Friday, October 9, 2026

Remembering our trip to Ireland

Little sweetheart, this month is the anniversary of our trip together to Ireland! As long as this website keeps letting me, I'll upload a photo or two all week in remembrance! 

You had wanted me to take you from the first time I told you of my travels there - to the little West Cork village of Kilcrohane. I'm so glad we got to do that! 

This is us near the edge of Doneen Pier, a nice walk from where we had rented a house for the week with our London friends and fellow travelers, Kris & Joy. 

Love you forever! 




Thursday, October 8, 2026

At Mom's Lakehouse

Little sweetheart, hooray! I finally got the website to upload photos, again! 

Here's a timely one - it was taken out at my mom's lakehouse the day we arrived after news of her sudden passing. I've just been writing about it in our book and this picture also is the gatefold shot inside our new album, our 13th, Last Lights. 

Mom so wanted you and I to spend some time at the lakehouse with her and we were even planning on doing so but never got to. Still, after we both arrived - me from London (with your help) and you from SF, hearing the shocking news - I drove us out there because I wanted you to see the place. 

We could still feel mom's presence and I remember telling you that it felt like she might come around the corner of the house at any moment, out to where we were sitting on the dock, with a tray of root beer floats. 

I'll bet you two have had one or two while looking after me from Heaven. In fact, I know you have. Mom loved you so much, little sweetheart, and I love you both. Forever.




Thursday, October 1, 2026

Tech issues

My little sweetheart, I will always love you and my life is yours. And if you were here, I know you would be the first one to tell, me to bail on this site, which is antiquated (the Blogger app has been no more for years, almost a decade) and now (this website) won't even allow me to upload photos. 

We had a good run here and although I feel a good deal of guilt in not having 100 posts here every year, I know that this site barely exists and it is hardly my sole tribute to you.  

I love you, Summer. You are in my daily prayers, my every thought and all of my work.

I love you forever. 

We may be done here (I will try again) but we are forever. I believe and know it! 

With all of my love and forever,. See you in Heaven and in my dreams.

Your Michael.

Still here!

Little sweetheart, I'm sorry and so remiss in not updating this page but I know you know that you are constantly in my thoughts and literally in my prayers throughout each day. My gorgeous girl, I'm so much older now. I can hardly believe it myself. But I've come to know - as you always told me! - how important health is. I always took it for granted and I've been very lucky but one of the reasons I've been posting here less - but always continuing our work - are due to a couple of minor health issues. I'm working on them as you would tell me to and I'll be posting here and continuing our work always soon. I love you so much and forever! 


Wednesday, June 10, 2026

Lost and Found

Tonight, little sweetheart, as I sorted through a few things in my endless tower of piles, much of it writing. I found what I just labeled as "The Last Notebook". 

For decades, as I wrote plays - often for you! - I would write them all out in longhand but I still had to cull them from these journals as I moved to my typewriter or eventually my laptop. This was one of the old style. 

My book for you is decidedly composed only within particular and dedicated notebooks- it's only that content, not an ongoing journal with the project included, ongoing. I have a pile of them. Once it is finally completed I may take a picture. The many many notebooks in heap on the floor of this apartment that we knew together. Perhaps with me perched upon all or near it. 

But something happened tonight. 

I found the notebook I was writing contemporaneous to your passing. 

We've returned from our legendary trip to Ireland. We have Christmas. I return for the screening of our film Two from The Line and Valentines Day and our production of Blackbird. 

It's all there, all our triumphs and failures and my own - my struggles, our own together - the normal give and take of our relationship, like any other - not knowing how little time we have or, even happy and in love, that it will abruptly end and the grief that will haunt me to my own grave. 

In the end I'm writing from the hospital and finally in the hours before you pass. It's harrowing. But I needed to see it. It's true.

I have so much work to do, little sweetheart.

We have a new album coming out, our 13th, in 11 days - on June 21st the Summer Solstice. 

I'm so much older now, little sweetheart, I wonder if you would even recognize me. I hope my work, our work, preserves and conjures and honors you. 

I would be lost without Sylvia - who I know you see and love, we'll all be together someday - and your parents, who are so dear to me. Our family. 

I want and need to just keep trying. It was a moment tonight that I won't forget. I've set the notebook aside and marked some of its pages. I think it will help me. I feel like you've told me something - both about our own story, however tragic, and how I must go forward in the love. That that is exactly what you want for me. Didn't you tell me yourself that when we love someone it is forever? We don't forsake them by loving another! It's why we are here! And this love binds us all! Even my faith tells me so! 

I'm so sorry that I make and have made so many mistakes. Thank you for finding me tonight - I often see you in dreams, and I need to write of that here more often. Tonight, I've set aside this "Last Notebook" I just have to fully take it in. 

Love you forever. -M

Saturday, April 4, 2026

I Believe

Oh, little sweetheart. I heard the most beautiful song at last night's Good Friday service. It made me cry and cry. It's a quite recent composition and I heard the NYC Trinity Church Choir sing it but the video below is (I think) its very first performance. The young conductor comes out at the end. I'll leave the notes about it (and the amazing words) below. 

It just is a breathtaking expression of faith! How I miss you, little sweetheart, and my mom, too. I hope you two are having a root beer float in Heaven right now and not worrying about me too much, knowing that things like this get to me. We'll all be together again and forever, soon. I believe. With all my love...

NOTES about ""Even When He is Silent"

Commissioned by the St. Olaf Festival in Trondheim, Norway (Olavsfestdagene). 

The text was found in a concentration camp after World War 2: 

I believe in the sun, even when it's not shining. 

I believe in love, even when I feel it not. 

I believe in God, even when He is silent.