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Blogger Widow?

Posts might be scarce today. Eric Scheske's wife, Marie, is celebrating her 37th birthday, which means Eric Scheske is pandering to her wishes, which means he's primary caregiver for six children, ages 11 years to 19 months. Vacuuming the basement was tough (the little one, fake vacuum in hand, relentlessly pursuing and interfering with Eric's efforts). Blogging will be even tougher. The little one (a/k/a "shadow") is coming now, as we type.

Any writing with such a young and large family is hard, of course. That's why Eric took up blogging. Studious pursuits are limited to ten minute stretches and often interrupted with soul crunching squeals and yells. Blogging is lighter than, say, his piece about Russell Kirk. But even blogging is hard sometimes.

It reminds us of the 22-year-old Santayana's words about study and marriage:

I cannot part from what I prize
For all I prize is in my head;
My fancies are the fields and skies
I will not change till I am dead,
Unless indeed I lose my wits
Or (what is much the same thing) wed.

Nonetheless, today is her day. For her, Eric would surrender blogging and writing and reading, living the life of a happy idiot, if that's what she demanded. Santayana's probably right, but maybe Eric is, too:

I cannot part from what I prize
For all I prize is in her head;
My fancies are her fields and skies
I will not change even when she's dead,
Unless indeed I lose my wits
Or, much the same thing, leave her bed.

Eric isn't a poet. That's apparent to see. But at times he lives the poet's life. And that's because of Marie.

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