Category Archives: Family

Family, Fourth Phase, Politics

Dining with Ghosts

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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.””

 

Commentary on Religion, Dogs, Family, Health, Politics

Jesus comes to the Americas

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Friday gratefuls: Shadow’s morning greeting. All bounce and joy. Alan at the Baglery. Evergreen. Conifer. Bailey. Constipation. My Taos ring. Kate, always Kate. Shadow’s bed. No more stuffing. Elon and China. Treats. Shadow and her toys. Bagels. Losing weight.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Vermont Flannel

Week Kavannah:  Social Responsibility

One brief shining: Up in the air, the black sock, pounced on, the pink sock, ripped and shredded bed, a rubber ball carried as if conquered by a Roman legion, tail up, ears out, running, then looking over the arm of the chair with wide brown eyes and a smile. Shadow.

 

Ritalin. Has helped my fatigue. May have suppressed my appetite a bit. Losing weight. Could also be another turn of the cancer screw. Hard to tell. Wake up tired. Once I get moving, I’m fine. The steady drip, drip, drip of this and that.

 

Ruth’s coming up Tuesday. We’re celebrating-early-her nineteenth birthday-with a meal at Sushi Den. The Sushi spot in Denver. She’ll drive. Give grandpop a break.

She’s also bringing me lox from Costco. Cheaper yet more, according to her.

It makes me feel so good to see her proactive, loving school, reaching out, planning for her future. Next year she starts her new major, integrative physiology. Headed toward some medical career, I think.

The amount of hard work and tears she’s invested in this new way of becoming. Inspiring. A testament to her fighting spirit and the human spirit.

 

Two Mormon missionaries come to my door. Blue suits, official looking nametags with Elder in front of their names. I doubt they were twenty, maybe still in their teens.

As a man of religion myself, I honor and respect the commitment these young spreaders of the Mormon word display. I accepted a Book of Mormon: another Testament of Jesus Christ bound in faux blue leather matching their neatly pressed suits.

Elder Brommard, something like that, said I should read, he flipped through pages, this chapter first about Jesus coming to the Americas. Could of said, stop right there, dude. Didn’t.

Tempted to invite them in if they come back this weekend. If I do, I would say this: I know you want me to believe this. What I’d rather know right now is why do you believe this?

A question that fascinates me. What causes a person to cross the threshold of belief? Move from a natural skepticism to whole hearted acceptance.

I shook Elder Brommard’s three offered fingers, cold and clammy, nodded to his buddy, and declined to talk to them. Said they may come back this weekend. We’ll see.

 

Just a moment: Who would you give war plans for China? A billionaire whose company has begun to lose market share there? Who’s a buddy of Xi Jinping’s? Whose loyalty is to, what? Money. Power. White people. He’s an Afrikaner, don’t forget.

There are things I don’t understand about the Trump/Musk axis. A lot. Motive seems clear. Power. Money. Retribution. Revenge. Chaos. Mission accomplished. But the means, the stab, crash, break means?

 

 

Aging, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Seed Keepers, US History

Still Learning

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow. Cookunity. Cold night. Drinking the Golden Calf. Midrash. Torah. Religion and its ignorers. Ginny and Janice. Tethering. Salmon and white Bean salad. Battle Mountain, Joe Pickett. The many sided crystal of perspective. Lenovo laptop.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Midrash

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

Practice: Working on Seed Keepers, Seed Savers

One brief shining: Working with AI, an odd by which I mean new and novel experience, to give form to a Seed Keeper’s Almanac, a self-help manual to recreate an America always longed-for, yet never lived in, a hybrid format in paper and on the web, replenished and renewed by its users, focused on dreaming America as neither an utopia, nor as a replica of a faux golden age, rather as a stewpot where different ingredients in different amounts blend together into a powerful, compassionate whole.

 

An issue for me. How to reconcile my lower energy, dog-distracted, hermit favoring life with a steady felt need to stand upright in this most ridiculous and chaotic of times. Not be absent.

I write, yes. I talk with friends and family, reinforcing their desires to get out there and do something. I’m part of a religious community dedicated to a just and compassionate world. Yet. What is mine to do?

The more I futz with chatbotgpt, the more I find possibility in the idea, the bringing into reality of a self-help manual for that world I’ve worked for my whole life. A connected hermit. A dog-distracted but still alert old guy. Using my energy as I can.

 

Thinking about those isolated from this dystopian new world disorder. Trappist Monks in the Gethsemane Abbey. Amish families around Lancaster, Pennsylvania and Fort Wayne, Indiana. Subsistence farmers. Those of us old folks with adequate financial resources. (mostly. Though Social Security and Medicare…) Expatriates like Mary and Mark. Wilderness dwellers in the North Woods, in the Mountain Ranges of this great land. Oddly perhaps some Native American nations. Probably some recluses and communal living folks far off the grid.

And, of course, the oligarchs.

The rest, even cousin Donald’s base. Nope. Vulnerable. Without cover. That includes my son and Seoah. Ruth and Gabe. Luke. Ginny and Janice. Anyone unfortunate enough to be poor. Or different in a way that the oligarchs and their tattered army dislike.

This struggle will continue for the rest of my life. That alone means something to me. A need to not kneel. Not acquiesce. A need to do what only I can do. Now.

 

Just a moment: I had a no good week in part. Feeling down, dog defeated. Weak in body and mind. Took wrassling and seeing others to bring myself back to level.

That’s ok, though. Learning how to live through the troughs as well as the highs is a key lesson. OK. Learning to live through the occasional abyss as well as the getting along just fine days. Glad I’ve advanced enough for that.

Back to working out. For example…

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Memories, US History

The Making of a Social Justice Warrior

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Monday gratefuls: Shadow. Amy. Snow. Vince. Deep clean for Shadow Mountain Home. Cook Unity. Training Shadow. Studying the New Apostolic Reformation. Working my purposes. Ruth’s 19th birthday meal early. Sushi Den. Gabe and his Ph.D. in theater. Kate, always Kate. Rigel. Kep. Vega. Gertie.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Atlantic Ocean

Week Kavannah: Patience.  Savlanut. When I rush, slow down. When I want to speak, wait. When my inner agonizer arises, calm him, move on

One brief shining: The crunch and push of metal on asphalt belies the soft and fluffy nature of the Snow the blades of the orange Jefferson County snowplows move off the roadways to keep us Mountain folk mobile, safe. Grateful for them.

Rembrandt-style painting depicting 1950s union workers, 1960s civil rights activists, and anti-war protesters standing together in unity.

During the Ancient Brothers meet yesterday morning I had another aha about my childhood, another throughline. The grooming of a social justice warrior. I realized there were three key drivers, maybe a fourth, that led me to spend my early and middle adulthood working for social justice.

First, my dad. As a journalist, a columnist, an editor, his job was to be clear eyed about what happened in my hometown. Then to write about it, decide what stories needed exposure. And, crucially for me, to have an opinion about the fairness, the justness about some of them.

Second, my church. The United Methodist church we attended had a strong social justice element to its ministry. This came directly from the work of John Wesley, who organized coal workers in the coal mines of nineteenth century England and believed Jesus mandated work on behalf of the poor and disadvantaged.

By the time I was twelve I had visited poor neighborhoods in Chicago, New York City, and Washington, D.C. on see-it tours sponsored by the church. And the United Nations, Congress, even the Russian consulate in D.C.

Third, and not least by any means, Alexandria served as a home for hundreds of men, almost all men at the time, who worked in General Motor’s factories nine miles away in the county seat of Anderson, Indiana. Delco Remy and Guide Lamp. Or, Guide and Delco as we knew them.

That meant they belonged to the UAW. The United Auto Workers union. At the time strong and forward looking. My friends families owned their homes, bought cars, took vacations, and could afford to send their kids to college. If the UAW went on strike against General Motors, Alexandria felt it. Yet the salaries, health care benefits, and generous pensions these men, most from the South and most not high school graduates, earned made Alexandria a vital, wonderful place to grow up.

Put those three together. Seeing taking a stand against injustice, unfairness, as a personal responsibility, feeling a religious calling to stand with the poor and disadvantaged, and understanding the positive role unions and economic justice could make for all of us prepared me for a lifetime of seeing injustice and doing something about it.

The fourth element I mentioned would be this. Growing up in a small town-John Cougar Mellencamp is a Hoosier-gave me a sense of what it meant to live as part of a community, one where I knew some people well, some less well, and others only in passing, but I did know them. And what happened to them. Justice, love, and compassion become real, tangible in such a setting. There was, I think, a balance between the individual and the community.

 

Cinema and Television, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Friends, Politics

Can find only sarcasm and satire

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Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Mussar. Tara. Eleanor. Shadow. Pain doc. MRI. Cool nights. The internet. Ukraine. Self-determination. Bullies, especially Russia. Now, the U.S. Banana Republic politics, USA might. Ensure. Mark in Al Kharj. His acquaintance. Murdoch. Annie. Leo. Rufus. Gracie.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: MRI

Week Kavannah:  Persistence and Grit. Netzach

One brief shining: After 17 dogs, I’m learning the basics of sit, down, potty training, with a rescue dog, Shadow, a 6 to 8 month old puppy who’s smart, wily, and more than a little traumatized by a house fire, a shelter in southern Colorado, then one in Granby, being taken from her siblings and brought to my house.

 

Shadow and I make slow progress. This week she has regressed some, hard to get inside after going out. Not drinking her water, but going outside to eat Snow. Pooping inside. Still a wiggly, happy girl when I get up. She sits beside me, nuzzles. Plays with her toys. One step ahead, one back.

 

So. Yesterday. Birthday lunch with Tara at a renewed and better Golden Stix. Adding it to my list of places to go. Always so good to see Tara. She’s a heart friend, honest and open. Her own woman and clear about that. Headed to NYC this morning to see her son Vincent who’s on his second bite of the big Apple, this time on what sounds like surer footing. In college, a job, a good place to stay.

Mark reports a friend has gone into a diabetic coma in Thailand. Made Mark reflect on the positives in his life now. He loves teaching, his students. Wants to see countries he’s not yet visited. Purpose is a mighty force in the psyche. As is, in the opposite way, lack of purpose.

 

Watching a later Startrek series, Picard. Written in large part by Michael Chabon, of Kavalier and Clay, the Yiddish Policeman’s Union, and many more books. Excellent TV. If you have Paramount Plus, watch Season 2, Episode 2. Chilling.

 

Just a moment: OK. Zelensky is a dictator who started a war against Ukraine’s poor neighbor, Russia. Bad Zelensky. Bad Ukraine. Yes, it’s devolved even further with the American President, let me say that again, the American President, who will remain shameless, speaks Russian propaganda to the press. Putin says he’d like to see Don again and hopes it will happen soon.

Lewis Carroll could not have written a parody of Wonderland that would have been more mind-boggling than the real world-this is the real world isn’t it-which we now inhabit.

Clean up the Ukraine mess, turn Gaza into a Riveria with Trump properties for the well-heeled. Palestinians welcome to return from their new homes in Egypt and Jordan if they have enough shekels. Now we’re making progress.

I’m glad others have serious analysis because at least for now, I can’t find anything other than satire or sarcasm.

My son. Serving his country, now 16 years in. And this is the country he spends all his working life trying to protect?

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Travel

Gathered, then dispersed

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Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Monday gratefuls: The big questions. The Ancient Brothers. Barb Bandel’s funeral. Murdoch getting groomed. Seoah and my son back to their Korean lives. Ruth and Gabe. TV. Picard. FBI. Morality plays, the 3rd millennium additions. Shadow. Her calm nights. Her waggy tail. Heading into the Snowy weeks.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jet travel. Time zones.

Week kavannah:  Persistence and grit. Netzach.

One brief shining: Walking through the bedroom door on my way to bed, my hand brushes the mezuzzah, and after I’ve said the shema, I say, I’m comfortable with what I have and I’m comfortable with who I am .

 

Gathered, then dispersed. Family. Ruth staying in Boulder in her dorm. Gabe back to his room at Jen’s. My son and Seoah traveling across the big Waters, back to Asia, Korea, Songtan.

Shadow and I stay here on Shadow Mountain. Getting to know each other better. Learning to love each other. A still point, high and lifted up, for far flung family. For us.

A weekend of longing for more time with my son, Seoah, Ruth, Gabe. An awareness of absence, of what was near now gone. A sadness, a sense of loss. Normal for me. A way of saying how much they all mean to me.

Then, too, a sense of joy for the new memories. Casa Bonita. Birthday lunch at Snarf’s with Ruth and Gabe, my son and Seoah. Boulder. My son’s big hugs. I love you, Dad. Seoah’s hands in mine, saying that when the two years in Korea are up, they want me to come live with them. Whether I do or not, being wanted filling my soul with warmth. Gabe coming up on the commuter bus. Ruth greeting us outside her dorm across from the planetarium. Where we used to go on Friday nights when she was younger.

There is, for us old folks, a rhythm of gain and loss when loved ones visit or when we visit them. A knowing of that ultimate departure embedded in the Thanksgivings, Hanukkahs, short and long trips to see each other.

In this we are unlike the families of the past. We stayed in our villages, lived our lives in extended families, perhaps never knowing long absence.

Today we pursue individual dreams. Off to Boulder for college. Over to Malaysia for a stint teaching ESl, then never really going back. A time as a bicycle messenger, then 20 years or so in Bangkok, more years in Saudi Arabia. Breckenridge for 3 three years, after that Maxwell AFB, Georgia, Hawai’i, Singapore, Korea. 40 years in Minnesota traded for a new life in the Rocky Mountains.

Strong moves for us, weakening moves for family, for that sense of home only the rooted can know.

Sure, I’m a globalist, a man of the world, not just my own nation. And I love the adventure of  a new life in a new place. Always have. A wanderer at heart like my sibs.

Yet sometimes. The cost can feel too high. When love becomes primary, not achievement or travel or the shiny new thing offers that. I miss my dead and my far away family.

I also love my life here on Shadow Mountain. Now with Shadow, the growing puppy. Yes. And yes to my CBE friends. Yes. All yes.

Asia, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Friends, Politics, US History, World History

Love

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Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow. My son. Seoah. Ginny and Janice. Gabe. Happy Camper. Shabbat. Talmud Torah. Kabbalah. Cold weather. Snarfs. Ruth. CU-Boulder. Integrative Physiology. Jetplane to Incheon. The Jang family visit. My son’s promotion. Treats. Dogs.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Families of choice

Week Kavannah: Perseverance and Grit    Netzach

One brief shining: At 3 am while I slept Shadow Mountain emptied out with my son and Seoah headed to the airport, Gabe back home with his student I.D., Shadow sleeping outside the bedroom for the first time.

 

Too short a visit. In on Wednesday after a full day of travel, Casa Bonita, then Boulder with Ruth yesterday, home around 7 pm, then gone in the wee hours. My son and Seoah whom I saw last in September of 2023.

Here is your family portrait in the style of Hindu temple art with a Valentine’s Day theme

And yet. Yes to any amount of time. Hugs. Quiet conversations. Laughing. Creating new memories together. This all American family in which I have no blood connection. I was Jon’s step-father, so no blood with Ruth and Gabe. Joseph came into my life 43 years ago by plane from Calcutta. Seoah in 2016. Yet we love each other as any family does. Blood ties and love have no necessary connection. Just as ties with no blood and love have no necessary connection. Only the love we develop and nurture over years and decades.

My life has been rich in loving. And expands even now. My friend Luke. My friends Ginny and Janice. Shadow. Leo. Annie and Luna. Always Mark, Mary, Diane. The Ancient Brothers. The MVP group. Alan.

Not sure how I got so lucky. Found Kate. Together we loved so many dogs. Gardens. Bees and Trees. Places on this wide earth. From Gwangju, Korea to Inverness, Scotland. Each other.

A Valentine’s Day life in so many ways. And so grateful for each love. Every love. All of them.

 

Shadow would not come out of the bedroom yesterday. Too many people around? A regression? Both? Don’t know. Anyhow she slept outside the bedroom last night for the first time. I want/need to be able to interact with her and if we’re playing hide and seek all day that’s very hard.

Right now she’s comfortably beside my chair as I write this. We’ve greeted each other, nuzzled. She’s gotten treats and awaits her 8 am feeding. The consensus from my son, Seoah, Gabe, and Ruth is that she will be happy dog once she settles in. How long that will take? Uncertain. I’m willing to go the distance.

 

Just a moment: So. The American Vice-President, JD Vance, sits down with Germany’s Nazi’s OK! far right party, the AfD. Even pushes for them to be included in Germany’s parliament. The German chancellor said this: “A commitment to ‘never again’ is not reconcilable with support for the AfD,” NYT, 2/15/1025

That’s a spectacle that beggars history. The head of a German government chastising an American Vice-President for support of Nazi sympathizers. WTF?

No wonder American Jews feel threatened and American white supremacists feel emboldened. Putting a substantial nick in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

 

 

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Politics, US History

Family. Shadow. Oligarchworld.

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Imbolc and the 99% Waxing Gibbous 78th Birthday Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow. My son. Seoah. Here now. Cold weather. Blue Pastures. Mary Oliver. Tom. Diane, healing. Mark, bonding with his students in Al Kharj. Annie. Luna. Leo. The Moon. Great Sol. Trips around Great Sol. Our Cosmic voyage.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah

Week Kavannah:  Love Ahavah

One brief shining: Cold air slammed its way downstairs as suitcases, backpacks, new ski boots made their way into the house, my son came, his military fade, big smile, long hug, Seoah in pink, another hug, a kiss on the forehead.

 

The travelers arrived after a visit to H-Mart, Pho for lunch, and buying bottled water which Seoah prefers to our tap water. They spent 7 days at Hickam AFB being trained in the subtleties of command from a commander’s and a commander’s spouse’s perspective, then a long flight to Minneapolis for 3 nights there and a short flight to Denver for 3 nights here.

Yesterday was a travel day even though it was a short flight. Up early. Airport. TSA. Land. Rental car line. This is Colorado in the Winter. H-Mart. Lunch. Picking up gyros for dinner.

A lot of catching up. I see them every one to two weeks on Zoom, but it’s not the same. As all us post-pandemics know.

My son talked about his old friends in Minnesota. Familiar names from St. Paul’s Central High: Matt, Katherine, Dan Pesich, Langon. U. of M. Greg. Dave. Brandon. Play It Again Sports. Joe’s ski shop. His friend Dave gave him a poster of Matt’s Bar, famous for its juicy lucy hamburgers, signed both by the artist and the owner of Matt’s Bar. A sweet gift.

Another friend, Dave, and his partner of 20 years showed my son a note he wrote to Dave after introducing them, “Don’t break her heart.” 20 years ago.

My son makes and keeps friends over time and over long distance. I admire that about him.

 

Shadow Watch: My son suggested moving the coffee table against the wall. Oh, duh. Now when Shadow comes from under the bed, which she did in her usual come in, then out fashion around 6 this morning, she has to be in the main room with me.

She also asked to go outside this morning. That’s a real advance.

The trainer, Amy, suggested I throw her a treat as I move my hand. Which she shies away from. I’ve been doing that and her turning and darting away has lessened. We’re making progress.

 

Just a moment in oligarchworld: Tulsi Gabbard, friend of Syria and Russia, confirmed as Director of National Intelligence. Gosh. What could go wrong with that choice? RFK passed a critical vote to advance toward  leading Health and Human Services. Vaccine denier in charge of NIH and the CDC?

Oligarchworld continues to scratch and claw, pound and pummel at the interstices of our once (and future?) government. Trump continues to sign Executive Orders. His Presidential equivalent of “You’re fired!”

Constitutional crisis. Eh? You mean Thursday in oligarchworld?

Commentary on Religion, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Politics, US History

More Shadow and Faith

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow. Ruth. Diminished stamina. Mark(s). Snow. Cold. Skittishness. Gabe. Puzzles. Enigmas. Thoughtful resistance. Learning about the New Apostolic Reformation. Books. Poetry. Lodgepoles. Great Sol. The days of our lives. Our lives in days. Bananas. Pears. Apples. Mandarin Oranges. Subway

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My dispersed family

Week Kavannah: Love. Ahavah.

One brief shining: Oh, Shadow, my Shadow, who chewed through my oxygen concentrator tubes leaving me breathless, who, when I figured out how to have them looped up high, then chewed on the cord of my electric blanket so it ceased working.

 

Oh. The dog. Challenging me. In good ways. Do I have the stamina for her? Still not sure. Can I, I mean, wait out her puppyhood long enough for her to be easier to care for? If so, then yes, I have the stamina. We’ll see. Ruth recommended I take the full three weeks for the trial. She’s right. And, I will. Honesty. So important.

I liked having Ruth here. So much so that I asked her if she wanted to commute. Free rent and food. Half her gas. No, she said. Too long a daily drive. Right at an hour both ways. Wise lady.

 

My son and Seoah will come on Wednesday. It’s been a year a half plus since I’ve seen them. I’m excited. Seeing them and having Shadow. A rich week in my life. Filled with love and caring.

Annual wellness checkup with Sue Bradshaw, too. And a visit to the medical oncologist’s P.A. A big week for this Shadow Mountain boy.

My peskyfowlatarian diet has proved easy to handle. Fish, other seafoods like shrimp and lobster, chicken. Gives me choices. Pushes me toward more vegetables. Plan to make chicken bean soup today or tomorrow.

Learning to love chicken subway sandwiches. A little tasteless. But o.k.

Shadow spent an hour in my lap, cuddling. I put her outside for about ten minutes, she came back to the door, pleased. I hear my own and others doubts and cautions. As Ruth suggested, three full weeks. Accepting input.

 

Just a moment: Super bowl. Nah. Too much fluff. Usually a bad game. But the two games leading up to it. Well, yeah.

More books coming on the New Apostolic Reformation. As I know more, so will you. This group is secretive, amorphous, and focused on political goals. Like creating a Christian nation.

For now, cue this:

“President Trump signed an executive order Friday to establish a White House Faith Office in an effort to empower faith-based entities.

The office will be part of the Domestic Policy Council and headed by a senior adviser tasked with consulting with various faith and community leaders in an effort to defend religious liberty and combat antisemitism, anti-Christianity and other anti-religious bias, according to the order.”  The Hill

Gotta fight all that anti-Christian bias out there. But, where is it? This is the thin end of the wedge for creating an autocratic, religion focused and dominated form of governance. Not democracy. Follow these bread crumbs. They’re more significant than they may appear.

 

 

Commentary on Religion, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Politics

Shadow. One small bite.

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Ruth. Shadow. Loss. Grief. Joy. Close cousins. Mussar. Brother Mark, teaching in Al Kharj. Friend Mark, recuperating in Mexico. Colder, some Snow. Old age. Journalism. NYT. WP. Colorado Sun. Axios. Ground News. Safeway. Grocery pickup. Ruby.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

Week Kavannah: Love  Ahavah

Limitations of AI on display here

One brief shining: Images of others, far away, Mark playing foosball with his Saudi Arabian ESL students, Ode in a deck chair in sunny, warm Mexico, Diane with her sling, healing on Lucky Street with atmospheric rivers overhead, Mary on campus in Melbourne, my son and Seaoh traveling today to Minnesota from Hawai’i while Shadow and Ruth and I enjoy the return of cold weather on the top of Shadow Mountain.

 

The Shadow puppy saga continues. Put her in the crate while Ruth and I went to Jackie’s for my haircut. After we went to Buster’s natural pet food store. Got a new leash, some treats, a few durable toys. Then, Subway.

I’m considering a raw diet for Shadow. She’s so small l could feed her a raw diet for what I paid for Kep and Rigel’s food. She’s still a puppy so not yet. More research.

That’s if I keep her. I’m pretty tired. Haven’t got back to my workouts. They will raise my energy level as my better nutrition already has. It’s a balance.

Having her here has already buoyed me up in ways I’d forgotten were available. That tail wagging. Her soulful eyes. Her learning curve, so rapid. Engaging my problem solver for another. Her cuddles.

Ruth came up last night in her green Subaru SUV. She got most of the money to pay for it from the insurance payout after she totaled Ivory, our old Rav4 which we gave to her. She loves her car.

She’s a sweetheart. Feels so good having her here. We talk a lot. She apparently took Shadow up to sleep with her last night. When I got up… No Shadow.

Glad I stayed here, didn’t go to Hawai’i. Although, I do find myself watching NCIS: Hawai’i and Hawai’i 5-0. As much for the scenery and the memories as any plot.

No, my travel bug has not gone dormant. When I see Sue next week, I’m going to ask for an orthopedic consult on my back and right hip, maybe a pain doc. See what I can do further to become mobile enough to fly.

Though. Moving to the Rocky Mountains has been a journey, a travel experience of long and wonderful duration. Kate felt like she was always on vacation up here. I feel grateful each day to see the Mountains, Wild Neighbors, Trees and Streams. And for the unexpected and improbable Jewish journey unveiled by the Mountain Jews of Congregation Beth Evergreen.

 

Just a moment: I’m appending the first paragraph of a New York Times editorial with which I am in agreement.

Ginny, of Ginny and Janice, heard a woman who suggested taking a small bite out of the huge wormy Apple. For example, become an expert on one small field of the Trump mess. Really dig in. Something that interests you, or you have expertise in already.

I’m picking the New Apostolic Reformation. It’s deep background, yet it forms a large mass of his hardcore base. Something I have knowledge about with seminary education and having been in the ministry.

Start communicating with others about it. In conversations, blogs, e-mails, letters to the editor, phone calls and e-mails to members of Congress.

Together there are enough of us to rock this sucker back on its heels. Separately? We’ll get steamrolled.

 

*”Don’t get distracted. Don’t get overwhelmed. Don’t get paralyzed and pulled into the chaos that President Trump and his allies are purposely creating with the volume and speed of executive orders; the effort to dismantle the federal government; the performative attacks on immigrants, transgender people and the very concept of diversity itself; the demands that other countries accept Americans as their new overlords; and the dizzying sense that the White House could do or say anything at any moment. All of this is intended to keep the country on its back heel so President Trump can blaze ahead in his drive for maximum executive power, so no one can stop the audacious, ill-conceived and frequently illegal agenda being advanced by his administration. For goodness sake, don’t tune out.” NYT, Feb. 8, 2025.