LETTERS FROM HOME: NO CHICKS, NO DUCKS, NO FROGS, NO BAND-AIDS

April 11, 1996

Dear Julie,

This morning was almost warm and lapis blue, the kind of spring day the Northern hemisphere has longed for since January. Buds and white legs are popping out all over.

Everybody says summer will be here too soon. Bring on the sweat, I say.

All six nieces -- ages 6 to 14 -- were in town for the holiday and stayed over one night. My nephew refused to come and I think missed a good opportunity to try out that men-Mars, women-Venus theory.

We boys, who eat, roughhouse and make obnoxious noises at our bunking parties, can't imagine what girls do. Now I know. They eat, roughhouse and make different obnoxious noises -- mostly the screaming kind.

They also paint their toenails and fingernails in colors that don't exist in nature and make threats that a certain uncle's nails just might turn blue in his sleep.

They pretend your bed is a trampoline, just as children have ever since there were beds.

Danica fell halfway down the stairs, Darcy picked up a splinter, Carly cut her foot on an invisible object and required three Band-Aids. They cried a little and started all over again. We ran out of Band-Aids.

At the end of the night they piled pillows and blankets in front of the TV and watched their aunt and uncle fall asleep while the Goonies were discovering the buried treasure and running for their lives.

We've nearly recovered.

On Easter weekend, the temptation for DC to get a new pet is the greatest. Chicks and ducks are her weaknesses, although chameleons are enjoying some favor.

"No chicks," I pleaded every time she left the house.

Thus DC decided an aquarium with two frogs, two goldfish and a sign that read "No chicks" would be an appropriate Easter gift for me. But when she went to get the aquarium Easter morning, green and gold bodies were floating and the nieces had changed the sign to "No chicks, no ducks, no frogs."

Frogs and goldfish lead such ephemeral lives.

Finally saw "Dead Man Walking." Extraordinary movie. DC still favors capital punishment, I'm still opposed, but we weren't unchanged by the experience. The movie's not really about the death penalty. It's about acts of faith.

Rare to see such honesty on the screen. The human capacity for evil and good right there side by side, looking at us in the guises of Sean Penn and Susan Sarandon, asking, "What do you do?"

To me, death changes nothing. Love changes everything.

My friend Carolyn's beloved grandmother died a few days ago. At the funeral, her minister talked eloquently and familiarly about her long life and many friends in words that must have comforted those who loved her. They comforted me.

He quoted Plato, Tennyson and Hugo to say this woman who was no longer among us was most certainly elsewhere, her spirit at home in a way we can only imagine.

She lived most of her life through an age when to be what she was, a homemaker, was a woman's great accomplishment. Carolyn used to tell me what a wonderful cook she was, and sure enough the minister praised her cooking. Most women our age might not want to be eulogized that way, but her life was dedicated to creating a home filled with love and exquisite nourishment. These are accomplishments of the ages.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a member of the Southeast Missourian news staff.