miller's crossing

A dear, old friend of mine, Petr, is doing groundbreaking work in the field of neuroscience, studying music perception. Here's a nice profile about him. I remember being an early test subject of his with electrodes on my head, listening to tones. He gave out delicious monster cookies to his test subjects afterwards.

An email arrived in my inbox last night with the subject line: "Carmen is finally free." It was meant to be uplifting. But I was sad. It's hard for me to accept a death to cancer when it strikes someone otherwise healthy and vibrant.

I only knew Carmen in passing. She was active at my Dharma center. She had a glowing smile and a warm personality. She was stylish and a little bit sexy. I'm not sure how old she was, but she couldn't have been over 50. She got sick last fall and threw herself a huge party before she went into treatment. How awesome is that?

My boyfriend Bob's dad Ernie died last night. He was 80. I met him for the first time earlier this month. Then saw him on Sunday. Now, he's gone.

Ernie was diagnosed with cancer a year ago or so. He had ups and downs with it, but nine days ago, no longer able to handle food or water through a stomach shunt, he refused IV feeding and set his heart towards death. He had made his decision. His children and wife all were able to say goodbye. He had last rites. Now, his life as Ernie has ended.

Madison activist, food critic and distinguished social provocateur Lea Zeldin died April 2, 2009. John Nichols wrote a thoughtful obituary for Lea. He knew her well. And I'm sure he, like many, many other Madisonians are feeling her loss.

I met Lea not long after moving to Madison. A woman of integrity and courage, I learned a lot from her. I haven't personally known many women as outspoken as Lea nor have I had known many elders as tirelessly committed to peace and justice. Sure, there were times when she drove you absolutely nuts, wasting your time. But the contrarian in me secretly loved her for it, and I more than once ended up questioning whether it really had been time wasted.

I will remember Lea for her energy to go out and report a story well into her late-70s. Although she never quite mastered the use of the iRiver for recording, she certainly tried to get it right. I'll remember her making risotto and telling stories of Italy. I'll remember her at the socialist potlucks, on-air at WORT and hanging around wherever there was free food. I'll remember her lending me a travel book on Tunisia and Libya, and since she'd visited both, she had recommendations on where to go. I'll remember her challenging me on my ideas about privilege. And so much more.

Thanks, Lea, for walking this earth, working to make it a better place and inspiring us with your dedication.

This is a story idea that I have about mix tapes.

It really has to do with the fact that my car, that I don't drive very often, has a cassette tape player. I really love that it has a cassette player and not a CD player. So, when I'm driving all over town running errands, I've been listening to old (and one new) mix tapes. These tapes haven't really been in circulation, but over the past year and a half as I've moved out of and sold a house, I unearthed several old mix tapes that friends had made for me and a couple I had made for myself.

In the soggy October night, I set out to fix a flat on my bike. Waiting for the glue to cure, I put on a Midnight Oil LP and poured a glass of red wine. Before I'd had my first sip, I noticed the subtle smell of old boyfriend nostalgia. The David Bowie I was singing earlier in the day should've been an early tip off to what was to come. Then, there was an email from the last guy that I read after work. ("...

See more from Moon's 40th birthday celebration here.

Sheldon Rampton is one of my favorite heroes, ever. He has helped me with this blog SOOOO much. Without Sheldon, there would be no Miller's Crossing. In fact, he coined the name. ... Well, you know, he thought it might work for the blog. And he just helped me register my blog on Technorati. So, we're getting ready for the big time here.

A million thank yous to Sheldon.

Is it always the poets who defend their art? Is it only the poets who are saying, "We need poetry"? I have a vision of poets queueing up to take their turn to stand on a soapbox in the middle of the Saturday market in Madison and proclaim to whomever will listen, "You need us." Beseeching among ripe melons and bright flowers, "Listen: We have something for your ears, to soothe you. Something for your mind, to spark you. Something for your heart, to heal you." They will gently intone to the shoppers caressing waxy purple eggsplants, "Listen to us. You may not believe this, but you will be better to pause a moment and consider our words. And then maybe you will join us."