Tipping a Wing

Tipping the scales
June 26, 2012

My college graduating class had what my husband Jim would have called a “reunion of significance” this year–one of those reunions that we as undergrads would have witnessed and thought, Damn, they’re old.

And the jackets: how can they be seen in public like that?

Now that we all have joined, to one degree or another, the computer age, it has been possible to reconnect with classmates I haven’t heard from since graduating.  One of them is a pilot, and when I told him of Jim’s death he told me that next time he flew he would “tip a wing” for Jim.

Jim would have liked that. Continue reading “Tipping a Wing”

Bright Copper Kettles: Mourning to Moonshine

During Jim’s final December, just after we learned his illness was terminal, Vijay Seshadri published a wonder of a poem called Bright Copper Kettles:

Dead friends coming back to life, dead family,
speaking languages living and dead, their minds retentive,
their five senses intact, their footprints like a butterfly’s,
mercy shining from their comprehensive faces—
this is one of my favorite things.
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