Permissionary

Permissionary – Permission to Forgive and to Heal This week marks the 20 th anniversary of my mother’s passing.   She survived my father by some 38 years. She passed quietly at home, the 9 th of January 1999. We suspect that it may have been by design because the one of suspected contributing causes was carbon monoxide poisoning, the result of a faulty furnace that was scheduled to be replaced. I was ten years of age when my dad passed away. In my then child’s mind I viewed him as the hero and my mother the villain of a life that was, in retrospect, difficult for everyone involved. It was some very childlike black-and-white thinking. After my father passed away in 1961, there was a period of chaos lasting a couple of years, during which we moved from New York City to Maysville, Kentucky and then shortly thereafter to  Cleveland, Ohio, where we lived for a time with my mother’s parents. While I was young, I still maintained the childhood ideal that parents are some

Choosing to Give Yourself Permission Welcome to my new blog, which I am calling “Permissionary” for reasons that will become obvious later. I hope to make this blog a permanent (as permanent as life should permit) fixture of the blogosphere, discussing topics ranging from politics (yecch!) to philosophy to music to the best way to make a good mac and cheese. So, why permissionary? I have a very hard time giving myself permission for almost everything.  Since late 2014, when the love of my life, the light of my life, Susan, walked off this mortal coil, I have consistently failed to give myself permission to live. Rather I have occupied a space somewhere between life and death. A wonderful song written by Canadian songwriter Bruce Cockburn says it best: Sunset is an angel weeping Holding out a bloody sword No matter how I squint I cannot Make out what it's pointing toward Sometimes you feel like you've lived too long Days drip slowly on the page You catch