Been in ultimate throes of commencement/wedding/freelance world. Photographed a delegation from Singapore last night, the ladies in colorful silks.
Speaking of colorful garb, this past weekend, in the Middling City's gray downtown district, saw throngs in white, flowing robes, red ceremonial-looking headwear, and white suits for the men. Upon closer, casual inspection saw that they were of the Ismalia Temple, an interesting contrast to the bright yellows of the Lions.
The Middling City is awash in Sabres Pride, Sabres magnetized flagpoles affixed to cars everywhere, and a general sense of adrenaline in the air obvious even to the most casual of sporty spectators - Yours Truly.
Dropped a big box of golf balls off at the public yet fee-grubbing golf course yesterday for the man who drove me about the course for my book gig. The book, a historical docu-drama about the US Open, is to appear in the world this autumn.
Speaking of autumn, Mrs. Ganey died, surrounded by five of her eight children, a few days ago. As sick as she was it seemed that her awesome will for more life would carry her along for months to come. Today is her wake and tomorrow the funeral and my thoughts are full of not only how the family was still reeling from the death of Mr. Ganey about a month ago, but of her strength, talents, quiet intensity. She was one of my lifetime's greatest inspirations as she painted, drew, wrote, pursued an advanced degree as a non-traditional student, cooked well, gardened, socialized madly, loved music, and all her children. One remarkable thing to me as a younger person was how both the Ganey parents welcomed challenges to their authority, if presented in a logical manner - something that did not happen where I lived. Mrs. Ganey inspired everyone who knew her (students she had at Nardin, friends, kids) to push to experience innate, creative gifts as well as the creative efforts out there in the world.
Despite waning, her last week she watched her beloved Sabres, went to a concert, played bridge, and talked to all her children.
One of the last things she said to me was Put pen to paper.

Creative, vibrant Love.