OK, that's a wrap-I am truly fifty-one years old. It feels pretty good, actually.
Thanks Mum and Dad!
On a much heavier note, two years ago today Hurricane Katrina slammed into the Gulf of Mexico destroying life as they knew from Northwest Florida to just west of The Big Easy.
Scouting the online TV guide for birthday fare to watch as I spend the first evening of my fifty-first year, the only thing on is CNN and a group of teen-age video diarists. I missed 'The Prisoner of Zenda' (Ronald Coleman version) 'coz I worked late tonight; the other good stuff on is after my bed-time. So I listen as I key to the kids.
Richard Jewell has passed due to diabetes complications.
I was driving through Atlanta as the bomb was going off ten years ago-that night I didn't know the husband who would lose his beloved wife to Eric Rudolph's hatred, not yet, and as I drove us back to South East Alabama after another miserable visit to Crusty's deliberately negative family I told myself I would never go there again and so would probably never see Atlanta again; never say never:).
I gasped when I saw the banner on CNN.com that Mr. Jewell has died. It just does not seem fair that he went through so damn much and just died at only 44 years of age! I'm praying for his wife, and his mother. (Did the FBI ever replace her Tupperware?)
I'm hoping that Mrs. Hawthorne was one of his greeting party. He tried so hard to save her life that night ten years ago in Centennial Park. From what I learned of her from her husband John when he was one of my storage tenants in Alabama, she is the sort of lady who would want to say thank-you for trying.
The world abounds with the great, the quietly great and heroic-God has blessed us with heroes.
The Children of the Storm, they are my heroes because they went through so much horror and most emerged with dreams intact, with the courage to adjust, to dream newer, different, bolder dreams.
Richard Jewell, a guy who was treated like a nutter wannabe after being finally 'cleared' by the FBI; he kept hoping right up to the end. My hero.