The bells that still can ring...

rain, a damp cold, temp 6

Back home in Sutton. Feels as though we've been a long time gone.

When Osama Bin Laden was killed I spoke about it on Facebook, and here on the blog. Trying to describe my emotions. But I recognized I couldn't begin to feel anything close to what someone who lost a loved one on 9/11 felt. Or the friends and family of those who have died in the wars, sparked by that attack by Al Qaeda.

Lee Ann Doerflinger wrote a comment after my post. Her son Thomas was killed in Iraq. I've asked her to put on paper how she feels about the death of Osama Bin Laden. Below is both her comment to my post, and then her own thoughts. The young man in the photo is, of course, Thomas - the only picture Lee Ann has of him in Iraq. You can see the storm gathering behind him. Lee Ann took a few days trying to write how to felt. Trying to figure it out herself. To tease out the conflicting emotions, to put words to howls. And to listen to the whispers.

Last night she sent me this:

It is a very difficult moment. I do not rejoice that another human being has lost his life--it seems to me that enough people have died in this conflict--but there was also no way for justice to be served by leaving him alive. And yes, maybe Thomas would be alive if 9/11 had never happened. But, it *did* happen and we did lose Thomas and many other young people. I'll admit, I sat there last night, weeping confused tears. Something is over: now we need to figure out what that something is.
Lee Ann, Thomas's mom (My comment on Louise’s blog entry on Osama bin Laden’s death)

Readers of Louise’s blog know that my son Thomas, Army SPC Thomas K. Doerflinger, was killed in action on November 11th, 2004. Louise has invited me several times to write about him and about my family’s work to memorialize Thomas and others who have fallen during this conflict. Thomas died in Iraq, in an action that presumably had not much to do with Al Qaida (though who knows? So much is hidden in this war). However, my family is all too aware that Thomas might not have volunteered or died if bin Laden had never existed or if he’d been killed or captured at one of the many earlier opportunities that had arisen. So when word came Sunday night that bin Laden was dead, we were relieved that this man would never plan another attack or recruit another terrorist. I cried. I called my sister on the West Coast to share the good news. We watched the President’s speech and the college students outside the gates of the White House. I briefly contemplated joining them but midnight was way past my bedtime.

And then came the realization that a man, no matter how evil, had died. It is always a serious matter to take a life, no matter how justified taking that life might be. I do believe that it was justified. Our enemy is dead. But, as I said in my comment on Louise’s post: enough people have died. Another death is not cause for celebration, though the death of this particular man is cause for relief.

Finally, I was caught in that paradoxical moment when I realized that Osama bin Laden did terrible things that gave rise to terribly beautiful things: national unity, friends of the heart. My grief for Thomas has changed me, whether for better or worse is yet to be determined. I have met people and made friends who would never have come my way if Thomas had not died the way he did. My country is a different place than it would have been if no one had died an unnatural death on September 11, 2001: we rediscovered our own strength as we stood amidst the collapsed girders and concrete dust and a crater in a field, mourning our dead.

Osama bin Laden’s death will not give us back our beloved dead. But we who survive can go on in their honor, grateful for their memory and rebuilding the future our fallen bought with their lives.

Thank you, Lee Ann.

The Gift

main sunny - beautiful day in London - first frost last night here. Temps 5

Every year for the past few years a woman named Lee Ann Doerflinger has agreed to write the Nov 11th blog. This year sounded so hectic and stressful for her I didn't ask - didn't want to impose.

I made a mistake.

I should have asked, instead of assuming.

Lee Ann was busy that day, I knew, giving an address marking the new Veteran's Day plaza in her community, not far from Washington, D.C. We'd emailed back and forth a bit and she said how anxious she was about getting up in front of everyone and talking. Anyone would understand that! But, of course, speaking on Veteran's day is even more emotional. There are a couple of photos at the top of the post here, showing the event, including one of Lee Ann speaking.

And the third picture is of Thomas and Anna, on the day they said goodbye to him.

On Nov 12th I asked Lee Ann how it went and if she could send me, privately, the text of what she said. She did. And it was so beautiful I wanted to share it with you. With Lee Ann's permission, here's what she said, on Veteran's Day/Remembrance Day/Armistice Day.


Gold Star Families

November 11, 2010

Lee Ann Doerflinger

92 years ago today, World War I -- known as the Great War, the war to end all wars -- came to an end. November 11th became such a significant date that, under various titles, it has been observed ever since as a day to honor our veterans and to remember those who have died serving our country. In the United Kingdom and Canada, November 11th is known as Remembrance Day, and people in those countries wear poppies in tribute to the fallen.

Six years ago, this date took on another meaning for my family. My son, Army Specialist Thomas Doerflinger, was killed during combat operations on November 11th, 2004 in Mosul, Iraq. I watched the notification team approach my house with an extra layer of disbelief: how could Thomas have died on this day of all days? And yet, as I later told anyone who would listen, I think Thomas might have picked Veterans Day if he’d been given the choice. He was proud of his grandfathers, both of whom had served in the Navy in the Pacific during World War II. For a while, he carried my father’s dogtags everywhere. Neither side of our family could be said to have a military tradition, but what our families did have was a willingness to serve when called upon. And so, when Thomas saw a need, he enlisted in the Army. On the day he died, he had volunteered to go on a dangerous mission because they needed one more soldier.

In the six years since Thomas’s death, many more Montgomery County residents have lost their lives while serving their country. As a county, we have decided to honor their memory by naming the Rockville library, Rockville Memorial Library. In May and November, for Memorial Day and Veterans Day, we put up displays at the library commemorating their service. These residents never got to be veterans. They did not come home to raise their families, or tell us funny stories to avoid telling us the horrible stories, or be celebrated in parades. And yet, it is entirely fitting that we celebrate them today along with the living. The veterans we thank for their service were the friends and comrades of our fallen. The sons and brothers, husbands and fathers that we have lost supported these men and women, protected them, and died for them. It is a moment for all of us to consider not only what we lost when they died, but how much we gained by their decision to serve.

Since World War I, blue star banners have hung in the homes of servicemembers who are in harm’s way. If the servicemember dies or is killed, the star on that banner turns to gold. It is difficult to be a Gold Star family. It can be exquisitely painful when someone thanks us for the service our loved one gave. Every new death renews our own sorrow. But the gift our loved ones gave us is the legacy of service, of caring for our friends, of understanding that sometimes we must do the difficult thing and reach beyond ourselves. All who have placed their lives at risk to protect the helpless and the innocent have given us that gift, and for that we thank all our veterans.


Thank you, Lee Ann.

Starred Kirkus!!

mainly sunny, humid, now overcast and raining temps 28

Hot, muggy day. Spent most of it on the porch, writing/editing. Got to page 211 of 233...closing in on The End. I'm liking a lot of the new edit. Taking a lot out out the first draft...but this couldn't have been done without the first draft. Each builds on the last.

Had GREAT news yesterday. BURY YOUR DEAD has received a rare starred review in Kirkus. There're four big pre-publication journals - mostly for insiders...libraries, booksellers, other reviewers. So a good review is important. And a starred review is as wonderful as you suspect it is! And Kirkus is notoriously stingy with stars, so this is GREAT news. Here's a small excerpt - from the last paragraph:

Gamache’s excruciating grief over a wrong decision, Beauvoir’s softening toward the unconventional, a plot twist so unexpected it’s chilling, and a description of Québec intriguing enough to make you book your next vacation there, all add up to a superior read. Bring on the awards.

Yay!

Had great fun yesterday. A fish and chips dinner at a places called Les Appalache in Sutton with Gary and Cheryl, then Cheryl, Michael and I went over to Joan's meditation centre for a special evening listening to Joan read her poetry and short stories. She's an inspired writer, and reads wonderfully. It was terrific. and the place was packed!

Today we're off to a party tonight. Tomorrow in to Montreal for Father's Day.

I want to end by giving my heartfelt thanks to Lee Ann, for being willing to expose her heart to us. And for turning her grief into action. Swords into ploughshares.

Thank you Lee Ann for the beautiful post. And reminding me in the flurry of my average day, what matters.

Rockville Memorial Library

overcast, some sun, temps 20

Now is the day. Lee Ann, who sometimes posts comments, and is always kind and supportive, has sent the blog - despite, as you'll read, a few bumps. But it has all been sorted out.

I do want to say that because it's late, and because this is such a lovely, moving, important post, I'll be keeping it up until Saturday...but I also wanted to thank all of you for your wonderful comments about the new blog design! Thank you.

Now, back to Lee Ann's post...and thanks Linda for putting up the photos. When I read this I have to say, I wept. In gratitude, for the lost and in gratitude for people like Lee Ann and many of you, who get back up, and do good things.

Now here is what Lee Ann sent -

Louise kindly invited me to blog on Memorial Day in celebration of the renaming of our local library: on Friday, May 28th, the Rockville Library became the Rockville Memorial Library, in honor of our fallen service members including my son Thomas who was killed in action in Iraq on November 11, 2004. We have been working for this change for three years, stubbornly refusing to go away, something I am sure the local politicians really wished that we would do. This blog post had to be delayed when my oldest daughter was hospitalized that weekend for a complication after the birth of her baby on May 20th but all is well now and I would like to share this story.

Memorial Day began in the United States after the Civil War. There does not seem to be a particular reason that it’s at the end of May, though perhaps it’s because the approach of summer means that the flags and flowers placed on graves then will last for a while (it was originally known as Decoration Day). Until we lost Thomas, my family had no particular reason to observe Memorial Day, other than the respect and gratitude we owe to all those who have served and died. Now we take this day and its spirit of honoring the fallen very personally. Getting our community to honor the fallen with us has been our goal since we were introduced to the idea of renaming the library.

I first contacted Louise after I quoted an extensive passage from The Cruelest Month in my blog. This is what I said in my blog:

FRIDAY, AUGUST 29, 2008
I've been reading a mystery (I'm almost always reading a mystery!): this one by a Canadian named Louise Penny. The book is called The Cruelest Month, an allusion to T.S. Eliot's assessment of April. Lots of poetry, a strong story of good and evil and how we tend to encompass both. But what struck me about this book was a short passage when Armand Gamache, the protagonist, enters the village church which oddly is named St. Thomas:

He'd been in St Thomas's often enough and on this fine morning knew light from an old stained glass window would be spilling out onto the gleaming pews and wooden floor. The image wasn't of Christ or the lives and glorious deaths of saints, but of three young men in the Great War. Two were in profile, marching forward. But one was looking straight at the congregation. Not accusing, not in sorrow or fear. But with great love as though to say this was his gift to them. Use it well.
Beneath were inscribed the names of those lost in the wars and one more line.
They Were Our Children.

Here is a fictional story about an imaginary village that somehow manages to capture a truth that eludes my local elected officials. Remembering our dead is important. Remembering why they died is paramount. Remembering that they loved us makes sense of it all.

Reading this passage had reminded me and even reassured me that what we were doing was good and right. I’ve travelled a little in Europe and the U.K. and in every town I visit there is a monument to the fallen of the Great War and World War II, sometimes in the town square and sometimes, as in this story, in a stained glass window or carved into the wall of a church. I never have to look for these monuments: they are always right out there, front and center, in places you will pass as a casual visitor. It became my dream, not quite obsession, that we do the same for our community—very little of our county is incorporated into towns, so doing this in the county seat seemed right and appropriate. The library is on a beautiful open square where people pass on their way to restaurants or shops or just to sit in an open space to watch the world go by. Now when they sit on the square, drinking their lemonade or eating their burgers or reading a book, they can look up and see the words “Rockville Memorial Library” and maybe they will ponder what those words mean, at least for a second.

The rededication ceremony was held on Friday, the 28th of May. The four families who had worked for the renaming were invited, as well as the man who originated the idea, a retired judge named Irwin Cohen. The mother of our most recent lost soldier (March 4th) came. The politicians came and took some credit. The library director welcomed us and introduced speakers, while also noting that this was event close to her heart as well: her brother lost his life serving in Viet Nam. A Viet Nam vet spoke, and the brother of a POW who died by his own hand after he returned home. My husband spoke about Thomas’s love of reading and writing and his dream, not realized, of becoming a writer when he came home. The Secretary of the Maryland Department of Veterans Affairs presented a proclamation from the governor. And then came the unveiling.





Now, up to this point, this was a very solemn ceremony. For the unveiling, the families went to one side of the front canopy and the elected officials went to the other side where cords were hanging, waiting to pull down the cover over the new sign. What no one had allowed for was the effect of baking heat (90 degrees) on duct tape. Ultimately, building services staff equipped with ladders had to be called in to peel the tape off and release the sign. Thomas would have loved it: he was never very tolerant of people who took themselves too seriously and I’m pretty sure he would have been deeply embarrassed by the entire proceeding. We had to laugh, and that was also fitting.



We ended with Taps and the retiring of the colors. The reception afterwards gave us all a chance to visit and to say goodbye for now—we will have other causes to bring us together I am sure. My personal mission for now is on behalf of returning veterans: our county, in spite of everything, has shown a deep concern for those veterans and I am now part of a collaborative group of organizations working to help those men and women reintegrate into life at home. My role is small but I hope that I can do some good there. I hope Thomas would understand and be proud.

Inspiration

mainly sunny, mild, temps 15

Really, this is stunningly beautiful weather...quite a surprise for London. Have only used the hot water bottles twice and Michael's used his long underwear once...and I haven't yet.

thank you so much Lee Ann for your very beautiful post yesterday. It was only last night when we were in bed that Michael turned to me and said, 'You know, you never did identify Lee Ann as the woman blogging today.' I thought about it and realized he was right. I am sorry if it has caused any confusion!

We had a lovely day yesterday. Breakfast around the corner at Jak's, on Walton street. Then home to edit some more. Another 50 pages. Paused at 11 for a minute's silence and quiet reflection...and, in the words of Bert Finney, to do my sums.

Not totally happy with what I'd done yesterday. It was right...but there seemed something missing. A layer. Last night Michael and I joined our friends Mike and Dom for dinner at a restaurant called Moro. A Spanish/Moroccan fusion. It had just been named the Observor's Restaurant of the Month. Packed...quite a scene. Wonderful to see the two of them again. Dom works in marketing...mostly perfumes and cosmetics. Very high end luxury goods and is brilliant. Creative and thoughtful. Mike is a senior editor at The Guardian. He used to be the host of the CBC Radio Montreal morning show. So it was a gas to get all caught up.

But getting to the dinner meant taking a bus (we could have taken the tube but we prefer busses) across London. Took an hour, as we expected. The number 10 from Knightsbridge, along Hyde Park and ending up at King's Cross. Took an hour. We sat upstairs on the double decker and stared out the windows at this dazzling city. At - great good fortune!! - at the Christmas lights that had just been put up. Harrods all outlined in season green lights. But the most spectacular was Oxford Street toward Oxford Circus. We really hadn't been expecting it and so were stunned at it's beauty. Apparently hovering over the brilliant street were all these Christmas gifts...huge and lit....and candy canes...and trees....for blocks. The department stores were dripping in cheerful lights. We felt like children...wide-eyed and giggly, pointing out one beautiful sight after another.

It also gave me time to gaze out the window and think, gently, about the edit...and find the solution. A few scenes I want to slip in. Short, but I believe crucial. Always amazes me when such inspiration visits. it never 'strikes' me. More like a kindly friend who I suddenly notice is sitting beside me.

This morning I slept in to about 9 then we hopped onto the number 22 bus on Sloane Street and it took us to Piccadilly, where we went, once more, to our new favorite breakfast spot in all the world. The Wolseley. this time we got a table in the huge main room...all white and black...art decco. Huge arched windows. Fabulous coffee in a silver pot. Warm, frothy milk also in a silver 'creamer'. I had french toast and bacon...Michael had Cumberland sausage.

We're going back Monday for breakfast. As I said in an earlier post, I realize that is just who I am. I find what I like and pretty much stick to it. Not very adventurous...but wow, does it ever give me pleasure.

Michael then took me to the Anish Kapoor show across Piccadilly at the Royal Academy. I loved it! Very, very modern. Scultpures. Seems at times serious, at times playful. Very dynamic. Indeed, for reasons that I can't possibly explain, there were times I was almost in tears. of delight. Joy. It just felt so alive. So compassionate and inclusive. Divine...way more divine than the scalding at of 1600's Spain we saw earlier.

Then over to Fortnum and Mason's - which also almost brought me to tears....candy, tea, chocolates, jams, cookies everywhere.

then home on the number 14...and now we're back. Quieter day tomorrow...editing. Hoping to finish this edit. Will start the next on Sunday. By then I think it will be more polishing than anything else.

Speak to you tomorrow...hope you're well. And Lee Ann, we thought of you yesterday. And today. Thank you again.