DLF Rocks

Just an awesome picture I took of Diane during our trip to New Jersey. Oh how I love this woman.


Today I was cleaning out my closet to get rid of old clothing. Apparently I haven’t worn my nice dress slacks since the day I married Diane. In the pocket I found the piece I had written for the ceremony (“That Unseen Place”, below).

Do this: Get a time machine. Go back to me in 1991, when I was an insecure high-school student. Tell me that I will one day meet Diane — and describe her, all of her. All of her amazing beauty, and patience, and intellect. All of her humor. All of her love for great movies, all of her passion for ideas and literature and positive political action.

Then tell me that this woman will agree to marry me. I guarantee that I will not believe you. Never, no way. I will laugh in your face. My exact words will be: “That will never happen”.

But it did.

(Pics by the inestimable AmyJ.)

“That Unseen Place”

In that unseen place where our minds connect..
The book, the word. (Saussure is hard to understand.)
But when it works, magic revels.
The idea may gestate — a union of thought.
When you really get it, we can slay the demons of confusion.
Reading Danticat, Achebe, Shelley, Twain..
What is it, this human thing? Where does it find all of us?
And every answer is a question.

I went to that room where the books are,
the words of great woman and men from years past.
I took in what I could — and there were connections, to be sure.
Made ever more powerful because I knew
you had been there.
And would be again.

In that unseen place where our flesh connects..
The handshake, the fist to the face, the hug.
Invited and uninvited transgressions of personal space.
When the dentist is mutilating my gums,
I try to tell myself that pain is simply nerve impulses in the brain.
But surely pleasure is something more.

I did a report in seventh grade about
how babies need to be touched.
It doesn’t go away.

In that unseen place where our hearts connect..
There is a thread of tender affection,
shattering frozen disdain.
There lies a gorge of passionate empathy.
Withered and assaulted by lesser demons, quiet and insipid.
Buy. Get. Own. Take. Control. Dominate. Master.
This iron armor of indifference, hacked at by toothpicks of humanity.
But we see the fruit of this emotosynthesis —
The simple-seeming daily devotions of family.
Children who love in a war zone.
Families of murder victims with amazing grace.
Those with nothing who share everything.

At Virginia Tech, Liviu Librescu —
a professor of engineering science, like my father —
stood before the door and was shot to death
so the kids could jump out the window to safety.
He loved his students.

In that unseen place where our souls connect..
A vision of our heavens coincide,
and the stuff of reality blends into a dream
Friend, mom, brother, dad, sister.
And the sunlight of kindred restoration becomes manna.
Accelerating the joy and cushioning the fall.
These bonds take life beyond mere existence.

In the universe I dreamed up years ago,
worlds and space could not divide the union of souls.
Nothing can describe what that connection feels like.

Is it fate, faith, phantom, folly, fortune, felicity, or fantasy:
This idea, this impossible dream
telling me that someday, I will meet someone
who will connect
with my mind
with my flesh
with my heart
with my soul

It is possible; it has happened.