Hope Rides Alone

 Brian Jacques is dead.

Once I took out all the Redwall books from the local library (which was a lot of books, considering some were tiny paperbacks and others were the huge hardcover versions. They left this huge gap on the self) when I decided to re-read the whole series up to its current point.

I need to get back into those books. They were so comforting. The Badger Lords in Salamandastron, Martin the Warrior's Sword, the water shrews with rapiers, the moles who talked about all the awesome food I suddenly started craving, the songs about delicious food and everlasting friendship and epic adventure, and Redwall Abbey itself. I'm not even religious and I wanted to live there. 

I mean, I knew he was old, but ... this makes me sad inside. Today was just exhausting in every sense of the word. Hard work, extreme sleepiness, a political argument, animated conversations, singing, rearranging tables and chairs, a horrible surprise in a conversation, intense pain because it's That Time of the Month, and now this.

Brian Jacques provided a wonderful world for me in fifth and sixth grade (or was it seventh and eighth?), and for that, I mourn him.

 Most of you probably don't know who David Nolan was, but I'll give you the basics: he was the co-founder of the Libertarian Party; he invented that nifty chart that tells you where you are politically after a few quick questions. 
He died suddenly this weekend, and news has only just gotten out. He was driving, had a stroke, and died in the crash.
I met him last spring at the Libertarian Convention. He was a really nice guy who shook my hand and chatted with me (and mostly my dad) about politics and the election and stuff. He had a mustache. I remember thinking he was really nice and how cool it was to have met someone who helped found a political party. He wasn't pompous or wearing a big sign that said "Founder of Your Party" or anything, he was just some mellow guy who was fun to chat to.
I cried when I got the e-mail.

Then my dad called (about other stuff) and we chatted about David and our weekends (mine was awesome, his was ... sucky.) One of my dad's friends is dying. I wish people close to my dad would stop dying. I hate to see and hear him so sad.

I had such a fantastic weekend and had a really great (if kinda sleepy and slow) day, and all day I've been listening to Seanan McGuire CDs and signing and being in a nice subtly good mood. Now I'm sad. Not hysterical sad, just ... raw. *lines up some tgwtg videos I've wanted to catch up on* 

Last night, right after a spectacular dance-lesson in which my partner and I learned two lifts in Swing, and a FANTASTIC day, I got a call that a relation of mine had died. She was 103 and a half. 
And of course, some of my other relations were here, preparing to watch Lost with me, and one of them picked up the phone and her face ... it was awful.
But she had a good, long life. She was born in the year they invented the ice cream cone at the World's Fair, taught in a one-room schoolhouse, and remembered all of our names and corrected younger people on events. She crocheted a bunch of 'us kids' afghans (I slept under mine, a rainbow one, last night) and was totally cool about my gay cousins, despite most of the family being not-so-nice about them.
When she turned 100 she said she was ready to go. And she's with her husband now (I never got to meet him, but he sounded really funny.)

So I'll remember my favorite story about her:
When she was really young she and her sisters went out to pick blueberries (Maine, after all) and it was really hot out so she took her dress off as it was way off in the woods. She rounded a corner and there was this HUGE black bear right behind the bush! She screamed and ran all the way home with her sisters ... without her dress. Later she went back and her dress was GONE! We all insist that there's a black bear wearing her dress out there ... 

I loved that story as a little kid, so I sang this camp song at her 100th Birthday:

We crept to his room in the middle of the night,
We tip-toed inside and turned on the light.
But to our surprise he was nowhere in sight!
’Cause my Uncle Walter goes dancing at night.

Chorus:
He goes wa-wa-wa-wa … WALTZING with bears!
Raggy bears, shaggy bears, baggy bears too.
There's nothing on earth Uncle Walter won't do.
So he can go waltzing, wa-wa-wa waltzing,
wa-wa-wa-waltzing, go waltzing with bears.

We gave Uncle Walter a new coat to wear,
But when he came home it was covered with hair.
And lately I've noticed there're several new tears.
I’m sure Uncle Walter goes waltzing with bears.
 
(Chorus)
 
We told Uncle Walter that he should be good.
And do all the things that we said he should.
I think he would rather be off in the woods.
I'm afraid we might lose Uncle Walter for good.
 
(Chorus)
 
We begged and we pleaded,
"Oh please won't you stay?"
And managed to keep him at home for a day.
But the bears all barged in and they took him away!
Now he's dancing with pandas,
And they don’t understand us
And the bears all demand at least one dance a day!
 
(Chorus)