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The opposite of love

July 31, 2010

Hello loyal readers!  Thanks for checking back to see if I’m here.  First off, Bravos over the Reds tonight, very thrilling game.  Reminds me of my childhood- I spent several weeks every summer near Cincinnati at my grandparents’ house and their hometown newspaper, every morning during baseball season, has a little baseball with the Reds face and logo on it in the upper right corner of the front page either smiling if the Reds won, or frowning if they lost.  I can already see tomorrow’s.

You know the saying that it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere?  Usually I use England, especially at 11am on Sundays.  Well, a corollary of that is it’s always 2am somewhere as well.  And right now, it happens to be exactly where I am.  But this is not a version of M. Ward’s Four Hours in Washington, this is a product of 2 boxes of old letters that need going through.  I’m about halfway there.  There are a pile of letters from my folks and grandfolks to me while I was at a variety of summer camps.  Inevitably they are about rain, or my mom bemoaning my lack of writing.  But usually rain.  I ran across one letter from someone who really really really loved me (that’s what the letter said) and who I had no recollection of.  Sad.  The name became more familiar as I thought about it but a face?  Nothing doing.  But the letters are all a variety of love- parents, grandparents, friends, mysterious and not so mysterious people that I either knew or didn’t know I was dating.

Inevitably the letters lead to memories and me really hoping I wrote back more often than not.  But that letter of love made me think a bit about this clip I watched earlier- which is, I humbly submit, the opposite of love as demonstrated by Rep. Anthony Weiner on the floor of the House of Reps last night.  You really need to watch the clip.  But probably not in a library unless you have earphones.  Now, I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but as Oscar Wilde once said- A true friend stabs you in the front.  Rep. Weiner is the true friend, calling out, to their faces, the false friends who gamely sit there while plotting their next attempt to take you out from behind, at your knees, while you’re trying to cross a busy road, at night.

Enjoy your weekend readers!

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