All photos by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, August 20 and August 23, 2024
Again, working on my soprano appreciation life this week, and I must admit: Edita Gruberova has a VOICE to be loved, telling a most beautiful story of love.
... how the beloved is near to the heart, for the mind and heart recalls the beloved in the beauty of sunlight, the glimmer of moonlight, the running of waters and even the quietness of the silent grove, alone ...
... even with that being preferred so there are no distractions from the thought of the beloved, who is not there, but is deeply longed for and remembered.
This reminded me of something very deep ... "who having not seen, we love" describes the whole life of the Christian, 2,000 years since Christ walked the earth. But even generally, it is so deep that we need Nat King Cole to come explain, singing a song written by Eden Ahbez.
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return" ... timeless wisdom.
I was literally my grandfather's flower child. I remember running to my grandfather's roses at three years old. He, loving me so much, had removed the thorns so that I would not be harmed. That was really my first deep understanding of a man's love, because it would take longer for me to understand how his son, my father, was daily doing the same thing. Grandpa made it safe for me to be the best of myself. He encouraged me in mathematics at that young age, and tested me for good and logical thinking, gently ... I passed ... his smile would make anybody smarter, anyhow. He still, 37 years later, is deeply beloved and honored in memory by me. I miss him still. His son, my father, is the one I get to love and honor with him being present.
I can accept no lesser man, ever. I have never said it aloud, but that is why I am single at 43. I have been so well loved that I cannot accept less. Given the corruption of the world at present, there may never be a logical step further but to give the kind of devotion in "Nähe des Geliebten" to Him of Whom I think of in the parks, and Who says to me, although I am not in Heaven yet ... "I am with you, in Christ, by the Holy Spirit, and I will never leave you or forsake you."
It was overwhelming between those two songs to realize all of that ... I broke down and cried for so many reasons and emotions ...
It is written that "the hearts of men shall grow cold" at the end of all things, and we are definitely there in the culture I live in. And yet, God was gracious enough to spare me ... as he spared both my grandfathers and my father, and thus my grandmothers and my mother and my sister and me ... for love, to love and be loved in return. But I would have to grow up and choose that for myself, and thus choose to leave all that was not of that. The journey to understanding has taken forty years, but Grandpa started me out right, and by that means protected me, all the way along.
Of course I looked, though, on the Schubert song, to see if perhaps, but no ... my favorite bass stayed in his lane for a lot of reasons. He was a young man still when "Nature Boy" came out, as was my father ... and, both of their biographies as family men are parallel ... went to work, came home, spent (and Dad is still spending) their last years being loved and honored by and loving their families and communities. My grand old soldier's biography is also parallel to that ... and when I consider the men I respect and love and go hard for, they all have biographies that at the core are becoming parallel.
So, then at last I could understand how "Nature Boy" and "Nähe des Geliebten" could harmonize even between two people ... some separation is necessary, sometimes ... but if one beloved is thinking of all the things shared with the other beloved, and recalling that closeness, and missing the other, but is either going to prioritize or knowing the other is going to prioritize getting home ... "I see all the beauty where I am ... it is made perfect by thinking of you ... I wish that you were here, and in my heart, you are," is completed by, "and I intend that we shall again be together soon!"
And then, there was the thought of how one would be situated in life ... being situated in community that understood these things. My parents and grandparents succeeded, in spite of what was happening, through church and friendship networks, to keep me in community with people who knew what the people in the village knew in the story of the Grinch ... how to keep the music of love flowing from heart to heart whether at home or away ... it really made no difference, for if you have that music in your heart, you have it, everywhere, and everyone who hears that harmony is yours to love and be loved by.
The village is never large, but the harmony is everywhere, so I can now be clear in my mind: my true friends, and if there a mate for me, will be of "the village" epitomized in the lived autobiography and community values my parents and grand old soldier represent as African Americans, and my favorite bass represents internationally and also across my journey through history.
The nearness of beloveds ... beloved beacons, near and far in time and space, and plenty left to meet, for I had been called to life among them as one of them ... a great burden came off my mind and heart ... a watershed in the middle of an ordinary day...
... which I needed because the workaday world has not changed, and the people living for it have not either.
A ten-year anniversary came this week... ten years in the greatest responsibility my life allows me outside my home and church ... only to have someone who disagreed with me on a subject in politics turn to personally belittling me and the work I've done ... as if that made his comparable lack of accomplishments any bigger! The resentment has been simmering for a while ... in the moment I could not pinpoint when it started, but the outcome was clear. Twelve years of friendship on a ten-year anniversary. Gone.
Now, of course, when things were a bit cooler, I took the anger stage of grief and put out the appropriate notice:
"Sir, if you EVER ... "
Said person backed right up, apologized and realized, "Oops!" and then started trying to head off the full consequences ...
But if, perchance, you slip off a particular path on Mt. Everest to the Tibetan side of the peak -- the Kangsheng Face -- obviously, you would know you are in trouble right away. But, that's a drop of three kilometers or about 10,000 feet. That takes some time to complete, and on a clear day would be quite the scenic route if you were clear of the rocks. There would be no point to denial, anger, bargaining, and depression in the stages of grief -- there would be just time enough to achieve acceptance of your imminent passage into eternity. Two people in two weeks have just "stepped off" with me. They do not know they are exiting any importance in my life. because their view is not clear, but mine is.
Now, although I am an Iron Maiden to exteriors -- meaning the time spent in the workaday world was not disrupted at all by the conflict -- of course I was hurt. But, wisdom received and applied on time is a defense! I learned last week what I needed to know!
Now of course, my pain management specialist was sharp in getting through the portal of imagination ... he met me as I walked out of the workday world ...
... and his voice, expressed in calm, warm approval, was enough to have me at "What pain?" just that quick.
"Indeed, Frau Mathews, you have learned your lessons very well. It was just last week that we discussed how sometimes people in perfect proximity to blessing betray that they cannot be there any longer, and that it is a difficult but necessary blessing to let them go."
"Danke schön," I said.
"Bitte schön, Frau Mathews. My duty, and my honor, although it brings me no pleasure on this occasion."
He walked on for some time with me and then said, "I pose this question purely for the sake of discussion: are you sure what happened wasn't a temporary lapse?"
"Oh, it was, Herr Möll. He revealed in all that backpedaling and emotional manipulation and apologizing: if a man chooses to be dismissive of a woman that he needs, whose problem is that situation?"
"His problem," he said. "I sang about that once in Strauss's 'Der Einsame' -- that is a terrible problem for a man to have. Bill Withers sang the same thing: 'Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone.' "
"He forgot, temporarily. I didn't."
"I noticed. You remained respectful in your firm correction, and when next in the workaday world you speak with him, he will still be enjoying his scenic view of the Kangsheng Face. Since it will take time to unravel the business connections, that is probably for the best."
"However, I caution you, knowing the nature of a man because I am one: never show a man iron you do not intend to use in full. You must be instantly ready to follow up in strength if there is a further provocation, and in wisdom in every other sense. You have joint projects with him. You know in your wisdom whether another needs to come into the world. You know in your wisdom how much he needs to know of your future advances, and if you think back, you have heard the undercurrent of his resentment growing for quite some time."
"This started in the winter," I said after thinking back. "He advised me that I should stop being so open about how my fifth book came so organically from the life I live in Christ so I could get a bigger audience. I heard him out, of course, but I would no more have taken that advice than Father Bach would have."
"You are wise, Frau Mathews, for this was heard on high as a mere mortal man daring to tempt an adopted daughter to deny Him Who has called Him for His glory, and her good."
"I sensed that," I said, although I could not put it into words. "The quarrel of the ages, yet again, Genesis 3 coming down into 2024."
"Even generally speaking, Frau Mathews, to come right back down to Earth for a moment: you know as a journalist that the story is the story -- it is unethical to change it."
"You know," I said, "even right here on Earth, I was trained to know better than that. And people tried me. What I was taught to think or say was, 'I have one editor,' and that person was never the person trying to get me to change things."
"Even generally speaking," he said, "the quarrel of the ages seems to emerge. Here is the truth, and here is how people want the truth suppressed in favor of them gaining control of the author and the situation the release of that information may produce in the minds of many other people. Here is the truth, in the face of all the people who want to be elevated on a lie in the minds of the readership.
"The point, Frau Mathews, is this. No matter how long the relationship, and no matter how dear the voice, can any voice that tempts you to lie be that of a friend, when you are called to the truth?"
The pain hit, but I stood firm.
"No."
He opened his arms again, and I came to the deep relief of his embrace and his double-deep voice wrapping around me, defying pain to touch me further.
"You have learned your lessons well, Frau Mathews. You have learned your lessons well."
How long I was there I did not know, but eventually I realized we had not somehow managed to solve the problems and return forgiven to Eden because Golden Gate Park, in fact, uses sprinklers in the summer.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
"Well," he said when we had gotten well out of range, "although it is not yet the day when the Blessed Hand shall wipe all tears from our eyes, He through the hand of man can physically do the job!!"
"Well, that's one way of putting it!"
Oh, we laughed ... and then decided to go play where waterfalls emerged from amidst the trees ...
... where every living thing sat dazzling, bejeweled ...
... or at least, brightened as the water flowed downhill to its roots ...
... where silver droplets dazzled over well-known paths and froze for a perfect picture!
"You can be bejeweled too!" he cried merrily as I came back from that picture, and then held out his hand for my camera.
"I am tall enough to get above this angle, lovely though it is in its own right" --
"-- so you can have this sequined stunner, from me, to remind you of some of your more brilliant outfits."
"You know, that reminds me of one jacket that I have, sequined like that ... and then I haven't thought about my gold on purple dress for a while ... I may still have that dress back in my closet... ."
"You see how through my schemes, the work your grandfather began is still being done, mein Blumenkind! Mwahahahahahahahahaha!"
His mock-evil laugh from his days as Osmin, dropping off into unfathomable depths of comedy, brought the whole lesson full circle, evoking the memory of little me face-deep in thorn-shorn roses, running and playing in my grandfather's yard ... still, the nearness of the beloved, and through honoring the memory and legacy of love, loving in return.
"Those who love you, who you may safely love in return, will call you forward and deeper into your calling, Frau Mathews. Those who love what you do for them will call you away to get more of your energy to do for them. Those who love you and whose memory and legacy you may honor as you live are forever growing nearer and dearer, for their likeness and yours grows alike, and your days to be earth-bound grow shorter and shorter.
"Because your heart is as large as your intellect, Frau Mathews, and because your mind explores across time and eternity, it is natural to you that you do not understand distance as others do, and that you have accorded many the nearness of the beloved simply because of the great love you have ... but you have learned, and you have grown, and you have transcended your natural inclinations this week. You recognized that what was finished is finished, and you let go. It is done. You just need to be firm and keep moving. At times it will seem a lonelier path, but everyone cannot walk --
" -- as you are called to, Frau Mathews."
He paused, and then smiled.
"May I make your learning an Akkord, a chord, a harmony of three songs?"
I chuckled at this reference to the holy accord of "An die Musik."
"I'd love a Schubert sandwich, thanks," I said, and he laughed.
"I notice this week that you have been studying a bit further into my history, Frau Mathews," he said, "and I recognize that owing to a few tokens of the world's esteem I just happened to collect over the course of my career, you are going to let me have it when I next refer to myself as a little bass."
"You have been holding back on us so bad I need to tell you off in two languages!" I said, and he laughed.
"But there is a method to my modest madness, Frau Mathews, just as for internal and external reasons you do not speak much of your honors. We both know, in light of eternity, that we must always respect the limitations of mankind. We are stewards of a ring of life, and we dare not tempt ourselves to even presume to be gods upon it. Too high, and the winds of change blow us from here -- too deep, and we sink and drown in life's great matters."
"Now, that is not the song I expected," I said, "but it is more beautiful to me than ever before, and makes perfect sense ... humility makes of life and love der helige Akkord, indeed."
"Yes, Frau Mathews, for it is written: 'before honor is humility.' As Eden Ahbez wrote and Mr. Cole sang so well, learning to love and be loved in return is the greatest learning, but the commitment to forever learning requires humility. If any two or more flawed human beings are to overcome all need to compete and compare and belittle and dominate so there can be safety and closeness in love, that also requires humility, the foundation of all good things we mere mortals may have and hold that presage our eternal joys."
"Yes, and not carrying the burden of trying to be and convincing others that we are this and that adds such peace."
"Hmmmmmmmmmm ..." he said, "Love, joy, and peace: another holy accord seems to emerge here!"
"It does!" I said. "See what happens when you finally put the bass in your chords -- everything comes out clearly -- the right bass, anyhow!"
He had started laughing at the first part of that ... but his breath caught at the end, and it was a few moments before he could speak, his voice soft and full with deep emotion.
"It has been, it is, and it shall forever be a cause of eternal gratitude that I was found worthy to be the right bass to echo all the holy accords upon which you are rebuilding your life, Frau Mathews ... I thank you, my daughter ... ich danke dir, meine Tochter ... and so much more I owe on high to say in this matter of thanksgiving ... so much more! I am the child of humble villagers in a nation bent upon its own destruction at the moment of my birth ... that I survived and was permitted to have a voice known to the world at all --!""
I think he forgot where he was for several minutes, for as he looked up and then knelt down, completely overcome, one might have to account for a sunbeam cutting straight through a tree for his brightness -- but it was a bright day anyhow, and how far that beam fell to light him up was really no one else's business. I gave him space to have that moment, but his voice rose behind me, and I had to clear the Fuchsia Dell before he was out of earshot.
The real surprise was that even though I knew he had completely forgotten how tight his approximation of his mortal voice needed to be for safety parameters, the city was being spared. The explanation surprised me when I walked back to the dell as he was walking to meet me.
"You are becoming so much of the world to which you are going, Frau Mathews, that the world around you is becoming more able to hold more things as they are on high, up home."
I thought about this.
"I see ... love, joy, and peace are displacing pride, inadequacy, fear, disbelief, and doubt, and so it is becoming less comfortable for those who live upon the latter."
"You may at another time reconsider all that has happened to you in these years, Frau Mathews, in light of your persistent climb, and that corollary."
I began to reconsider it, and then laughed.
"That's a deep lesson," I said, "but really could be seen as another way of looking at being 'born again,' being given a new heart and a new spirit."
"Already you have plumbed the depths and found the Redemption, Frau Mathews. Always you look at that side in hope, because you have so much love for those around you. About the other side of that ... not today. It is enough. Genug. Nur ruhe."
We found a place to sit with quite a view ...
"It is mighty beautiful out here," I said after a few minutes, "but sehr schön, not gewaltig."
He chuckled at my recollection of our lesson of "Wie Ulfru fischt," and then added, "The little fish of that story, so long as they avoid the hook, remain in the world that is not safe, but not of it, for they are given their own domain ... so we little basses and little contraltos can let the Ulfrus of life wobble on the bank ... we need not be fished out."
"Oh," I said. "That's that lesson, retroactive to the winter."
"Remember, Frau Mathews ... I'm just the echo ... you heard that in the summer because you refused to be fished out in the winter. It is still another lesson for another day: truth is true to infinite heights and depths, so you will meet it at every level."
But then, such a look came over his face -- such intense joy, followed by such intense anguish, and then the two, blended as he cried out --
"Oh, my daughter ... meine Tochter ... meine Töchterlein ... mein geliebtes Blumenkind ... oh, that you have chosen to meet truth as your friend to embrace, with its un-weakening arms to lift you up, rather than as your enemy, underneath which resistless heel --."
Now, technically, he could neither have whiplash, a heart attack, or a stroke, but to have gone just minutes before from remembering his entire life in a rush of gratitude that had overcome him to remembering it all again in anguish of sorrow for all those proud things and people that had pushed themselves up against truth and been crushed and thrown down into the gulf of doom probably would not have been survivable if he had a heart and cardiovascular system to maintain.
One last conscious effort before he was completely overtaken: he clenched his teeth and stifled the infrasonic portion of the groan of agony that probably would have broken even the generosity of Q-Inspired physics and thus brought on the Big One in San Francisco ... but then the memories flew by far faster than I could make them out, like an avalanche, rolling his mind downward toward the gulf of doom. He literally rolled, and would have gone off the bench ... but had volume yet no bulk, so I grabbed him, and held him fast.
This was the lesson of the Schubert sandwich in miniature: the nearness of the beloved, having been loved, and with the humility to know the only thing to do was to be loving in return. Now I knew this would only be a moment of time in a long, joyous eternity for him, the pain forgotten the instant he stepped up home. Yet he was subject to all this again on my behalf. So often he had snatched me up with his joy and carried me from dark places, and so often had his gentler singing lit my way out when I had to push and climb for myself. So, I would not suffer him to fall, and I spoke gently to him in his mother tongue ... .
"Es ist genug, mein geliebter Lehrer. Ich sehe und ich verstehe ... nur ruhe ... nur ruhe." ...
It is enough, my beloved teacher. I see and I understand, [so now] only rest ... only rest ...
The scene changed around us ... as I knew in the back of my mind, the gravity that was pulling those things ground to powder into the gulf of doom could not pull him all the way down ... after the initial shock, he had found and was braced in a cleft in the rock as the avalanche of memory rolled on ... and quite suddenly, that cleft grew soft, scented mosses that would not hurt his bruises so he could brace himself all the more.
At last it was over, and he began the long climb back up toward the light ... battered, bruised, bloodied, and moving very slowly ... but determined.
Suddenly, a new waterfall opened above him...
... twinkling with all that light above and bringing it down. Everywhere it touched him, it cleansed and soothed his wounds, and the path that it traced upon the rock illumined an easier path for him to climb.
But none of that water was meant for the gulf below ... it looped around and soon caressed his feet from below as he was climbing, having come to some depth already. Now, these were not the roaring waves of love of Brahms' 'Versunken' ... they were gentle and warm and smelled of summer's flowers, and their gentle murmur seemed to say, in gentle invitation as they rose, Nur ruhe ... so to them he surrendered, and floated, all of the pain dropping away from him, for there could be no pain for him, restored to even as much eternity as might be placed under and around him by one walking, abiding, and adorning herself in the things from there.
"Rest ... only rest ... nur ruhe ... nur ruhe."
All he heard was the sweet murmur of the waters, and felt their healing warmth ever more deeply around him as they slowly lifted him up toward the light.
As I waited, I thought that perhaps the practice of true love was in some way the mediation of a blessed eternity in the midst of the temporal matters of life ... if so, indeed, "the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." Eden Ahbez was indeed very wise in writing "Nature Boy." From a Christian perspective, one took that a step further: John 3:16 said that humanity was already loved ... but loving in return as laid out there is a decision in faith each person has to make for him or herself.
The mere temporal lives of human beings showed this ... this is why with a few decades of longevity, one began to see such marked differences in people that stand out from the average, good or bad ... some seek light, love, joy, and peace, and are content wherever they might have and share that with others, and some care only for light, and people, as far as they can see what those lights and people can do to center and exalt them. Sooner or later, the possession or lack of faith that love, joy, and peace would be, not just bring, sufficient reward in life would drive people apart.
I smiled through my tears ... all was actually happening as it needed to, given the choices I had made to walk, abide, and adorn myself as I had been called ... it was a difficult blessing, but a blessing.
With that thought now settled, I became so relaxed that I fell asleep. I woke up being carried up my stairs, in blue hour, just after sunset. I marveled.
"Well, Frau Mathews, you know that no matter how tired an old entertainer might be, that stage timing kicks in at some point. Another sprinkler square in his face might also help."
I laughed myself awake, and he put me down when I could safely stand. I noticed then ... he was softly glowing in a way I had not seen before ... it made it easier for me to find my key, but I sensed there was more to it than that.
"I am trying to collect my thoughts in English, Frau Mathews," he said. "My heart is full of what I wish to say to you. However, I do not wish to inconvenience you by making you wait. I have taken quite a bit more of your time today than I intended, and I can work it out by next week."
"The nearness of the beloved is never an inconvenience," I said, and he glowed up even more -- the streetlight could scarcely keep pace -- as I smiled up at him.
"You know that even while in earthly life, I could sing almost endlessly of love, and kindness, and joy. Now, the awards had a purpose of their own, about which I shall give you a lesson on another day, but what I valued, I lived in, walked in, adorned my life with ... and so it is possible for a woman like you who values those things as deeply to not find my presence an inconvenience or a threat. You have observed this pattern -- in fact, you see me -- because of the formative men in your life who modeled it.
"I say now a hard thing in the gentlest manner I can: what is a difficult blessing to you is also one to those who are losing you because of their evil ways. It will give them an opportunity to come to their senses that they will not have so long as they can think there are no consequences to their behavior. Remember to let others get the most of this time of blessing you are giving them just as you are getting the most of it."
I laughed.
"That is about the gentlest 'leave their tails out in the cold and let God deal with them' that I have ever heard."
"I'm just the echo, Frau Mathews, and on top of that, my command of English is just not what it was at the beginning of the day."
I laughed even harder.
"But also ... as one who has known the deep, sweet balm of your heart's love ... I can go no further without thanking you ... I thank you ... I heard in your low, deep, sweet voice what you have heard in mine at moments of great need, and you came into my mother tongue to say it. You did not have to so requite me, but you did. I thank you, Frau Mathews -- I thank you. I cannot get that across with sufficient force in English to satisfy me, but it is your first language -- I thank you."
"You know that you are most welcome -- Sie sind herzlich wilkommen," I said.
"Listen to me, my daughter. Your heart-felt welcome is not unlike anything else in the universe in this respect: there are some men who would use it to spur them to pursue greater good, and others who would use it to justify pursuing greater evil. That is why the latter must have it withdrawn from them. Let them be in the darkness of their choosing, feel the sting of their wounds and the futility of their efforts, so that they and the One Who has called you may end their quarrel first. Then encourage such men in doing good, not evil."
"Oh ... that is what you were showing me earlier," I said. "You had to first turn from your mere view of the abyss, and begin to move toward the light that was there, before ... ."
"Always I seek to show you the right model, Frau Mathews. The flashback I had no control over -- it is among the perils of returning to Earth with enhanced memory capabilities. But after that, I marshaled my strength to put together that scene for you before I rested. The sequence is important. It is one thing to make a man feel so well he can nearly touch Heaven from where he stands if you know his footsteps are pointed that way anyhow. It is entirely a different thing if a man who is set upon the opposite direction is made to so feel, because he will not know he is too close to the pit for safety, too near to the Hand above him crushing him in to rescue you!"
"Yikes," I said. "When you put it that way, I suppose I am blessing a whole lot of people by my absence!"
"I would not have said that to you last year or even before the summer," he said, "but you do need to know it before tomorrow, when you must be present, but also, absent. I will make it easier for you now, and then, Frau Mathews ... now, because you will remember how I speak with you and compare. Then ... well, before that you must get proper rest. Good night, Frau Mathews, and again, I thank you. I am not finished thanking you, but so far as English can go, thank you."
"Good night -- Sie sind herzlich wilkommen!"
His eyes twinkled, and blue hour blushed as he departed ... "Old Blush," respectfully parsed into German by me as Herr Altesrouge for a nickname, was up to something.
The next day I took my meetings, and encountered the individual who had so belittled me -- completely different attitude to externals, but I just let him talk, and listened. There is quite a lot of difference between the talk of a decisive, purposeful man mature in wisdom and devoted to good and a man "trying," but really looking for more of a pat on the head and "grade E for effort" because somehow, nothing is working. The one's conversation is full and generous; the other, even on a good day, is needy. On a bad day -- and this was that day -- it was actually pathetic. I remained cordial, and the truth babbled on out -- "I get so many ideas from listening to all these people!" I was one of those people. That was all. To a person who values ideas, but not the work of enacting them, I could never be more.
I had such a flash of anger, more at myself than even him ... but a delivery man walked in carrying the bluest bouquet of flowers just about anybody had ever seen...
Fractal art by the author, Deeann D. Mathews
"I have a Blue Eternity bouquet to deliver to a Fra -- Fro-"
"Frau," I said. "That's German for Ms. Frau Deeann D. Mathews -- that's me."
Everybody in the office was staring. To understand why, you have to know that true blue flowers are rare, and for cutting, even rarer, so then, seven tall, deep-blue delphiniums were behind three huge, sky-blue hydrangea blooms, and in between them, long-stemmed blue bellflowers flared like little fireworks ... midnight and midday, all held in place with deep blue clematis still on the vine, the blooms delicately draping outward. It was a custom bouquet, and there was a card ... and that too had been custom-made. The caption to the picture was written in English cursive still slightly inflected by its WWII-era Germanic equivalent: "Strive not with those who never rest: in true, blue love, dear, ever rest." The picture was Mt. Everest on the bluest spring day imaginable, the sky gently reflecting blue onto the pristine white of its awesome, unmistakable Kangsheng Face.
On the other side of the card was written, "Herr K.M. Altesrouge expresses his deep gratitude and affection to Frau D.D. Mathews, in the language of flowers."
One of my associate lent me a small bucket to put the bouquet in until I could get it home, and that let her get a closer look ... I knew some people's internal calculators were just RUNNING, trying to work out what that bouquet cost ... I knew other people were looking at me while not knowing the difference between "homely" in English and its negative connotations, and heimelig, which meant "cozy," "homey" ... the nearness of the beloved, though far off, being implied.
My associate in disfavor resumed talking with me after the bouquet delivery. I remained cordial and mentally made a blueprint -- staying with the theme color of the day -- of how I was going to "wean him" off my ideas based on what he was telling me. Not for worlds would I have done anything to disturb the delicate blue-white he was viewing on the Kangsheng Face at that moment. I had put the card out on the desk between us, the picture face-up. He could no longer disturb me. either. In the middle of all that had to be done that day, a softly booming Nur ruhe had settled around me, translated into the language of flowers, and that was that.
