Latest Posts
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Irish Ghosts
Last night I saw a marvelous PBS show about the great American playwright Eugene O’Neill. It was a spooky encounter for me. O’Neill’s masterpiece, A Long Day’s Journey Into Night, has always hit very close to home. If… Continue reading
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Being and Nonbeing
I read the news differently these days. One of my daily routines is scanning a dozen or so newspapers. Although I look for news about China and topics to blog about in general, I cannot help… Continue reading
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Aidan and Haleigh
There is a concrete connection between my son, Aidan, and the young girl nearly beaten to death, Haleigh Poutre. Aidan was cared for in the same pediatric intensive care unit, by the very same doctors and nurses, as… Continue reading
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There Can Be No Wrongful Birth
A week ago yesterday I was driving back to Springfield from home. I had left Maureen and Aidan in the pediatric intensive care unit knowing that he might die at any time. His heart was strong, however, and… Continue reading
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Dwell in the Ordinary
Somewhere in Chuang Tzu (I am too tired to find the exact quotation just now), he tells us to "dwell in the ordinary." He might even say it twice in the first eight chapters. In any event, it… Continue reading
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Eulogy
We held Aidan’s funeral today. Just like last night, many people came; some of the same people from the wake, but many others as well. More teachers and aides from Albany came. People from the hospital in Springfield… Continue reading
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People Are Good
We had a wake for Aidan tonight. Many people came. They hugged us, they remembered with us, they brought a great deal of love into the room. It was a beautiful thing. People from all walks of… Continue reading
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There Can Be No Loss
I am writing a eulogy for Aidan. There are many ideas I am working through, some of which I will not actually use. Here is one passage from Chuang Tzu that comes to mind, but which I will probably… Continue reading
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Aidan Martin Crane, October 18, 1991 – March 19, 2006
In all beneath heaven there’s nothing bigger than the tip of an autumn hair, and T’ai Mountain is tiny. No one lives longer than a child who dies young, and the seven-hundred-year-old P’eng Tsu died an… Continue reading
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The Abyss
It’s been a long hard ten days since Aidan first fell ill. And the worst of it is: the doctors do not expect him to live. We were in the pediatric intensive care unit for a… Continue reading
The Useless Tree 