Shipwrecked

I am the emotional wreck I suspect you'd all anticipate me being upong hearing the news that my father finally lost his fight with cancers.

In the end, it wasn't the cancer, per se, that won out: his lungs pressed against his sweet heart, causing an unusual rhythm which refused to be soothed by medication. And by all accounts we say: "how lucky" because his most recent cancer typically results in a dreadful, slow and painful death and instead of experiencing that, he went gently, in his sleep. And up until his death he was conscious, alert and his charming, delightful self.

But I didn't mean to come here and share that. I meant to come here and share that after ten days with my extremely conservative family I received an anti-immigrant e mail from my brother and my response suggests to him that the author of the original e mail is perhaps not asking pertinent questions and I pointed him in the direction of Foucault.

I figure, in context, that qualifies today as a good day.

I take what I can get.