(actually posted Jan 17th) Meant to post this last night, but, as is still relevant here goes…
That sound you hear? The sucking of wind? It was that bell jar I mentioned in a previous post lifting last Saturday, just in time for also aforementioned Falcons’ Playoff game. Expectations were high; Atlanta’s collective sense of self-awareness/absorption equally jacked.
Of course the bell jar hadn’t been air tight; we were aware of Tuscon. My medium du jour that Monday immediately following the storm was over-the-air digital TV: WSB. I sat my happy ass on the couch and surfed as I let images and soundbites, updates, road conditions, children on sleds – though most on rubbermaid lids – school closings warnings from the DOT to PLEASE stay off the streets wash over me. I Drank coffee.
That grew old Tuesday- not the coffee drink part- and I switched to the radio. am750. Boortz in the morning, some Hannity at night; immediately apparent that all too many all too eager to politicize Tuscon. Shocked? Hardly. Not my point. Point of character. On a similar more zeitgeisty front watercooler talk tuned to the Golden Globes (OMG it’s Johnny Depp!) But make no mistake, Saturday was about us. We’d survived It. For thousands of parents, survived the extra week with their offspring. In the same house. 24/7.
As a city Atlanta woke up last Saturday, finished with snow and ice, hungry for milk and bread for our souls, the morning air not quite as dry. We stretched. Fired up the cars and headed out beneath blue skies to Starbucks. Game day.
I didn’t. I’d stayed up late Friday, crashing on the couch for a bit more than really sleeping (which I will pay for ironically later that afternoon. Or not, depending on your point of view), working on my first post to Gathering Spirits.
So, puttering about…Intermittently checking FB, drinking coffee. Radios on. Still am750. Personal finance rolls into home gardening rolls into sometime around 12:30 pm when the show is interrupted to announce that Royal Marshall has died. Dead. Gone.
Over the course of the following hours, one after another, those who had been privileged to know him came on the radio. When, finally, Boortz came on and tried to talk my own heart broke. In the course of that Saturday afternoon I was privileged to hear a family come together to love and remember a man in who the very gathering his passing engendered was testament to his character as much as their loss. The hours of tribute to him no programming stunt. For a full day, obligatory weather and breaking news aside, Royal T Marshall was celebrated. Listening to the radio I was witness to a gathering of spirits. Part of it. Zeitgeist at highest calling.
The Falcons…well, you know how that went. I missed the game, actually. Slept through it. Such is life.
Go team. The bell tolls for thee.