Malick is God

The Lord is Risen!

Fifteen Years - The exile continues

That's me at graduation from the University of Arizona, Summer 1995. I'm on the right, still drunk from the night before.

February 2011, tending my youngest, who was in the throes of one of those scary fevers they get every once in a while, when you think their temperature might spike and you'll lose them.

Lent

Last weekend before Lent.

Time to get drunk.

Come My Little Son

Come my little son and I
Will tell you what we'll do.
Undress yourself and get into bed
And a tale I'll tell to you.

It's all about your daddy, he's
A man you seldom see,
for he's had to roam far away from home,
Away from you and me.



CHO: But remember lad, he's still your dad
Though he's working far away;
Working day and night upon the site
Of England's motor way.



To buy your shoes, your daddy built
A length of railway track.
He built a hydro dam to buy
The clothesupon your back.
The motor highway buys the food,
But the wages soon are spent,
And though we have to live apart
It helps to pay the rent.


CHO: But remember lad, he's still your dad,
And he's working far away,
In the cold and heat, eighty hours a week,
On England's motor way.


Sure we need your daddy here
And sure it would be fine
To have him working nearer home
And to see him all the time.
But beggars can't be choosers
And we have to pay our load
For we need the money your daddy earns
Working on the road.


CHO: But remember lad, he's still your dad
And he'll soon be here to stay
For a week or two with me and you
When he's built the motor way.