This guy is one of my favourite people and one of Daves best mates. His name is Chuck (though we first knew him as Steve.)
We've known him for almost fifteen years. He officiated Maxs naming ceremony in 2002, sang U2's "Bad" at our wedding in 2005, and was the one strong and constant force in Daves life when he went through chemo in 2008. Chuck drove up from Sydney every Monday afternoon and went for a walk around the lake with Dave. If Dave felt well enough, they'd go out for dinner. Chuck didn't wince or shrink from us at that time and I'll always be grateful.
One Monday he walked into the living room and handed me a Virgin Mary wall hanging he got from overseas, told me he figured I needed it more than him. I still have it. Chuck once told me, many moons ago, to stop comparing my grass to my next-door neighbours grass.
"Just make yourself some motherfucking bright pink grass, Eden."
He speaks in quotes and songs and love, he's a restless and talented creative man who's been through fires. I admire the hell out of him .... he's married to a beautiful woman and they have a son together, their next baby is due pretty much any day now.
Chuck has a band called Chuck's Wagon, and they're playing at the Tamworth Country Festival this week. Their latest brand-new single is pretty bloody cool, called I Play Country:
The Country Music Channel has this "request a song" thing on their website. If anybody felt like requesting Chucks new song over there, I know he'd be incredibly grateful. A lot of bloody sweat and tears go into any artist who creates anything. Soon he and his wife will have created a brand new addition to their family and with that will come all the associated crazy, so getting his single out there would be a real lift. (I LOVE YOU CHUCK!)
Last week I went to the movies with Dave and the boys, up came a preview for the new film based on the 2004 tsunami called "The Impossible." I sat there crying like a baby, imagining and wondering all over again how dreadful and scarring it would have been to be there on that that day.
Max often talks to me about his fears surrounding a tsunami, and I always reassure him. It relieves him that we live up in the mountains ... I won't be taking him to see the film. A few nights ago I sat up searching for clips of the tsunami on YouTube, because I like to terrify myself regularly.
Came across one of the most powerful and graphic docos I've ever seen.
I keep hearing the keening of the women who lost everyone and everything. I wonder why I think it's important to watch things like this.
Graffiti From Pompeii ... the first recorded tweets?
I don't have enough money to buy this Write Like A Motherfucker coffee mug and I really want it. Nay, NEED.
Lessons For Creatives by the worlds biggest rappers.
Lastly, one of the best and beautiful blogs ever, written by Buddhist monk and mother Karen Maezen Miller. Run to her words - I did. Especially her post, "The Myth Of The Missing Moon." I've had a deep sadness around the moon ever since Rocco noticed half of it was gone on the day we found out Jim had cancer.
Just that one post from Karen helped me turn that around.
"Your heart is always whole, just as the moon is always full. Your life is always complete. You just don’t see it that way."
The moon is always whole. My grass is always pink.