• Category Archives Family

  • Lives on a Runway

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Beltane and the Wu Wei Moon II

    Monday gratefuls: Understanding Shadow. Prison trained Dogs. Friends Forever holistic Dog training. Morning darkness. Shadow inside and up at 5:15. Me, too. Ruth and Gabe. Ruth, now a sophomore. Dean’s list again. Gabe, not finished until May 31. Then, a senior in high school. Cookunity. Sue Bradshaw. Dr. Buphati. Rich.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dog training

    Week Kavannah: Zerizut. Enthusiasm

    One brief shining: Ruth and Gabe announced their imminent arrival by text and phone, arriving soon after through the front door, with Ruth’s familiar high-pitched, Hi!, and Gabe’s, Hey, Grandpop, coming downstairs to see Shadow and me.

     

    Songtan

    Ruth has begun to levitate about her upcoming trip to Korea. Her first foreign travel. And, on her own. The Godfather, that’s my son, gets elevated at last to command of his squadron on May 27.

    Do I have to go through customs in Denver? No. What do I do in Korea? Go through Nothing to Declare. Any other tips? Get out, walk around, see the city at eye level. Go to that fried fish place near their apartment in Songtan. Have fun.

    Ruth moved out of her dorm room last Thursday, all her finals finished. She’ll be at Jen’s until her flight on Sunday at 7 am. One day after she returns from Korea, she boards another flight for Anchorage, Alaska. She’s going to be a camp counselor.

    Gabe’s mom got him a four day creative writing course at CU-Denver for a birthday present. June. Then he goes to his last hemophilia camp in July. Something he’s been doing since he was five or six. At 17 he’s in his last year of eligibility.

    Their lives are on the runway, engines beginning to rev, trying to gain enough altitude to break free from the surly bonds of home and childhood.

    Exciting to see. And gratifying that they still want to spend time with their grandpop. This little family, Ruth and Gabe, my son and Seoah, and me has begun to grow closer as we all age. A wonderful, amazing moment for me.

     

    Dog journal: Figured out one part of Shadow’s desire. She wants the back door open so she can come in and go out as she wants. I’ve decided for the moment to grant her wish and deal with any invasive creatures. She did come in last night.

    When I mentioned the board and train option at Friends Forever yesterday, Ruth said a lot of folks in her neighborhood use the Women’s Prison on Havanna, near their house. Turns out the Colorado prison system offers several sites for a similar board and train option of four weeks, compared to Friends Forever two week program. At almost half the cost. So. Options.

     

    Just a moment: Some MAGA folks already talking about the woke Pope. Beginning to reveal their true allegiance to the Golden God of Pennsylvania Avenue and Mar-a-Lago.

    Time to start smashing idols as midrash say Abram did in his father’s idol shop. In the midrash he left one, large idol standing. When his father came back and found his inventory but one all broken, he asked Abram what had happened.

    Oh, he did it, Abram said. What? His father said, they’re just idols!


    Dogs Family Feelings Politics Torah US History

  • Gabe at 17. The Pope is dead.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Gabe at 17. The Water Grill. Creative Writing. Poetry. Looking at colleges. University of Iowa. U.C. Denver. Metro State. Go, Gabe. Wasting Time. Don’t waste time on being productive. Just live. Shadow, the toy render. A drive down the hill. Halibut. Swordfish. Clam Chowder. Oysters.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: A gap year for Gabe. Here?

    Week Kavannah: Sensibility. Daat.

    One Brief Shining: Driving back up the hill in late afternoon, Great Sol above Black Mountain, those ski runs that mar its side still limned in Snow, my new Raybans cutting the glare as I round Windy Point, closing in on Conifer where Kate found our Shadow Mountain home, back in the Mountains. Yes.

     

    Gabe turns seventeen tomorrow. We celebrated at the Water Grill where he, Ruth, Jen, and I ate Thanksgiving last November. Much, much less crowded.

    He had the clam chowder. My favorite soup. At Dad’s we always bought canned clam chowder. His entree? Swordfish. Which he ate with the completeness of Shadow finishing her meal.

    We had a conversation about colleges. His creative writing teacher has encouraged his poetry. Right now he wants to major in creative writing. No surprise University of Iowa made his list.

    He may want to take a gap year. To find out who he is. What he wants. Guess where he wants to live? Grandpa’s house. He loves the Mountains. And his Grandpa. That’s a year away. So we’ll see.

    By that time Ruth will be a junior at CU-Boulder. In her second year of pre-med. Not sure how that timing works out for graduation.

    I recall holding infant Gabe while the mohel circumcised him. He looks older now.

     

    chatgpt in the style of Raphael

    The Pope is dead. Long live the Pope. The Conclave comes to life at the death of Pope Francis, a man who had an inclusive heart.

    The intrigue of papal politics will be on display. The ritual seclusion of the Cardinals, princes of the Church. The Sistine Chapel in all its Michelangelic glory. What a setting! Smoke signals. A Monarchy with a ritual method of choosing a ruler to follow in the footsteps of St. Peter.

    I admire the Catholic Church as an institution. It’s nearly two thousand years old, an astonishing run for any human creation. Not to say there haven’t been many bumpy years, even centuries. Yet it remains largely the same. Which is why I don’t admire it as a religious institution, yet I’d acknowledge that may be a clue to its longevity.

    A story only beginning. But I have a question first.

     

    Just a moment: Did JD Vance kill the Pope? This correspondent wants to know. Sure, the Pope had been ill. Sure. What better time for an assassination attempt.

    Besides, that odd beard. What’s he hiding? Is this why Vance converted? To get close enough to take out a Trump critic?

    Q-a-conspiracy thinks it might be true enough. I don’t know what to believe. And so close to Easter? Come on, something smells fishy in the Vatican State.

    You heard it ginned up here first.


    Commentary on Religion Family

  • Living. Not dying.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Shadow. Her kindness. Amy. Her understanding. Cookunity. Colorado Coop and Garden. The Greenhouse. Gardening again. Korea. Malaysia. Australasia. Wisconsin. Saudi Arabia. The Bay. First Light. 10,000 Lakes. The Rocky Mountain Front Range. Where my people live.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Greenhouse

    Week Kavannah: Joy. Simcha.

    One brief shining: Nathan and I wandered in my back yard, his app that shows Great Sol’s illumination searching for a good spot to plant my greenhouse, until we neared a spot close to the shed, that was it with decent morning Sun and an hours worth of afternoon Sun more than anywhere else.

     

     

    That picture is not quite what I’m getting. Mine will have an outdoor raised bed on either side and shutters that move themselves as the greenhouse heats up and cools down. It will also have an electric heater for Winter and a drip irrigation system inside and out.

    This guy Nathan, a Conifer native, started his business Colorado Coop and Garden to give folks like me an opportunity to grow things up here. Working a garden at ground level is long past for me. But Nathan can build the raised beds at a height where my back is not an issue.

    Guess I’m regressing here in some ways. A Dog. A small Garden. Andover in miniature. The greenhouse will have a sign: Artemis Gardens. Artemis Honey was Kate and mine’s name for our bee operation.

     

    I’m loving my classes at Kabbalah Experience. Reaching deep into the purpose of religion and Judaism in particular. Reimagining the story of Adam and Eve. My life, my Jewish life and my Shadow Mountain life, have begun to resonate. Learning and living an adventure in fourth phase purpose.

    No matter what the near term future holds for my health I will not succumb to despair or bleakness. As I’ve often said, I want to live until I die. This life, I’m coming to realize, is me doing just that.

    If I were a bit more spry, I’d add a chicken coop and a couple of bee hives, but both require more flexibility than I can muster.

    I’m at my best when I’m active outside with Mother Earth and inside with a Dog, books, and new learning. All that leavened with the sort of intimate relationships I’ve developed both here and in Minnesota and with my far flung family.

    That’s living in the face of autocracy and cruelty. I will not attenuate my life. Neither for the dark winds blowing through our country and world, nor for that dark friend of us all, death.

     

    Just a moment: Did you read Thomas Friedman’s article: I’ve Never Been More Afraid for My Countries Future? His words, served up with a healthy dish of Scandinavian influenced St. Louis Park Judaism, ring more than true to me. They have the voice of prophecy.

    We are in trouble. No doubt. Trouble from which extrication will require decades, I imagine. If not longer. Yet. I plan to grow heirloom vegetables year round on Shadow Mountain. To have mah Dog Shadow with me in the Greenhouse.

    I also plan to write and think about the sacred, the one, the wholeness of which we are part and in which we live, die, love. I will not cheapen my life with bitterness, rather I will eat salads, read, play with Shadow and dine with friends, talk to my friends and family near and far.


    Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Garden Great Wheel Health Judaism Mountains Our Land and Home Paganism Plants Politics Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant. Shadow Mountain The West US History Weather +Climate Writing

  • Passing on Passover? The Jangs.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Second day of Passover. Kate, always Kate. Shadow the toy mover. Her zooming in the back yard. Liberation. Freedom to choose. Egypt. The many Egypts we are heir to. Tara. Arjan. Robbie and Deb. Sandy and Mark. Eleanor. Kilimanjaro. Jungfrau. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. A Mountain night.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Liberation

    Week Kavannah: Joy. Simcha.

    One brief shining: The Haggadah had wine stains; the seder plate had a kiwi because we can; we dipped the parsley into salt water, tears for the suffering of the slaves, of all oppressed people, spread dots of wine or in my case grape juice for each plague, retelling each part of the passover story as if we were there, as our story.

     

    Talmud Torah in the morning. (Torah study) A focus on the maggid, the telling of the passover story in the Haggadah. Complete with midrash, interpretation and expansion.

    Later, around 4, over to Kilimanjaro Drive. Tara’s house. Steep driveway with cars parked at various spots along the way. All the way up to the top where I found a spot in front of a Tesla.

    Thirty minutes before I had almost chosen not to go. Coming home in the dark. General inertia. A long standing aversion to parties. But this was Passover. At Tara’s. I’d be happy once I got there.

    So I went to the liquor store, picked up a bottle of mid-range red wine and drove past Evergreen Meadows and past Evergreen Funeral Home where both Jon and Kate lay after death, down curvy N. Turkey Creek Road to the Mountains and roads leading to her house.

    And I was happy to be there. Until we sat down to the table. Then the noise level, the angle of the voices, the general clash and clamor of a meal with eighteen other people. I began to recede. Off in my own quiet room of acoustical challenge. Nodding and smiling. Trying to keep up. Too often failing.

    Now having to rethink even Passover, at least in people’s homes. Where it means the most. Where my friends want me. Where I want to be. The congregational Passover has round tables, more distance among the guests. Kate and I usually attended. I may need to go to it just so I can hear.

     

    Talked to my son and Seoah on Friday night. Murdoch’s getting crate training. Seoah’s running, happy. We talked about Kate, her death, her wonderful life.

    My son and I discussed details for the Jang family visit this summer. Money is, as you can imagine, an issue. 5 adults and two children. Seoah’s Mom and Dad, her brother, her sister and her two kids. Airfare, lodging, transportation. Food. That’s what we’re working out now. Need to make some decisions soon because Air BnB’s begin to fill up for the summer in this time frame.

    Will be the trip of a lifetime for the Jang’s. The U.S. The Rocky Mountains. Deepening connections with my son’s side of the family. Myself, Ruth, Gabe.

    Stay tuned.


    Asia Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Holidays Judaism Mountains Shadow Mountain Travel

  • Four Years

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

    Shabbat gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Her yahrzeit. Passover. Talmud Torah. Tara. Arjan. Eleanor. Leo. Findlay. Gracie. Annie and Luna. A Mountain Morning. Pagans. Planting festivals. Beltane. Greenhouse. The Night Sky. Shadow. A perfect night. Paul’s procedure. Dad’s birthday.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Passover

    Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

    One brief shining: Kate had the b-pap on, negative pressure to get air in the lungs, hated it; not long after she asked me if I would rather have her dead or disabled, not long after that she decided to die.

    Kate in Lima, Peru. Pissaro’s place. 2011

    Of course I told her I wanted her alive between those two choices. When she decided to die, she asked what I thought of her decision. I hate it, because I’ll lose you; but, I think it’s the right decision for you.

    She had a clarity of thought, an unflinching nature in the face of trouble. If there was ever an emergency at work, she got called to go with the crash cart. We both knew the struggle had gotten near the end.

    We cried. I asked her about some of her last wishes. Jewelry to Jeremiah, the painter and brother-in-law. Expand the Iris bed on Shadow Mountain. Plant lilacs. Then to me: Zip up. And trust your doctors.

    Her doctor came in and said she understood Kate wished to “transition.” Die is not in the vocabulary of the physician. Kate said yes. Her life supports, including the b-pap machine were removed. Morphine sufficient to stave off the fear generated by air hunger dripped from her IV.

    I left. The doctors said it would take a day or two for her to die. I had Rigel and Kepler to take care of back home. After driving me home, Rich asked me if I wanted to go back. No, I said.

    At that point I had to feed and get water for Rigel and Kepler. The last ten days had been constant travel between Shadow Mountain and Swedish Hospital down the hill in Englewood. Emotional and physical exhaustion had taken a toll on me, too.

    She died that night. I regret not being there. I also regret that when I saw her corpse it frightened me so I could not go to her. Over the years since I’ve made my peace with those regrets. I can’t change them and Kate, I know, would have understood.

    This is the first time I’ve written about these last things. The regrets. I do it now because we make such a fetish of hiding the reality of death. I don’t want to be part of that. It was hard, painful for her and for me. For many others, too.

    Later on, a couple of years following her death, I took her remains, housed in a Richard Bresnahan clay jar, and spread them out on a small, unnamed Mountain Stream that feeds into Maxwell Creek, then Bear Creek, then the South Platter River, carrying her down to the Gulf of Mexico and the World Ocean.


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase

  • Shadow. Yet again. Passover.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

    Friday grateful: So. It has come to this. The Supreme Court, remember how big it used to loom over our culture, has to say no, you cannot leave an immigrant you deported by mistake in an El Salvadoran prison because you claim you have no authority to undo it, to the President’s lawyers arguing against bringing him home. The Supreme Court. Involved in fixing a bureaucratic travesty any decent person would have scrambled to fix on their own.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Puppy energy. Even at 5:30 am.

    Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

    One brief shining: No more night time excursions for Shadow, for whatever reason darkness transforms her from Shadow into Nightshade the ornery, unwilling to come in, happy to wander in the dark well beyond my bedtime.

     

    Dr. Shadow is in the house

     

    Dog journal: She’s nose deep in a new toy for aggressive chewers. Sharp teeth and not afraid to use them. By turns amusing and frustrating.

    She’s house-trained. Loving. Self entertaining. Willing to train. Sometimes. Her eyes contain the lives of Dogs around the campfires in the Veldt. Domesticated, but not quite.

    Part Dingo. Part Kelpie. Part Dalmatian. All Australian muster Dog. Alert and ready to herd.

    No, Shadow. It’s not yet time for breakfast. She’s looking right at me, putting in her order.

     

    Got back to mussar yesterday. First time in a month or so. Maybe a bit more. Though I’ve been on zoom. Still working on anavah: humility.

    Odd moment. I wore my new round Raybans, my trademark plaid flannel, and my Grateful Dead dancing bears hat. One of the women said, after class finished, that I was the sexiest man in the room. Only three of us: Rabbi Jamie, Luke, and me, so there’s that…

    Still. It surprised me. Made me think of days long past. BP. Before prostatectomy. 2015. Yet the affirmation made me feel good. Even at 78.

    We all need the occasional validation of others. No matter the reason. When validation comes unexpectedly and in a manner that delights us, all the better.

    Here’s the big takeaway. You can be the source of that kind of validation for another. Elevating others is a kindness always available to us. Worth doing.

     

    Dawn has come to Shadow Mountain. An hour plus after Shadow gnawed me awake. Another Mountain Morning. Grateful for that.

    Going to Evergreen this morning. The Dandelion. Breakfast with Alan.

     

    Just a moment: Yesterday was anniversary #9 for my son and Seoah. Today’s my brother’s 66th birthday. Tomorrow’s Passover and the fourth anniversary of Kate’s death and my father’s birthday: #112 had he lived.

    A lot of big moments for a three day period.

    I’ll be heading over to Tara Saltzman’s for her seder tomorrow afternoon at 4 pm. My contribution is red wine.

    We’ll sit around the table and celebrate the origin story for our people. Remember that time back in Egypt, so long ago. That night when we spread the blood of lambs on our doorposts and lintels. When the angel of death passed by our first born sons. Remember?

    Remember the Reed Sea. How it made way for us?

    This festival of liberation. Of the freeing of slaves. This is now my story, too. And a wonderful story it is. To have at its root the struggle against an oppressor, one who would diminish slaves through harsh labor. Of a people who listened to the sacred inner voice calling out for freedom and, most important of all, acted on it. Gained their release. An ancient story, yes, but one that needs reliving in every decade, every century, every millennia.

     


    Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Holidays Judaism

  • April

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, eater of bones. Fatigue. Ritalin. Breakfast out. CookUnity, above adequate. Passover this Saturday. Liberation. Easter, April 20. Resurrection. Jihad. Greater and lesser. Mark’s students, boys becoming men. Dire Wolves live. Colossal Bioscience. De-extinction. Science wonders. The Night Sky. Orion, my old friend. Andover. A time of abundance.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dire Wolves alive

    Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

    One brief shining: Shadow comes over, puts her paws on the arm of my chair, stares up at me with her soulful dark eyes, and says, in crystal clear Dog, I want my breakfast!

     

    April. Brother Mark and Dad’s birthdays. Ruth and Gabe’s. Kate’s yahrzeit on April l2th, celebrated on April 28th of the Hebrew calendar this year. My son and Seoah’s wedding anniversary. #9 this year. Passover and Easter.

    An emotion filled month recognized by T.S. Eliot’s Wasteland. April is the cruelest month. Has some of that flavor for me.

    How do we ever make sense of death and the awful emptiness it brings to the living? Especially when it comes as Mother Earth makes a seasonal turn toward new life. Plants shooting up from Winter’s sleep. Mule Deer Fawns and Elk Calves and Mountain Lion Kits. Bear Cubs. Baby Mark, baby Curtis, baby Ruth, baby Gabe. And Kate’s death. All together. Death and life. The Great Wheel turning, grinding as it goes.

    I like the cohesion of Passover and Easter. Their twin messages confront April with powerful reassurance. Slavery of any kind diminishes, weakens the human experiment. Liberation from  the slaveries we are heir to lifts us all.

    Death ends a life but it does not end life. Resurrection can heal a whole fallow season, the human heart as it emerges from mourning, the soul killing atrophy of numbness to existence.

    These two ministers to the inner and outer realms complement each other. Live in tension perhaps as key representatives of different religions, but can be embraced by both and by those with none.

    Religion holds these non-rational ideas, lays them alongside the daily human existence. Reminds us that bondage is not our fate; that death and rebirth are fellow travelers. Always.

     

    Sports stop: Do not count your championships until they’re hatched. Or something like that. Ask Duke. Ask Houston. Both lost games they thought were theirs. Duke losing its long predicted Cooper Flag coronation as king of the teen basketball prom. Houston losing its championship in the final seconds of the final game of March Madness.

    The new look of college basketball? Uncertain, but likely. Build a team of one and dones. Go for it. A coaches nightmare, I would think. Every year trying to get the one or two best players coming out of high school. Transferring others to compliment them. Play the season. Get into the playoffs. Hopefully. Rinse and repeat.

     

     


    Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Great Wheel Sport

  • Last of the Teen Age. More Shadow. Humpty-Trumpty.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Shadow. Diane and her healing. Mark in Bahrain for a visa run. Talking to my son this evening/his morning. Parsha Vayikra. Dog toys. Passover. Liberation. Wu wei. Snow. Mary in K.L. (I think.) Tara. Vince. Sophia. Arjan. Namibia. Ratzon and daily actions. Rich. Ron. Jamie.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Desire

    Week Kavannah: Wu wei

    One brief shining: Yesterday my zoom screen lit up four different times with cousin Diane and her adventures, the Fantastic Four talking about dogs and the value of friendships, a Kabbalah Experience class focused on a New Story for Human Consciousness, and Thursday mussar with yet more on anavah, humility. Zoomed out.

     

    Spoke with Ruth yesterday. Today is her 19th birthday. Last of the Teen Age. We talked. About this, the third birthday since her Dad died. About my MRI results. About her plans for today.

    She said at one point, “I believe in you.” Hit me stronger than I would have imagined. Realized Kate was my I believe in you person. With her death I’ve not had that sentiment expressed from someone as close in as Ruth. If I’ve had it expressed at all. Felt good. Really good. At 78 I don’t need that kind of validation, but it sure feels fine to get it.

     

    Dog journal: Shadow continues to gnaw at me. Or, at least close to me. No alarm could be better. May have hit on a way to solve her morning chewing. Just bought some dog toys that release treats as they’re played with. I’ll fill them up, take them to bed with me and when the chewing starts, I’ll toss one down to her. Might work. Right?

    Once she’s trained to the leash I’m going to pause the training for a bit. She seems reluctant to take training from me. Not sure why. Might be too much for her right now. Or my No, Shadow! I want to sleep! might have made her resistant right now. The leash though is key to vet visits, trips to mussar, and beyond.

    Our life has a rhythm. Much more like the doggy relationships I’m used to. Of course, she’s still a puppy, 10 months old I think, yet we’re getting much better at mutual communication.

     

    Just a moment: Break the government. Break the economy. Break the norms of decency. Break the power of the courts. Can Humpty-Trumpty’s America ever get put back together again?

    Make America great again? Hell, I’d settle for low normal right now.

    Those elementary school teacher photos of Humpty-Trumpty holding up the tariff explainer board? Sad. Economists agree that his view of tariffs and their uses are simplistic. Gosh, that does. Not. Surprise. Me.

     

    So glad I have Bond and Devick watching my investments. This turmoil Trump has created in the markets can be read as an opportunity for folks who understand. Even if I make no gains overall I know Bond and Devick will protect my corpus. Important to have that confidence.

    My finances are a three-legged stool: Presbyterian pension, Social Security, and income from Kate’s rollover IRA. The first two together produce about as much as my draw from the IRA.

    The rollover is the part of my portfolio subject to market fluctuations. Both the pension and social security increase from time to time. A 5% rise in my pension starts this July. Got a S.S. bump in January. I look to the rollover for a steady amount each year. Can be hard in down years, but Bond and Devick have kept it steady for over thirty years.

     

     


    Dogs Family Fourth Phase

  • Pain Doc and Chauvinist Economics

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Shadow and her aggressive chewer toys. Perfect. Going in and coming out, less of an issue. Her spirit. Sitting at the Wicked Whisk with Ruth and Gabe. Talking. The spirit of Sound. And the spirit within us. Resonant. Days gone by. My son’s generous spirit. Korea. Murdoch. Luke and Leo coming up today.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Grandkids

    Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

    One brief shining: In the empty bakery, sold out early of its French pastries, eating the last of the scones, the shortbread almond cookies, and drinking espressos from paper cups, Ruth and Gabe and I talked of parents who died too soon, the excitement of international travel, reincarnation, and the Reformation, as families will on a late Sunday morning when they’re Jewish.

     

    Seeing the pain doc today. MRI results. Home P.T. referral. Not too hopeful, but looking for any help I can get. That’s not addictive or surgical. A short list.

    Need it even more. The pain has moved across my lower back and now includes my left hip and upper leg. Hope none of it is cancer pain. I don’t think so, but I don’t really know.

    Will get a copy of the radiologist’s report. Look for those incidental findings.

     

    Luke and Leo coming up this afternoon. Luke will help get my Dell desktop setup. Leo and Shadow can have the backyard, get to know each other.

    Once my new desktop functions I plan to introduce Shadow to the stairs. So far she has not learned to go up them and that has confined her to my lower living space. And pretty much me along with her.

    I’m a bit reluctant to do it since there’s a whole new world of things to chew upstairs. She’s been really good about the furniture down here. Except for my nightstand. It was not well made.

    If she has toys, she prefers them. Most of the time. Like a toddler she embraces distraction. I can put a new toy in front of her and she’ll choose (chews) that over a chair leg.

    Right now she has a yellow duck in her mouth, squeaking. Every once in a while, duck held tight, she’ll look up and smile. Warms me.

     

    Just a moment: Oh, spare me. Already. Third term floating out there. Can you run the country from a memory unit no matter how high end? Vance runs, then gives the scepter to the Boss. What will there be left to eviscerate?

    Do you understand how tariffs raise money for us? Cars will get more expensive. Other goods, too. Inflation will rise. A possible recession. Of which Trump is not afraid. No doubt. All billionaires can continue making money even during a recession. A recession damages labor and those lower on the economic totem pole, i.e., the rest of us.

    Reagan practiced supply side, or voodoo economics. Trump practices chauvinist economics and ignores their impact on anything but what his narrow America First agenda prioritizes. Yikes.

    Sounds like a planned economy to me. Eh?

     


    Dogs Family Fourth Phase Health Politics US History

  • Dining with Ghosts

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Snow Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow and the deconstructed bed. Ruth at 19. Almost. Sushi Den. Ruth driving. The Black Bag. Gabe. His junior year. Tom, Chris, Calvin, Joseph. Men. Learning about men. CBE men’s group. Psylocibin. Miso Soup. Warmer weather. For now. Reading. Movies.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

    Week Kavannah:  Ratzon. Will, desire, pleasure

    One brief shining: Ruth, whisper thin, engaged and thoughtful, nearing her April 4th 19th birthday, poised between the teen years and young adulthood, presented yesterday with her great-grandfather’s black bag which contained Kate’s stethoscopes, otoscope, small rubber hammer, tuning fork, and other essentials of the general practitioner’s craft.

     

    Lima, Peru. 2011

    Ruth drove up here yesterday and stayed the night so she could drive us both into Denver to Sushi Den.

    We ate there for her sixteenth birthday. I asked the waiter to have the sushi chefs give us what was special that evening. Ended up being the most expensive meal I’ve ever paid for. But so fun.

    16

    She was with Cord, her first boyfriend. Jon and Gabe were there, too. Kate had died the April before. The first of Ruth’s birthdays that she missed.

    Three years later, her father Jon is dead, and two years ago the relationship with Cord ended.

    She and I sat down in a booth for two near the bar. Dining with ghosts. We ordered a Shrimp tempura appetizer in honor of Kate who happily watched the rest of us eat raw fish while dining on tempura. Ruth remembered her dad ordering communal sushi.

    We offered tempura and sushi to the memory of Kate and Jon, mother and son, wife and father. In the way of ghosts they ate only the invisible essence of the food, leaving the rest to nourish the bodies of the living, the left behind.

    Starting next year in a new major, Integrative Physiology-as I mentioned in an earlier post-Ruth has set herself on the path of her childhood dreams. Becoming the third generation of Johnson-Olsons to become a doctor.

    Hence my decision to gift her the black bag which I have, up till now, featured on my mantle as a memory of Kate.

    May she live long and prosper.

     

    Just a moment: Gee. The clown cars on Pennsylvania Avenue have so many red and orange haired folks sticking out, horns honking, big feet flapping, noses bulbous that a guy can’t help feeling entertained.

    Until that moment. Wait a minute. These clowns, these very clowns have their hands on the controls of the world’s most powerful military. Not to mention the economy. And the regular checks for our country’s most impoverished citizens. And, and, and.

    Not to mention. Sealing the deal honk, honk. Throw confetti in the air. Why not invite the editor-in-chief of the Atlantic magazine into a nuts and bolts discussion about bombing Yemenites further back into yesterday? Seemed like a good idea at the time?

    Thought this line from Timothy Snyder, quoted by Heather Richardson on March 24th captures the truth: “Foreign policy scholar Timothy Snyder posted: “These guys inherited one of the most functional state apparatus in the history of the world and they are inhabiting it like a crack house.””

     


    Family Fourth Phase Politics