Things That They Say Honor Bright

This volcano is raining ash on my Guatemalan cousins.  My cousin says ash is raining on houses and cars in Guatemala. The photographs of the eruption are elegant compositions depicting a frightening local reality. This one is my favorite. It reminds me of the reasons my great-grandparents left Sicily: Nothing there but rocks, they said. Of course, it wasn’t true. Sicily, like Guatemala, is by all accounts a lush, lovely place.

Rumor has it the reporter who was killed was standing next to the lava like this guy.

On the other hand, sometimes you could take a hint and a powder. My cousin, a tender hearted young mommy with bright, talented children, who speaks four languages and has traveled extensively, curtly remarked that reporters are supposed to be close to the story, but really. I was impressed with her pragmatism, seeing as how I have an irrational fear of lava that’s looking less and less irrational as Guatemalan children go missing. Perhaps my cousins would like to sojourn in torpid New Jersey.

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