reflection on John 6:1-13, on gathering up the fragments to feed the multitudes (aka the story of the loaves and fishes*).
*Or, in this case, the Blueberries and Raspberries, by Jonathan Koch.
I've been eating plenty of blueberries lately, on yogurt, or with strawberries and cantaloupe, or yogurt with granola, very little meat, as much fish (see above) as possible, etc. Because I do not want to die.
An acting buddy died Tuesday, suddenly, and young, or young at heart. His obituary says he was 65. I think our last deep, extended conversation was about such things--he was philosophical about life and death, very calm and at peace--and I recalled him saying that when his obituary was published, no one would know who he was because we know him as Michael Pullin and the paper would print Thomas Pullin, as it did. But we all know who he is.
What a funny, energetic, talented man he was. He was my husband in the play Dinner With Friends, at Heartland Theatre, and my fantasy lover in the play, A History of Things that Never Happened. We cracked ourselves up in the latter, re-enacting scenes from Wuthering Heights and Anna Karenina.
How do the living handle these losses? So many ways. There will be a celebration of Michael Pullin's life on Saturday, and I'm sure it will have plenty of laughter with the tears, as he would want to be remembered with joy and a sense of fun.
For those who ponder death and grief with the aid of poetry, here are two unsentimental poems that handle these dark topics well:
"How I Will Outwit Grief," by Donna Vorreyer, in The Bakery (Fresh Out of the Oven)
"When He's Dead," by Mike Puican, in The Cortland Review.
Now I offer you some Strawberries and Cream (hold the cream). Or plenty of loaves and fishes.
P.S. And, speaking of fragments, here are the Fragments at qarrtsiluni!
Thursday's Three on Art
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