"To the Struggle Against World Terrorism"
A Beau Geste: the 9/11 Tear Drop Memorial
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There are no words,
just the names of those
who were murdered that day.
Our thoughts, hearts, and prayers
go out to the victims, survivors, and
loved ones of the victims of the
September 11th attacks.
We will not forget.
Apparently there’s been a bit of a buzz recently with the re-release of the Titanic movie. I’ve seen a few articles around that talk about how so many of the people who saw the movie didn’t realize it was an actual event. Major *facepalm* right? LOL I never saw the movie but I did read about the Titanic in history class.
But it reminded me of something that happened way back in the olden days, the 90s.
Now, I don’t know about you, but when I was a teen, we all listened to that crazy rock and roll music. Led Zeppelin, The Who, AC/DC, the Stones, Aerosmith, The Doors, et al. Some grew out of it and some of us will keep listening to it until they pry our tapes out of our cold, dead fingers. Rock on! *ahem*
Anyway, when The Doors movie came out, I insisted on seeing it. I don’t remember a whole lot from it, but I do recall thinking that Val Kilmer did an amazing job as Jim Morrison, who died when I was a little girl, like 1971, about 20 years before the movie was made.
As we were coming out of the theater, there was a line of people waiting to go in, and the lines were moving next to each other, just like auto traffic. The kid in front of us saw a friend of his who was in the line going in to see the movie. They yelled greetings to each other, and the kid in the “enter” line asked, “Hey dude, how was it? Is it any good?”
The kid in front of me replied, “Oh yeah, it was great, but just so you know, the guy dies at the end.”
“Aw man! He dies? Why’d you have to go and ruin it for me, dude! I paid to see this and you just spoiled the end!” And he gave his buddy a playful punch on the arm as the line moved past.
I laughed all the way to the car. I laughed all the way home. I still laugh when I think about it! Twenty years of giggles for the price of a movie ticket. Not a bad deal! LOL
It’s odd, but I can recall when the Monkees were on TV in prime time. I think I was about 2 or 3, but I remember being in the room upstairs of the house we lived in at the time, watching them.
When I was about 6, my sister and her friend gave me all their old copies of their Monkees albums and I was in heaven. I watched the show, then in syndication, every Saturday without fail. I was going to grow up and marry Davy, you see, and Saturdays were my only chance to “see” him.
I was also never going to be taller than 5’3”, because he was 5’3” and I couldn’t be taller than him. That’s what I decided anyway, lol. Isn’t it funny how at 6 you think you can control those things?
Of course, Davy would always remain as he was, until I caught up to him age-wise. He would wait for me! I was certain of that. Then we would grow old together.
By 9, I’d moved on to Donny – such is the fickleness of youth! But Davy would always be my first “love.”
And when I was 6, no one, and I mean NO ONE, had moves like he did! As much as 6 years olds can, he made me swoon.
It’s hard to believe he’s gone!
Thank you for the memories, Davy. My condolences to your wife and daughters.
I cracked up when I first saw this picture, and posted it on FaceBook. It brings up a very special family memory for me. The story behind the giggle is kind of cute though but first I wanted to give some background.
I don’t do horror very well. As a little kid, my sister would terrorize me by making me watch Dark Shadows, after which I could be found cowering under the bed.
As a teen, I came of age in the Halloween, and Friday the 13th era, which became popular date films. I almost walked out of The Boogeyman but my date convinced me not to. I remember perhaps 1 scene from each of those, the rest of the time spent hiding behind my hands. I would have walked out on My Bloody Valentine but was a guest at someone else’s home and didn’t want to look childish. So you can see, horror and I never mixed well.
And then, then I married a horror writer. Proof that the Lord does indeed have an interesting sense of humor!
To his credit, the only horror movie Darc ever really strongly encouraged me to watch was The Exorcist. We caught the 30th anniversary release. Afterward, I could only wonder what all the fuss was about.
Eventually I realized that what I really loathe is what I’ve come to call “gorror,” that cross between horror and outright, gratuitous gore. I hate the gory stuff, the bloody, slashing, stabbing, gooey, icky, red yuck. But suspense I can handle okay.
So when the MiniNess was about 4, Darc picked up a copy of Alien, one of his all time favorite horror movies, and wanted to watch it during family movie time. I was a bit dubious. The kids were kind of little for that, I thought. But we put it in figuring we could stop it if they seemed like they were getting scared. During the first “facehugger” scene, the scene where the creature leaps onto John Hurt’s face and attaches itself, which startled me since it was the first time I’d ever seen it myself, I heard the little gasps come out of the kids. Oh here we go! I thought, they’re going to freak out and have nightmares and I shouldn’t have let them see this and …
“Can we watch it again, Daddy? Can you back up so we can see it again? That was so cool!”
This is my 4 year old? My sweet, precious, baby girl? She wants to see it again?!
“That’s my girl!” exclaimed the proud daddy.
She couldn’t handle the sight of the vacuum at the time, that sent her screaming to her bed to hide under the covers, but the facehugger in Alien was definitely not a problem.
Yep, that’s not thunder you hear, those are heavenly guffaws. 
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I was telling my kids a story about my own childhood the other day, and it had my husband in stitches. I’m not sure why, but for what it’s worth, here’s the story.
When I was a kid, I was a pretty picky eater. Oh, who am I kidding? I still AM a picky eater! Although I’m not nearly as bad as I was as a kid. Anyway, in addition to my being a picky eater, my mother was a horrible cook. She did criminal things to food, I kid you not. How much of her bad cooking contributed to me being a picky eater, one will never know.
One time, I must have been around 10 or 11, she made something for my dinner that – best as I can recall, was either mushrooms or Brussels sprouts. It was round and slimy, I remember that, and I would not eat it. It looked weird, it smelled awful, and it was slimy. No way. Would. Not. Eat.
I can be a stubborn girl when I have a mind to.
My mother yelled at me, threatened me, all kinds of things she told me would happen if I didn’t eat the science experiment reject in front of me. Eventually she picked up a piece of whatever it was off my plate and tried to shove it in my mouth.
Oh no, we are so not going there! I clasped my hand over my mouth as an extra barrier of protection. This was a battle of epic proportions!
My mother, in her rage and frustration, leaned over and bit my hand, the hand covering my mouth. She bit me! I remember screaming, and I had a set of lungs on me too, it’s a wonder the neighbors on the other side of the wall didn’t call the police.
At this point in the story, Darc busted up laughing. I mean to tell you, he almost had tears running down his face, and that’s quite a feat of accomplishment for me! Usually I’m the one splitting a gut at his stories.
“Why are you laughing?” I asked him. “My knuckles were bloody and had teeth marks and everything!”
I try to remember that my beloved is a writer of horror fiction so things often strike him in a way they don’t other people.
“Oh my gosh,” he replied, “‘Eat or be eaten!’ That’s just priceless.”
I guess it does have sort of a vampire quality to it. Eat or be eaten. Who knows? Maybe I’ll make it into one of his stories yet! 
[Preview: Vampire Bestiary « Eternity Publishing]
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Cross posted at DarcsFalcon.com
Boy, this picture brought back a memory! I actually had a dog say this to me once.
For various reasons, one day many years ago I found myself at the animal shelter, looking for a dog. There were several to choose from, but most seemed to have some issue or other, whether it was being too noisy or too big, whatever.
Near the end of the row, sat a quiet canine. He wasn’t too big and he wasn’t too small. He was black and brown and looked sort of like a Rottweiler, but he was not as big as one so I knew he was a mix of things. He just sat there, looking at me, not barking, just quiet. I walked over to his cage and he stood up and came to the door and we stood looking at each other in the “aisle” there at the shelter. He seemed like a calm dog, not given to being the sort that jumps on or nips at people.
I decided to bring him home.
On the way, he sat in the front seat, just looking out the window.
When we got to the house, he got out of the car and came in with me, and then he proceeded to investigate every nook and cranny in the place. It took him maybe 20 minutes or so, but I just stood waiting for him in the living room.
Eventually he came back to me, sat down by my feet and said, “Okay lady, I’ll keep you.” 
The vet said he looked to be half Rottweiler and half Beagle. He almost never left my side for nearly 5 years and he was one of the best dogs I ever had. He’s up in puppy Heaven now or wherever dogs go, and I’m pretty sure he’s keeping my couch cushion warm up there too.
I was thinking about my bed the other night, as I was trying to fall asleep. It’s funny how the mind wanders from one thing to another. Thinking about my bed brought me to some memories of when I was younger.
See, I was thinking how silly I feel having to climb into my bed like a kid, how beds seem so much taller now than when I was younger. Taller up top, but not as much room beneath. I remembered how I used to jump out of my bed when I had a nightmare because I was convinced there was a monster or murderer hiding underneath, just waiting for me to put my foot on the floor. Jumping to the middle of the room and making a run for it seemed safest. Something – or someone! – could be hiding under there!
Then I remembered something that happened when I was in high school.
I used to walk a few blocks out of my way sometimes to meet up at my friend’s house to catch the bus. One day, I knocked on her door and found out that she was staying home from school because she was sick. Her mother had already gone to work for the day so it was nothing for me to simply decide to stay home with her. We had fun playing hooky, until close to lunch time when my friend told me her mother would be home soon and I should probably go. Only, where was I going to go? My mother was home from work that day herself so I couldn’t go there. Quick thinker that I was (oh shut up!) I decided to hide under her bed.
We waited until the last possible minute, as her mother pulled into the driveway, before I wiggled under her bed. I laid there, stifling giggles, for an hour, while she ate some lunch and puttered around, asking her daughter how she felt, if she’d gotten started on homework, that kind of stuff. After she left, I crawled back out and we continued our day of hooky until it was safe for me to go home.
I had some room under that bed. I mean, not like I could do jumping jacks, but it wasn’t an impossible fit, I could turn my head and had some movement if I had an itch or something.
Not like today – my kids couldn’t fit under the beds we have now. And not just because I still keep tons of stuff under it either. For, uh, storage purposes, you know.
On the one hand, I’m glad bed manufacturers have made it pretty much impossible for anyone to hide under beds anymore. On the other hand, I wish I didn’t feel like I was 4 years old every night at bedtime.
The "Ness" in DarcNess ;) 
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