Lonely Hearts

That fella above is Lucito Gonzalez. He asked me to be his friend on Facebook and, as I always do, I checked out his profile before accepting. Turns out he's a four star general who works at US Army -- and, amazingly enough, only started there on the tenth of March. Wow, what a guy!

He also lives in Kabul, Afghanistan -- but I suspect he'd be willing to travel.

Lucito is just the latest in a string of guys, usually with oddly transposed names -- like Faircloth Robert or Boyer John. They almost always have a picture of a man in uniform, surrounded by American flags and weaponry (such a turn on.) 

My current favorite is Okomi Godwin Ohobo, who charmingly lists his occupation as Captains in De Company.

These requests give me a chuckle and then I mark them as spam and move on. Unfortunately, there have been so many lonely women taken in by these requests that it's become a lucrative cottage industry in some parts of the world.

It works like this. The spammer engages the victim in on line chat which quickly becomes more and more personal. He is falling in love with her wit, her picture, her personality, and is eager to meet her in person. Perhaps this will lead to marriage, he hints. The poor deluded victim, heart all a-quiver can't wait to meet this sweet talker in person. And he is ready to travel, to be at her side -- only first there's a financial difficulty he has to resolve. If she could just lend him the money, all would be well and they could be together at last . . .

It seems hard to believe but far too many seniors have fallen for this scam -- to the tune of thousands of dollars. 

Parents worry about what their children are up to on the Internet -- now some adults have to worry about who their parents are meeting on line.

Lonely hearts at any age are vulnerable. 

Salix Gracilistyla 'Melanostachys' -- Black Pussywillow

And On the Second Day of Spring . . .

Alligator Candy

Saturday morning and I was checking email and making lists for things that had to be done. NPR's Weekend Edition was nattering away and I wasn't actually listening till a few words near the end, caught my attention --Kushner, brother, bike, woods.

All at once I was riveted -- the speaker was David Kushner and he was there to discuss his just released book ALLIGATOR CANDY -- a memoir about the effect the brutal abduction and murder of his eleven year old brother in 1973 had on him and his family.

In 1973 John and I were teaching at Independent Day School on the outskirts of Tampa. The whole thrust of the school was to allow children the freedom to learn on their own terms, the freedom to explore and grow at their own pace. Some folks called it 'the hippie school' but there was a lot of learning and creativity going on. Lots of peace and love and brotherhood, lots of art and nature study on the idyllic lakeside campus.

And then, in October of '73, one of our IDS students disappeared during a Sunday bike ride from his home to a nearby convenience store. Jonathan Kushner was eleven. 

His mother had been the teacher of the Lamaze class I'd taken the previous year to prepare for the birth of my first child; I think, though I can't be positive, that his older brother was in my English class.  

During eight long days, the community searched for Jonathan until finally the wife of one of the abductors notified law enforcement and told them where the boy's body was.

I remember the stark horror of the time and I remember going to the Kushner's house to offer support and condolences, only to burst into tears when Jon's mother opened the door, as I thought about my own son who was safe while hers . . . And then it was she who comforted me. 

I remember the funeral at the synagogue and the rabbi saying that Jews weren't afraid to question God, to be angry with God and to ask why such a thing could happen -- a reaction that seemed and seems most sensible to me.

I remember when the service was over and the bereaved parents and brothers walked down the aisle, the father with his arms spread to encompass his family so that they moved as a single unit.

And after that . . . I never knew how the family dealt with the aftermath of this horror. By this time we'd bought our farm in the mountains and were, after this shattering of illusions, all the more determined to move. 

So of course I had to read the book.

The author, David Kushner, a well known journalist, was only four at the time of the murder and the book is told  first from his perspective as a four year old who feels that somehow this was his fault because his brother had been going to the store to buy 'alligator candy' for him.

And then it's told from the perspective of the thirteen year old David who has never been told the ugly details surrounding his brother's death and so goes to the newspaper archives to find out for himself, rather than open this old wound with his parents, who have been struggling to give their two remaining sons as normal and free a life as possible.

Finally, it's the story told by the adult David, who is trying to understand how his parents were able to cope with this most terrible loss and trying, as well, to be able to give his own child the same freedom his parents allowed him.

The memoir is a testimony to love that never dies, to the coping mechanisms that allow life to go on, and to the grace that can emerge in the wake of horror.  Kushner captures so well the innocence of that time and chronicles the bravery of a family, facing the unfaceable, bearing the unbearable.


HERE is the Weekend Edition program I spoke of in the beginning.

The Vernal Equinox -- And It's Spring!

There's No Place Like Home

When I returned from Biltmore and began to look at the pictures I'd taken that day, I came to the one above and -- just for a moment -- thought, Hmm, where was that?

And then I saw the blue bench and realized that, despite an almost complete lack of statuary and gardeners, my own little corner of western North Carolina is pretty nice.

Spring flowers are just as beautiful . . .

Weeping cherry, Oriental magnolia . . .

 And peach all do their best . . .

And I didn't see any blue benches at the Biltmore Estate . . .

Not even one.

Back to the Biltmore House

I made a return trip to the Biltmore House yesterday, thanks to my kind blog friend who sent me some free passes. It was a glorious, blue-skied, mild day and enough spring bulbs and flowering trees were blooming to make it a most desirable place to be.

Evidently others felt the same. I was kinda unprepared for the crowds and the lines . . .

And I quickly decided to forego the tour of the interior (which I've seen many times over the years) in favor of enjoying the exterior.

And a fairly spectacular exterior it is . . . reminiscent (and in some parts copied from) the chateaux of the Loire Valley.

It's pretty amazing -- and incredibly well maintained  . . .

Such amazing detail everywhere . . .

And lots of decorative statuary, including a pair of winsome sphinxes atop the entry gates who seem to be wondering if this pose makes their butts look big.

Two charming lions on the front terrace seem to be worrying  -- maybe they wonder where all those people came from.

A gargoyle is above it all . . .

Swan-necked dragonettes . . .

At one side of the house a pergola is twined with massive wisteria vines . . .

More statuary just over the wall . . . I think he's ignoring us.

Walks through the garden were beautiful and busy . . .

And most visitors seemed to be as cheerful as this cherub . . .

Or  this frolicsome pair (of statues) though the visitors kept their clothes on . . .

This fella and his dog caught my eye . . .

A nice looking dog except for the weird teeth.

I wasn't the only one taking pictures of statues . . .

Most people seemed to mainly take pictures of each other.

The tracery of shadows added to the decorative treatment above the window . . .

Beautiful work everywhere.

Architectural detail, shadows, and reflections --

an embarrassment of riches!

At last I'd had my Biltmore fix and was ready to head home . .

On the way out, I paused to get a shot of the walled garden I visited a few weeks ago -- now bright with daffodils and pansies -- and a group of young women picnicking on the grass.  What a fine way to spend a gorgeous day!