Naming the Moon
I loved learning that every full moon has a name.
In February, it was the Wolf Moon for the English, the Snow Moon for the Algonquin, and the Hunger, Storm or Candles Moon for those of other orientations. For me, however, it was the King Bud Moon.
My friend Susan called from Florida to tell me her much-adored friend Bud had passed the night the moon was at its roundest and brightest. The father of one of her closest pals, this man was a character in the best sense of the word. “He would have loved having that full-moon backdrop,” she said. And from what she’s told me of this man I never met, she’s right. Elderly and in ill health, “King Bud,” as he called himself, advised his family he had written his own eulogy and that it should be read only after he had passed. So following his death, his widow, daughter and sons gathered, opened the envelope, removed the single sheet and read: “He died.” And they laughed, tearfully, but with full respect for the man who had been theirs and been himself, right to the end.
These days, with Kate and her family and so many others I love at a distance, I’ve begun standing out on my deck for a few minutes each night, surveying the moon–crescent, quarter, gibbous, full. What runs through my head is the theme song of one of my girl’s favorite movies as a four-year-old–An American Tail. Feivel the Mouse is separated from those he loves, but they’re all singing the same melody: “Somewhere, out there, beneath the pale moonlight…someone’s thinking of me, and loving me tonight.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EhfDFiAOOeI Thank you, Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram. Twenty-plus years later, you can still choke me up. 😉
In just a few days, we’ll be viewing the full moon of March. It’s the Lenten Moon, if we’re English; the Worm Moon, if we’re Algonquin; and the Crow, Crust, Chaste, Sugar or Sap Moon, if we’re of another persuasion.
I’m thinking maybe King Bud should be the Man in the Moon just one more time.
Photo: A gift from my talented friend, Joy Lowe. (c) 2011