11:59 p.m. | 2003-09-09 Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down. If I remember correctly, this particular children�s song goes like this. Ring around the rosy, Pockets full of posies, Ashes, Ashes, We all fall down. I don�t know about you guys, but I always got the impression that was a happy and fun song. You join hands, dance in a circle and all fall down, giggling actually. I didn�t learn about its origin until later, of course. It�s all about the Black Plague. The first stanza describes the manifestation of the disease. The second stanza is about the common habit, at the time, of women carrying flowers � in posy form � for relief from vile smells. The third and fourth stanzas are about death, cremation and the annihilation of a community. Many communities actually. Good fucking thing I didn�t know all that when I was singing all happy and whatnot. But, I must say, use the right tone of voice and the little ones don�t know what the hell you�re talking about. You can make it a happy song. And, interestingly enough, posies have come back into fashion. Particularly for dinner parties and weddings. Fortunately, we no longer have to shove our noses in a posy to avoid smelling raw sewage, fermenting garbage and death. Lest we faint or whatnot. That song came into my mind today after I came home and checked my email. I received one from StepMom titled �Ashes�. That�s in reference to MyDad�s ashes. We haven�t spread them yet, and we need to be doing that. Looks like we�ll take care of it on the weekend following Thanksgiving. It�ll be one year then since his death. I�m guessing that a rousing game of Ring Around the Rosy isn�t on the agenda. But, you never know. A morbid sense of humor is abundant in our family. In fact, I really miss watching Six Feet Under. Today, I discovered that there is no limit to my profane vocabulary. During a brief respite when the proceedings were out and the jack hammering out front stopped, Boss asked me if I wanted to take some files across the street to MyOtherWorkPlace. I set off to go across the street. While I was waiting for the light to change, I noticed a humongous tow truck parked strategically along my path. On its back was a vehicle that had disregarded lowered rail-crossing barriers and was struck by a train. (There were placards and such that explained what happened.) At first, I only saw the passenger side, but after I crossed the street, I saw the driver�s side. This is what I said, out loud, mind you: �Fuckin� fuck fuck. That�s some serious shit right there.� Fuckin� fuck fuck? Where�d that come from? Where has my mind been? That�s what I want to know. your thoughts? seed flower