My silence, my short history of blogs and don’t forget to meet in the kitchen

I realize that I have been really flattened by the story of the death of Henry Granju.  I haven’t quite regained my equilibrium since he died and since I read about his death and then since I wrote my last post about it.  I started thinking the other night, about my relatively short history with blogging and about what led me to know this true story.

The first blog I ever read was a blog written by H., who is the daughter of my first cousin.  H. was living in Senegal for a semester while in college and started a blog with her observations, feelings about her life in Senegal.  (I think I have the country right.)  I both love and like her, and have nothing but respect for her.  It was interesting, full of words and observations– heat and smells, sights and sounds.  Next I think, I found Hip Mama– the hard copies.  And since each zine is slim, I devoured them quickly– often in a sitting– and was wanting more.  So after not too long, I started touring the internet (I know the word is surfing… but truly, I was touring.).  Touring around the internet is how I found Ariel Gore, Susan Ito, Vicki Forman and  Mama C and the boys in that order and then many more (though I must admit I am like your most loyal school friend– I have found many more, but I am neither as devoted to, nor as loyal to any quite so much as my first few fine women bloggers– the aforementioned.)  Some days it really was like Alice in Wonderland– down the rabbit hole– one blog would lead to another, to another, to still another and then two or three or five more– and I’d read for hours– one thing after another.

I see from time to time there are gay rights blogs and a zillion fashion blogs and cooking blogs and baking blogs and knitting blogs and more and more and more. 

But who I found– because it was and is who I needed to listen to, were women– mothers, adoptive mothers, single mothers, mothers of children with special needs, mothers in mixed race families, lesbian mothers, but mothers– one and all.

Somehow I missed — until recently, Katie Granju in there– and now I can’t stop reading.  A lot of us can’t stop reading the story of the loss of her son Henry. 

Truthfully, though it is the end of the school year and a very busy time here at home, I haven’t quite found my equilibrium since reading about the death of Katie’s son.  I am whipped in so many directions.  I grieve for Katie and Henry and for all of us.  I know there are so many sons out there, needlessly lost in one way or another, and so many mothers grieving their lost sons– most of whom don’t have 161 listed blog postings about their losses. (Another blogger compiled a list for Katie of all of our postings about Henry, that he could find, and it totalled 161.) 

I wish every mother who lost a child, every mother worried or fearful for her child, every mother at the end of her rope–every mother who is just over tired, every mother dealing with racism and sexism–  had an army of other mothers (and fathers too) out there, rising up to lend a hand, speak up, offer love and support.  I do believe in the power of words, and these blogs for real– but I also want us away from the computer, in each other’s kitchens, living rooms, in each other’s homes when we are at the end of our rope– or lost in grief.  I want us writing, but I want us meeting in the kitchen, out in the streets, at each other’s sides and speaking our minds–until things change.  And then when they do change– let’s meet again, every day, in the park and in the kitchen.  Together.  For the sheer joy of it.

2 responses to “My silence, my short history of blogs and don’t forget to meet in the kitchen

  1. This is a magnificent post. Thank you for pointing me towards Henry’s story, and for all of your deep intention and thought. Yes, yes, yes to our children and our kitchens.

  2. As always Laura your words inform my own context around these issues. I love to hear how similar we can be and all (or mostly) because of motherhood. I really like your description of how reading one blog makes you (yes, MAKES you) read another, and another, and another. How funny that we all do this. And, interesting. Very interesting. Thank you for your words.

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