Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Saturday, September 06, 2003

Every year on Labor Day weekend, they have an event called the Santa-Cali-Gon. Independence was the site where the Santa Fe, California, and Oregan trails met. So they have a carnival, craft vendors, country and bluegrass bands, food booths, etc. up on the Square. I don't go anymore because it's always too hot plus there's just too much crowd. When my mom died, the funeral happened to be on the first day of the Santa-Cali-Gon that year and everybody went up to the Square afterwards. I thought that was just too much. I didn't go. A year before that my Grandma Ginney died right before Thanksgiving- I didn't even know things were really that bad until I got a call from my mom, long distance. I was in Fresno at the time. I was making a scarf to match her coat, purple. Working on that to send for Christmas. And I was in the middle of it when I picked up the phone. Geez I remember all I could really say was "I'm making this scarf, its her favorite color. I'll never get to give it to her." For some reason when I started the project it meant so much. So instead of sending Christmas presents I came out to Kansas City for the funeral. And you know how people say they "appear to be asleep"? A cliche cause you hear it all the time. But I swear, in this case it really did look like she was sleeping. I ended up going back to Fresno on Thanksgiving Day, because that was the stipulation for getting booked on a flight on such short notice.

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