I am planning a trip to Heritage Cove Campground, where Ben died, beginning either Wednesday or Thursday night and running through Sunday. I’ll reserve as many campsites as we need. The intent is just to have a time and space to grieve, to physically be there at the site, to share stories and cry together, and to hopefully find a little bit of strength in one another to help us into the next weeks.

Please leave a comment here or e-mail me to let me know if you are interested, and for what nights (Wed., Thurs, Fri, Sat.–4 nights, 5 days).

Everyone is welcome, even (perhaps especially) if you and I aren’t already friends. I have a big tent, a small tent, and a variety of camping gear. We’ll make it work. (Let me know if you have any gear you can bring, too.)

If I can get off work for Thursday, I’ll probably go directly to the campground after the services and luncheon conclude on Wednesday. If I need to work Thursday, I’ll head to the campground after work that day and set up camp Thursday night.

Thanks to Brandon for posting these on Ben’s Facebook page and his memorial Facebook group:

I’ll be home Monday and Tuesday nights for sure. Invitation to stay here still stands.

My mind knows how to take care of itself. That’s not the problem. The problem is that I resist when it tries to take care of itself.

Ben’s death is more than I can handle. It’s more than any of us can handle. So we get a little closer to acknowledging it and expressing our feelings, and then we have to back away. That’s OK. It is of life-changing significance to us, so it will come up in our thoughts and in our conversations again and again. We do not have to accept or even acknowledge the fullness of this terrible event any time soon. Like Timothy said, if we did acknowledge it totally right now, our brains would implode. That’s OK. I think that is how we were created.

So that’s how I aim to carry on. If I have a feeling, I experience it. If it grows uncomfortable, I put it on the shelf until it naturally comes up again. If I have something to express, I try to allow myself to express it without shame, even if I don’t know if it makes sense or makes me look stupid. If I can’t express it, I don’t force myself to try.

I guess what I’m saying is that my hope for all of us is that we don’t view Ben’s death as something we have to “work” through. We will get through it, but there’s no way to speed up that process. It’s not suppression to stop thinking about something when you can’t deal with it. It’s not bottling up feelings to experience only the feelings you’re capable of experiencing. It’s not insensitive to confront only what you can confront. I don’t think it is good to push or to resist. I don’t force myself to “deal with it,” because ultimately I have no choice but to deal with it. I will get through it as long as I don’t resist feelings and thoughts as they crop up. Let’s not force ourselves to cry, and let’s not feel ashamed when we need to cry.

I feel silly writing this, when I could write about Ben and how I miss him. I feel compelled to, though, so I’m not resisting. I hope for each of you that you do what you must, but that you do not feel like you must do anything. If you feel compelled to do something that will comfort others, do not feel ashamed to do it. On the other hand, don’t “should” yourself into doing something to comfort others. Just listen and receive openly, and express and give in the same spirit.

I think I mostly want to say, to all my friends, that you can say or express anything to me. Or you can say or express nothing. You don’t have to “find the right words,” and you don’t have to find any words at all. You don’t have to do anything for me, but if it makes you feel better to do things for people like me, I want to accept graciously. I’m sure you expect no more or less from me, and that is what makes each of you such special and wonderful friends, and what made each of you such special and wonderful friends to Ben.

Assemble the people, the men and the women and the little ones, and thy stranger that is within thy gates, that they may hear, and that they may learn, and fear the LORD your God, and observe to do all the words of this law; and that their children, who have not known, may hear, and learn to fear the LORD your God, as long as ye live in the land whither ye go over the Jordan to possess it.’

Regards Sukkot, or the Feast of Tabernacles, “a strange religious thing” which began this past Wednesday at sundown.

I’m thinking of watching Match Point this evening. Any of the nearby-living folk possibly maybe interested in coming over and checking out the new couch? I’d be interested in offering dinner though I’m short of ideas at this moment.

P.S. Bank of Lancaster County, which has been bought and will be merged into some other conglomerate next year, has a sign in the window of their Duke Street branch: Consider a career as a part-time teller. Really? You think that part-timing it counts as a career. You and I disagree on that point.

I just deleted a piece of spam: “she will be running away from your dick.” was the subject line. I suppose because it will be so enlarged. But I imagine the real reasons will be somewhat other than the incredible effectiveness of the pills they mail you.

Unsurprisingly, I love the new Springsteen album, which comes out on Tuesday. (No, I don’t think he needs more millions from another album’s sales. I think he, at 58, wants his art to be appreciated and listened to.) It’s his first project with the E Street Band since The Rising. The first track contains a refrain at the end of the song, “I just want to hear some rhythm.” On the surface, not his deepest lyric. But I think it says a great deal about him as a man and a musician. After all he’s done, he still just plain loves music.

I didn’t buy anything mind-numbingly wonderous at the library’s Harvest Book Sale. (I went Tuesday evening.) Jack Welch’s “Winning,” Marcus Borg’s “The God We Never Knew,” “2001: A Space Odyssey,” Fitzgerald’s translation of the full Oedipus cycle, and Judith Rossner’s “August,” for about $9.50.

Also, I have BIG lancaster-county-type announcement to make, but only to anyone I physically see tonight.

What is the name of the state park we went to on Spring Break 2003? All I remember is that we referred to it as the “drop of sweat on the nut sack of the United States,” but looking at the map of possibilities, that doesn’t help all that much.

Since we didn’t start Xanging until around early 2004, I don’t have any record of it here, save this reference in a post dated January 7, 2004:

Which helps me not a whole lot.

This coming Wednesday, Julie Orringer, author of How to Breathe Underwater is giving a reading at Franklin & Marshall in their new Writers House. It begins at 8:00 p.m. and is free and open to the public. I’m absolutely going. I invite you to join me.

My new toy at work, all mine:

I sure do love my labelmakers. Seriously, though, the ability to highlight an address on a letter in Word and then just click a toolbar button to print an address label is the best damn thing ever. No copying and pasting.

Today is First Friday. Are the McGovies coming to the Rezidence? If so, we should make a first venture to the Lancaster Mvsevm of Art. And “American Graffiti” is showing in Binns Park at 9 o’clock.

Are inspire and expire etymologically related?

A good weekend was had by all. McGovern, you’ve been warned: I’m getting a tennis racket, then your ass is mine on the court. (P.S. I hear the new F&M courts are sweet-momma-licious.)

That was some mighty fine lasagna.

My brother e-mailed this to me this morning. It’s a blog entry from Gilbert Arenas (I’m glad my brother told me he’s a “top-5 NBA player on the Washington Wizards”). I knew I wasn’t the only one..