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Buy real viagra I recently re-read Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon, buy real viagra which is my favorite of her novels and also one of the few books that have ever provoked me to heart-pumping stomach-jumping sobbing. Buy real viagra Since it had been some years since the last reading, buy real viagra I wondered if it would have the same effect. Buy real viagra It did—even more so because of the sanctuary work that has taken up many of the intervening years.

Buy real viagra I’ll try to divulge only as much as I need to reveal to say what I have to say, buy real viagra but if you’ve not read the book yet and prefer to be completely surprised by plot twists, buy real viagra you’ll want to skip the rest of this paragraph and go onto the next. Buy real viagra There’s a point in the book when my favorite character bursts into the funeral for a departed relative whose tragic death has provoked her beyond the brink. Buy real viagra She speaks quietly to each mourner in turn, buy real viagra claiming the departed as a member of her family, buy real viagra and then shouts to the heavens, buy real viagra so that everybody will know, buy real viagra “And she was loved!”

Buy real viagra No matter that I know it’s coming, buy real viagra that passage always leaves me feeling sucker-punched as I gasp to contain the fists of pain battering my heart and throat. Buy real viagra Even more so, buy real viagra now that I know exactly what it feels like to have the burning wish to communicate that a being was loved.

Buy real viagra I remember when Chickweed—one of the first birds rescued by what would become the Eastern Shore Sanctuary and then VINE Sanctuary—died, buy real viagra I dredged the house for objects to bury with him. Buy real viagra I wanted anybody later coming upon those chicken bones to know: This wasn’t anybody’s dinner. Buy real viagra This was somebody’s brother. Buy real viagra This was somebody’s friend.

Buy real viagra Why? The intensity of the impulse suggests a primordial root. Buy real viagra We’re social animals, buy real viagra so much so that we construct our identities—originally and continually—from the reflections of ourselves we see in others’ eyes. Buy real viagra And so… something about full personhood depends—or feels like it depends—on being seen by others. Buy real viagra (Really seen. Buy real viagra That’s why persistent misperceptions, buy real viagra especially by parents and partners, buy real viagra can be so damaging.) And then maybe… something about goodness—or, buy real viagra rather, buy real viagra the feeling of goodness—depends on being cherished by others.

Buy real viagra And so when someone—especially someone from a despised or denigrated group—dies, buy real viagra those who cherished that being want everybody to know: This wasn’t just some body; this was somebody. Buy real viagra What makes that most clear? That s/he was loved!

Buy real viagra This train of thought was provoked by the death of a duck called Baltimore by those of us who loved him.

Baltimore Blum

Buy real viagra Please do go now and read his obituary, buy real viagra which I wrote with the intent of communicating these facts: He began life in a foie gras factory, buy real viagra enduring unspeakable suffering. Buy real viagra He was rescued in an act of compassion that would be considered an act of terrorism under current laws. Buy real viagra He lived out his life at the sanctuary, buy real viagra where he behaved kindly to other beings. Buy real viagra And he was loved!

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2 comments to How To Get Cialis No Prescription

  • CQ

    For me, there is no such thing as reading too much about Baltimore Blum. You caused me to love him in the VINE essay you wrote on him, and your writing here engenders an identical response.

    Though I have not read Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon and probably will never get to it, I so appreciate learning of the line “And she was loved.” I totally identify with your need to communicate the loved status of each animal — that each creature is a somebody (not, as you so beautifully put it, just some body).

    Yes, Baltimore Blum was loved. And even better, Baltimore Blum IS loved. The love never dies, does it. Nor, I like to think — no, I am utterly convinced — does his love for his saviors — rescuer Sarahjane and sanctuary friends of all species — ever die. Impossible.

  • Anne

    Pattrice – we met very briefly the first day I volunteered at the sanctuary recently. I just read this piece, and like VINE itself, it touches something in my soul. When I ran a rescue, I always went with each animal that had to be put down. There weren’t many, two or three a year, but it happened… and I told all my volunteers – NO ONE should ever have to die anonymously on a cold stainless steel table. They had a name, they were loved. Love flows through the very air at VINE, thanks to you and all who work there.