I heard the geese last night. It was the full harvest moon and they must have been taking advantage of the light to make a few more miles south. It was bright, almost light enough to read by the bedroom window. I love to hear the geese. When I was a kid my father would sing "My heart knows what the wild goose knows, I must go where the wild goose goes" a Frankie Laine hit about a wanderer who leaves the woman he loves for the wild life - a song my father seemed to like a lot more than Bucky did.

The geese have always been a symbol to me of the changing seasons, the onset of fall and the long winter, and in the spring, the promise of warm weather and summer. I love to hear the honks, almost like dogs barking and to search the sky looking for the tell tale V formation. Last March, probably just a week or so before Maria died, I was waiting with Solomon for his bus to come to pick him up. I heard the sound, and sure enough, there they were, coming north, a big V. I pointed them out to Solomon, "Look, Solly, the geese are flying north, they're making a big V in the sky." Then, there were more, several flocks, making the familiar noise, making the familiar formation. "A big V, and another big V", I pointed out to Solomon. His head pointed up, he said nodding, "Yes, just like Darth Vader" - he was and still is big time into Star Wars. After that we yelled "It's Darth Vader, Darth Vader is coming - more Darth Vader", with laughs of joy. After I returned home, I phoned Maria and was telling her about introducing Solomon to the migrating geese and how he related it to Darth Vader. She answered warmly, "Oh, Ma, what a wonderful memory for him." And that's what it is - a memory of all the times I've pointed out the geese - all the years and seasons past and to come.

Today I heard two sisters talking on local tv that they named their farm "Gansvoort" after the old Dutch name which literally means goose crossing. My sister Kathleen lives in Gansvoort and Gansvoort is a name associated with the Huson Valley, which is a real goose crossing, a regular route for the geese to go north and south by. But I had never heard the translation. I like it though, that's what the geese symbolize, crossing, leaving summer, going into winter, and then in reverse. Hoping to still be here to see them come back, but never knowing. I always plant spring bulbs with that same thought, "wonder if I'll be here to see them flowering" - it's a small leap of faith and hope for the future.

The news this morning was all about the anniversary of September 11th. Family members were interviewed and spoke of how that day will never be forgotten. I myself remember it well. The phone rang after 8am and my neighbor Kathy told me to put on the television, a plane had crashed into the Twin Towers. Timmy and I watched in disbelief as the other tower was hit. To get away from the television, Timmy and I decided to do what we did every Tuesday morning, walk to Tivoli and go to the Thrift Shop. A small group was waiting outside the door, whispering in shock, "a plane has crashed in the Pentagon", more planes are attacking, the country is at war". No one knew what to believe and then I saw Maria drive up with Regina in the car. She, too, had felt the need to do a usual, normal activity. I don't even remember going into the shop, but Margaret who lives next door, called down to us to come to her apartment. Timmy said he would walk home, and Maria, Regina and I went upstairs. We talked nervously about the events, second guessing what was coming next, and then Margaret looked at Regina, two years old at that time, and asked "Regina, would you like to hold one of my birds?" Regina nodded yes and Margaret said, "I'll let you hold Retardo, he's very easy going" and Regina stretched out her hand and Margaret took a picture of Regina, wearing a long dress, a solemn look on her young face, with that bird held so gingerly on her finger, with the tv in the background showing the smoking twin towers. Wow! Talk about capturing so much with one picture. Seven years later, the family members still feel the grief, the loss and watching them being interviewed on TV this morning, I said in my head (sometimes I do say these things out loud too), "Yes, I understand. I grieve with you at your lose." That's what grief does to you...it humbles you, it humanizes you. It gives you an understanding of the "human condition" that you can only get when you go through it yourself. Seven years have passed, and I wonder what we learned as a people, meaning the whole country, from this event. I look at the polls with Palin sweeping McCain ahead and I shake my head. Bush used this event to go to war, thousands have died, and we have a chance to elect someone who can bring the soldiers home, help our country get back on its feet, make us feel proud again as Americans, and we would rather have a gun toting, moose killing, pit bull (lipstick wearing) hockey mom leading the way. God Help Us.

Monday morning Timmy and I were cleaning up the Bird's Nest after guests for the long weekend. He was reading from our guest book, but was having a hard time deciphering the handwriting of our latest guest. He does this to me all the time. He will pick up my grocery list and say "brood" for bread or "malt" for milk. He has that perfect handwriting of an artist and no patience for my scribbling. Well, even I couldn't read what the "pleasing sounds of birds and ????" were and suddenly it brought me back to last Christmas in Ria's car heading home from our annual Christmas trek to Beacon. Regina was in the back seat and we were headed a few miles towards home when Regina remembered she hadn't eaten all day..playing with her cousin Katie had made her forget lunch. So she started in the whining about Burger King as we drove through Poughkeepsie. "We''ll stop in Hyde Park," Maria told her, "there's a Burger King there". "Ria," I whispered, "I think that's a MacDonald's". The kid heard me and yelled "I hate MacDonald's-I want Burger King. They have the best fries." "There's one in Hyde Park", screamed Ria back, "I'm pretty sure anyway," she added. But when we got to Hyde Park, there it was, a MacDonald's. Regina had a fit...."you told me it was Burger King,,I hate MacDonald's". "Well," said Ria patiently and firmly, "It's MacDonald's or nothing til we get home." Regina grunted and we turned in and got in line behind several cars for the drive-in. Maria started to giggle and turned to me. "Laura gave me the greatest tape for Christmas, Ma. It's Dane Cook (I had never heard of him) and he's talking about working at Burger King. He was 17 and his brother was manager and got him a job there....but he was embarrassed to be working at Burger King, so he called it the BK Lounge and said he was a bouncer for the BK Lounge. But, Ma, the funiest part was his brother always made him work at the drive thru...which he hated. People yelled at him, I said large fries, MF'er and screamed into the mike. But worse, he said, were the people who whispered, and he goes, extra cheese, extra pickles, all in whispers. He said he thought they were talking dirty to him....like chicken tenders and put extra pussy sauce on the meat. Well, Ria and I got laughing so hard that by the time we got to the window, Ria could hardly put in the order, but she spoke loudly and clearly giving Regina's order. And the kid got her fries and stopped whining and Ria and I laughed the rest of the way home....It was the unreadable guest book that brought that back to me and it gave me a chuckle. I turned to Timmy, and pretended to read from the book, "Thanks for the worst stay of my life...the f... birds woke me up early after the shitty refrigerator ran all night." I think that's what my life is going to be from now on, little snippets of shared times with Maria. Thanks Dane Cook for making me and Maria laugh.