to tour universities) or even 19 (when uncle and I visited during my break); she's made the decision to stop eating at least once though Western medicine pushed her through. Still, I only ever spent a number of weeks with them total in my life. In that way, Big Doc was as much a grandfather to me as anyone else.

I keep thinking of him and smiling. The way he loved to be around people, and the way he'd nod along even when I was damned well sure he couldn't hear a word of what people were saying, he was just so happy to have people around him. I always thought he looked like an excited puppy-dog, with the gleeful eyes and the long wise hair of his brows; I'd have sworn that if he had a tail, it would have been wagging. He may as well have been Big Dog. Especially down at the Cape, with his daily newspaper-retrieval and his daily swim and his frequent desire for treats (like ice cream at the Whistle Stop Ice Cream Place).

He came to my UU congregation a few times and seemed to love it. I'd get the word back in the Religious Education wing that I was being summoned and eventually I'd end up around my mother, who would tell me Big Doc was waiting for me. I sat and asked him questions, well aware that at that point (with his hearing far gone, the noise up high, and his health) the interaction meant much more than the conversation.

Happy old man surrounded by love and song. I've never met anyone so dedicated to keeping a community around, being sociable just to be sociable, and keeping the guitars well-strummed or the pianos well-played.

I'll miss him. It was his time to pass, though, and mostly my thoughts are over his life lived to the fullest. There will always be a piece of Big Doc spirit, symbolic tail a-wagging and eyes a-glow, down at the Cape; in England too, I'm sure, and wherever else he went.

Sing it, Big Doc!

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
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EA || Mrs. Fisher || Is that so?

(no subject)

I do my clothes shopping at thrift stores. Mostly at Savers since they're big and all over MA/RI. I shop at thrift stores partially due to budget, partially due to the guilt I don't get over buying/donating clothes and making it a cycle, and mostly out of my firm conviction to 'reduce, reuse, recycle'.

Yesterday there was a 50% off holiday sale for clothes and shoes. I told my mother about it the other day and she gave me $20 to spend because my birthday is coming up and she knew that would get me quite a bit.

I got a little green pencil box (sick of keeping my pens all disorganised in my little desk box meant for desk tools), a pair of forest-green jeans (love), one short-sleeved button-down (another muted green because apparently I take great pleasure in pretending to be a tree), three long-sleeved button-downs (one black with hidden designs, one purple with darker purple stripes, one black with various purple stripes), and two pairs of slacks (one black and one dark-ish beige, XL from the boy's section).

Slightly embarrassing to be shopping from the boy's section but hey, some of them fit, they're cheap to begin with ($3-4) and with 50% off? I think 'yes' is my answer to $1.50-2.00 slacks that fit. I'll just have to look for XL shirts next time, too. (And I used to seek out the XL girl's section for dresses, honestly, because they were more likely to fit my height even if they didn't fit my bust... *sigh*)

Anyway, I checked the pocket of the dark-beige slacks and found a piece of folded up paper. It has a polar bear and a squirrel dressed up in winter clothes and ice-skating on a pond. On it is written, in a young boy's hand writing:

Ephesians 5:20

Giving the thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ

I like the addition of "the". I wonder how his parents or guardians would feel about his old slacks being worn by a heathen lesbian... *Grins.*

Thanks for the trousers, anyway!

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
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