March 23, 2002


a voice hushed
wrapped in chains
lock snapped tight
teeth clenched.

the wrath of words,
fire like hail,
rain down
on this family.

for appearance
we sacrifice
voice, soul

for appearence
we learn to believe
the lie.

Today I spoke.
Today I said
there is a problem,
Today my voice rang clear
for me the child
for my child.
Today I was seen
and heard.

nothing was left

March 20, 2002

the folks I work with

I bet these guys will let me surf the Internet all day long! And I don't even mind that he's recruiting from within my own bloggernizations.

"A global reach consulting team, with offices in more than 10 countries, staffed by 20+ experts, with round the clock continuous operation."

One thing: don't gobble up ALL of my blog sisters' resources, dammit! They are an important part of my MRM effort.

March 19, 2002

Who am I, Part 1

I surfed on over to tonight to see if I could find a little info, a little support for spouses of spouses (?) who travel extensively on business. That after we nearly sealed a sweet gig for my sweet love over in Hong Kong for three months. Yep, three months. As a mom. Working full time. From home. Me, myself, and I, and four-year-old makes four.

Yes, I understand that single mothers do this all the time (how they do it, I'm not sure), but most don't have their kids at home because they have to work (mine has just started school, but it's just for a few hours), and most with their kids at home don't have a husband they love that they're missing so, otherwise they wouldn't be single moms. Am I making sense? No? I didn't think so. He's not gone yet. No it's not a done deal. But you know how bloggers think. I already have him gone.

So my point to all of this was, I found the "Family Boards" on the site and was thinking, heck, I'll find some great ideas for passing the time, or ways I can talk him into coming back early, stuff like that. And I get these boards to choose from:

Family Time Boards:
Married Life
Single Parents
Stay-at-Home Moms
Working Moms
Family Time Open Forum
Recipe Exchange

Suddenly a wave of exhaustion washed over me, as I ran my mouse over the options and realized, in one painful moment, that I am all of these things. At once. (And they don't even list "Blogger" or "Team Blog Leader.")

Lets run through the list, shall we?

-Married life: check, been married 16 years.

-Single parents: yep, married to a road warrior music man, and have an amazing, spirited, demanding, insanely creative child. go figure.

-Stay-at-home mom: yep, I stay at home all the time (except every other Friday, when they make me come into the office)

-Working mom: check, work full time, usually more. maintain near perfect utilization and manage an editorial group. online 24/7, except when I sleep. sometimes.

-Family time: yep, every Sunday is family day. the rest of the week we pretty much play it by ear. our household is jazz through and through.

-Recipe exchange: yessiree, I cook too.

I'm not saying I'm special or anything, but, shit, no wonder I'm stinking tired.

Is there a name for this? More importantly, is there a cure?

And, finally, which one do I click?

Restructuring at Blogsisters--New President to Share the Load

Sometimes you have to take a hard look at your business, a hard look at your life, and realize that things aren't working the way they are. That's what spurred me into action, reorganizing the women-only blog behemoth called Blog Sisters after just three weeks in business. Read more about our organizational changes here.

March 18, 2002

sorry i haven't blogged more

but i've been engaged in fighting a vast right-wing conspiracy over at Blog Sisters. You can wander over and see what all the comotion's about, or you can just read b!x's take on it and call it a day. I recommend the latter, the former being too irritating.

More news on blog sisters soon. Big news. Ha, now I have your attention.

Nah-nah. Blog Sisters nay-sayers, get your little steely knives ready to see if you can kill this beast.


March 17, 2002

From father to husband

My father was a professional bassist and composer; my husband is a professional bassist, composer, and producer. Freud would have a field day with me, but I have never cared. We seek to marry our fathers, our daughters, our mothers, our sons, and it isn't inherently wrong. My husband, George Sessum has been my harbor for 18 years. His mind and his music wrap me in comfort and blow away my dark clouds.

Digital heritage

Al Dimino on piano, 1965 at my grandparent's house, where there was always music. Who do you think the munchkin whooping in the background might be?

Alphonse Dimino

He doesn't exist on the net. These are not him. He's not here with me. The further I wander into this world, the further I wander from him. So, today, I bring him here. With me. gives me information I never knew. My father wasn't 36 when he died, he was 38. I wasn't 5, I was 6. To anyone else, these life-long discrepancies are meaningless. To me, they rock the foundation on which I've built my life. Especially so because without the net, I never would have known. The net moves beyond the living to give insight into the dead. Moreso, I'm sure, as we, the pioneers of net voice, live and die online.

ALPHONSE DIMINO Request Information (SS-5)
SSN 070-26-8940 Residence: 14526 Penfield, Monroe, NY
Born 16 Dec 1930 Last Benefit:
Died Mar 1969 Issued: NY (Before 1951)

That's the only reference to him here, in this world. Nothing about his soft voice, the cleft in his chin, the way his shoulders hunched over his upright bass when he played. Nothing about Al Dimino's nickname, "Tootie," which he went by at home and in the music business. Nothing about his time with the Woody Herman All Stars, Nothing about touring with Serge Chaloff. His lyrics aren't here. His music isn't here. There's nothing about how my daughter has his eyes, his chin.

Today, he has a place online.
I am making him a place. With me.
Because I can't leave him behind.

the day of shamrocks and death

today is the day my mother, just 35, lost her husband, the only man she would ever love.
today is the day my mother cried on her father's shoulder, not knowing that in three weeks he too would be dead.
today is the day my mother lost her mother, twenty years later.
today is the day my mother, unquestioning Catholic, celebrates her feast day, Patricia to Patrick, living to dead.

Grief unspoken destroys us. Grief unspoken welcomes disease, turmoil, violence, and chaos. Grief unspoken consumes the family. Grief unspoken has taken my mother from me.

today is the day I celebrate loss.