I took a long walk this morning to clear my head and get my lungs and feet moving again. I went up Southport to Graceland Cemetery-It wasn't open yet so I took the walk around the outside perimeter and by the time I made it back to the entrance I was able to walk in. I tipped my hat to the security guard sitting in his car. He gave me a hard glance. I was a new face and it was his job to be suspicious of newcomers. I've lived on Southport almost thirty years, and most of that time I never realized I had ancestors buried there. I know of two, and I've found one of those two graves. It is unmarked, and when I find the other I want to reach out to the far flung members of my family to try to get some stones placed there.. to try to get stones placed there.

It's been so long since I last posted. I intend to start posting on a more regular schedule from now on. I've always felt I was an introvert, but I couldn't understand really how to get along with extroverts. I'm starting to learn that lesson, and am starting to understand their value in a group situation. I came across this interesting article on introverts tonight that cave me some insight into myself:

Walking to the Past

I took a long walk this morning to clear my head and get my lungs and feet moving again. I went up Southport to Graceland Cemetery. It wasn't open yet so I took the walk around the outside perimeter and by the time I made it back to the entrance I was able to walk in. I tipped my hat to the security guard sitting in his car. He gave me a hard glance. I was a new face and it was his job to be suspicious of newcomers. I've lived on Southport for almost thirty years, and most of that time I never realized I had ancestors buried at the end of our street. I know of two, and I've found one of those two graves. It's unmarked, and when I find the other I want to reach out to the far flung members of my family to try to get some stones placed there. I stood there and remembered my aunt telling me her memories of the funeral, and her standing there by the grave and seeing the El trains passing by just beyond the cemetery walls. And I thought, here I am some eighty years later, standing on the same spot, and I am connecting with the same thoughts and memories she had I now share and pass on, and we are now connected through all those years.

Having just gotten back from Italy, I was just wondering if there were any other Saccos out there who wanted to share news of themselves.

arrrgggh!

Think back on all those memories past. Then realize they were never properly remembered in the first place. Think about the difference and ponder the meaning of subjective truth.

That Google search for Floyd Fun didn't work so well. Try this: http://www.angelfire.com/il/Floydfun/index.html

today I got a note from a Sacco in the UK who tried to set up a blog acct with this name but couldn't cause I'm already there. When I started this blog I had a moment of panic when I realized people were actually going to read it! Panic over, but sometimes lazy, I'll now continue this blog.
The first entries were in response to the death of my friend Chuck Busch in New Orleans just before the Day of the Dead in 2002. Since then I've been busy remixing my old band's music. We were the Ninnies, an obscure punk/new-wave band from the Chicago area. We managed to put out one 7 inch record, which got some college air-play at the time, then we got on with our lives. If you want to see what we looked like back then, do a google search on The Ninnies 1980, then search within results and find the Floyd Fun web page. Or is it Floydfun....
and thanks, Jess, for reminding me to get back on here.

blogger.com

In my dreams I sometimes feel like the mute, terrified observer of history going past, unable to do nothing, but watch it pass by.
I saw my dead friend on the street, someone said"I can't believe he's gone"., I said he's not gone, look! I pointed up, and there he was, standing on top of a silo, the sun at his back his arms held high in triumph; but then I realized I was watching this from a city bus going down the street; the scene I was watching receding from me even as I realized this was the past I was watching, and I would never be there again.
billsacco@yahoo.com