Rain!

It's raining in Malaga! What a wonderful sight. Unfor- tunately, as I write this it's already letting up. We need days and days of rain, not a thirty minute shower. Well, it's nice anyway. There's lots of debate these days about memoria histórica, about doing arqueological digs at common graves from the civil war. This week the attention is focused on the decision to dig up the site outside Granada where Federico Garcia Lorca is buried, along with three others. Last weekend Aurora Luque (for) and Pedro Aparicio (against) had interesting opinion pieces on the topic in Sur. Pedro was writing mainly in opposition to the fetishization of old bones; Aurora was focused on the idea of death with dignity and the importance of closure. If there are mass graves and it's not known who is there, then I'm in favor of excavating. Then, families should decide what to do with the remains. In the case of Lorca, there doesn't seem to be any question as to who is buried there. In that case, the family should decide. For reasons that are completely mysterious to me (maybe there is simply no reason), I woke up this morning thinking about reincarnation,  a notion which has always struck me as silly. Perhaps more interesting than the idea of a future reincarnation is the belief that your life is itself a reincarnation. I guess people imagining past lives has been fairly popular recently. Amusing. Now, if your present life is the fulfillment of a former life's wish to be you in the future, that's kind of intriguing. Hmmm, what kind of animate being could have wished this...? Right now Mark Kotsay and Jed Lowrie need some good wood reincarnation or something. The Sox just lost a real frustrating one to the Indians.