November 16 - Tim's birthday.
My poem for his birthday on our old blog platform - it turned out to be his last birthday in 2006 - his 52nd. He was, like his hero JFK, a fatalist who raged against the dimming of the light. He always believed he would die young. He did.
When you rob the cradle in your 40's
There's no need to worry about teething biscuits
There's lots to chew on with a political scientist
Who knows a thing or two
About philosopher kings and steppenwolves
And tenderness and mating the queen
And Yes and streetlights that go out
And synchronicity abounding all around
Impressionism met realism with a cubist twist.
He anticipates every hidden eddy of the river
And knows all my undercurrents too
My full moons are reserved for a lifetime
Happily.
Happy birthday, my Tim.
There's no need to worry about teething biscuits
There's lots to chew on with a political scientist
Who knows a thing or two
About philosopher kings and steppenwolves
And tenderness and mating the queen
And Yes and streetlights that go out
And synchronicity abounding all around
Impressionism met realism with a cubist twist.
He anticipates every hidden eddy of the river
And knows all my undercurrents too
My full moons are reserved for a lifetime
Happily.
Happy birthday, my Tim.
When I watch this YouTube I made as some kind of therapeutic exercise, I think of being on the other side of so many of the pictures in this video - I am thankful for the miracle of digital photography - both for its instant gratification and its not insignificant role in my delight in chronicling all our adventures. I see now what I saw then through the lens.
It's still difficult to write about him. I've tried. It's still very raw. But with pictures and music, I am soothed and remember through a sampler of our moments together how much I still love him.
Happy birthday my friend Tim i know its late to say it but i dont know that your Great wife ..my dear friend Cris have this blog here dear friend Tim my apology that i dont know you so much i was read your blogs in yahoo 360 i remember every things in your page too but i dont know why i dont add you to my page in this time but i know you i feel i know you do you know how my friend Tim because i see you now from my dear friend Cris your wife your soul mate i see you from her love to you . she is mirror for you copy .......much love to my friend with signature of tears and my pray for you
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem cris, I know how you feel. I miss him everyday and it's hard to think that we've already missed so many birthdays with him. I love you and I love him. Happy birthday papa, you will always be missed and remembered.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem cris, I know how you feel. I miss him everyday and it's hard to think that we've already missed so many birthdays with him. I love you and I love him. Happy birthday papa, you will always be missed and remembered.
ReplyDeleteI never saw this when it was written, Cris - I don't know why; the main thing is, I found it now.
ReplyDeleteThe photo of Tim, standing ankle-deep at high-tide at Haystack Rock here in Oregon reminds me of all he was; a force of nature. Your poem is art.
I suppose I have Yahoo to thank for introducing us; my regret is that we were never able to meet in person. Those were good times - we'd comment on each other's writing; we agreed; we wrangled - we respected.
And, as Norman MacLean said, "I knew I was witnessing perfection. And, just as life is not a work of art, I knew just as clearly that the moment could not last."
He was gone too soon. I am the richer for having known him.
I never saw this when it was written, Cris - I don't know why; the main thing is, I found it now.
ReplyDeleteThe photo of Tim, standing ankle-deep at high-tide at Haystack Rock here in Oregon reminds me of all he was; a force of nature. Your poem is art.
I suppose I have Yahoo to thank for introducing us; my regret is that we were never able to meet in person. Those were good times - we'd comment on each other's writing; we agreed; we wrangled - we respected.
And, as Norman MacLean said, "I knew I was witnessing perfection. And, just as life is not a work of art, I knew just as clearly that the moment could not last."
He was gone too soon. I am the richer for having known him.