Weblog 153

January 11, 2009~ 12:15am



Here's a layered photo of me- 'sad' -in the grip of a sudden plummet that seems to come from nowhere, but usually there's a trigger. From the drop off point I follow the trail to where it takes me to find its root.

In this instance, I found myself online, studying pictures of the murdered Romanov family; in particular, the young Maria. (Oh, I know the unanswered questions usually lie with Anastasia and whether or not she escaped her Bolshevic assassins, but I'd never before really looked at the faces of her sisters.)

Maria stands out. She's remarkably beautiful, even as a child.



How could anyone fire a pistol or raise a knife to that child? She's like an orchid just blooming. Demure, but with a sense of humor... you can see it in the slight smile.



Now for this devastating glimpse of her just 4 short years before her death....



-breathtaking, isn't she? And poor, sad little Alexei



next in line to become the czar who would never be.



Notice the profound weight of worry and sadness in the face of Czar Nicholas as well...he always looks that way to me in photos. How could a people take their revenge on a captive family and just slaughter them for the sake of political revolution? It's always saddened me, and I found myself roaming the internet in search of...oh.......traces.

From the time I saw the movie "Nicholas and Alexandra", I've been deeply moved by the Romanovs. It's a movie that makes me cry each time I see it, because this was a fine and truly solid, loving family, not villains at all, but decent, cultured people trying their best to raise a family at a treacherous convergence of history, and they found themselves fallen directly into the schism through no fault of their own. Their bloodline led to their tragic end, with no way to stop it.

There is no site more poignant than the one I found dedicated to the children alone, as though they were opening their young lives to the reader and sharing photos and essays and art. To visit there is to feel the true depth of loss. "OTMA" was used by the four daughters of Czar Nicholas II"....Olga, Tatiana, Maria and Anasthasia. Visit Livdia.org.

The Impatiev House was the palatial home where the family members were held captive until being led to the cellar on July 17, 1918. The building's been razed, but until that time, many came to see what remnants remained of the 'Last Czar of Russia'. This site can chill the blood.....

How sad. How very sad. The greatest irony is that on August 15, 2000, the Russian Orthodox Church announced the canonization of the Romanovs for their "humbleness, patience and meekness". They are now depicted on gilded icons, with halos around their heads. How quickly they would they have traded sainthood for a normal range of years. More life........"more life".....and...."why"....

that's what I always hear when I look at them. The same plea every time.

Why this sudden interest in such a sorrowful topic?

Why does the wind blow- and where does it come from? How deep is memory? Why is it summoned?



Triggers. A random picture. As it usually is with me, a photo will open the gate, and what comes through, I have no idea..... nor any control.... I will follow it.




January 11, 2009~ 12:30am
Now to the brighter side of things. This weekend has been a historic occasion for me personally, in a way that'll make most folks scratch their heads. In five years, my grandchildren have been to my house once-- and that was just Bill, when he was less than a year old. He has no memory of it. All of my visits have been from my house to theirs (which has prompted questions such as, "Grandma, where do you live?") LOL!!!

But THIS weekend due to horrible weather predicted, and because I am a 'fraidy cat when it comes to driving in snow, the daring duo came here. The mountain came to Mohammmed.

Kay, the three year old who is now very articulate, was speechless. She threw up-- which prompted my daughter to call to see if I still wanted to watch them. (Looking around, my thoughts were "Anyone would throw up here.....a perfectly natural reaction..bring it on.")

I was out on the porch checking for their car every 10 minutes or so, and when they pulled into the carport, snow draping my mammoth pine, me peeking through branches to see Bill laden down with stuff to show me, big joyous grin on his face, taking in the site of the 'phantom house'....

"Gram! I have lots of stuff in this backpack! I have HELMETS!....pictures, movies... a really lot of STUFF!" grinning all the while. Kay simply looked awed.

We had a grand old time as I gave a tour of this creepy old house, crammed to the rafters with esoteric junk. They were both entralled.

What I noticed, was that five year old Bill believed everything I told him. Kay has a working bullshit detector firmly in place at three. Which prompted this- (drawing enhanced by yours truly)- the inimitable Tim Burton's 'Hansel and Gretel'-



Bill Believes

Bill believes
me
when I tell him
anything, but Kay

discerns

and it's cute to watch
when I say
Batman
lives in the attic

and Bill
gets big eyes

Kay says
no

with a smile.

And when Kay
asks, looking
at the cat bed - bet I know who sleeps in that- and I say
me. The cat sleeps
upstairs
in the bed
and I curl
here. Kay
doubts this -

Bill
looks
worried, sneaking glances at its size
and
mine. That bottle

has a genie
inside -

The cat
will roll in the catnip
and then

we
will -
Bill
supposes
before
he doubts, gauging the scratchiness
of the nap, how rug
burned
he'll become, but Kay
can see
right through me - she's
a judge,
whereas Bill
was kissed by pixies
fey
and teasing. These
two
must stick
together
all
their lives. One flies, one
grounds.



(Oh, my my yes.... we had a delightful evening.)




January 15, 2009~ 7:30am
Well, I encountered my first treacherous roads last night, when my 45 min to 1 hour commute home turned into 2 1/2 tortured minutes negotiating Pittsburgh's untreated roads.



Once again, plenty of warning from the National Weather Service--- no planning or execution of swift response to the problem. There were multiple accidents around the area, but I saw not one salt truck fighting its way through the gridlocked, tense traffic with everyone else, spreading a solution in its wake: blessed, welcomed salt.

When I looked out my window at 8:00pm, however (once all the terrified drivers were off the roads and safely huddled inside).....



this is what met the eye. Lovely black asphalt, the salt having done its work.....and for naught. Those in fender-benders (or worse) were either in their homes, on the phone with their insurance adjusters, or in the hospital, but hey-- our movie-handsome young mayor, the one who promised to buy more salt trucks and keep up with hazardous road conditions this year, was busy yesterday making news by changing his name from Ravenstahl to STEELERSTAHL, in a ludicrous publicity prank.

(Yes, the Steelers DO play the Ravens this weekend) but for Christ's sake, come up with something with more imagination. Why not say "I'm changing my name from Raven'stall'......to Raven-STOP!" (No, that would have been something that required originality.....that would have been something someone with intelligence would do.... someone who would FIRST salt the GODDAMNED ROADS and then mug for the cameras in order to advance one's public profile, with- what one perceives if one is basically a dullard -as 'cleverness.)

I keep waiting for intelligent design, but I haven't found it yet.





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