Three Beautiful Things 01-16-21: Grievous Discovery, Family Dinner Prep, Sarah M. Broom Leaves City Hall

 1. This morning, I was letting myself be transported back to the two years I taught at Whitworth in the early 1980s (1982-84) and to the other years of that decade when I lived in Eugene by listening to 1980s New Wave Music on Pandora. Two Thompson Twins songs, "Hold Me Now" and "Doctor, Doctor" called up memories of a memorable student of mine from 1984, Brian Senter. He was in two of my classes (The Family in American Drama and Intro to Lit). About ten years after I left Whitworth, Diane Anderson and I  went to see him perform in the play "Bus Stop" at the Seattle Repertory Theater (I think) and two times after that Brian looked me up in Eugene when he was in town to visit another former Whitworth student, Richard. After his second visit, I lost track of Brian and so today I put his name in a search engine and his obituary came up. Brian died in an automobile-pedestrian accident in 2015. 

This news stabbed me. I am a slow feeling person. I am entering into a long slow grief now. From reading his obituary, I know Brian served his students passionately and with love, lived faithfully in the embrace of the Orthodox Church, was a beloved husband and father, and was deeply respected and admired. Knowing he lived well gives me solace. Knowing he died is grievous.

2. I will mix our cocktails for family dinner on Sunday. We will be having enchiladas, chips, salsa, and other similar food, so I bought a bottle of 1800 silver tequila at the liquor store and stocked up on limes and ginger beer and am prepared to make everyone a Mexican Mule, but, if anyone so desires, I can also whip up a quick Cointreau margarita.

3. I read more of The Yellow House today. Sarah M. Broom worked as long as she could in Burundi. She returned to New Orleans, though, and worked as a writer for the mayor, Ray Nagin, as the slow and painful recovery from Hurricane Katrina proceeded. The city was a mess with its piles of refuse, badly compromised street draining systems, houses either destroyed or in disrepair, its growing number of homeless citizens, its relief programs mired in bureaucracy, and more. Sarah M. Broom left this job after six months, exhausted, concluding that working for city hall placed her on the wrong side of the fence. She returned to New York to reclaim her voice, a voice temporarily lost to producing words for Mayor Nagin to speak.