In the morning I like to read the poem in the Writer's Almanac. This is a daily email sent out ostensibly by Garrison Keillor, though I believe by now he has become some sort of industry and must have a number of elves keeping things going. God help NPR and all writers when he retires.

At any rate, today's poem was really quite good and worth sharing here (http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/). It's called Great Things Have Happened.

I think one of the reasons it stands out is that on Sunday I attended the funeral of a friend. Van Bluemell was my brother's father-in-law and someone I got to know at various holidays and summer vacations. He was a gentle person when I knew him, though he may have had a bit of a temper at one point, and someone who loved being in the outdoors. He grew up in the Depression and learned to work hard and that education is a ticket to a better life. As such, he used his ticket to become a physics professor at WPI.

As his friends and daughters told stories of Van and what it was like to know him there were a number of moments raised where in the moment life seemed a bit better than normal, a bit more magical or felt, or something like that. We all have these moments. A smell, sensation or thought of being small and snuggled with a parent or older and newly on our own sharing a moment with a new lover and curled together.

After the funeral, later that night as I lay with Maria we talked about these times that people remember and shared some of our own. Funny that we both dearly remember laying on a couch in her home in Ashfield in front of the fireplace listening to all 73 songs on a Johnny Cash compilation album (can't remember the name, sorry). The songs ranged from his tried and true country to Bob Marley and others and they are mostly all played just by him on an acoustic guitar. I've never been much of a Johnny Cash fan, but I am now.

So there was some magic in that moment of silently laying together and listening that I will remember and is captured in today's Writer's Almanac poem and was captured on Sunday.

We all miss you Van.