DIAMONDS AND RUST - Joan Baez

Well I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall.

As I remember your eyes
were bluer than Robin's eggs
My poetry was lousy you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest.
Ten years ago I bought you some cufflinks
You brought me something
WE both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust.

Well you burst on the scene
already a legend
The unwashed Phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms
and there you stayed
temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes, the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing
with brown leaves falling all around
and snow in your hair
Now your smiling out the window
of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square.
Our breath comes out white clouds
mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there.

Now your telling me
You're not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
YOU WHO ARE SO GOOD WITH WORDS
and at keeping things vague
Cause I need some of that vagueness now
it's all come back to clearly
Yes, I loved you dearly
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid.

The story says that Joan Baez heard through "the grapevine" that Bob Dylan had traded her in for someone else. I don't know if it's true but I think that this song is a lovely reminder of what may happen if you wanted to try and make it work again.... Knowing that it wouldn't.

I feel like an idiot. The other day I posted something about being lonely.Wrote a fast rundown of my "love life". A friend asked me, "why didn't you mention Gary?". The answer was " I didn't even think of him", and I feel terrible about that. I feel guilty.I didn't think of Gary. After I had been divorced about 12 or 13 years I met Gary. We ended up spending 12 years together ( and I didn't remember him !),Theres something Freudian in that. When I met Gary, he was a fireman and he had a business on the side. He was my hero ( the fireman part) and he was my friend. He fit right in to my family and became my youngest brothers best friend for life. Two or three years passed and Gary started drinking. Not so bad at first and it just got so much worse. He quit his job at the fire department because he couldn't drink all day. By this time, He HAD to drink when he got up in the morning because he had "the shakes" so bad. he wasn't a mean drunk, he was a funny drunk. In retrospect, there really isn't any such thing as a funny drunk. Things were getting worse between us. I couldn't stand the smell that came out of his pores. I would work a double shift as a nurse, get home after 11 at night and have to stay awake until he passed out. I was terrified that he would pass out with a cigarette. One night I went to sleep because I was sooo tired. God must have woken me up because I smelled something burning. Gary had passed out with a cigarette and the couch was smouldering. I went crazy. I was screaming, I was mean. I said horrible, hurtful things. I kicked him out so many times that I can't even remember. I would feel sorry for him and take him back. He had no where else to go. I kept remembering how he was before he got so bad. When I met him and for those years afterwards, Gary was probably the KINDEST man that I had ever met. He NEVER said anything bad about anyone and I don't think that he ever said a curse word in the 12 years that I knew him. That's the Gary that I kept remembering and wanting back. We put him in rehab 3 times and it just never worked. After 12 years of this, I met the man that I would marry. I wanted a sober man. I wanted security. I wanted someone that didn't reek of alcohol. By this time Gary was driving 18 wheelers and that scared me to death. I KNEW that he was driving thousands of tons of metal drinking. I called his company, but he was always sober when they called him in to talk. I finally kicked him out for good and dated and married Terry. Gary moved in with my brother and his family when he wasn't on the road. He called me one Sunday night after I was married. He asked me if he got sober "for good", if I ever thought that we could make it work. I told him no. I told him that I was married, that I would always have a special love for him but it just would not work. I begged him to get sober. I told him to be careful. The next day he drove his 18 wheeler off the road, hit a gas powered hiway sign and burned to death. When I got the call, I went crazy. I cried for months. I felt guilt and I felt sorrow that alcohol killed such a good man. I remember my husband asked me, " I wonder if you would cry that much if I got killed"? When that happened, the answer was NO. I think that I must have forgotten to mention Gary for self protection. I still miss hearing him laugh. I still miss the person that he once was. I hope so badly, that he is finally at peace. That's my prayer. I DO remember Gary.

" We are gifted from our creator only a small number of heartbeats in this lifetime. If they can beat in happiness, then we are truely living". Charles Littleleaf

I saw this quotation yeaterday and it really, really struck me. I have wasted SO many of my heartbeats in worry, sadness and hopelessness. That has to change. I know that bad things have happened to me but they have happened to a lot of people. There have been entire families wiped out by famine, war, disease, tsunamis and other horrible things. I have seen mothers wiping flies off the faces of thier starving children. I have seen rows of unmarked tiny graves that held the littlest victims of AIDS. I have prayed with a father as he searched for his missing family only to find them dead. Who am I to be so depressed? Who am I to want more than I have been given? I live in a land where you can take your baby to the doctor for medicine. I live in a land where my children will never starve. I live in the land where I can worship the God that I chose without fear of torture or death. I live in a land where I can protest a war that has taken far to many lives, without fear of imprisonment. I have wasted far to many of my heartbeats in worry and sadness, when in fact, I am blessed. I shall cherish the heartbeats that I have left. I will be grateful. I am.

I was watching one of those reality shows tonight. The man and one of the "hopeful" women were leaning back on a couch, staring into each others eyes and BANG... it hit me. I miss being in love. I'm not one of those women that have to have a man around. I was divorced for 25 years before I married the second time. My husband has been dead almost 6 years. Three years after he died, I had a two year relationship and other than that, I've been alone. THat relationship ended because of age, distance and silly rumours that we both heard about each other. BUT,, the feeling that I had in that one is what I miss. That was probably the only time that I have ever been in love. I miss cuddling and kissing. I miss laughing and sharing secrets. I miss knowing that there is at least ONE person in my life that I can lean on. I sometimes miss HIM. He made me laugh and he made me think.. He made me a better woman and I never even told him that. I miss bringing someone breakfast in bed and cooking lots of "meals" to send home for him and his kids when he left. I miss the way that he made my toes curl when..... well, you know. Time goes on and the hurt subsides. I will never quit wishing him well, wishing him happiness. I always knew that no woman would EVER love him as much as I did, but I hope that I'm wrong. I hope that one does because he deserves it. I got a short note from him last week and he is going to Iraq. Again. That makes the pit of my stomach hurt. I always thought that I would be ok alone. I thought that maybe that was "the plan". I hope not. I don't want to be alone anymore. I am just whining tonight. Thanks for listening... Sleep well....

This was written by Oriah Mountain Dreamer an Indian Elder

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream the meeting of your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened to lifes betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from the fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with fear, yours or mine without moving to hide it, or fake it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let ectasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefor trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not a pretty day, and if you source your life from it's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, YES!

It doesn't interest me where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truely like the company that you keep in the empty moments.