Pat's brother, Bill, died yesterday, surviving Pat by just shy of six months. He was the last of the nine-member family and was such a good, good guy. I talked to his daughter, Amy and his wife, Regina, who's holding up okay. E-mailed my children and sibs about it. Not sure when the funeral will be yet.
Brother Frank and sister Betty called. Frank had gotten the copy of the letter he sent me so many years ago and loved it. Betty hasn't gotten hers yet, but should soon. They asked if I'd copy the rest and send them. I will as soon as I get to it.
Mike got in last night and we had pizza. He brought me a beautiful box of orchids in different shads that are now gracing the foyer. He just want out for bagels, and I'll have mine after I meet Susan for our walk.

The library notified me that the two books I had requested--Empire of Illusion: The End Of Literacy And The Triumph of Spectacle by Chris Hedges and Howard Zinn's A People's History Of The United States; The --had come in. Am absorbed in the first, although it seems not as tight at Chris' other work, kind of ranging all over the map. Still, it brings out some good points. Am anticipating Zinn's book with pleasure.
Had rehearsal last night. Mary Ellen called to ask that I tell Tara her knees are bothering her and she couldn't be at rehearsal last night. I was pleased when our "Girls' Night Out" (actually, Girls' Day Out) was rescheduled to February 29--now I'll be able to go.
Mike comes tonight--happy day!--and tomorrow, he wants to go down to Ventnor, visit the museum, and get subs. Later, I'll have the east coast gang for dinner.

Went to four different stores in Manahawkin and Mays Landing to get an address book. My old one is stuffed with envelopes, cards, and little pieces of paper containing addresses--not to mention dead people. It surprised me how difficult it was to find a new one. Maybe that's because so many people keep their info on the computer, but I'm old enough not to completely trust it. I wanted one that includes designated spaces for cell phone and e-mail addresses and that isn't so small it would immediately get messy. Finally found one at Border's. Now comes the long, laborious job of transferring data--by hand.
Went to rehearsal last night; I'm learning a lot by watching and listening. Before LETCO, I hadn't realized how complex it is to put on a play. Not only must the acting be right, but careful "blocking" (choreographing the action on stage) is essential. The players' actions--sitting down, crossing the stage, touching each other, picking up a book, answering the phone, and all the other movements we make without thinking--must be carefully planned and set up in advance. As a rule, actors can't be motionless for long periods, but nor can they keep up frantic movements. There's a lot to blocking.
After, we went to Doyle's for a beer and a snack and that was fun. Got home after 9:00 and wasn't in bed until after 11:00.
WIDER: You always suspected this and now here's Tom Engelhardt to confirm it. This is an absolutely must-read for anybody with his head on straight:
http://www.tomdispatch.com/post/175206/tomgram%3A_engelhardt%2C_fear_inc.__/

Duplicated aforementioned letters at Staples, then sent off the copies to sister Betty and brother Frank. Went to Scrabble at Barb's and, as ever, had a good time. Julie should be back from Florida at the end of the month, so yesterday was probably the end of having Leslie substitute for her. We enjoyed having Les there; wish we could have a group of five.
Doctor's appointment in the morning. BP is still up, so she increased the medication. I was horrified to discover I weight 151--that's 26 pounds over my lowest--must, must, must get that off before I put back all 74.
Stopped at the LETCO board meeting to distribute copies of Santa Barbara Minute flyers. Have a few left which I'll post here and there around town.
Tackled one of the drawers in my desk; will continue.
WIDER: AntiWar.Com has a startling piece on America's Weapons Monopoly by Frida Berrigan. Here's a quote:
"(The press)...invariably speaks of 'the global arms trade.' Let’s consider that label for a moment, word by word:
•It is global, since there are few places on the planet that lie beyond the reach of the weapons industry.
•Arms sounds so old-fashioned and anodyne when what we’re talking about is advanced technology designed to kill and maim.
•And trade suggests a give and take among many parties when, if we’re looking at the figures for that "trade" in a clear-eyed way, there is really just one seller and so many buyers."
She means, of course, the U.S. as the seller, the rest of the world as buyers and she provides chapter and verse to illuminate the actual situation. When I saw her name, I thought Ms. Berrigan might be related to the Berrigan brothers, who so courageously protested the Vietnam war. She is. She's the daughter of Philip, who died a few years ago, and niece of Daniel, still living and still a peace activist. This is one of those "reject the Newspeak" articles that shines a light on the way we accept death and destruction (for others only, of course) when it's clothed in euphemism. I'm going to watch for more articles by Ms. Berrigan.

In my clearing out fervor, I came across a box of old letters. These aren't the ones Pat and I exchanged, which I also saved. These are from friends and relatives reacting to my impulsive decision to stay in Florida after I visited Pat there. (Long story I'll leave for later.) Of course, it was before we were married but, no, we didn't live together. What fun to come across these! They're so old, I'm surprised the paper didn't crumble to dust.
Called sister Betty and read some of hers--we laughed over them, but maybe with tears in our eyes. There are long, chatty ones from Joan W., my best friend through high school and a bridesmaid in my wedding. There are shorter, somewhat disapproving ones from two of my three brothers. There are notes from people I barely remember, and many from my mother, Considering the consternation I recall she expressed at the time (and no wonder), they're surprisingly warm. All, of course, remind me to go to confession and say my prayers. Guess she wanted me to arm myself against--uh, temptation.
The letters are chock full of references to people with whom I grew up--my darling Aunt Maggie, Mrs, Keating, Cassie Wayland, Eddie Scanlon, Matt Gallagher, and on and on. So many are gone--a melancholy number, including my friend, Joan--dead before they were old enough to collect Social Security. (Geez, am I thinking like an old lady!) Here are birthday cards, too--one from my mother wishing me a "happy twentieth." Even for somebody that young, I think I was remarkably dense. I took for granted my place in this small, warm, vanished world on a tiny barrier island clinging to its place in the Atlantic Ocean.
I don't really wish to go back, but I do wish, and will wish till the day I die, that I could see again those citizens of my youth.
And tell them how much I love them.

Met Mary Ellen for the champagne brunch at the Byberry Inn on Long Beach Island yesterday. Very enjoyable, although considering the price--50 bucks for two, plus tip--the food wasn't great and the champagne was mediocre. However, it's a lovely old inn and we had great fun as we talked and talked. It was very crowded when we walked in--after all, it was Valentine's Day--and although we had reservations, we still had to wait to be seated. We talked and talked, of course, and mixed the mediocre champagne with o.j. for mimosas, managing to swallow three glasses each. We discovered more and more about ourselves, our lives, and our varying philosophies, finally realizing it was after 2:00 and we were the only ones there, so finally left.
After, I stopped at B.J.'s, which is on the way home, to pick up cottage cheese and popcorn. Took that home, then completed a veggie run to Santori's, then stopped at the cemetery. It occurred to me that it's about twenty miles to the former and another five to the latter, so roughly fifty for the round trip. I might travel it several times a week, so I do put quite a bit of mileage on the car. Uh...where was I going with this?
Nowhere, I guess.

Note: This is a separate post for Sunday, Feb. 14. It is cross-posted on another blog to which I contribute, "Dead Horse."
David Price, writing for Counterpunchh, reveals a huge and horrifying new addition to our sorrowful list of crimes against freedom. In "How The CIA Welcomes Itself Back To American University Campuses: Silent Coup," he informs us that for the past five years, the CIA, under the names of the "Intelligence Community Centers for Academic Excellence," and its dark affiliate, the "Intelligence in Advance Research Project Activity" (the jerks should be prosecuted just for the horrors they inflict on the language) have been infiltrating college campuses.
After I read a snippet about this, I e-mailed Mr. Price asking for a list of the institutions that accepted this depravity. He promptly sent back his full article, which includes:
"In 2005, the first ICCAE centers were installed at ten campuses: California
State University San Bernardino, Clark Atlanta University, Florida International
University, Norfolk State University, Tennessee State University, Trinity
Washington University, University of Texas El Paso, University of Texas-Pan
American, University of Washington, and Wayne State University. Between 2008-
2010, a second wave of expansion brought ICCAE programs to another twelve cam
puses: puses: Carnegie Mellon, Clemson, North Carolina A&T State, University of North
Carolina-Wilmington, Florida A&M, Miles College, University of Maryland,
College Park, University of Nebraska, University of New Mexico, Pennsylvania
State University, and Virginia Polytechnic Institute."
Price deplores what seems to be the indifference of the academic community: "...the silence surrounding this quiet installation and spread of programs like ICCAE is extraordinary. In the last four years, ICCAE has gone further in bringing government intelligence organizations openly to American university campuses than any previous intelligence initiative since WW II. Yet, the program spreads with little public notice, media coverage, or coordinated resistance."
Oh, damn. As a long time (27 years) employee at Rider University (also an alum), I feel such a sense of heavy darkness at this revelation. We learned long ago not to trust our elected representatives around a glass corner, that the mass media are ass-kissing slaves of the pols, and that churches can be as much a force for evil as good. I thought--fool that I am--that a tiny corner of idealism was still alive in Academia. Okay, I was wrong, and maybe there just isn't any hope anywhere.
Unless...unless...a viable third party can be born. God knows the other two are slouching toward Bethlehem in tandem.