"just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water..."

whichever advertising wizard dreamed this one up many years ago for Jaws 2 must have been zapped by some muse. eternal verities - if they really be such - rarely dribble from the lips of the pustular minions of corporate greed.

it's a funny line. we all laughed and repeated it. some of us, no doubt (not me), even went to the sequel just because it was such a good hook.

but it is a dark thought - verified by life over and over again as we live it - that, hope and work and plan as we may, safety stands just beyond our grasp. we'll never have it enough. it is a relative condition. we want it for the children if not for ourselves. we would sacrifice what we must...for the safety of the children. but what wisdom we have lets us know at regular intervals that safety, like water, can't be carried long distance in our pants pocket. like the perception of beauty or joy or lust (a perfect spring day), safety goes away soon enough. certainly..

as certain as all other endings are certain. are the fat days finished now? skinny times ahead? i turn on the television to hear the panic in their voices. "And so the house came to be haunted by the unspoken phrase: There must be more money! There must be more money! The children could hear it all the time, though nobody said it aloud."

the depression is an old story. let's pretend it was just that.

i'm standing in the bookstore the other day, staring at new fiction, a fellow walks past me talking to himself as if he were talking to someone else. i think that he is a crazy person, schizophrenic prophet. "five hundred jobs gone, just gone. five hundred jobs never coming back, yes, i know..." now he is also staring at the new fiction just down from me, and i see the cell phone buried in his fist at his ear and am only slightly relieved. "we're all on our own now."

at least it's november. the days are darker and should be - any day now - colder. at least it's not april. we celebrate the harvest (whose fruits we have purchased, not made) by giving thanks. we gather in warm places for a few minutes or hours and hold each other close with a smile, a joke, a kind word or compliment, a gift, an interested glance. we wish the best - and safety - for each other. but we know that out past the fire, beyond this bright cave's gaping mouth, lurks a darkness with teeth. and a voice that calls us out to be brave or foolish or both... as we will be.

but do we have to go alone?

yes, sometimes we go alone...

but not all the time.

It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe - though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.

Susan Sontag