Category Archives: Denver

Asia, Denver, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Plants, Travel

Distance and depth

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Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Saturday gratefuls: My son and his wife, moving into a house. Korea, far away across the waters of the Pacific. Alan and Tom. Diane. Leslie, composting. Marilyn and her grandson in Italy. Josh who grew the Cubensis. Memorial Day Weekend. The Indy 500. The Monaco Grand Prix. Shrimp and grits from Lucille’s. The Nuggets. Psilocybin. Mark and Dennis in Paonia. The Lodgepoles out my window, moved by a slight Wind, waving their Cones at me. Lightning and Thunder last night.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Flashes of Lightning

One brief shining: Yesterday afternoon around four pm the psilocybin peaked and the Aspens with their upturned Branches praised the Sun by producing small yellow green Leaflets while the Lodgepoles bowed their Branches in perpetual prayer, both worshipers of the Great Sol, giver of energy and heat, and I did the same by standing on my driveway feeling the light that had traveled millions and millions of miles warm me.

 

Korea is a long way away. 6,196 miles according to Travelmath. That is, as we would say in Indiana, a f’r piece. During my psilocybin experience yesterday afternoon I got hit with a deep wave of love for my son and his wife, then a sense of how far away they now are. Really far. I looked up driving distance on Travelmath and it said, complicated. You might even have to swim. True that.

The military produces these long distance relationships over and over again. This is my son’s second deployment to Korea. He’s also been in the Middle East several times. Not to mention all those years in Georgia. And that one year in Singapore. Then, Hawai’i.

Glad for Kakao and Zoom, e-mail. Even Facebook. Connecting us.

 

While I got the mail yesterday, I walked over to the Iris bed which I had expanded at Kate’s request. Her purple Irises have begun to emerge. Some of her ashes fed them on August 18th of 2021, which would have been her 77th birthday. Tears came unbidden as I remembered the purple garden I planted for her 65th. Psilocybin seems to lure emotions to the surface with the least of stimulations. I enjoyed that part of the experience a lot. Sadness does not block joy and Kate’s memory is a blessing, however it comes up.

 

Lucille’s Creole Cafe has three spots in Denver. Kate and I used to go down once in a while for beignets, cajun breakfasts. Alan and I went to the one on E. Evans. I had a huge cup of their cafe au lait and breakfast with poached eggs, red beans, and cheese grits. Ordered shrimp and grits to go. The Cafe itself is light and airy, filled with New Orleans jazz posters and memorabilia. Our waitress had on a t-shirt that read, Friends with Benedicts.

It was fun to drive down the hill on a bright blue Colorado Morning. Felt like I was going on a mini-vacation. Lucille’s added to that.

 

Taking Gabe to the Rockies game tomorrow. The all new spiffy New York Mets are playing.

 

 

Denver, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Mushrooms and friendships

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Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Friday gratefuls: That red robin bobbin outside my downstairs door. Conversations with two of my best buddies today, Tom and Alan. A sunny drive into Denver, down the hill and over to E. Evans Avenue, Lucille’s Creole Cafe. A Thunderstorm, then clearing. A gentle psilocybin trip, just waning. Growing old. Poetry about growing old. This house, Shadow Mountain Home.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mushrooms and friendships

One brief shining: Thanks to Tom who nailed my blog voice as what it is, what I hope it is, that is a conversation with you, me sitting next to you or across the table, talking about my day, showing mine and always hoping you’ll show me yours.

 

A wee late getting started. Like I usually write this about 6:30 am and it’s just now 6:30 pm. We’ve had Rains and Rains. Still cool up here at night, and only warmish during the days. Fine with me. Could hit the continue playing without pause button. Except. I do enjoy a few fiery Summer days. Maybe a weeks worth as we tail off toward autumn.

These days I fill with two main activities, reading and conversing with friends or family. Evenings some tv. More reading. Workouts, yes. But that’s maintenance, taking the car into the shop for routine service. Will be some more hiking now that surfaces are less slippery and the Air a bit warmer.

As Tom observed this morning, it has been an emotional week. Leslie’s funeral, Mark and Dennis’ visit. Found myself weary yesterday. After mussar ended, I came home and sort of did a laying in ceremony myself. Depleted. Today though talking with Tom, then driving down the hill for breakfast with Alan I felt energized.

 

Took my remaining five psilocybin capsules after my nap. There was a bright golden haze on the meadow. For a couple of hours thereafter. Some tears when I walked by the expanded Iris bed after retrieving my mail. A bit of soulful time gazing at this old wrinkled visage in the upstairs bathroom mirror. A peaceful and reinforcing two or three hours. This is who I am now. And I’m more than good with that.

Enough. See you tomorrow at the usual time.

Cooking, Denver, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Gabe at 15

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Spring and the Mesa View Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Gabe. Levi. Seyo. Benihana. My family of Ancient Brothers. Especially our brother, Tom, and his daughter Amber. Books. Magazines. Newspapers. The Atlantic. The New Yorker. MIT Technology Review. High Country News. Paonia. LBM’s. Psychonauts. BJ. Her political awareness. Radical days. Passionate nights. 5 inches of new Snow. Ice on the roads.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gabe at 15

One brief, shining moment: Three teenage boys giggling, sharing silly photos of each other on their phones, punches and smirks, cause he’s a little bitch said by one, celebrating Gabe’s 15th at Benihana, Gabe’s idea of fine dining, all while escorted by grandpa who it turns out was 15 in 1962.

 

That was yesterday evening. Gabe loves Benihana. The grill. The flash of the cooks. Who flip cut off shrimp tails into their caps and pockets. Clatter the cutlery on the huge grill, the hibachi. Cook with a certain flare but really with a weak imitation of knife work in an upscale kitchen. With ingredients purchased in bulk. And cooked to, well, let’s just say not perfection. Gabe loves the food, too.

Peeking inside the lives of teenage boys now, almost voyeurism. Three of them, one old guy. Safely ignored. Talking about friendship groups. Who’s cool, but mostly who’s not. Like Abraham who brought cookies to the teacher. Suck up. Who expected more but all he got was a thank you. Chick-fil-a. That’s where the white boys go for lunch. While the baseball boys chose a different spot.

Girls inhabited the fringes of the conversation. Still mysterious and unknowable. I tried, but she said we were friends. Yeah. I’m friends with so and so, too.

Mostly a lot of giggling, faux arm wrestling, looking at their phones, then passing them around. Shooting a closeup of somebody’s eye or hair line or ear. Texting that back to the one in the photo.

When I dropped Gabe off at his Galena street home, Jen’s house, he said, “That was fun, Grandpa. I love you.”

 

Got back to Shadow Mountain around 10. Late night for me. Especially considering I went to the Grateful Dead shabbat the night before for Kate’s yahrzeit. Today is busy, too, but daytime busy. Israel trip info at 1:30, then Dismantling Racism class starts at 3.

 

Looking forward to a quieter week. Putting all season tires back on Ruby on Tuesday. Just when we’re supposed to get our next snowstorm. It’s always a judgment call. Late April, early May. Usually a little overlap on both ends of winter. Good news is that early season and late season storms melt quickly.

 

The Ancient Brothers on reading. We read. A lot. Stacks of books. At a time. Magazines and newspaper. Some dead tree, some online. The Guardian. The Atlantic. MIT Technology Review. New Yorker. New York Times. Washington Post. A few of the books: A sampler of Meister Eckhart. Slouching Toward Utopia. Why Liberalism Failed. Talking to the Ground. The last CJ Box novel. Many, many more. Reading. I wonder if it’s an old person thing now.

Then I remember Ruth. Who reads. A lot. She once said to me, you’re the only person I know who reads more than me. Kate and Claire Strickland, Michael Banker. Also readers. Not dead yet.

Denver, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Mountains

Over the Mountains and through the Freeways to Alan’s new place

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Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Ruth. Sarah and Jerry. BJ and Schecky. Annie. The soft Light of early Morning. The calm Lodgepole standing by my window, its Cones hugged tight to needle covered Branches. Let the photosynthesis begin! Alan and his new home, home turf. He’s not in the Mountains anymore. Sam’s #3. Kep, my sweet boy. Kate, my sweet gal.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Trees

 

Drove down the hill. Left here at 8 am, just late enough to avoid rush hour. Followed Ruby’s wayfinding. Not the way I would have gone, but I thought, what the hell.

A blue shiny Colorado day. We get lots of them. My heart opened up as I did something unusual, going into the city early in the morning. That travelin’ gene kicked in. I could be doing this anytime I want. Headed in any direction. Toward Mexico. Toward Taos or Santa Fe. Toward Moab. For any length of time. Lock up the house. Hit the road. Plan to after this course of radiation quiets down.

Fun to be out of the usual habitat. Although. I don’t like city driving much anymore. I find difficult intersections overwhelming, too many vehicles, going too fast. And I don’t know the city well. Have to listen to Ruby. You know, sensory overload compared to Black Mountain and Brook Forest Drive.

Lucked out on Curtis Ave. One parking spot away from the intersection where Alan waited at Sam’s #3, a go to diner spot. An empty slot. Dove in. Fed the meter. With my Visa card. Crossed when the light’s little man showed up.

Alan waiting inside. Sam’s #3, there are several and they’re all named #3, has two loops of counter seating and several booths right along 14th Street. Looking out toward the Link building. Ironically, Alan’s old office building back when he worked for Century Link.

Gyros and eggs over easy, home fries. Alan, keeping kosher for passover, had chile rellenos and eggs. Home fries. First time I’d visited him in his new neighborhood. Denver calls this, clumsily I think, Upper DownTown.

We caught up. Radiation. My son. Probate. His daughter, Frannie. How much he likes the new digs. The new neighborhood. One block from the Denver Performing Art Center. Where the big blue Bear leans onto the window wall.

We walked the two blocks from Sam’s #3 to his building. A tall glass affair. Balconies. A fob for the door. Found the elevators. The tour. A floor with two concierge like employees who gather in packages from the post or Fedex or UPS. Who take other deliveries like dry cleaning and laundry. Out the door a heated pool, a hot tub, a shallow pool with foam recliners. On the other side barbecue grills. Three next to each other. Great views of the Mountains the downtown skyline. Inside again. The gym.  A good one, with free weights and exercise machines along with the usual treadmills and ellipticals. Empty at 10 am on a Friday.

Up to the Sky Club. Available only for those with units on the 34th floor and above. The penthouses. All. Marketing. The Sky Club on the 42nd and last floor. Pool table. A long dining table. Glass window walls with both Mountain and downtown scapes. Locked individual wine cupboards. Comfy chairs and sofas. Alan calls it a vertical cruise ship.

Then, down to his and Cheri’s place on the 38th floor. On entry a short hallway to the right goes to the laundry. The entry way opens out onto the kitchen, all appliances on a wall, an island across from them. The living/dining area showcases a view of Pike’s Peak seen past the Hyatt Regency, the Cash Register Building, and other hall marks of downtown Denver.

Master bedroom to the right. Cheri’s dance studio was immediately to the left after the entry. Alan’s office to the left. A good sized room made smaller with a loveseat facing the TV. A huge walk in closet. One in the master suite, too. Lots of storage.

Two balconettes. One off the living room and one off the master suite. Wide enough for a chair, long enough for three.

Considerably smaller than their old house in Genessee. Downsizing. What they wanted. Mostly what Cheri wanted was no threat of fire. No threat of losing house value if insurance companies turn against those of us in the W.U.I.

Frannie, home for passover, popped in with her friend Jenna. We all chatted for a while and I took my leave. Happy to leave the city for the mountains.

 

Denver, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Shadow Mountain, Writing

Talking Story

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Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kep. Not sure how he’s doing. The Ancient Brothers. Luke. My son. Cold nights. Good for sleeping. Snow showers. The Swerve. An education about the Renaissance. Trump. In a rut. And, possibly a jail cell. The far right. Undertow by Jeff Sharlet. Hamnet, recommended by Kate. Painting continues today? Mia and Ruth, best friends coming up on Wednesday. Gabe, too. Teenagers in the house. For three days.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: LBMs

 

The Ancient Brothers told a story. Mark suggested it. He started, spoke for a bit, then passed the story to me. I passed to Tom, Tom to Paul, and Paul to Bill. The story telling brought out another facet of each of us, one not previously visible. The improv persona. Each of us had a different style and it was obvious. One more cerebral. Another more interior monologue. Another on advancing the plot. Bet we’d be better at it if we did it more. Fun.

Mark’s in a veteran’s writer’s group that focuses on story telling. Where he got the idea. Reminded me of the even more difficult drinking game played in Wales where one person starts a poem and the next person adds a stanza, then the next.

Tom had an interesting thought. What if, instead of artificial intelligence, we sought artificial consciousness? What would we be after then? What would it look like? Sound like? The idea has taken up residence. Not sure where to go with it, but the notion intrigues me.

 

Luke came over at 2. I’d taken a nap and got up at 2. Woops. He didn’t leave though. I found him.

I started a fire. We talked for a couple of hours. He’s started a new job with Judaism Your Way. Learning a new software program for handling contacts for this innovative model. No fees. No dues. No building. Three rabbis and a large staff. They’re holding a Passover Seder at the Denver Botanical Gardens. Last year they had 8,650 folks present or online. An interesting place to work.

Intentionally very inclusive. Luke and and the Executive Director, who is not Jewish, are gay. Judaism Your Way was the first Jewish organization in Denver to have a presence at the Pride Parade.

Luke’s still having a tough time after having resigned from CBE. His job at Judaism Your Way is only part time so he has financial tensions. He’s a super bright, artistic, sensitive soul. Glad he sees me as a friend.

 

I imagine Doug will be back today to continue the Garden Pathing of my walls. Excited. Getting the inside, especially the main level, painted and the art hung will make Shadow Mountain home a more welcoming and inviting place. For guests and for me.

After lunch with Mike and Kate Saturday I went to Pangaea Carpets at the Evergreen Design Center. Picked out a Nepalese carpet, 5×7, for my upstairs home office. It needed warming up and its own feel. This one has Cypress Trees and is in greens that compliment the new main level look.

Not sure whether Doug will have time right now to do the downstairs level. I hope so.

Denver, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Friends

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Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Luke. My son. Doug. Kep. 8 degrees and Snow. A good night. Slept well. A fresh look for the main level. On its way. Alan and his joy. His move to a castle in the sky. John Porter, co-owner of the Bread Lounge. Evergreen. My Mountain town. Fixing the walkway around Evergreen Lake. The Elk dining on exposed grass along Hwy. 74. ChatbotGPT4. AI. HUMINT.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Luke

 

Down the hill to Evergreen yesterday. The Bread Lounge. Alan. Came up in a rental Polestar from his new place high above the mean streets of Denver. His Tesla is the shop for expensive body work. The skin of the Tesla costs. He backed into a truck last year but this was the first time he could get it in a place he trusts. The Polestar he says doesn’t do everything his Tesla does. How could it?

He had some concerns about his move. Waiting for the elevators. The noise of a forced air system. And from the outside. The Mountains are quiet. Has had good elevator conversations and not long waits.The forced air came on with a whump but after building maintenance replaced the filter, a whu. So that’s good. He said he can tell the place is quiet because when he opens the patio door it’s noisy.

A good gym with everything you’d want. Hot tubs. A movie room. A dining room for guests on the top floor. A view to the southeast with Pikes Peak. And a nighttime view that’s spectacular. Cheri posted a picture of it on Facebook. Very urban. Going down and walking to restaurants, to get food, go to a jazz club. Plus everybody’s calmed down now the move is over. Alan was in fine spirits.

Met the owner of the Bread Lounge, John. Shook his hand. Oh. A very strong grip. Made me feel a bit fragile. He’d been on the Evergreen Fire Department Board. And, I imagine, a volunteer. Strong like bull. Alan knows lots and lots of people. He comes up every Friday for Rotary breakfasts at the Country Day school. We meet after that.

A bit of Snow made the drive down what I call technical. Had to use all my Minnesota driving knowledge. Plows had not been out and the light Snow had become icy. All those years of seeing Snow on roads in the Gopher State have trained me. I can see what I’m looking at.

 

Right now it’s single digit temps and high winds up here on Shadow Mountain. The Lodgepoles swaying. Snow blowing up in whorls. A cold blue Sky.

Going into Evergreen again today to have lunch with Kate Strickland and Michael Banker at Campfire Grill. Looking forward to that. I saw them last at the Dushanbe Tea House in Boulder.

Speaking of younger friends. Luke’s coming up tomorrow. Kat’s reading the book I gifted to her. I like that I have these links to the upcoming generation. And to Ruth and Gabe’s. Makes me feel like an elder.

 

Doug worked yesterday. Got started in the kitchen. Says he may come back today. Getting closer. Not sure yet if he’s going to do the downstairs right now or later.

 

 

Denver, Feelings, Fourth Phase, The West

Psychedelic Seniors

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Sunday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Jeddah Grand Prix today. Jen, Ruth, and Gabe. Final cleanout of Jon’s house. Probate nearing a wind down. Maybe another month. Kate, always Kate. Shiva Raja. Vishnu. Brahma. The One. Spinoza. Jane Bennett. CJ Box. That Mushroom quiche. Chai Latte. The Plant Magic Cafe. Keens. Taxes off. Going down the hill. And back up again.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mushrooms

 

What a day yesterday. Over to the post office where there was no line. Mailed my taxes off to my accountant. Told the clerk, clumsily, that though I may be one of the few I had no complaints about my mail. Mark, my mailman is excellent. I always have good experiences when I come in. Wish I hadn’t said I may be one of the few, though I know I am.

On from there down 285. Getting cheaper gas in Lakewood at Stinkers. Gas is twenty to twenty-five cents a gallon cheaper in the city.

Up Colorado Avenue to 1550. Dardano’s. An all things outdoors shoe store. Buying another pair of Keen’s. The same I’ve worn for years. This is my fourth pair.

I’ve gotten to a point of simplifying my clothing choices. White socks. Keens most of the year. Winter boots of course. And hiking boots when on a trail. Blue jeans for pants. Just got two new pairs of Levi’s 511’s. In the winter flannel shirts and LL Bean vests. Summer, Hawai’ian shirts and a small number of lightweight plaid shirts.

I’ve given away much of my clothes. All my suits and suit coats. Many shirts and other pants. Fancy shoes. Winter coats except for a couple. Feels good.

 

Followed the nice lady’s voice from Dardano’s to 935 17th Ave. There are two large Amanita Muscari mushrooms out front. Taller than me and gaily painted. The Plant Magic Cafe. Ground zero for the proposition that made Psilocybin and other hallucinogens legal in Colorado.

In the entry a big sign in book offered regular information about the cafe and its events including a column to leave a phone number for ceremonies. I left mine. There were items for sale in the hallway that led back to the spot where you ordered food. Tibetan and Hindu sacred objects. Selenite wands. A lovely beaded Elk. Buddha statues. Incense of various sorts. Lots of incense. Singing bowls.

At the counter there was Mushroom quiche and a bacon and cheddar quiche along with pastries. Also a long list of teas and other drinks. I got a chai latte and a mushroom quiche.

In conversation with the guy behind the counter who wore a Psilocybin t-shirt, white on black, I found out that the Plant Magic Cafe will soon open a psilocybin resource room. All things hallucinogenic out front and visible. With no law enforcement needed or wanted.

Found it humorous that there were three women roughly my age at a center table with the rest filled with millennials and gen-z’ers. 60’s kids grown old and the new generation that will not understand the transgressive joy of taking LSD.

Will keep you all tuned in as I work on becoming a psychedelic senior.

Denver, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Hermitage, Shadow Mountain

Four More Years!

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Kep, the early. Jon, a memory. Alan and Cheri. Their move. Next Thursday. Down the hill. Marilyn and Irv watching the John Cleese life after death video. Alan offering to chauffeur me for my colonoscopy. Selling myself short on physical activity. Animas chocolates from Mary. That Korean chicken place. The dumpster in front of the Rav4. Jon’s house about to get cleaned. A buoyed up feeling as I drove. Waiting to cross. Liminal spaces.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A delightful Saturday

 

Over to Cheri and Alan’s Saturday morning to help with packing. Packing is better with friends. I picked up a Bread Lounge order for Alan on the way. Multi-grain sourdough and fancy pastries. A tort and two cinnamon rolls. When I arrived, Alan made espresso. Cheri had me sit in the seat with a view. Their million dollar vista of the Continental Divide. Sold. Only theirs for a few more days.

On Thursday they move from Genesee, right next to Evergreen, to downtown Denver. Right across from the Denver Center for the Performing Arts. After 27 years. Cheri believes a crisis is coming for home insurance in the Colorado WUI. As a former owner/creator of a reinsurance company, she’s not to be ignored. Hope it gives me four years.

As I moved boxes, helped Alan move bookcases, I realized I’ve still got enough energy to handle three hours of moderately heavy work. At least at their altitude. Which is 1300 feet below mine. Been minimizing my stamina. Want to stop doing that.

I’ve allowed myself to sink into a diminished view of my body’s capacity. What I can do physically. Telling myself a story of low testosterone, altitude, and a paralyzed diaphragm. All true, yet not as significant as I imagine. Use it or lose it. Want to keep my body as strong and able as possible for as long as possible.

Not sure how to challenge this view, but I suspect getting back to resistance work will help. My new tablet. Bought so I can watch workout videos downstairs. Body weight. Getting it setup. Bought an inch thick mat for the workouts. May bring some light weights down from the loft.

 

See Eigner tomorrow. Oncologist. What’s my prognosis? With the mets on my spine. Should I do radiation? Is my sadness a typical feeling for this part of the journey? As I wrote yesterday, I’m at a threshold. These are the questions, hard ones. At least the ones about cancer. Wanting to face front, be as knowledgeable as I can. Not to scare myself, but to do what I can in the moment.

 

Robin comes on Tuesday. I’ve gotten more work done since she and Michele were here last. Cleared out the home office, though it’s not finished for use yet. Got substantial work done on the guest room walk-in closet. Many shirts, sport coats, a suit, ties, coats ready to go elsewhere. Will do some work in there today. While eating the wonderful Animas chocolate Mary sent me for my birthday.

They will work on removing what I’ve chosen to give away and getting all my art off the walls upstairs, off the mantle. Taking down all the art in Kate’s former sewing room. I’ll be ready then for Doug, the painter who will paint the upstairs and downstairs starting March 1st. When he’s done, I’ll have Vince over to get the art hung.

Four more years!

Cooking, Denver, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Sport, US History

A 76’er

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Monday gratefuls: Birthday dinner with Ruth and Gabe. Pappadeauxs. Chiefs win. Kep’s new gettin’ up time. His sweetness. Ruth, newly black hair and pink glasses with crystals. Gabe in his fancy shirt with no pocket. The old man eating alone. An American revolutionary birthday tomorrow. Pulmonologist. The Ancient Brothers on their favorite things. Dogs. Hawai’i. Sushi. Dr. Zhivago. Little kids. The Chiefs. Mendocino. Delmar, California. Shanghai. Wombats.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dining with Gabe and Ruth

 

Realized yesterday that this is my American revolution birthday: 76. A revolutionary celebration. I like it. All you 76’ers out there. We’re not done yet. May not be nearer to God, but I am nearer to 80.

As you can tell, my mood has lifted. Thanks to those of you who expressed concern. Sadness stands next to joy. Both are important.

Pappadeauxs. Disappointing. Could have ordered off the Cajun menu: gumbo, crawfish etouffé, jambalaya, but I chose a dish I first had in Savannah, shrimp and grits. Loved it there. The Pappadeux version was over spiced and not very good. Though. Gabe loved the Red Snapper. Delicious, he said. Ruth had a dish with blackened catfish, cooked oysters, shrimp, and dirty rice. She loved it though, I’m trying to get off sea food. Wants to go to Watercourse, a full vegan restaurant for her birthday. 17. A teen queen.

Ruth says she’s reintegrating at Northfield H.S. She sounds and looks good. Earlier drug related jitters calming down. We talked about food, being a teen, cancer, laughed a lot. Took one silly picture. Gabe tried with some visible discomfort to dine with aplumb. Those bread crumbs spread around his plate told the tale.

Glad they were able to join me. They were both eager Eagle’s fans. I told them I wanted the Chiefs to win. Nah, Nah, Ne Nah, Nah. Hey, Hey.

At the table next to ours an older man than me dined alone. He had on a red and black plaid shirt and ate his catfish carefully. His hair was white, his skin the papery texture I associate with a person in their 90s. Wondered if his wife had died, or if he had been alone a long time.

Got home about 7:30 pm. I did notice that my jaw clinched on my way home, but it lifted as soon as I got back into the Mountains. This is home and my body knows it.

 

76. Eh. After three score and ten, we’re all in bonus time. My friends are older now, too. Though I have Luke, 28, and Mike and Kate. Ruth and Gabe. They keep me connected to earlier days of the journey. Glad I’m no longer scanning the horizon for what I want to do.

 

How bout those Chiefs. Stand up of that Eagle’s player to admit he did grab the jersey of the Chief’s receiver. Resulted in a penalty that gave the Chiefs a chance to run out the clock and kick a winning field goal. Wish I had had the opportunity to watch this one. A true championship game.

 

Cooking, Denver, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Travel

Luke’s

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Sunday gratefuls: An open heart. The joy that sits next to sadness. Tu BiShvat. The new year of the trees. Luke. Leo. Those construction folks. The one from Texas. The bald guy and the old man. Zoom. Manna. The Red Sea as birth imagery. The sabbath. Judaism. Mary back in the frozen tundra. Sayonara, Kobe. Mark in OKC. Kep. Kate, always Kate. Early rising. Pappadeaux’s with Ruth and Gabe tonight. A Cajun 76th birthday meal.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Feelings

 

On Friday night I drove into Lakewood for dinner with Luke, the former Executive Director of Congregation Beth Evergreen. He’s a good friend. When I copied his address I added an S in front of Ames St. That gave me the opportunity to see more of Lakewood than I intended. Sheridan runs north and south through Lakewood and I accessed it off of Hwy 285, turning north. The city limit between Denver and Lakewood.

The west side of Denver is heavily Latino as is the east side of Lakewood. The houses are small. The lots close together. Pickup trucks in most driveways. Spanish a second and often first language on storefronts. This was around 4 pm and Sheridan had the full city traffic experience to offer. Blinking turn signals, horns, and about halfway to Luke’s a huge red metal Mexican guitar on a sign that said Westwood. On the Denver side.

Luke had called and warned me of logistical issues. True. A new gas main project had a trench dug for seven blocks, including his. At one point I needed to make a left turn onto Colfax, old highway 40, and a main thoroughfare through Denver and beyond.

I was having no luck and just contemplating a right hand turn, then crossing three lanes of traffic so I could make a u-turn later. A bald headed guy came from behind me and said, “Wait, old man.” He got out into traffic and tried to create a space for me so I could cross the stopped traffic. A guy in a white pickup refused to back up the 6 feet or so I needed. Don’t know why.

Finally got Ruby’s nose in, wiggled her through, and the bald guy stood in the oncoming lane with his hand out stopping cars so I could turn. Gratitude. Although. Old man? I mean, how he did know I turn 76 on Tuesday?

Took me a while even after that to get to Luke’s and when I did I had to park on one side of the trench. And walk over it. The construction workers were gracious, kind and guided me through.

Dinner with Luke, who’s Italian, was eggplant Parmesan. His favorite food since 5th grade. I brought Italian bread and a salad. Leo, his mostly German Shepherd dog, is ten years old and as sweet a dog as you could wish for.

Luke had a tough exit from CBE. We talked about that and what he plans going forward. He may have found a very well paying part time gig with Judaism Your Way, another reconstructionist effort in South Denver. No synagogue. Gatherings for holidays at Denver’s Botanical Gardens. Not sure what else.

His path since leaving the Materials Science Ph.D at Colorado School of Mines has found him doing computer work for a non-profit, converting to Judaism, becoming CBE’s executive director, and now perhaps turning toward Tarot and Astrology to round out his income. Things, he said, I love.

After dinner he pulled three cards from the Druid Oracle deck: Mint, Woad, and a Hawk. We discussed my sadness and the way forward in light of those cards. Encouraged and supported by him and by his reading.

He walked me to the gate. We hugged, said I love you, and I went back across the trench.