Category Archives: Family

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Politics, US History

Family. Shadow. Oligarchworld.

February 13, 2025 Charles Leave a comment

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

February 9, 2025 Charles Leave a comment

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.

February 8, 2025 Charles Leave a comment

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

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.

Boulder, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, GeekWorld

Loss

February 3, 2025 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Monday gratefuls: Barb. Jen. Ruth and Gabe. Rabbi Jamie. My phone. My most asked question (to myself): where is my phone? MVP. CU-Boulder. Sushi. Pain. Back. First World Problems. Technology. Uncanny valley. AI. Wi-Fi. CPU’s. Graphics chips. Internet.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Electricity

Kavannah this week: Curiosity. Sakranut

One brief shining: Sunday I got up and wrote Ancientrails, signed on to the Ancient Brothers to talk about love, got a text from Vince saying he could come with Levi to move my workout equipment which he did as Bill, the last of us five, still spoke, so I went downstairs to help Vince who stayed until nearly eleven when I had to leave for Boulder to pick up Ruth.

That was when I discovered my phone had scuttled off somewhere secret. Here, I knew, because I’d used it that morning. Conundrum. Keep looking for my phone so I can call Ruth? What if I can’t find it and I show up late? Then she’ll get anxious. I decided to look for five more minutes. Nope. Not here.

Leaving the house I felt naked and irritated that I wouldn’t be able to listen to the Hardfork Podcast about Deepseek. Drove a bit fast to avoid showing up late. Ruth has anxiety issues, as I have had. So I get it. About a fifty minute drive.

Got to Boulder. Ruth was in tears. She had, she said, called me five times. Including this voicemail:

“Hey, Grandpop. I’m waiting outside and you’re scaring me to death, so just call me if you get this, or I don’t know if you left your phone, or I don’t know, but I’m outside, so I’m hoping you’ll get here in a few minutes. Just call me.”

I felt for her, frustrated that with all the available tech I had I still had no way of connecting with her. We had a good lunch. I’d already set this up in the middle of last week, not knowing that her other grandma, Barb Bandel, would die Friday night. That made me even more frustrated because Ruth didn’t need more on her mind. Barb had been in declining health, but her death came with no forewarning. Her death means Ruth and Gabe lost Kate in 2021, their Dad in 2022, and now Barb. That’s a lot of loss. A lot of grief.

Meanwhile my back began grouching while we ate. My walking limit seems to be about a block, two at the most. This with an extra Tramadol already on board. The ride back tested my pain tolerance.

Back home I began looking for my phone. I’ve still not found it. I’m going to have to do a sector search I guess. I know it’s here because I asked Ruth to call me at 5 to see if I could locate it. She did, but, in the first of many confounding situations, the call came to my hearing aid. Which meant it didn’t help me locate the phone.

Did three what I considered thorough passes through the house last night. No joy. Asked chatbot for help. Alexa has a find your phone feature. Oh. I rarely, rarely use Alexa, but here was good use. Nope. The internet is not usable Alexa says. Odd, since I’m on it right now. We had very high winds last night, power went out four times, generator worked, but apparently it reset Alexa. And the Alexa app, which I need to reconnect her to wi-fi is, guess where? On my phone.

As is my ability to connect to Google Voice, which required a setup code sent to my phone. Arrrgghhh.

So, blehhhhh.

Family, Friends

A Way of Life

January 15, 2025 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Overburden. Cancer. Conversation. Its healing power. Diane, healing. Mark in Al Kharj. New computer. Being healthy while dying. Great Sol. Hidden by the spin of Mother Earth. Orion. Vega. Rigel. Antares. Betelgeuse. Polaris. Hokusai. Ukiyo-e. The Hudson School. The School of 7. Abstract Expressionists. Rothko. Whistler.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Art

Kavannah 2025: Creativity

Kavannah this week: Wholeness and Peacefulness

One brief shining: Conversation with Kristie, my urological oncologist, supportive and kind, always leaves me with one phrase kicking around in my skull, my psyche, my heart and the last one was: This disease will run its course. Oh. Yeah.

No. I’m off the cancer dance right now. Staying on the floor with that partner for too long? Like one of those 1920’s dance marathons where I end up with my arms slumped over him, my card with the number on it creased from hanging on too long. Better to sit down, drink some water. Come back in three months.

Yesterday. Breakfast with Marilyn and Irv. We always talk a long time. Like a dorm room discussion. Yet also heart felt. I don’t remember my college long conversations being very focused on feelings. Always in the head. Or, mostly. As an adult, I find mixing the two, the rational and the emotional, the most fruitful, the most healing.

A good time to talk about conversation. What Ancientrails is, in my mind. A long ongoing conversation with whomever happens upon it. I don’t get as much feedback as I expected when I started, but no worries. It’s also a conversation with myself. Often therapeutic. Putting my thoughts down on, well, a computer screen. As long I’m honest.

Chatbot offers this etymology for conversation: “The word conversation has its origins in the Latin word conversatio, which means “a turning about” or “a living with.” It comes from the verb conversari, which means “to live with” or “to associate with,”…” The online etymology dictionary has this: “mid-14c., “place where one lives or dwells,” also “general course of actions or habits, manner of conducting oneself in the world,” both senses now obsolete; from Old French conversacion “behavior, life, way of life, monastic life…”

I’m plucking out to live with, place where one lives or dwells, and way of life to emphasize. This more contemporary definition hangs around the word’s surface meaning in my opinion: “a talk, especially an informal one, between two or more people, in which news and ideas are exchanged.” Oxford languages.

Here is the illuminated breviary-style illustration inspired by your paragraph. The image features intricate medieval manuscript-style designs, a natural setting, and two figures engaged in heartfelt conversation.

To converse with someone, or with a group, happens not only in the moment of a conversation, but also through the impact that conversation has on your/my daily life. If I tentatively see myself as a writer and a friend says, you’re an author, I’m reinforced and heartened. If I see a friend experiencing depression, I’m not only there for them in the moment of discourse, but the in the relational tie built and strengthened by that conversation.

Done well conversation is a sacrament of human communion. I go to mass many times a week only for the eucharist of seeing and being seen. It sustains me as a person and heals stress and worry. You know who you are in my life. My world would shrink up if you were gone from it.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase

I sense you’re slipping

January 4, 2025 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Candles. Snow. Torah study. CBE Men’s group. Feeling low. Workouts going well. 2025. Brother Mark. Mary. Seoah. My son. Murdoch. How do I feel? Acting. Erleada. Orgovyx. Medicare drug policy. Orcas. Sadness. Mountain dark Morning. Black Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: AI

Kavannah for 2025: Creativity

Kavannah for the January 4th life: Yirah. Awe, amazement, wonder.

One brief shining: Had a strange moment at breakfast with Alan, my tone and demeanor was soft, repressed, as if I were muted emotionally; nothing to do with Alan, whom I delighted to see after he had been gone a month, the strangeness coming in my lack of awareness that I felt this way, as if I had to have an old friend as a mirror to see myself.

Here is the image you requested, capturing a melancholic atmosphere inspired by Breughel’s style, blending positive and negative emotions with a surreal touch

Depressive genes run in our family. And, for Mary, Mark, and me the epigenetics after mom’s early death pushed us each in different directions, yet pushed we were in unwelcome and unexpected ways. The Myth of Normal, an interesting if difficult read, says we all grow into adulthood with trauma overlaying our development, no matter our family of origin. There is, in its conceit anyway, no normal developmental path, only paths damaged in ways unique to each human.

Kate had a task set her by John Desteian, my former Jungian analyst. When she felt it, she was to tell me, “I sense you’re slipping into melancholy.” That she needed to do that helps explain the strangeness I felt at breakfast with Alan. That was me channeling Kate back to my self.

This might explain, too, my veering toward the past of late, and veering not toward its joyous times, rather those instances of loss, of failing to achieve the goal. Why this happens, much like my brother Mark’s much more intense struggles, is not clear. I can find no particular precipitating event in my recent past.

Challenges, I just realized, my practice for this month in which I say to events I first valence as negative or bad: This too is for the good. This mussar practice forces me to pull the lens back, see an event in a broader or deeper context. How does melancholy fit into my life as a whole? Into what I need, really need, right now? Can it serve a purpose not evident in the way it makes me feel? What might that purpose be?

I’m not sure. The start of a New Year, even if you eschew resolutions as I have, can bring introspection if only by looking back on the year just past. Or, maybe I have it backwards and the fact that the past has come to visit me is the cause rather than the effect.

Perhaps I need, for some deeper psychic reason, to explore this ancientrail I have walked since February 14th, 1947 when I first saw the light of day. Melancholy pauses life, slows it down, turns it inward. Is it something I need to find a way to change or is it something I need to listen to, understand its role in my life right now? I don’t know.

These turns of heart can run toward danger if they get too far into the realm of regret or shame, but that’s not what I feel. I feel as if my heart has had a dark molasses poured over it, obscuring the present, making the now less immediate. Privileging then the look inward.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Literature, Memories, Minnesota

The Skein of our Lives

December 29, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the 2% crescent of the Yule Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Honesty. To others and self. Yule darkness. The days between the Winter Solstice and the New Year. 5th day of Hanukkah. The Maccabees. The oil in the Temple Menorah. Good workout yesterday. Chatbotgpt. Ruth and Gabe. Mark and Mary. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. Rich. Ron. Alan. Diane back home. That long dive into the deep end of my mind.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Lev

Kavannah: Love (ahavah) and Persistence

One brief shining: Reading Michael Moorcock’s The War Hound and the World’s Pain I followed von Bek through Hell, through Mittlemarch, or Middle Earth, out to the world as we know it always hunting for the cure for the world’s pain until finally at the edge of the forest near heaven he receives a clay cup that signals his oh, so ordinary enlightenment while representing the culmination of human striving.

I have these threads weaving through my life and my heart as we head toward the quarter century mark of the first century of the third millennium. In no particular order: kabbalah, mussar, friendships, family, writing, the nature rights legal movement, Mountains and Shadow Mountain, Wild Neighbors, reading for Herme’s Journey, exercise, cancer, back pain, books of all sorts, travel, Seed-Keepers, telling my story, Ancientrails. AI. Judaism. Paganism.

And, of course, there is the wider context for all these: Kate, politics, organizing, Christianity, paganism, alcoholism, Jungian therapy, the Wooly Mammoths, Minnesota, the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, Raeone and Judy, Tina, seminary, Alexandria, the Andover years, the Peaceable Kingdom, all those dogs.

There is the third place of the lev, as well. Or, perhaps better, the lev as a third place in which all these coexist, influence each other, reaching over and shaking hands, embracing. Pushing away. Denying. Erasing. Recreating. Nothing is static. All effects All. Moving not necessarily forward or backward, up or down, but in and out, releasing new energy with each penetration, impregnating the moment so something novel can grow, reach out for something else and keep the whole underway.

Let me give you a modest example. Last night I decided to have an English muffin with peanut butter plus the last bit of the unfrozen Senate navy bean soup. As the English muffin toasted and the soup warmed in the microwave, I got out the peanut butter and thought. Hmm. Honey.

Reached into the cabinet, moved a box of sugar, and there sat a small canning jar with a handwritten label: Artemis Honey. In Kate’s beautiful cursive. She came. Standing there with the uncapping knife, honey super in hand, looking beautiful and engaged. The Andover years where we worked as one. Dogs. Vegetables. Flowers. Bees. And the chamber quartet we commissioned for our wedding. The honeymoon. Living in the move as we prepared to come to Colorado.

For a long moment I stood there. Before I reached in. Should I eat this? As if it were the last piece of her, of our life together. The honey harvest. Of course I can eat this now, a holy communion, a eucharist. Her body and mine together again if only for a moment.

I spread a bit of the wonderful thick amber colored honey over my peanut butter. And ate it.

Family, Friends, Holidays, Shadow Mountain

Twas the Night Before Christmas

December 24, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Yule Moon

Tuesday (Christmas Eve) gratefuls: Marilyn and Irv. Three Victoria’s. Carne Asada. A favorite. Hanukkah. Late. Latkes. Apple Sauce. Sour cream. Brisket. Horse radish. Those Hanukkah candles from the Kabbalah Experience. Shabbat. MVP. A family gathering. Oz. Bangkok. Songtan. The Rocky Mountains of Colorado. The Ellis clan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Santa on NORAD

Kavannah: Persistence

One brief shining: Friends at a table, in this instance Three Victoria’s, puzzling over the Spanish on its day of the dead themed coffee mug, translated by chatbotgpt as: “Some well-dead Vickys to toast to the well-alive living.” which makes me scratch me my head and wonder what’s up with that? Eh?

Had lunch with Irv and Marilyn yesterday. At Three Victoria’s. Always a treat. They both read Seed-Keepers and returned the book yesterday. They loved the way it discussed the Dakota’s relationship with land, the details of Native life in southern Minnesota.

Tom sent me a note today: Dakota Exiles commemorate Mankato hangings. These hangings, signed off by Abraham Lincoln, occurred on December 26th, 1862 and presaged a removal of most of the Dakota’s from their traditional home in southern Minnesota. Well, sort of their traditional home. This history informs all of the Seed-Keepers.

Their traditional home was in northern Minnesota until Anishinaabe clans drove them south. History is complicated.

The Seed-Keeper idea, stimulated by my reading of this book continues to bounce around, won’t lay still. As I said a couple of days ago, it may be calling to me.

Every Christmas Eve I read Twas’ the Night Before Christmas to Joseph. Haven’t done that in a while. I asked him if he remembered the Christmas Eve he had me set out money for Santa so Santa could go to Mickey’s Diner. “Of course I do. Still a smart move.”

Ana just came. Cleaning the house. It’ll be clean for Hanukkah. I like that. Time for me to skedaddle upstairs, workout, maybe fiddle around with some art. A shortie today.

Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Writing

With Love to Each of You

December 23, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Yule Moon

Monday gratefuls: Altitude Electric. Ana. Furball Cleaners. Mark, my postman. Mark, my friend. Mark, my brother. Christmas, fading in my attention. Hanukkah. Yule celebrations. Evergreen Trees. Holly and Ivy. Mistletoe. Yule Log. Wassailing. Apple Trees. And the Apple Lord. The Maccabees. Hanukkah candles. Menorah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Herme and his journey

Kavannah: JOY Simcha שִׂמְחָה Joy, happiness, celebration (עֲלִיזָה Aliza: Lightheartedness, playfulness, fun)

One brief shining: Imagining the millions of children in Christian homes and in the homes where only secular capitalism drives the holiday, all one in their fervent faith that Santa Claus somehow will find their home, bring them a wrapped box of dreams and a stocking filled with hope.

Ruth did so well. 3.94. Dean’s List. A victory for her, one she earned the hard way. Having your first semester go well paves the way, makes college important and joyful, not something faced with dread. Makes me smile, feel happy.

She and Gabe will be up here Friday night for a sabbath meal, Hanukkah, and a fire in the fireplace. I hope Veronica and Luke will join us. I’m planning to serve salmon, boiled potatoes, and a vegetable side dish from the deli. All from Tony’s.

I often tell people that I’m alone but not lonely. Why is that? Because of friends and family. And zoom. Three times during the week I spend an hour with Paul in Maine, Tom in Shorewood, Minnesota, and Diane in San Francisco. Once a month Tom, Paul, and I zoom with Irv for an hour. On Sunday morning the Ancient Brothers Tom, Paul, Mark, Bill and I meet for an hour and a half on zoom.

Here in the Mountains of Colorado I attend a weekly hour and a half of mussar taught by Rabbi Jamie at the synagogue. Once a month I attend a second mussar group in the evening. On most Fridays I have breakfast with Alan Rubin, often with Joanne Greenberg. Every two weeks I have breakfast or lunch with Irv and Marilyn, Ginny and Janice. Tara and I get together irregularly, but often. On occasion Rich Levine and I have breakfast. Luke and I share a meal now and then. Veronica and I do, too. I even saw Scott Simpson, a Woolly brother, in Evergreen this summer. Tom and Paul came for my bar mitzvah. Tom comes out when the mood strikes him.

Gabe comes up and spends a weekend every six weeks or so. This last semester I drove over to Boulder to see Ruth almost every other Sunday. I talk to my son and Seoah every other week. Of late I’ve spoken with my brother Mark and Mary on zoom. These last three are literally thousands of miles away. On an irregular basis I zoom with Sarah and BJ Johnson, Kate’s sisters, too.

Why I’m alone but not lonely.

Friendships are precious, fragile. They require nurture and regular time. Quantitative time. Not the mythical parenting quality time. Same with family. Sitting with each other. Going to a movie. A planetarium show. Hiking. Doing psychoactive substances together. Eating a meal.

I count myself blessed that I have both friends and family. And ones who want to share my life. It could be otherwise.

With love, to each of you. I write this.

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Friends, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The Move

Ten Years ago on a cold dark Night

December 20, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Yule Moon

Friday gratefuls: Winter Solstice at 2:21 am tomorrow. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Robert Frost. Walt Whitman. Jim Harrison. Billy Collins. John Berryman. Marge Piercy. Mary Oliver. Louise Gluck. Amanda Gorman. Langston Hughes. Emily Dickinson. Maya Angelou. Wallace Stevens. “Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction”

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Poet’s Lev

Kavannah: Chesed

One brief shining: Ten years ago a long ride through the day, then well into the night, sleeping dogs huddled in the back of the white Rav4, Tom at the wheel, Snow already coming down, several inches, welcome to Shadow Mountain.

Here’s a memory sliver from that day:

“The moving moon has waned, a sliver this early. It will go dark tomorrow, the Winter Solstice. Our first full day and night here at Black Mountain Drive. Tom Crane, Rigel, Vega, Kepler and I pulled into the garage about 12:15 am this morning. We drove in over several inches of snow, so a first task will be getting the driveway clear for the moving which comes on Monday.

The three dogs slept or rested quietly the whole way. I gave them a trazidone dose at the kennel at 8:30 am yesterday. That calmed them for the first few hours and after that the buzzing of the tires and the constant motion lullabyed them. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one.

Tom drove the whole way, 14 hours in one whack, stopping only briefly for food and gas. It was a great treat to be able to watch the miles roll away.

When I left Anoka after getting the dogs yesterday morning, I crossed the Mississippi at 9 am, realizing as I did that this time I would be not crossing back over it for some months. The Mississippi was now a dividing line between my former homelands east of it and my new one west of it. An American narrative, for sure.

We passed over the Minnesota state line at approximately noon. The state sign, which reads Thank you for visiting made us laugh. Yeah, a forty year visit. But it is now over.

Kate stopped for the night in Lincoln, finding a place where she and Gertie could sleep. She’ll be getting in later this afternoon. Then, the unloading of the cargo van. New tasks in a new place but tasks which, with the exception of clearing the driveway can wait until we’re ready. We have the next several years to get settled here on Shadow Mountain.”