(no subject)

[spatch]

I cannot say with any great veracity that I am a fan of Talk Like A Pirate Day. A few years back, people would write to Abbie asking if Martha, the pirate cat herself (so named because she was fond of perching on my shoulder like a parrot) knew of the day and wondering how she was going to celebrate it. Martha's response, however, was always something along the lines of the following, in her typical writing style:

I have heard about the day but I do not understand it.
I can talk like a pirate any day I want.
And I do.
So I don't need a special day for it.

The little enigma always had a pragmatic view on things, I do admit, and I always enjoyed discovering her opinions and how she'd explain them.

But that's the other thing. This day is just too damn close to Martha leaving. Two years ago on Talk Like A Pirate Day, she was quietly dying, in the last stages of liver failure. Five days later, she was gone.

I'm not trying to lapse back into the maudlin here, but you'll pardon me if I'm not quite so crazy about the day. There may be a bunch of Gosling's tossed back in her honor over the weekend, but that's as far as I'll go.

Comments

[greenlily.livejournal.com]

*ouch* I am sorry about Martha. She looks like a sweetheart.

And I understand, sort of. The memory of the Red Sox 2004 victory isn't entirely pleasant for me; it's mixed with the memory of coming in to work the next morning and finding out that one of our freshman students had passed away the night before of a very sudden illness. It doesn't prevent me from hoping the Sox make it to the World Series again, but if they do, it'll feel kind of weird.