That Was the Year I Wish It Wasn’t

Because for me and my family – and I dare say the nation at large – 2017 was such a doleful twelve months, I thought about not constructing my traditional year-end recap of my blogging; however, going back through the posts has been, if not exactly therapeutic, instructive as dredging up the past has provided me a more detached idea of my state of mind during Judy’s decline. Essentially, the omnipresent Scythe Wielder is ignored, which makes sense, since Judy was a reader, sometimes (not often enough) a proofreader of this blog.

January was Trump obsession month, though my favorite post attacked not the Donald but king hell hypocrite Paul Ryan, suggesting that the arch Catholic should read Flavory O’Connor, but I did stray away from politics  to reminisce about Judy’s and my courting days.


In February I fantasied what it would be like to see Trump as a tragic hero and wrote about the practical advantages of memorizing poetry,  Huh?

And celebrated Mardi Gras on Folly Beach by making a film. As it turned out, the celebration supposedly got out of hand.


In March, in an act of great generosity I provided stuck fiction writers the titles and scenarios for mass market paperbacks based on Dylan lyricsMore seriously, I offered teenagers, whom I know something about, some good advice, and to offset any pretense of wisdom, told the story of bribing my middle school sons by buying them the issue of Playboy magazine depicted below.


April is supposedly the cruelest month, and it came very close. By now I had abandoned politics and turned my thoughts to avoiding a living death  with the idea of termination looming.  Perhaps I was angry at the universe.  Why else rant about hairstyles?



Judy dies.

I grieve.

I deliver a speech.

judy memorial eve cropped (original)

Judy Birdsong Moore 1954-2017


The Art of Grieving,

But life goes on.  I learned a new word.  Failson, and reported for jury duty.



As Emily wrote:  “First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –”

Unanswered prayers.

Trafficking in Mockery.

And speaking of failsons. Here’s a shopping guide.

Hey Jude


As far as writing goes, I was lazy in August.  I was hanging with a grief counsellor, hanging at Chico Feo, discovering the Island Breeze, preparing for my 32nd year at PG, checking out total eclipses.

Sign at Island Breeze


Back to school and into a new classroom.



Definitely, the highlight of the year.  NOLA.  If you haven’t checked this out, you need to.

mother in law exterior

Front Door


Judy Birdsong In the Lobby of the Chelsea Hotel 23 April 2011.


If typing this in London, leaving tomorrow, need to pack, so I’m out of here.  Thanks to all my repeat readers.  This blog sort of keeps me off the streets and out of trouble.  Happy New Year.

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2 thoughts on “That Was the Year I Wish It Wasn’t

  1. Wesley – I know that you see the pain of your terrible loss in these posts, but I also see the love. Judy was such a spectacular person, and it was totally clear always that you knew that, and never forgot it. I’m glad you got out of Dodge for the holidays. There will be more pain, for sure, but I hope it will be eased with fantastic memories. All the best.

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