Goodbye, Nico

I am so sad to learn that Nico the beautiful Beluga Whale, has died. I visited Nico and his sisters at the Georgia Aquarium so many times and shot this video of him during our visit on Ela's birthday:



Nico was the most playful of the three belugas, always twirling and diving and seemed like he was smiling and waving at us. The Aquarium had moved him and his sisters to Texas while they built the new dolphin exhibit- he died there. He is the third Atlanta beluga to pass away- I have written about Gasper and Marina previously.

My heart is heavy with the knowledge that we won't get to see that sweet and magnificent creature again. Here's a favorite picture from the Atlanta Journal Constitution to remember him:

Mahmoud Darwish, Shukran, Salaam. Shukran

I can't believe the news that he is gone- the Poet of the Land, of the People, the great Palestinian Mahmoud Darwish.

His inspiration was the Occupation; he wrote while under siege. His imagery skillfully turned a key and unlocked the beauty, tragedy and people who are the world we love, a world we mourn, His words, like tears, fell from his pen, his eyes, his heart and his brilliant mind onto pages read by thousands. his words, sometimes set to music, always kept our hearts beating with hope.

You will be so deeply missed, mourned, and your words will continue beyond your life as a catalyst for resistance, solidarity, and deep hope for days when fredom and love will wash over all people, and families will not be kept apart by tanks, borders and prisons.

Under Siege
By Mahmoud Darwish (1942-2008)

Here, where the hills slope before the sunset and the chasm of time
near gardens whose shades have been cast aside
we do what prisoners do
we do what the jobless do
we cultivate hope

In a land where the dawn sears
we have become more doltish
and we stare at the moments of victory
there is no starry night in our nights of explosions
our enemies stay up late, they switch on the lights
in the intense darkness of this tunnel

Here after the poems of Job, we wait no more

This siege will persist until we teach our enemies
models of our finest poetry

the sky is leaden during the day
and a fiery orange at night… but our hearts
are as neutral as the flowery emblems on a shield

here, not “I”
Here, Adam remembers the clay of which he was born

He says, on the verge of death, he says,
“I have no more earth to lose”
Free am I, close to my ultimate freedom, I hold my fortune in my own hands
In a few moments, I will begin my life
born free of father and mother
I will chose letters of sky blue for my name

Under siege, life is the moment between remembrance
of the first moment, and forgetfulness of the last

here, under the mountains of smoke, on the threshold of my home,
time has no measure
We do what those who give up the ghost do…
we forget our pain

Pain is when the housewife forsakes hanging up the clothes to dry and is content
that this flag of Palestine should be without stain

Continue reading Under Siege.

A Last Week of Firsts

In this last week with my love, we felt inspired to do things that we always talked about doing together but never got around to.

He never had a root beer float before, so I made one for him and made sure he saw the weird way it bubbles. He thought it tasted weird at first but by the end of the giant mug he said he wanted more tomorrow. "Bidi camaan."

He came with me to get a manicure and pedicure. While a regular activity for me, it was amazing for him. I had to look away because I couldn't stop laughing at him sitting in the spa pedicure chair, remote for the massage chair in one hand, grinning huge and staring wide-eyed at the woman working on his feet. I'd hear him say to himself in wonder, "Another step? Another tool? Oh my god," then he'd lay his head back and close his eyes. Priceless. Hilarious.



He took me to the Georgia Aquarium, a place two minutes from my office that I have never gone to, and I really love fish! I touched a shark there for the first time ever. We took so many beautiful pictures.



While out for dinner, one day I insisted that he order a shrimp dish, on another he encouraged me to order the pork dish that I really wanted. With my shellfish allergy and him being Muslim, we have always avoided both when around each other.

He bought me my first pair of Crocs. He knew I wanted them, and I think also knew that I would never buy them for myself for fear of my sister's relentless mocking of how ugly they are. He also told me repeatedly how cute they looked on me.



This was also the first time that we lived together- albeit for a short time, just a week. It was lovely to be together in this way, and I hope that my presence helped calm him during the unbelievably anxiety-filled days before moving to the other side of the world. We enjoyed lovely lavish lunches side by side.



This week was also filled with constant awareness of "lasts", a very strange reality in a relationship that has spanned nearly six years. The last time we were at certain restaurants, the last time we listened to certain songs, the last time I felt his body through his clothes as we held each other as we said goodbye at the airport.

But as Jill pointed out, this week is not the first time we have said goodbye forever to each other. However this post is the last time I will offer any hope for my future that includes him as a partner.

Goodbye, my love. I will miss you deeply.

Lewis Sinclair

I'm so sad to have just gotten the news that our beloved friend, Lewis Sinclair, just passed away. He was 94 years old. He leaves behind his beloved, Mary. I want to write so much about Mary and Lewis and will, but for now, I am comforted by the sound of his voice having a conversation with Mary about growing up as a light-skinned African American in Past Christian, Mississippi.

Here is a lovely picture of Lewis from the 1960s sent by another dear friend, Murphy Davis. Goodbye dear friend, teacher, revolutionary. You will be terribly missed.

A Long Night at Jackson

Last night’s execution of Curtis Osborne was a particularly difficult one. Its strange to me how always on days after executions I feel so foggy and like I never quite wake up- perhaps a reaction to how surreal and awful the prison vigil experience is.

There were so many difficult facts to come to term with – most significantly how the state can move forward with the execution of a man who was represented by a lawyer who carried 600+ cases and a private practice at the time of his trial, not to mention referred to his client as a racial slur. Then the State took its sweet time in responding to the Curtis’ lawyers’ motion in the US Supreme Court; the execution was scheduled for 7pm yet their response rolled in well after that time.

We knew after the US Supreme Court issued their denial that Curtis’ life was limited to the next few moments, but it was over an hour before we heard anything else. That period of waiting is one of the worst that I’ve known in my life; the awful waiting and wondering about the person on the gurney and all the possible scenarios of what could be going wrong.

The best I can discern by combining information from multiple sources include the Georgia Department of Corrections and reporters who witnessed the execution, there were problems finding an appropriate vein for the injection as well as problems with the back-up IV. (Though the GDC is claiming that it was the first IV that killed him anyway. Nope, that doesn’t make sense to me either.)

This afternoon I called one of the reporters who witnessed last night. He had dreadfully misquoted me in a story that’s now been published all over the place and I wanted to follow-up with him about that. I also wanted to check in with him because I’m friendly with him, and I could tell last night that he was really shaken after watching for his first time the state killing a man. I was right; he was deeply bothered by the execution and said he didn’t sleep last night. So instead he wrote, which is something that I often find myself doing when I return from Jackson.

He sent me this piece that he wrote for his family to share what he experienced. The story he tells turns the stomach. He references Curtis’ expression and apparent fear at the time of his death as well as some facial movement after the time that I would think that paralysis should have kicked in. He told me that his mother called him this morning crying after she read his account.

Some of our interns that came along last night to the vigil commented on how weird the situation was- the contrast of the beautiful, peaceful grounds of the prison to the horror that was happening inside. I am often similarly struck.

We were joined last night at the vigil at Jackson by four members of Curtis’ family: his father Dennis, his sister Rhonda, and Rhonda’s husband and sister in law. My heart goes out to them. I can’t imagine how awful it was for them to stand and wait and wait and wait for word from the Court and then for word from the Prison. I’m grateful that they viewed us as safe people to spend that unimaginably difficult death-time with.

While I love and appreciate all the folks that usually come to the Jackson vigil, we are at best a dedicated but small group. I am so grateful for all who were there last night to visually illustrate to Curtis’ family that they were not alone in their mourning, sadness and outrage at his death at the hands of the state. Thank you for your hearts.

Ed Weir noted Curtis’ solidarity with the other guys on the Row by wanting his last meal to be the same as theirs. Mary Palmer Legare reminded us of Jerome Bowden’s last words before his execution: “I hope that by my execution being carried out, it will bring some light to this thing that is wrong."

As long as the State continues this futile and brutalizing exercise in vengeance we will take a public stand against this killing in our name.

Sunsets

This is the sunset on the drive home from Georigia's Death Row shortly after the state put William Earl Lynd to death. This was the first execution in the nation since last month's Baze decision on lethal injection put an end to a 7 month stay on all executions. The death penalty system remains deeply broken, inaccurate, inffective and unfair.

Tomatoes, Cheese, Love from Afar

I'm sitting on my bed eating breakfast, thinking of my favorite friend. I'm working at home because I have a lot of writing to do and have a hard time focusing at my office.

But the important part is that I'm eating a mix of feta cheese, tomatoes, olive oil, and mint that he makes for me for breakfast. One of the many delicious wonderful magical things he has brought into my life. I scoop the mixture up with fresh-baked wheat pita bread that he brought me the other day from the Arabic bakery in the suburbs.

And when I think of him, my darling friend, going through a very real personal hell right now, my heart swells and my eyes start flowing and I try to send love far far east to the home in which he just landed and is likely arriving and being greeted by his loved ones, minus one very important loved one.

And I want to do something to help to make it better to take the pain away but there are no more plush toys or shampoo or strollers left to buy, no hands or shoulders to squeeze, no bodies to spoon into.

You are far away surrounded by loved ones who can do these things for you now and you will return that love.

Goodbye Two-Headed Pegasus

Its no secret that I love street art. I am drawn to the ones that are pink, blue, and are designs that make me smile. One of my favorite pieces - besides the Blah Girls of course - is this two-headed pegasus/donkey/kangaroo playful beast that was wheat-pasted on the Marta wall on Wylie Street in Cabbagetown. Its been there for at least 6 months and I grin every time I drive by it.

Just about two weeks ago I finally pulled over to take a picture of it:

I had meant to document it ages ago and despite always having my camera in my purse, just never stopped the car to shoot it.

I'm so glad I stopped that afternoon a couple weeks ago, because as I drove down Wylie Street this afternoon, I saw that the Two-Headed Beast got blown away with the tornado.

Goodbye, Sweet Beast! Thank you to your creator for the many, many Cabbagetown smiles you brought me.

Goodbye Old Flag

I just found out that the new Iraqi flag was approved by Parliament today. The sad sad thing is that they removed the beautiful three green stars, and left the Allahu Akbar- not in Saddam's script though.

The green stars were originally placed there for the proposed union with Egypt and Syria, which both had flags with two stars in the middle at the time. As a child I had no knowledge or connection to this fact- I just loved that there were three beautiful green stars on MY flag.

This hits one more time the ridiculousness of choosing to fight religious fundamentalism by invading one of the most secular countries in the Arab world- the result, now we have a flag with a religious phrase on it. And the least of the problems. So now we join Saudi Arabia as the only two flags in the world featuring religious phrases.

This makes me revisit the idea of getting three green stars tattooed on the inside of my wrist. It would be a memorial, a goodbye to the Iraq that I remember.

Marina, Goodbye

I just read that Marina, the 25 year old beluga whale who lived at the Atlanta Aquirium, passed away this morning. She had been there for just two years. She's the second Beluga, in addition to two while sharks, to die there this year. Marina stopped eating two weeks ago and the vets discovered she had ulcers. Ulcers. She was worrying.

The other deaths also seem odd:

Gasper, another beluga, was euthanized after veterinarians determined he would not recover from a bone disease he contracted at another facility. Whale shark Ralph died from peritonitis, an inflammation of the stomach lining. Whale shark Norton was euthanized following months of declining health. Aquarium officials say they don't know what caused his ailments, but suspect a pesticide used to treat the tank for parasites may have contributed to his demise.

It just doesn't seem right to keep these giant beautiful animals like this. I wish they were out there swimming in the blue.

The Riot, Now Quiet

Kevin DuBrow, lead singer for Quiet Riot, is gone. 52 years old and gone and we don't know why. So sad! Metal Health was one of my first favorite records as a kid and helped introduce me to the harder edge of rock while making macaroni and cheese in my friend's kitchen after school.

Tonight, bang your heads a little bit harder, rock out a little bit louder and know that heaven just got a little bit crazier.