If a hurricane doesn't leave you dead It will make you strong Don't try to explain it, just nod your head Breathe in, breathe out, move on
And it rained, nothing really new And it blew, seen all that before And it poured, the Earth began to strain Pontchartrain buried the ninth ward to the second floor
According to my watch, the time is now Past is dead and gone Don't try to shake it, just nod your head Breathe in, breathe out, move on Don't try to explain it, just bow your head Breathe in, breathe out, move on
-Jimmy Buffett
At the gate about to board for Dallas, after navigating the security checkpoint with the entire Florida A&M Marching 100 band. An extremely polite, well-behaved group of kids. But why fly out of here, when their campus is in Tallahassee? Anyway, it was enough to restore a measure of optimism to be around these nice young people, with their whole lives ahead of them.
Trying not to get weepy this hot, sticky Gulf coast morning. Eulogy's written, homily's written, revised, and written again. Here comes the hard part.
And that song has been playing through my head every since I gave up and crawled out of bed at 3:30 a.m. Jimmy's mourning what happened to New Orleans when Katrina submerged it in 2005, so it's not exactly on-topic. I find myself thinking of moments long gone that have nothing to do with my Mom; traveling to Fort Walton for a deposition twenty-plus years ago, when you could fly across south Walton as fast as you wanted to drive, feeling a part of an exclusive club, mostly young white Southern men. I belonged back then, and loved this place, grateful for how accepting these folks were toward this poor sojourner who'd never thought of anyplace as really home.
Where did that place go?
Later I'm driving with P along Highway 98 somewhere east of Carrabelle, headed for the farm on a brilliant blue sky winter day. That song is playing. I look over at her. Life feels as close to perfect, just for an instant, as it's ever felt before or since. Things were so much simpler when we were just starting out together, and just getting to drive down the coast road felt like a treat.
P's in New York today, and I'm down here. We'll get the weekend together, then back to our work. I reckon one of the oldest sentiments in our human experience is longing for a simpler time, forgetting how tough those times might have been in reality.
And, of course, I mourn the loss of the first woman I loved in my life, my protector, my friend, my biggest cheerleader. I tried to live up to all that, and like every other person didn't quite get there.
Time to board. Breathe in, breathe out, move on.
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