Ancient Brothers, Asia, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Friends, Health, Politics, US History, World History

How Will It End?

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon

Monday gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Spice Fusion Ranch. Swerve toward cooler after Saturday heat. Red Tie Guy and the MOP. One hour movement breaks. Back and leg pain. Ortho consult. Harvard Medical on back pain. The Bird of dawn. Make firm a person’s steps. Shadow and Annie playtime. Our rocky Soil. Wildflowers. The Greenhouse. Finished on Tuesday? Planting on Wednesday! Horticulture. Wild Neighbors.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Close friends

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

One brief shining: Annie and Luna came out of the car with Ginny on leashes, Janice carrying the food from Spice Fusion Ranch in a brown paper sack, Shadow waited in the backyard since visitors put her in OMG, I’m so glad to see you, jumpy mode while I opened the door glad to greet Mountain friends who’d come to play.

 

Dog journal: Annie, sleek and brown and all puppy, came from the same Granby shelter as Shadow. Ginny and Janice adopted her a month or so before I adopted Shadow. She’s taller and a bit longer than Shadow, but roughly the same age.

It took a while for them to establish their power dynamics, then they played and ran, ran and played while Ginny, Janice, and I ate food from the new Indian place, Spice Fusion Ranch.

Ginny and Janice had stories from Champagne-Urbana where they formerly lived and where they still own an Air B’n’B. Janice created the first Costume degree program in the U.S. there while Ginny directed a social issues theater company.

Luna, their second Dog, is tiny. I’d be surprised if she weighed 5 pounds. Sweet and in the past a bit jumpy, she seemed much calmer, more herself yesterday.

Mountain friends. Ginny and Janice live in Kittredge, a very small town east of Evergreen about five miles.

 

Ancient Brothers: Just to say. We went around telling each other, one at a time, positive characteristics we saw in each other. A little love never hurts, eh?

 

Back and leg pain: With the movement breaks and physical therapy I’ve achieved a significant lessening of my pain. Also, with the evidence of the labrum tear in my right hip I no longer conflate its pain with the rest. Different etiologies.

I’m working back to regular exercise with my physical therapy exercises as a starting place. Feels good. P.T. plus tramadol finds my daily pain load enough lightened to help with my mood. A very good thing.

Cousin Diane found a Harvard Medical e-book on back pain and its treatment. I’m reading it now since I have decisions to make about what happens next.

 

Just a moment: Now, as the saying goes, we wait. What will a weakened Iran do in response to the MOP drop? Close the Straits of Hormuz? Attack U.S. military bases in the region? Send out assassins? Perhaps all three.

We’ve staggered from conflict in Ukraine to conflict in Gaza to conflict on the West Bank to conflict in Lebanon all the while bombing the Houthis and now to outright war against Iran. Where, when, how can it all end?

 

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

He could not resist

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon

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

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Mountains

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trump the warrior. Oh, god no.

Denver, Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Korea, Politics, Travel

Family and Friends

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shabbat. Ruth and Gabe. Alan. Shadow. Golden Stix. Nathan. The Greenhouse. Gladiolas. Lilies. Hot weather. Above 60 all night. Gabe reading. Ruth driving. Alan going to New York to see Francesca. Joanne. Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Coming to visit. Back and leg pain. Labrum tear. Artificial tears. Jim Butcher. Marrow Bones. Wildflowers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Talking to Ruth and Gabe

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

One brief shining: Ruth and Gabe lounged on the lower level while we spoke of family things, matters of consequence and difficulty, from the lens of old age, a college sophomore, and a high school senior, being with each other as listener, as witness, as grandfather and grandchildren, while Shadow moved among us giving out kisses and attention, her way of saying, yes, I hear you, too.

 

Family and Friends: Met Alan at the Dandelion for breakfast. The waitress knows us, smiles when we come in.

French toast and bacon for me. Corned beef hash and eggs for Alan. Speaking of travel, bones unhappy and bones made happier, brothers and sisters, friend stuff. We are easy in each others company, knowledgeable about each others past.

Alan and Cheri moved to a Denver downtown condo three years ago. Great move for them. They live within walking distance of the Denver Art Museum, the Colorado History Museum, the Denver Library, the State Capitol, the Courthouses. The Denver Center for Performing Arts sits right across the street where they attend ballet and theater.

No house maintenance. No threat of wildfire or home insurance problems. Lots of restaurants nearby. A good spot for urban living.

I prefer, still, the Arapaho National Forest, Wild Neighbors, Shadow Mountain, room to have a greenhouse. Might I change? I suppose. But not anytime soon. Too much artifice, too busy, too noisy, too little green in Denver for me.

I came home, took a short nap and greeted Ruth and Gabe who drove from Boulder to see me. Our visits always have depth, fun. Laughing and intense conversations.

Ruth told stories of her trip to Korea. How amazing it was to be a minority. To immerse herself in a culture other than her own.

She learned hangul, she said. The Korean alphabet. She could read words, but had no idea what they meant. Her Mandarin approaches fluency so Asian languages are not (ha) foreign to her.

She wants to do a summer abroad there next summer. I hope it works out for her.

Gabe has begun to read. That is, books of his choosing. He went into the loft, got Peter Pan, Night by Eli Weisel, Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse, and I,Robot. The books I give to him with one rule. If you take them, you read them.

Lunch at Golden Stix. A rejuvenated Chinese restaurant in Aspen Park.

 

Just a damned moment!  In closing I offer the first two paragraphs of this NYT article: A White Nationalist Wrote a Law School Paper Promoting Racist Views. It Won Him an Award. I give it the OMG award.

“Preston Damsky is a law student at the University of Florida. He is also a white nationalist and antisemite. Last fall, he took a seminar taught by a federal judge on “originalism,” the legal theory favored by many conservatives that seeks to interpret the Constitution based on its meaning when it was adopted.

In his capstone paper for the class, Mr. Damsky argued that the framers had intended for the phrase “We the People,” in the Constitution’s preamble, to refer exclusively to white people. From there, he argued for the removal of voting rights protections for nonwhites, and for the issuance of shoot-to-kill orders against “criminal infiltrators at the border.””

Dogs, Great Wheel, Greenhouse, Holidays, Paganism, Politics

Feel the Fire in your Bones

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon

Friday gratefuls: Luke and Leo. Laundry. Shadow and Leo. Buddies. Warm Night. AI. Chatgpt. Images. Mussar. Diane. Her book club and cherry chutney. The Greenhouse, Nathan’s careful work. Scott. His pollinator Garden. My son. Moving. Seoah. Murdoch. Ruth and Gabe coming up today.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Luke’s many talents

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

One brief shining: Piece by piece the greenhouse comes together, two Koi on the door, deep raised beds on the sides, a raised bed inside it, shelving for pots and space to work along both inside walls, the clear insulating sheets going in place to let in Great Sol and retain the warmth.

 

Summer Solstice: For those of you new to Ancientrails, this is the day I celebrate not only the victory of light on the longest day, but also the ascendancy of the night which starts tonight, continuing night by night until the Winter Solstice. We need the warmth of Great Sol for our plant allies to grow and we need the darkness and Lesser Light illumination of the night for our soul’s growth. The yang and the yin of seasonal change.

In Nordic and Scottish lands the Summer Solstice, much like Beltane, finds bonfires blazing, naked bodies dancing to the drums and pipes. Never got the chance to participate, perhaps next incarnation.

Stop a moment today. Feel the heat of Great Sol. Let the Sun enlighten you, fuel the dreams and work of your heart. An active time, a time to push forth into the world with the best, the strongest parts of your Self.

Choose, if you can, to feel fire in your bones, energy surging from feet to head like the sacred flow of energy from the crown of the Tree of Life to Malkhut, this tangible world, and back up again toward the ayn sof. Your body and soul, unique and irreplaceable, yet also one with the other, all others. The true and important secret not hidden from us except when we slip into routine, into habitual ways of knowing.

As I wrote yesterday: Celebrate, celebrate. Dance to the music.

 

Dog journal: Luke and Leo came over yesterday. Shadow greeted Leo. A nip here, a play bow there. Leo, a large and older Dog took his time to respond. He played a bit with her before lying down on the cool tile for a gentleman’s rest.

Meanwhile Shadow put her paws on the other chair down here, and licked Luke’s face. She takes others visiting with enthusiasm. Ginny and Janice come over on Sunday afternoon with Annie and Luna. More fun for Shadow.

Right now Shadow has the severed tail of a stuffed Skunk toy in her mouth flailing it from side to side while she rolls on her back. A puppy.

 

Just a moment: Well, red tie guy has proved more thoughtful than I imagined. Diane offered a reason. The isolationist wing of the MAGA movement having its say. Could be.

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Greenhouse, Politics, Seed Keepers, US History

Celebrate

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Beltane (last day) and the Greenhouse Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Paul. Tom. Diane. Luke and Leo. Marilyn and Irv. Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Panentheism. The Bird of dawn. Set people free. Make firm a person’s steps. The Shema. Rabbi Jamie. Rich. Tara and Eleanor. Ruby covered in Lodgepole Pollen. Yellow everywhere. Great Sol. A slow unmasking. The vastness of space. The cosmic void.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Koi on the greenhouse door.

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

One brief shining: Long ago in the history of evolution Lodgepole Pines developed a simple method of spreading Pollen from male Cones to female cones, blanket the air with yellow sperm, bound to hit a female cone with the aid of Mountain Winds; those of us who live in Lodgepole forests get to share in this sexual ritual each June. Right now.

 

Irony: The teflon Don (thanks, Mark) put his hand on the Bible and swore his oath on Martin Luther King Day. Now he considers whether to bomb Iran into the Stone Age on Juneteenth. The power of holidays.

No matter the resident of the Whitehouse these two holidays give all Americans a chance to reflect on our actual history, not the whitewashed, fact unburdened history the right wants taught in schools.

I didn’t know what Juneteenth was until it became a national holiday. Oh, I’d learned about it at some point, sure, but the details? No.

In case you don’t know the history well either here’s Heather Cox Richardson’s explainer published today on her Substack, Letters From an American.

I found her writing on the 13th and 14th amendments to the constitution especially helpful since the racist U.S. government has begun a full assault on many of their provisions. Birthright citizenship. Equality under the law. Federal level enforcement in all states.

Celebrate, celebrate. Dance to the music. And never forget.

 

Greenhouse: Nathan got back to work yesterday. The side insulating panels went on, as did metal Koi on the door, a special Japanese touch he added for me. Today he’ll work on the outside raised beds.

He told me he wasn’t one to dwell, that he preferred working, doing something after a shock like Takota’s death. My son has the same attitude.

I honor their intent while knowing grief will not be bound by choice or will. Grief works in its own way, on its own schedule, doing its work of reconciling absence with continued existence. Never, never easy.

 

Dog journal: Shadow now comes inside, lets me close the back door when it’s cooler outside without attempting to dive back out.

She routinely joins me in the bed sometime during the night. Her jumping up to be noticed has gotten softer, less frenetic so my skin has begun to heal.

The house and all its stairs pose no barrier for her. She roams at will inside and out. A curious doggy. A difficult journey for both of us, not over, no, yet so so much better.

Colorado, Dogs, Greenhouse, Health, Politics, US History, World History

IMHO

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Tom. Paul. Shadow, early riser. Halle, the teacher. Back pain and leg pain better. The Jangs. Coming to America. Morning service. Morning darkness. Great Sol waiting to be revealed yet again. Heat returning. Along with Wildfire risk. Ginny and Janice, Annie and Luna.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The 25 brightest Stars of the night Sky.

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

One brief shining: Stopped again at Taco Yazi’s, the new place cohabiting with the Wicked Whisk Bakery, this time for a tortas, or the beautiful mess, a sandwich with lots of vegetables and meat and a drippy sauce, a meal before my next delivery from Cookunity.

 

Dog journal: Colorado has a distinctive culture around Dogs. Many restaurants have Dog friendly dining spots, will even bring out bowls of water, maybe a treat.

If a Dog escapes their yard up here in the Mountains, folks take them in if found, post notice on Next Door, or take them to a vet to read the chip. If the Dog won’t come, we post photos.

When a Dog is in crisis, like Takota, it’s not unusual for their human companions to talk about it, show their feelings. Abraham Lincoln, Rich Levine’s long time companion, went everywhere with him, even in his last days of mobility.

It did not feel unusual at all for Nathan to take two days off from building the greenhouse. His old Dog and his Dad were both hurting. Needed him. More than I did. Fit right in with Colorado culture.

Shadow woke up today at 4:15 am. Oh, joy. I mean, I’m an early riser by nature, but… Gives me plenty of time for the Shema, the Morning Service, checking my e-mails, writing Ancientrails. And, since it’s Wednesday, putting out the trash.

I don’t mind. I now go to bed around 7:30 pm so I can get all my sleep.

 

Just a moment: IMHO. Trump will not be able to resist dropping a big, beautiful bomb or two. Only the U.S. (see, only) has the MOP, or Massive Ordnance Penetrator, and a plane, the B2, that can deliver it.

Trump’s narcissism, with which he also conflates white supremacy and the U.S. government, will not allow him to deny a moment when he, read the United States, holds the only weapon capable of exploding Iran’s Fordow bunker where its main nuclear enrichment facility resides deep underground. The only weapon. Only the U.S. Only Trump can fix it. Today or tomorrow I’d guess.

 

Back and leg pain: Turns out getting up every hour, doing something for five minutes or so, even longer, has helped the pain a lot.

My mobility remains pretty limited and I still can’t stand long enough to cook, but I have made strength gains. Yesterday was evaluation day and Halle put me through the same exam she gave when we first started working together.

I took a full second off my five squats time, for example. Slowly, slowly. Digging myself out of a hole partially of my own making.

Dogs, Friends, Greenhouse, Politics, Wild Neighbors, World History

A Sad Man

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, the sweet girl. Kate, always Kate. Morning darkness. Great Sol and Aurora. Toad Flax. Buttercups. Daisies. Iris. Lilacs. Mountain Wildflowers. A blue Colorado Sky. My Ancient Brothers. Cookunity. Aspen Perks. Marilyn and Irv. Paul today. Afib. Prostate Cancer. Kabbalah. Tarot. Astrology. Herme. Mary. Jang Deep.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love for a Dog

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

One brief shining: On the hour I get up and move around for at least five minutes, often accomplishing some task like cutting boxes for the trash or emptying the dishwasher or walking with Shadow in the back, admiring the greenhouse, and to my chagrin finding this the best medicine so far for my aching back and hips. That Halle.

 

Dog journal: Alarm bark. Constant. Shadow feet forward, warning as her nemesis, the young Mule Deer Doe stood on the other side of the fence, looking quizzically at her. Suddenly, from the garage stairs, a large fluffy black Cat flew from the bottom step in two leaps to the fence and out.

When Shadow saw the Cat, little cartoon balloons appeared over her head. Cat! Cat! Cat! Her barking intensified. OMG! Cat! Cat! Cat! Both the Cat and the Doe decided it was time to be elsewhere. Good Dog. Good Dog. We’re all safe now.

Shadow has not yet learned to protect the house from FedEx, UPS, and Mark, the mailman, but I’m sure she will. Territory is territory. After all.

Nathan came to the house yesterday with sad news. His Jack Russel terrier, Takota, whom he had given to his Dad when his mother died, had come to the end of his journey. He came to tell me in person that he had to drive down the hill and have Takota euthanized.

Nathan has a good strong heart. His sadness was deep and I knew it in my soul. He’s very apologetic about the delays already, yet knew this took priority. Yes, it did.

He told, too, the story of one his other dogs, a German Shepherd he rescued from a miserable home at the age of 7. In 1990’s Conifer he and his buddies would grab a duffle bag and go camping in the Mountains. The Shepherd always came along.

Then, she got cancer. Nathan would have his mom drive him and his buddies two miles from home leaving the Dog behind. In spite of her cancer the Shepherd would follow the scent of the car, find where they left the road, and come happily into their camp. She was special, he said. Yes, she was.

 

Just a moment: If you want a good source of geopolitical information, try the Caspian Report on Youtube. My son recommended it to me quite a while ago. I don’t watch it often, but I found this explainer on the Israel-Iran conflict useful in understanding what’s at stake.

 

 

 

 

 

shadow cat mule deer. nathan and takota.

Asia, Dogs, Politics, Seed Keepers, US History, World History

Seed Keepers

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Monday gratefuls: Shadow, outside again. Hokas. Keenes. Merrills. LLBean. Vermont Flannel. Ancient Brothers on fatherhood. My mola shirt. T-shirts. Great Sol. Illumination. Enlightenment. Philosophy. Whitehead. James. Nietzsche. Camus. Plato. Bergman. Wim Wenders. Zorba.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: 1 hour movement breaks

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

One brief shining: Front pages cry out, scream from the blood, the arrogant cruelty, the missiles and bombers, the intentional dismantlement of our Federal government, while ICE makes everything hotter, more volatile and the people say, not Amen, but enough!

 

Seed-Keepers: Life in America Today. A divided nation from sea to shining sea. “No Kings” protests against red tie guy’s cruelty, avarice, lust for power. While a military parade in honor of the Armies 250th birthday saw a lie with each salute from the Chaos Master in Chief. On Flag Day. On his birthday.

So many of us. So many. As our nation descends from world hegemon to regional power, from democracy to autocracy, from a center of scientific thought and experiment to a dogma driven professional culture. From a land of liberty to a land of ICE raids and U.S. military on U.S. streets. From twenty-first century governance to a robber baron oligarchy.

What shall we do? Seed-keeping. Yes. de minimis. Protest? Yes. Live rich, full lives instead of ones cramped by hatred, loathing, bitterness. Yes.

How? Gather a few friends, family members, neighbors. Discuss what makes America a nation we believe in. Research together those who have taken so much of it from us. Plan for the 2026 elections. Write about your work in letters to the editor, blogs, columns in community newspapers. Keep talking, meeting, taking energy from resistance. You are not alone.

Decide on a seed as the symbol of your work. I’m choosing the beet seed, a prickly ball of potential that grows into a strong, versatile plant. Its leaves and its roots both edible. Great by itself and wonderful when mixed with the produce from other seeds. What seed will you choose?

 

Dog journal: Shadow would not come in last night, even though she and I have entered a space of mutuality. The incident with the Mule Deer Doe awakened, I think, protective and herding instincts, matters intrinsic to who she is.

Our affection for each other grows. She leans against me, stays by my side. I reach down and stroke her flanks. Once I get Seedlings to care for a part of me will be whole again.

 

Just a moment: Israel and Iran. War. Missiles. Drones. Oil fields aflame. Apartment complexes twisted and broken. Israeli’s in shelters. Iranians wondering what to do.

Ukraine still holding back the Bear. A war of resistance to oppression. Not too far from Iran as the missile flies.

I’m reading a book, the Strategy of Denial, by Eldridge Colby. He’s currently under secretary of Defense for policy. In it he lays out his argument for a strong pivot to Asia. In a world of regional powers like the U.S., China, Europe he believes our core national interest lies in denying China any chance of becoming a regional hegemon in Asia.

He would pull us out of Ukraine. Not sure where stands on Israel.

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

Living, not dying

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

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

Sparks of Joy and Awe: CBE Men’s Group

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

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

 

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

This is walking upright in the world. For me.

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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