I heard on my way to school this morning that Pete Seeger died yesterday. The world suddenly felt sadder without knowing he was breathing in it any longer. When I was a baby, my mother said I wouldn't fall asleep unless she was playing one of her many Weaver's records. Going to hear him sing at Memorial Auditorium in Burlington when I was a teenager was the first grown up thing I ever did all by myself. Hearing Ronnie Gilbert a few years later in Boston was incredibly moving, too -- I don't know how I must have looked, sitting there in one of the first rows, but she blew me a kiss at the end of the show, so she must have noticed.
Today is also the six month anniversary of Elijah Davis's death.
I sat in my car for a while in the parking lot this morning before I went in to school.