The Byrne Diaspora

For Lalomanu

This morning on the radio, I heard about the tsunami that hit Samoa. The New York Times now reports that the death toll is much worse than first feared. Not only that, but the tsunami hit the village of Lalomanu, which is where I spent a week in April. The families that own the fales have lost dozens of people, including many children who were washed out to sea.

It's unreal. I knew them. I'm just overwhelmed with memories of Lalomanu and the families who lived there and owned the fale resorts. They worked so hard to make an Easter feast for us. And to make sure we lashed our tarps down properly, and used the water buckets for our feet, so as not to get our fales sandy. And I remember the girl whose name I forget, who accompanied me, shyly, on my walk down the road, and told me about her school work, and how to handle knives. I wonder where she is now.

I'm just thinking of them a lot today and keeping them in my prayers. Here is my album of Samoa (almost all of the pictures were taken at Lalomanu), and the letter I wrote about my stay there.  --MCB

Forty years of poetry

For his contribution to Donny's 40th birthday, Dad combed his poetry archives to find some suitable pieces. He sent me four sets of excerpts--one for each of Donny's decades--and I've put them into an album, which you can see here. Thank you for sharing these, Da, they're marvelous as always :)  --MCB

These are days

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER!

Our DEBIII turns 40 today, and it's a stunning day in Chatham County--blue sky, bright sun, strong breeze. We celebrated yesterday with a trip to my friend Kim's house. She's a massage therapist, healer and herbalist, and she showed us around her garden and how to make teas and pestos out of wild NC greens right in the back yard. Nicole also anointed us with pokeberry bindhis--you can see Donny's in the picture above, taken at Chatham Marketplace, where we attempted to consume four pints of ice cream. I think we managed about 3.25. (Kim also presented him with an honorary birthday crown, the clover twine around his hat :))

Last night, before Donny opened presents by lantern light, he said that his twenties were a decade of Self-discovery and Growth...his thirties were a decade of Achievement...and what will his forties be? We can't imagine, only dream! In the words of that 10,000 Maniacs song, "These Are Days." Donny is building, teaching, coaching, and sowing seeds, both literally and figuratively. He is a wonderful husband to Nicole, beautiful son to Dad, and dear brother to me.

For his birthday, Donny requested that we, the members of his family, each contribute a work of art to post on the web site. Imma post them over the course of the week, to honor a Byrne tradition of "stretching out" a birthday as long as possible ;)  But first, I present Nicole's contribution: a lovely and funny slide show, one of many presents to her man. You can see it here!

Pull a Kali

One day, talking to Clare, the living divine comedy herself, she did THIS in the middle of conversation...

...saying offhandedly a phrase like "pull a Kali." After I recovered from the shock, I considered how much more expressive it was than saying, "What a freak out," "Life is strange," "F*ck you," or "Wild!," since it could mean any of the above.  Monica pulled a Kali, too, and affirms that it feels really good.

That's because this change-of-seasons seems to belong to Kali.  Opposites come together, like morning glories blossoming as leaves turn red.  Rosh Hashanah, Id al-Fitr, the autumn equinox, Yom Kippur, and Sharadiya Navaratri--the Nine Days of the Mother Divine--pile on top of each other.  Summer ends, school starts, and you can smell sweetness and funk all mixed together.  Here is the great goddess of birth and death herself, whose image says it best.

And if you feel like pulling a Kali, send us your pic and we'll add it to the post.  Meanwhile, here is DB2's contribution: three poems about Her, written in Fall 2008.--JEB

Hoc est corpus meum

Well, it is done. Melleray's first lamb, Mickey Finn, was handed over the a Muslim butcher in Siler City (!?!?) on Monday, and he arrived in the above form on Friday. Nicole was really tearful giving him up, so we expected we'd all feel very strange eating him, but somehow that's not come to pass. There's the bare necessity of eating him quickly enough, given that the meat was freshly butchered that morning, and we can't buy ice ad infinitum. So Mickey Finn has been sustaining us, making his way into our bodies and also back into the earth. Thank you, little lamb! --MCB