Friday, February 21, 2014

...and a long awaited premiere


Cara back again.

I take some time to go home and work on the apartment.

Danielle tells me David S went up the ladder and tried what hte scaffolding people recommended and no luck with the lights. Need an electrician for sure…

When I get back, Marsha and Stephen are here for a conversation with trust company affiliated with the Presbyterian Foundation to explore various options re. investing our money.  There’s a lot to think about. Haven’t had this problem, for a long time. Good to be on this side of that one.

Dzieci has arrived for a night of Sacred Harp/Shaped note singing. They accidentally turned off te wrong switch so RL is here looking to get his internet back on. Jason W is here too, just wanting to talk. But I am in the middle of this conference call…

Jeremy is here disappointed because at my request he came back to hear Workcenter’s open choir but got Dzieci instead.

I have no time to talk because I’m headed to West End for our Palestine Film Series. Tonight the long delayed New York premiere of  David Koff’s 1981 documentary Occupied Palestine. Censored, banned, blacklisted after its bomb threat interrupted San Francisco premiere. Only in the last year has it resurfaced. And David himself will be there. (For more information on this film and David Koff go to ) I return worn out from the feelings un leashed during the q&a.

Earlier today, after my conversation with Joe and La Toya, Danielle had to have a second one.  He completely doesn’t get why he can’t be seeping there during the work day. Apparently he’s in a GED program. Danielle will try and connect him with the Interfaith Assembly in Housing and Homelessness.

I managed to get email addresses for Jack’s daughters and reach out to them . Apparently shortly after my last visit, right before I got caught up in my move and being wiped out, he went into the hospital. There had been a living memorial last year where all his friends gathered at the Aurora to read their favorite poems of his aloud.  And during his stay at Roosevelt, musicians would come by. Bureaucratic snafus keep him from ever getting into a residential hospice. Didn’t love that long after an amputation.   A Buddhist friend gave him a blessing. I would have gone back to his Irish roots and given him last rites. I feel so unfinished. But because of last year’s event and an early January family reunion, there will be no other memorial. His ashes will go to the San Juan Islands off the northwest coast. His poems are all in Nebraska with his daughter. Everything out of his apartment. Unfinished. Yes. And cut off.

Need to think through what I need to do.

No comments:

Post a Comment