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March 27, 2003

I've Been Slimed Not getting

I've Been Slimed

Not getting much at all done today. Ngnat is sick, so I'm staying home with her. She's not very sick, having just enough of a stomach flu to keep her out of daycare, so she's been fairly active. Hasn't really eaten anything, though. The sainted wife wants to take her to Bluefield this weekend to see the great-grandparents while I'm off fishing; she's hoping a day of rest will help Ngnat's system fight off the bug before then.

Right now we're sitting in the Lazy Boy downstairs. She's drinking juice and watching The Iron Giant. I'm taking care of work issues on the laptop as they come up, typing one-handed. Occasionally she leans over and sneezes directly onto the keys.

It's a hard knock life.

When she's not sneezing, she's demanding juice, or cutting up Bongo comics with her safety scissors, or helping me type, which is quite the adventure when I'm editing the Apache config file for the campus webservers. I've not been able to pay attention to much of anything for more than three or four minutes at a time, so it's a good thing most of the work tasks haven't called for any deep thought.

I wanted to say something about Shelley Pokorney, whose husband was one the N.C. based Marines who died when Iraqi soldiers first faked surrender and then fired on them, but the only thing that I can think of during the staccato intervals of peace that Ngnat is allowing me is Abraham Lincoln's 1864 letter to Mrs. Bixby

Dear Madam,
 
I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts, that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle.
 
I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save.
 
I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours, to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of Freedom. Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,
 
Abraham Lincoln

Shelley Pokorney's loss, and that of the other N.C. Marine families is less than Mrs. Bixby's in number only. One or five or twenty, it's still a tragedy.

Posted by Bigwig at March 27, 2003 11:36 AM | TrackBack
Postscript:
First time visitor to House Hraka? Wondering if everything we produce could possibly be as brilliant/stupid/evil/pedantic/insipid/inspired as the post you just read? Check out the Hraka Essentials, the (mostly) reader-selected guide to Hraka's best posts, and decide for yourself.
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