From A Confederate

Damn girl, you are good! No matter how hard we try, no matter how caring we are, no matter the depth of our acquired knowledge and skills as we learn about this rather bizarre planet, sometimes it just seems to rain ferrets.

For days on end, f’ing ferrets. 

After reading portions of BLR over the past couple of weeks, I flashed back to times and people I have known – good people with fire in their eyes and that desire to see and do it all – who have been caught in multiple ferret storms. (A few they conjured up themselves:) Some went down. Many changed to a safer course. After the clouds lifted a few emerged stronger, more than just survivors, still on course. They became hope for us all. I decided then you were one of those.

Nothing I saw Friday night of you doing-what-needed-to-be-done changed my mind. But I worried. You all worked your asses off to make a great Wilmington evening that would not have otherwise happened. I hoped then that the lack of a sell-out would not dishearten. I was already concerned for my Richmond transplant (and honorary Virginian) when I thought of her sitting in a furniture-less apartment, broke, with a mouthful of gummy mac ‘n cheese. The halfway through “Bring It” I cringed; “holy shit,” I thought, “what next?” Then Diane reappeared, laughing. Then, “Chillin,” she demonstrated the considerable power that comes from whatever is the inverse of “kick, scream, cry and fight.” No, the externals still may not be “absolutely perfect,” but the internals are close. I really admire those internals.

So happy Tuesday Diane. Things will be better. Probably uneven, but still better. You have confederates along the Blue Lollipop Road, some you barely know.