Memorial Day (a little late)

June 2010

Pulling out of the graveyard, Veteran’s Day. Little graveyard, lots of veterans. what a spot. Sometimes I come up here and have dinners with the dead. Sometimes to write, sometimes to just sit. A very special place. I’m surprised it’s not used by more.

Good morning.

Memorial Day. Monday. Having coffee at the bakery. Ride with the Chuckster to the Yacht Club. Think of old Bruno, long gone, who used to live on the barge in the 50s and 60s on the causeway to the Yacht Club. Goatee mustache. Gentle old soul. Also lived at Third House in a cottage, a boat by Darenberg’s. Rode a bicycle around. Loved his sherry. Ah, pleasant memories. How far I go back with Chuck. Our crazy days and then sobriety. What a beautiful and lucky difference. Wouldn’t change any of it – all a learning experience.

Last night I was sitting in town by the Shagwong. The Fire Department was busy. Another accident on Napeague at Lunch.

RMS calls, then a fire. Busy afternoon then dinner at MTK Restaurant and beach time at Shags. Met a woman and her family. Her name was Anna L. Raimondi. Start chatting, I think about Umma, and said she’d help me write a book. Whenever I did something stupid, I wrote it from Umma’s point of view. She said she had written a book also. Her book is called Talking to the Dead in Suburbia. She is a clairvoyant and a few other Clairs like andient and sentient. Wow! The people ya’ meet. We talked for an hour. I asked her if she saw anybody around me and she described my mother’s parents to a tee – my grandparents. I told her my grandmother had been very uptight but very creative, and my grandpa had been a Lt. Colonel in the army and had a house in Jersey with a garden, chicken coop, wood shop and orchard. Don’t want to bore you with the details, but she said they were watching over me and that when people die and cross over they sometimes choose to change and make up for their life’s frailties and help some of their progeny. Wow! I don’t know how much of this is real, but is sure was a feel good moment. Funny, writing this, at one point I feel like a politician covering all my bases, and another side is just trying to describe how I feel. Reading Anna’s book, she says to practice writing to your angels.

Dear Angels.

Followed by a question that cannot be answered by a yes or no. Wait a few minutes and then write down whatever comes to your mind.

Well, how about a try Phil?

My question is: What would my grandparents and I be wishing for myself to do? To follow my passion and connect with the greater good? To write and travel and meet all kinds like I’ve done and do even when it’s just about town or on the road? There are enough characters in this town for an encyclopedia. I never feel “really” or more alive than when traveling / moving and meeting people and seeing new sights, smelling new smells (eucalyptus wafting on the breeze).

I am 60 years old and only now coming alive. Finally, really starting to have feelings. I’m up at the grave yard in Montauk and wanted to see Maxie’s grave and veterans’ flags. Got really mad at Max for not taking care of himself when he first started to feel sick. He had health insurance but chose to take care of his mom who was sick at the time. How come you could not do both? Shit, I miss Maxie. Saw another friend yesterday – a Vet who tried to take his own life a couple of months ago. Yesterday I told him I loved him. I had no better way to tell him not to hurt himself. Humans – amazing creatures. We can feel so bad we’ll take our own lives, but if we’d let some time pass, we would have lived for the sake of living. Thanks God. Help me to be who you want me to be – the Warrior like my Grandpa. From a long line of warriors. Anna told me.