Samain Thanksgiving Moon
As we grow older, there are many times when we realize, sometimes even say, boy, that makes feel old. I’m sure you’ve had one of those moments. If you’re older, that is. Not assuming. I remember the first time somebody called me sir. It puzzled me, made me turn my head to see who was behind me. Or, there was the time in Hot Springs, South Dakota when I noticed a ten-percent reduction on my bill. The cashier at the front explained, “Oh. That’s our senior discount.” Oh. The list could go on. Easily. Signing up for medicare. Even, for me, that very early, late thirties, instance of going deaf in one ear. Made me feel my imminent mortality in a way nothing else had other than the death of my mother.
All of these incidents, some funny, some bemusing, all trail markers on the third-phase path, have been, so far, just that, sort of funny, at worst bemusing. One that came the other day was neither funny nor amusing.
Reading through facebook posts, which I do with less angst these days because I know it helps me stay connected to folks I’d otherwise miss completely, I found a note that says Stephanie Lewis died of complications from dementia. Stephanie was my first serious girlfriend, my first kiss and she helped me a lot during the death of my mother. We parted before college. I don’t recall why. She was 1 year younger than me.
Now she’s dead. From complications of dementia. According to her mother, it had something to do with an extreme low sodium diet and seizures.
I did reconnect with Stephanie three or four years ago, mostly to say thanks for helping after Mom died. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever done that. We did communicate a couple of times through e-mail. I’m very glad I did that now.
This crooked path we call life carries us along, always in Charon’s boat, just not knowing when it will bump against the other shore. Steph has landed. And I know, once again, that I’m in that boat, too, and the muddy river Styx flows just below the gunnel. I hope if anything greeted her on the other shore that it is a pleasant and peaceful place. She deserved it.
Here’s an odd outcome of the election. I’m planning on joining Congregation Beth Evergreen. Strange, huh? Turns out you don’t have to be Jewish. Weird, to me, but true.
Then, there’s Rabbi Jamie Arnold. He’s an unusual guy: an athlete, a good musician, a composer and arranger, too, an intellectual, and an embodiment of compassion leavened with toughness. This combination of skills and character make him a compelling leader.
But mostly there’s the potential for action against the impending Trump regime. Politics is not a solo sport; it requires allies. Congregation Beth Evergreen seems to have a core of folks who’ve done actual work in political situations. It clearly has a number of folks who want to do work on the Trump watch. That includes me. My politics and my spiritual journey have always been tightly wound together so working with folks at Congregation Beth Evergreen seems like a continuation.
I’ve been working on the second chapter of Superior Wolf. It got plenty of critiques, valid ones, in my writing group, so I decided to rewrite it. I believe version 2.0 will be better.
Looked at Orion on the way up here this morning. He warms my heart like a familiar friend, a friend who comes for the season. I have greeted his return each autumn for 48 years. We first became acquainted during the 11-7 shift at Magnetic Cookware in Muncie, Indiana. I worked there as a security guard. When I see him in the southern sky, I smile.
No wonder, in a world lit only by fire, that the stars were the work of gods. We might think we know them better now, now that we can identify their chemistry, understand their age and locate them in a 3-D universe, but that’s only a material, physical way of knowing. Important in its way, yes. Perhaps even key to the future of human existence. Still, very different from that night beacon lighting the way to freedom for escaping slaves. And, very different from Orion as my friend and companion for 48 autumns and winters.
Friend Tom Crane found this. Those of us who were Buck Rogers fans, or read Asimov and Heinlen early on, those of us who followed Star Trek in its many permutations have been so damned lucky: computers, satellites, walks on the moon, mars exploration, a human-made object leaving the solar system, discoveries of exoplanets and gravity waves and the Higgs Boson, quantum computers and now. Ta-dah. Tractor beams.
