This post is about 95% recycled from 2009. But it's still true, so I figured, what the heck: Every summer, right in the hot, soft belly of July/August, especially on thick, soupy nights like this one, I'm hit with it in the head, like the skillet of an angry housewife: the urge to play Alan Jackson loud with the windows of my station wagon rolled down, hang back on my porch at sundown, and go out drinking with the girls. You guessed that right, son - Redneck Fever.
.......Is a memory something you have or something you've lost? – Woody Allen Today we think of who we do not have and why, and then what that lack demands of us. Tomorrow, about how we celebrate being alive to meet those demands. Today is Memorial Day in Israel, honoring fallen soldiers and victims of terror, observed here a day before Independence Day. The connection is essential since it is widely recognized that without the former, celebrating the latter would be impossible, while always hoping that one day, this will not be the case. That there will be no more names on next year's list of the fallen. It is, in other words, a sacred day we wish with all our hearts we didn’t need to observe, and in fact grapple with its necessity all the time.
OK, readers. Mak is Back for the 3rd installment. (Hint: In the chat room chapter below he is Hands_Solo. In case you don't get that right away.) A note: When I wrote this back in 2000, there was no social media, only chat rooms and message boards. I was one of the first 700,000 people on ICQ, before it was bought out by AOL. It was all research, of course. That goes without saying.