Gods give the Valkyrie peace and grace,
A place at the table,
A fine steed to carry the burdens,
A strong sword to part the skies.

Yesterday in the middle of trying to find fabric in Joanne's I got the call that Master Yehuda had passed away. He was one of the kindest and charming men I had met in a long time. One of those people you never want to lose or let go of. He very much made the SCA in Atenveldt a special and welcoming place for everyone, and carried so much on his big shoulders. We will be missing him and his greatness of spirit for years to come.
He never failed to find me at an event and give me a kind word and a hug. I don't think I managed to spend all the time I should have just chatting with him. I will miss you Papa Huda.

I know this song was written for Master Aldwin, but it sortof works for Master Yehuda as well and has been running through my head since yesterday.

Drop my name in Heaven
by Master Efenwealt Wystle, OL
copyright © 2001 Scott F. Vaughan, Raleigh, NC
wystle@ipass.net

(spoken) An elegy for a noble man should be solemn and refined.
(singing)But this song is for Aldwin, so I hope that he won't mind
If I share with you my honest thoughts and great deeds that he spoke
Of barons and belly-dancers and all his favorite folk

Chorus
Hey there Master Aldwin, hear a prayer from me.
Drop my name in Heaven or wherever you might be.
Hope I'm on your short list of people good to know.
So I can get a good seat when its my time to go.

I know he'll get to heaven, despite his devilish grin.
He's chatting with important folk as the Saints go marching in.
He's waiting at those pearly gates with the other penitents.
I know he'll line 'em up by name and Order of Precedence.

"Hark" the herald angels sing. They finally got their boy!
His thunderous voice will join with theirs when they call out for joy.
His "vivats" were tremendous when he walked on the ground.
But now that he can fly he'll make a super-sonic sound.

They say that Heaven's like a dream where all good things come true.
That means that all the time now he can smoke and drink and screw.
Or sit naked in the hot-tub whilst snowflakes gently fall
With ladies nibbling on each ear and bouncing on his (pause) knee.

I don't think that he'll play the harp, though he might ring some bells.
And amaze the other angels with the tall tales that he tells.
He'll never have to dust the clouds or harmonize the spheres
(spoken)"I have people to do that for me" he'll say. "That's why God made Peers."

Hey weavedancer, this one is totally yours for the painting.



It was fun, yet creepy to draft.

"We all dream, and we all stand aghast at the mouth of the caves of our deaths; and this is our way in. Into the nether world." (The Witches of Eastwick)

John Updike Passed away today. He was an author of some very American and very good books.

Deep down, I still want to see a sheet of glass in the desert

9/11/01
That morning, that day... and all the days after.

Glass. Just glass.

---

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


~~~Dylan Thomas Page