Virtue-All Reality

On the side of this blog there is a link for the Haskes. The Haskes are people I stumbled across randomly one day last year, but the post (about a fight in the car) was just about the funniest thing I'd ever seen in my life. I bookmarked them and checked in from time to time to see how things were going ... followed them through Steve's trip to France and Marigold's job changes ... and then one day the blog was gone, with a note stating that if you wanted to get to the new blog you had to email Marigold for the link. I sat at the desk for a good 20 minutes trying to decide if I wanted to email for that link. Who the hell am I? Just some random voyeur, really. I mean, honestly, I'm not family or friends; I'm just someone who popped in and read about their life, and that's kind of weird when seen from the other side. But I knew I would miss them, like family you only get to see at Christmas every 3 or 4 years, so I owned up to my randomness and emailed for the link. When she sent it I felt warm and fuzzy.

The new year for the Haskes has started off with a robbery and cancer. Which led to more obsessive analysis ... do I post my sympathies? And what the hell would I say anyway? It always rings kind of hollow to me when people say "I'll keep you in our prayers" -- although for a moment I considered dropping in at church and doing just that for the Haskes (and also because I'm supposed to be god-mother to my cousin's kids in April and I'm not entirely sure how the ceremony goes except for "Do you, Michael Corleone, reject Satan"). And now they're having a baby! Which is fantastic!

But I'm still feeling weird about posting a comment of congratulations because I don't really know them. So I'm posting it here in my somewhat bloggy shy way.

This has all reminded me of E.M. Forster:
I seem fated to pass through the world without colliding with it or moving it--and I'm sure I can't tell you whether the fate's good or evil. I don't die--I don't fall in love. And if other people die or fall in love they always do it when I'm just not there. You are quite right; life to me is just a spectacle, which--thank God, and thank Italy, and thank you--is now more beautiful and heartening than it has ever been before.