Catching Up

I've just spent the last week and a half in Sheffield, Tx. Actually, I stayed in Ozona, Tx since there are no hotels, or much of anything else, in Sheffield, Tx. I spent that time with at risk teenagers. It was a long week.

I am reading "The Lost City of Z" and Poetry Journal.

My son is furious that a new chapter of the Gay-Straight Alliance has started up at his school. Furious because though he has friends who describe themselves as "Gay" or "Bi" he rightfully recognizes that having such a group in school is wrong and out of place but also that the premise for the formation of such a group i.e. "safety" is a sham. He is having conversations with both students and faculty and he is learning the limits of tolerance (of his conservative views.)

I received my C-PAP machine today, one of many tools I now have to help me sleep at night. The medicine prescribed by my doctor to help me stay awake during the day (I've heard rumors that some people don't take naps) has been denied by my insurance- Tricare. This is the second time in my life (with this medicine) that my government run healthcare has decided that my doctor doesn't know what he's talking about.

My son is preparing his lamb for his last big hurrah. He will be showing his lamb at the Star of Texas Livestock Show. Regardless of how he does, his lamb will be leaving in the "black trailer." Meanwhile, four times a day feeding has begun.

I'll be speaking to some of these more in detail in the coming days. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this poem by Yeats, courtesy of the "Poetry Friday" feature at Karen Edmisten's blog:

WHEN YOU ARE OLD

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.