This African Violet was part a floral arrangement that was sent to my Mother's funeral back in March of 2003. My mother loved African Violets and they always thrived under her care. During the service I became obsessed with the thought of removing this plant from the altar, taking it home and caring for it. I needed to make something live, I guess. It has rewarded me all these years with nearly non-stop blooms. It became a victim of its own success when it got leggy and snapped off of its root system right as I was going through my surgery madness this past winter. The attempt to get it to root again was not going very well and I became obsessed with keeping it alive while I was dealing with my post-surgery complications. Once again this plant became something to make live and I was desperate to bring back to health. It was down to just a few small shriveled leaves and seemed like a goner. Just as I turned a corner for the better so did this violet, to the point that it has now divided into two separate plants that I should probably move to different pots. Jim was at rehearsal tonight and the apartment would still be quiet for hours when I got a call that a friend of 23 years had passed away today. Elaine was the mother of my friend Cathy that I first met back in 1986. I was instantly smitten with her. Elaine was a worldly and intelligent woman with a quick and irreverent wit who doted on her daughter. Cathy and I would often drive to Walnut Creek for long evenings spent at her mother's home after work or on weekends. These evenings are now cherished memories from my young adulthood. Her Walnut Creek condominium was a decorating homage to a prior decade, and we had an especially fine time marveling at the several different patterns of flocked, metallic, and brightly colored wallpaper that changed from room to room in her home. She seemed just as amused by it as we were; either that or she was being a very good sport. Jim and I visited Elaine this past week in the nursing facility where they had begun hospice care for the virulent cancer that had taken over most of her body. At first I barely recognized her but within minutes she was able to push through the morphine and there she was: a clever turn of phrase, a dramatic hand gesture, the same sharp wit. I reminded her that over twenty years ago she surprised me with a coffee mug from her kitchen cabinet as a gift: a 70's era mug covered in countless orgy-engaged rabbits that I always gravitated to. I told her that after all these years I still prefer to drink my coffee only out of this mug. Her face lit up with recognition and she said, "Oh! The Taylor & Ng! I'm so glad you still have that!" In the past few days it seems that Elaine reconciled herself more and more with death. To one visitor she said,"Who knows? Maybe it will be really great. Then again, maybe it will be really, really great." It was good to be alone in my quiet home tonight with a flood of fond memories and well-deserved tears. And as I was watering the African Violet tonight I noticed that it is just starting to flower again.

2009.03.14 18:22:30 "As I proceed through my life's 'time machine', I cannot cease to marvel at the wonders of photography: how my life for these years, and now as a reprise, the segments ongoing and melding, unfolds in my memories." - Julius Shulman