Category Archives: Memories

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Memories, Minnesota, Politics

It still exists

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II (Full)

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow, the outdoor girl. Artemis ready to receive plantings for a fall garden. Halle. Capybaras. Marmots. Nutria. Mice. Cool morning Breezes. Mezuzah. The ritual for hanging them. Monism. Squirrels. Tarot. The Forest Lovers. Wild Neighbors screeing. Rain incoming. What did the idiot do today?

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wind and Rain

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Hearing on the side of merit

Tarot pick: Forest Lovers, #6 of the major arcana

One brief shining: This morning I shuffled the Wildwood deck, cut it three times, and asked the deck what I needed to do about Shadow, my mystery girl, and it gave me this card, the Forest Lovers, the male and female energy present on Beltane, the start of the growing season.

 

Dog journal: A hot night. Mid sixties. Shadow outside yet again. Once again challenging my vision of our relationship. How it should go. At night in particular.

Last night we were having a hug on the small patio stones outside my back door. We shifted our stance a bit and I stepped on her left rear back paw. She yelped and ran off. No way she was coming in last night. No words, no apologies. I hurt her. She left. Fast.

Better this morning. I think she knew it was an accident, but her love of freedom and being her own Dog wouldn’t allow an immediate reconciliation. Damn it! Neither of us needed that.

The Forest Lovers. Drawing this card made me see that as I’ve wondered and as Tom suggested yesterday the wu wei here, the flow of the chi, may entail letting her stay outside at night.

I need to get an assessment of how much danger Natalie believes Shadow is in at night. From Mountain Lions. I believe the threat is low, but the consequence of being wrong is catastrophic.

We are yin and yang. I need her feminine energy in my life and she needs my masculine energy. Together we can bring out parts of ourselves that would lay dormant otherwise. The most confounding experience I’ve ever had with a Dog.

 

Life insights: A family of teachers. Mom. Mary. Mark. Several cousins. I’ve often wondered why I didn’t become a teacher, too. When graduate school slipped out of the picture, I never pursued teaching again.

Except. As an organizer, it was my job to teach people how to live into their power. When unemployment had reached crisis levels in 1988 Minnesota, I along with others recruited church leaders, union activists, and unemployed people across the work spectrum.

Once in a room together, with an 18 month old Joseph on my hip, I drew from them their anguish, their anger and frustration. This was the fuel for them to come together against a common foe: an unfair labor market.

Once we identified those emotions, we moved to  using our various strengths. The moral power of the church. The organizing power of the unions. And the willingness to put it all on the line of the unemployed.

The Jobs Now Coalition came into existence. Together we convinced the Minnesota Legislature to pass M.E.E.D. The Minnesota Emergency Employment act which funded half of a new hires pay for their first six months.

It still exists:  Jobs Now Coalition.

 

Garden, Greenhouse, Memories, Minnesota

The Great Work

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Tuesday gratefuls: Paul. Findlay. Sarah. Max. Claire. Kate. Michael. SPRINT referral. P.T. Halle. Shadow, outside again last night. World Allergy Day today. Morning darkness. Ukraine. Iran. Israel. Palestinians. Artemis. Planting. The fan. The heater. A full Moon in two days.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Clouds

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei. the watercourse way

Week Kavannah: Hearing on the side of merit

One brief shining: That first bitter taste as coffee hits the tongue, the body remembering, starting to unveil itself from the gauze of sleep, knowing from experience though not yet this day, the effect of caffeine on the eyes and ears, the mind as it changes attention from the realm of dreams to the realm of ever becoming apparent reality.

 

Artemis: Awaiting a couple of garden tools before I plant my midsummer seeds. Probably fussing too much but I want to do it my way.

Planting seeds during the hottest month of the year is new to me. I’ve discovered a guide to planting a fall garden which might involve cold frames over my outside raised beds. Perhaps new seeds.

I did order two bulbs of Music Garlic. I have to reserve space for them when I plant because they go in the ground in late September/early October. Love Garlic’s against the grain ways.

Artemis must live, mostly, according to the rhythms of seasonal change. And I love that. I say mostly though because the greenhouse part of Artemis allows me to push the outer limits of first and last frost.

Starting seeds early in Spring inside the Greenhouse will allow for transplanting as soon as a particular plant can tolerate Spring temperatures outside. Keeping the greenhouse warm and within a fairly tight temperature regime will give my Tomatoes the full growing season that they need to produce fruit. That means extending the growing season beyond the likely date of the first frost.

When living in short growing season climates, certain vegetables are unobtainable without a greenhouse. Now I have one and will able, in a very limited manner, to grow things year round.

This is as far as I want to go with juking soil and seeds. The only unnatural aspect lies in controlling, to the extent possible, temperature. Hence, the heater and the exhaust fan. I could work with humidity, too, but I choose not to. At least right now.

 

Great Work: Thomas Berry’s little book, The Great Work, identifies our era’s Great Work as developing a sustainable presence for human beings on Mother Earth.

On a trip to Denver from Minneapolis several years ago, I went north to Cody, Wyoming to visit the Buffalo Bill Center of the West. I finished the Great Work at night in the Holiday Lodge. Berry convinced me that rather than focusing on economic justice work as I had done most of my life that I needed to shift my energy, right then, to the Great Work.

A climate change conference put on by PSR, Physicians for Social Responsibility, at the University of Iowa, gave me even more reason. That conference inspired Kate and me in our Andover years, growing vegetables, fruit, nuts, and flowers. Taking care of bees.

Now the clown car that is MAGA and Trumpeting not only ignores climate change, but actively denies it. Right in the time period when drastic and difficult action must happen. Very. Bad. Timing.

Colorado, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains

249 Years

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

4th of July gratefuls: Cousin Donald. Hyper Masculinity. The Commander’s Cup. Seoah. Murdoch. Songtan. The United (?) States of America. Oklahoma. Indiana. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Colorado. Judy. Raeone. Kate, always. Shadow. Her chewed leash. Work yet to do. Planting. Seat cushion for Ruby. CBE Men’s group. Suffering. Luke. Rebecca. Leo. Tara. Eleanor.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Long time friends

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei. Find the flow of life’s force, follow it

Week Kavannah: Savlanut. Patience.

One brief shining: Walked up the slight rise past the wonderful Ponderosa and the jagged Granite Boulder, pre-schooler rendered chalk drawings on the sidewalk, and pressed the doorbell necessitated by the oldest hatred to join my friends discussing the mussar virtue of self-confidence.

The 4th of July. On the 249th birthday of this country I sit on Shadow Mountain, in purple Mountain majesty above the fruited plains. Somewhere below amber waves of Grain ripple in a morning Breeze.

Meanwhile, faraway in the land of broken toys a mean-spirited tyrant and his too loyal minions prepare concentration camps for immigrants who came here seeking a better life: ICE prepares detention blitz with historic $45 billion in funding.

The Elk Cow and her Calf that crossed the road in front of me Wednesday night do not know this. Their world continues, following a thread of ongoing life rooted millions of years in the past, honed to the ways of Mountain life, to seasonal change, to knowing the ways of predators.

Nor does Shadow know. As we work out our life together, a struggle and a joy for both of us, she too follows a path begun thousands of years ago when friendly Wolves joined human encampments for shelter, food, and joint protection.

How I wish I could be a non-human animal, wild or domesticated. I could live according to the ancient rules of nature. Eat. Reproduce. Play. Rest. Die. Not live according to the cruel rules of human society, the unnatural ways of my often thoughtful, loving, compassionate species.

The Elk do not shun their own, round them up and move them out. Sure, animals may contend over territory for survival, but we humans contend over territory for power and for purposes driven by fear and hatred.

This fourth of July I join many Americans who no longer find great pride in their country. National Pride in the U.S. Sees Dramatic Decline. Or maybe not quite.

The Mountains and the Plains. The fertile fields of the Midwest. The great Boreal Forests. The Atlantic Coast and the Pacific Coast. Redwoods. Sequoias. Bristle Cone Pine. Wolves and Grizzlies. Wolverines and Lynx. Squirrels and Marmots. Fishers and Pine Martens. Rabbits and Chipmunks. All the Wild Neighbors. I take great joy and, yes, pride in living among and with all of these. America the Beautiful.

I also stand with all the humans, all of them, who live here with love, justice, and compassion in their hearts. Who know that the word neighbor has no color, no gender, no religion, no national origin. Who know that the warm and beating heart of this historic experiment in self-governance cannot be stilled by the cold dead hands of those without mercy.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Memories, Plants, Seed Keepers

A Family Tragedy

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Monday gratefuls: Keaton Cousins. Tanya. Kenya. Carla. Lisa. Cathy. Diane. Richard. Kristen. Ikie. Melinda. Annette. Sibs. Mary and Mark. Joe and Seoah. Ruth and Gabe. Shadow. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. The Greenhouse. Tomatoes. Squash. Planting today. Seeds. Beets. Radish. Lettuce. Kale. Chard. Salmon for fertilizer for the Tomatoes.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tiny irrigation system

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei. Work with the chi.

One brief: She was my age, Tanya, one of the five Steffey girls who lived in Arlington when I was young, slender and delicate, pretty in a country girl way, married to David, a farmer, and she died two nights ago trapped in the garage during a house fire.

 

Family: Got an email from Diane yesterday with the news that Tanya, a first cousin also born in 1947 like me, had not escaped a house fire in her home in Rush County, Indiana.

We are close, we Keaton cousins. My mom convinced my dad to move back to Indiana from Oklahoma so she could be closer to her family, the Keaton side.

While I’ve not seen most of them in a while, except for Diane, all those Thanksgivings, summer family reunions, overnight visits, we knew each other well. And care about each other.

We lost Lisa, the youngest Steffey, a while back to a stroke. Ikie to complications from a spinal problem and Annette to the end of a tough life. Now Tanya in a house fire. A large extended family withering away, one by one, as the seasons come and go.

Sadness, loss, disbelief. Faraway from the Rockies, yet so close in my memory. My heart.

Since moving to the Mountains, I’ve not made it home much. The last time September of 2015, my 50th high school class reunion. Not long after my prostatectomy. Don’t remember if I saw Tanya on that trip or not. Mary saw her this summer while visiting.

I’ll miss her.

 

The Greenhouse: Planted the Tomato Plants yesterday. In the Greenhouse because they like/need heat. Had a large Salmon fillet I had cut into portions and frozen too long ago. Unthawed them and put Salmon beneath each Tomato Plant.

Nathan came later in the day and topped off the outside raised beds with compost, installed a nifty irrigation system, picked up his trash. We shook hands, wished each other well.

He’ll be back because he has to install the black mesh fencing to keep out the Deer and Elk, the heater for the winter, and Cedar lap boards to seal the bottom of the greenhouse. I enjoyed working with him, getting to know him.

This morning I plan to Plant seeds in the outside raised beds. More salad fixings. Radish. Beets. Lettuce. Arugula. Kale. Chard. Nasturtiums. A few Marigolds for companion planting.

The Greenhouse has come to life.

 

Dog journal: My Shadow spent her fifth night in a row outside. Protecting us from marauding Mule Deer who would eat our Grass during the night. She protected us all. Damn. Night.

 

 

Dogs, Memories, Mountains, Politics, US History, World History

He could not resist

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Ruth. Gabe. Shabbat. The Morning Service. The Bird of Dawn. Shadow, my sweet girl. Kate, always, Kate. Getting up every hour for movement. We’re made to move and to rest. Halle. Motion is lotion. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Great Sol. The Monsoons. Dead Mice. Derek. Chorkies. (Chihuahua and Yorkie mix) British Columbia. Writing. The Ancient Brothers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Mountains

Week Kavannah:  Roeh et hanalod. Foresight. Knowing what will be needed in the future.

One brief shining: Talking over the fence with Derek as neighbors do his new Chorkie running around with his older Sheltie, Shadow watching with interest, a too hot Mountain day headed for  a cooler evening and night, a light wind blowing through the Lodgepoles, setting the Aspen leaves aquiver.

 

Hot. Not humid though. 90’s! Unusual for the Mountains. Did. Not. Like. It. Ran the mini-splits for air conditioning for a while. Shadow stayed in the shade while outside. A Shadow in the shade.

Found Ruth’s wallet here yesterday afternoon. Texted her. She went rafting on the Arkansas River through Royal Gorge. Canon City. Where Tom and I rode the train a couple of years ago. When I reached her, we agreed to meet at the Fort Restaurant, down the hill outside of Morrison so she could retrieve her things.

Did that. Drove down there around 7 pm with Great Sol still blazing above the Front Range Foothills, occasionally making Sun blindness a thing even with Raybans. Since I rarely drive down the hill at that time of day, I saw the Mountains in a new perspective, shade falling from the West. The green of a wet Spring making them look fresh, vital in the twilight.

When driving in the Mountains at twilight or dawn, we all have to pay special attention. Critters of all sorts move around then, sometimes choosing to cross the road in front of you. Requires care.

 

Just a moment: I was off by a day. He could not resist. It was too big a moment in the spotlight, potentially in the history books. MOPing up after Israel, eh?

Admit to conflicted feelings. Just before a Saudi Arabian peace deal seemed likely, Hamas invaded Israel. Just before negotiations with Iran were to have begun, Israel stole that idea and invaded Iran.

As a child of the Cold War era, nuclear weapons scare the bejesus out of me. No need to wait for climate change. We can eliminate humanity all by ourselves. Right now.

So. Bombing Iran’s nuclear enrichment facilities? I get it. As I wrote a day or two ago, one atomic bomb could level Jerusalem. If I was a radical Islamist with my back against the wall and I had one available to me? I’d probably use it.

Can you say chain reaction? Genie out of the bottle? Thank you 1001 Nights. The world would never be the same. India v. Pakistan. Israel v. the Arab world. US v Russia, v China. Radioactive dominoes falling, falling, falling. Not right away. No. But each time a crisis arose with nuclear armed powers contending theater nuclear weapons would have a precedent.

Having said that. No. It will not stop Iran from building nuclear weapons. Delayed, yes. Stop? No. Regime change? Maybe. To a better regime for Middle East peace? Doubtful.

Trump the warrior. Oh, god no.

Ancient Brothers, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Memories, Men, Minnesota

Living, not dying

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Israel. Iran. The Middle East. War and peace. My son. Father’s Day. Korea. Commander. Seoah. Murdoch. The Jangs. Shadow. Our relationship. Dogs. Kate, always Kate. Evergreen Rodeo. Tourists. Maxwell Creek.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: CBE Men’s Group

Week Kavannah: Week Kavannah: Bitachon. Confidence.  “A feeling of self-assurance arising from one’s appreciation of one’s abilities or qualities.”

One brief shining: Touched the framing of the greenhouse, sturdy, and began to imagine the Garden beds filled with Lettuce, Radishes, Beets, Peppers, Tomatoes, Marigolds, a favorite salad ingredient, Nasturtiums, and standing inside a heated greenhouse in the Winter, Snow piled up outside and tending to the raised bed with Lettuce, Peppers, Radishes, Beets, Flowers growing in pots.

 

Life, tactile and warm, Shadow and the greenhouse, living, not dying. Nurturing life other than my own, right here at home. As I’ve been used to doing for the last 40 plus years.

This is walking upright in the world. For me.

Yesterday I attended the CBE men’s group. Rabbi Jamie said, “I’m seeing you in person.” I finished a ten session zoom class with him on Wednesday, and I haven’t been to the synagogue in several weeks though I’ve attended Thursday mussar on zoom many of them.

Driving has become such a literal pain that even a trip to Evergreen makes me uncomfortable. Working on it. SPRINT device in July sometime. A visit to an orthopedist on Wednesday for the tear in my right hip’s labrum.

Glad I have Halle and her spirited work, her sage advice. One hour then up. A walking meditation. Dog training. Making breakfast, lunch. Getting the trash ready. Yes. Agency.

 

Father’s Day: Talked to my son yesterday. His Sunday morning. Father’s Day. Being a father in my particular way began with my commitment to feminism. Doing my part for birth control. I had a vasectomy at age twenty-six. The Rice Street Clinic in St. Paul.

As a result, when the need, and that’s what it was, the need to become a father hit me, quite unexpectedly, at age thirty, I had to have a reversal. Which never woke my little guys back up. Low motility.

Which left adoption. Raeone and I worked with an adoption agency in Minnesota to find a baby who would die if they were not adopted. At the time, the late seventies, that meant India.

Women in rural Bengal would find themselves pregnant in their eighth month due to malnutrition. The would go into Kolkata to give birth, then the babies were discarded.

Unless. International Mission of Hope had arrangements with several of the “hospitals” that took in these women. In those instances the babies were taken to an IMH orphanage and made available for adoption.

Our first referral, a girl, died due to a salmonella infection that rampaged through the orphanage. It took another year for a new referral, little Jang Deep, four pounds and four ounces, delivered in a wicker basket by blue and white garbed nuns at the International Arrivals section of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Memories, Music

Aural Journal

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: CBE. Alan. Joanne. Marilyn. Irv. Tara. Arjan. Ginny and Janice. Dan. Rich. Ron. Jamie. Laurie. Veronica. Rick. Luke. Leo. Eleanor. Shadow. Gracie. Annie. Luna. Wild Neighbors. Great Sol. Colorado Blue Sky. Shadow Mountain. Rock. Soil. Trees. Creeks. Valleys. Clouds. Atmosphere. Seasons.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: Songs that we love, that drive our hearts mad, dredge up detailed glimpses of experience past, send our souls into spiritual ecstasy, make our feet begin to tap and our body begin to sway, what is this strange hold sound has over us?

 

 

 

Dogs, Memories, Music

Songs and Dogs

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Audra. Open-Sided MRI. Chris. Engineers. Angry Chicken. Driving home into the Mountains. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. Conifer Mountain. Berriman Mountain. Lenticular Clouds. Cumulus. Cirrus. Rain and Snow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Magnetism

Week Kavannah:  Ratzon.  Will, desire, pleasure.

One brief shining: Looking into Audra’s eyes, feeling her hand on mine, her thumb moving, not erotic, but intimate as Lorentz forces caused the big machine to pound and grind and whir in rhythmic waves of sound while the magnets created detailed slices of my lumbar spine.

 

Glad that’s over with. Should have adequate information about my lumbar spine. As I noted earlier, there may not be much to do though we can target any therapy with accuracy after this.

Ironically the drive in and out left me hobbling into the house when I got back.

Shadow takes my absence with aplomb. She does not chew things up, poop or pee. She seems to rest quietly beside my chair. A huge bonus. Could be otherwise.

 

Dog journal: Shadow sleeps under the bed at night. I opened the bedroom door a couple of days ago for her. Not perfect. She chews the bed slats, the carpet (which I intend to replace at some point), my nightstand. Doesn’t last long. Impacts my getting to sleep a bit. Worth it since she seems happy back in her original safe place here.

I flagged off Amy this last Tuesday. Didn’t have enough energy for her session and the drive into Sushi Den with Ruth. Chose Ruth. Desensitizing Shadow to the leash does not go well; I need Amy’s guidance. Next Tuesday.

Had her toys in a long wicker basket. Each night I would pick them up, put them back. Over the course of the next day she’d pluck them out, play with them. The used to be chipmunk, purple cat, a long red Kong and a small black one, four different balls including a glow in the dark one, and three individual socks: one of Seoah’s, one of my son’s, and one of mine.

Then she began to chew on the wicker. Going up to the loft to grab a large stainless steel bucket as her next toy bin. Chew on that, Shadow!

 

Just a moment: Bill Schmidt has asked us to load up our favorite songs for the Ancient Brothers. That’s gonna be tough.

The Doors. The Stones. The Beatles. The Animals. The Monkeys. Country Western. 50’s doo wop. Teen anguish songs. The Who. Led Zeppelin. Creedence. The Band. Dylan. Coltrane. Miles Davis. Thelonious Monk. Aaron Copland. George Gershwin.

Let’s do a trial run here. Surrealistic Pillow by Jefferson Airplane. Wild Horses by the Stones. Satisfaction by the Stones. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down by The Band. The Weight by the Band. Venus in Blue Jeans. Teen Angel. Dead Man’s Curve. The House of the Rising Sun by the Animals. Blue Train by Coltrane. Kind of Blue by Miles Davis. Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin. Ain’t No Grave Gonna Keep My Body Down. Going Down To the River To Pray. When Will the Circle Be Unbroken. See You in September. The Queen of the Silver Dollar. Jolene.

Well. It’s a start.

 

 

Dogs, Health, Judaism, Memories, Mussar, Sport

Shadow and Healing. And, Basketball!

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Lashon hara. Mussar. Shadow. Twisters. Diane. Mark. Mary. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. Kate, always Kate. Cold night. Fair sleeping. Shadow’s toys. Our backyard. The fence. The shed. The deck. Rabbits. Voles. Chipmunks. Winter. Spring. The in between time. Imbolc.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Humans and Dogs

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

One brief shining: Good news comes in, too, like the friend whose lesion seems benign, the shoulder with less pain and increased range of motion, Shadow calmer, happier, the Ritalin decreasing my fatigue, even Great Sol out for a longer Colorado blue Sky stint.

 

Dog journal: Puppy hands. Small hematomas on the back of my hand. Eager Shadow, saying hi hi hi hi hi, I’m so glad to see you! So so glad! Old skin, young nails sharp and wielded with the muscles of an excited puppy.

Shadow’s ears have finally lost their pinned back look most of the time. She still cowers and flinches sometimes and her ears go flat. I ache when I see that. Something happened to make that her response to a human. Don’t know what. Waning, though.

She owns her space, plays with toys, greets me, no longer the shy, hypervigilant Dog under the bed.

Blessings to her and those first inquisitive Wolves who coinvented Dogs.

 

Finished mussar on zoom a second ago. Haven’t gone in person since adopting young Shadow. Today I wanted to have time to workout. Half hour there, half hour back. I would have been too tired.

I mention this because I also know there is a healing energy I get from showing up. It’s substantial and balances the energy I get from my mostly private life. As do my various zoom calls, breakfasts and lunches.

No matter how private, introverted, isolated we might be we are still creatures of community. You don’t have to look further than language itself to prove that. Language marks you as a member of this group or that one and even if you only use your language to process your own thoughts you remain part of that community always.

I get healed and buoyed up as I hope to heal and buoy up others. Showing up, as my friend Paul likes to remind me, marks the other as important, significant, loved. Medicine we all have and we all need.

 

Just a moment: It’s that most wonderful time of the year. Basketball tournaments everywhere, including March Madness. Cinderella teams. Juggernauts. NBA future draft picks. WNBA future draft picks. State level tourneys.

A Hoosier thing. High school basketball. Sure, other states, but we always believed nobody else loved high school hoops the way we did.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight. That song on the school bus radio as we pulled away from the Anderson, Indiana gym. Where only moments before tiny Alexandria had won the sectional by beating the Anderson Indians in the Wigwam. (yes. not that anymore.)

I remember frost on the windows, seeing each other’s breath in the cold March air as we screamed into the night. What wonderful joy!

 

 

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Garden, Memories, Minnesota, Shadow Mountain

My Sweet Kate

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Luke. Leo. Shadow. The flying hearing aid. Cool nights. Great Sol. The hard time in the Mountains. Little food, hidden under Snow. Predators hungry. Hibernators beginning to move around in their slumber. Temperatures careening between Winter and Spring. Snow sliding off the solar panels. Sit. Down.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Finding my hearing aid

Week Kavannah:  Yirah. Awe.

One brief shining: Puppy paws and puppy claws plus puppy bouncy energy hooked my hearing aid, sent it in off on a long flight, hunting for it, needing it even more than my phone, where could it be oh god what if it’s gone what if she smelled the ear wax and ate it, lost things get found by a search pattern, ok here, there, wait, underneath the dumbbell? That’s it! Whew.

Kate. Yes. Always Kate. My ninja weeder. Quilter. Clothes maker. Physician. Traveler. Keen intellect. But most of all, my sweet Kate. The woman of possibility and promise. Music lover. Grandmother. Stepmother, but really second mother to my son. One who would not quit. Dead next month for four years.

Yet also here. In her quilts. In the Turtles and the small troll with the Norwegian flag. In the bronze Horse statue from Camp Holloway. In the art from our time in Mexico City, Paris, Hawai’i. In her Judaica which I use. Most of all in my memory, nestled in with all I most cherish, never to leave.

Thirty-five years from our marriage in St. Paul’s Landmark Center. Thirty-five years from our wonderful honeymoon following Spring from Rome to Venice, Paris to London, London to Edinburgh, Edinburgh to Inverness. The first of many journeys we made together.

Circumnavigating Latin America. Korea and Singapore. Greece. The Greek Islands. Kusadasi and Ephesus. Istanbul. Maui many times. The Big Island and Kauai. NYC. New Orleans. Mexico City. Oaxaca. Merida.

The journey we made from St. Paul to Andover. The Gardens. The Dogs. The Bees. The Orchard. Then on to Shadow Mountain. The Mule Deer. Black Mountain. Congregation Beth Evergreen. Ruth and Gabe. Sadly, Jon.

Her own last journey. In and out of emergency rooms, hospital beds, surgery suites. A gradual, but inexorable decline. Yet always working the NYT crossword each morning. Always engaged with the politics of the day. Always engaged with me. Precious time together.

Now in the four years since she crossed the vale between life and death still vital and present in my heart.