A Year of Morning Thanks
The morning news
So here's the news this morning. The California Supreme Court has legalized gay marriage. Starbucks is releasing a new logo that features a bare-bosomed, flowing-haired icon in the middle of the old symbol. Sex and the City is being released shortly, I guess, after a debut in London where Sarah Jessica Parker red-carpeted with an outlandish bouquet of green roses planted on her head.
Osama bin Laden will be releasing another video today. George Bush says Barack Obama is another Neville Chamberlain, and Joe Biden called the idea itself bullsh**. The full-to-the-brim pregnant (with twins) Angelina Jolie wore a busty green dress and knocked 'em all dead at Cannes.
The death toll in China, post-earthquake, could reach as high as 50,000, while the story in Burma simply goes beyond despair--a million dead and a government that really doesn't care?--how is that possible?
Scientists and technicians have created an "exoskeleton" of aluminum and electronics that multiplies strength and endurance as many as 20 times, although I'm not sure why I'd like to lift any more than I already will be in about ten minutes.
Gas is likely going to $5 @ gallon--surprise, surprise. Obesity contributes to global warming, and gigantic pythons are invading southeast Florida. John McCain has cut 95 years off his 100-year forecast on our presence in Iraq, now says we'll be out by 2013.
Faculty meeting today--there may well be a few punches thrown.
And yesterday I lost a colleague to retirement--lucky guy. We'll miss his singing and his screeds, his passions and his poems. We'll miss his dedication to students and his undying love for poetry. We'll miss his deft humor and his catchy silliness.
There's a ton of big news today, lots of flashy stories, but the one story that affects me more than any other is symbolized in an empty office next to mine. That one--more than Al Quida or bountiful cleavage or gay marriage or even natural disasters--that one hits me.
But I'll live through it, even though I'm green with envy.
Tonight, at the state prison, I'll listen to a bunch of inmates read meditations on the psalms, meditations they wrote--the whole litany punctuated by some gusty singing. Tonight, later, we'll help good old friends of ours celebrate their 50 years of married life together.
And, after all of that, tomorrow, once again, I'm quite sure the sun will rise. For that fact, this morning, I'm thankful.