At Jon and Jen’s. Held Gabe for an hour. We had guy to guy chats, his little blue eyes looking up and his mouth forming that curve babies use to indicate they know where communication comes from. He’s swaddled now and in his downstairs bed.
A crack of thunder, a lightning flash and rain. Nice cool down. A fan is on so the room has a nice cross breeze. Denver is high and the altitude thinner so sunburn and heat pound on bare human flesh. Likewise, though, in the evening, once the sun goes down, a pleasant coolness settles over the city. With few bugs summer evenings have a high human pleasure index.
Jen’s mom, Barb cut her foot on a hotel door. She went to Urgent Care where they couldn’t stop the bleeding. Ironic, eh, with little hemophiliac Gabe about to have his bris tomorrow? So, Jen has left to take Barb to the University ER.
We had plans to go to a Brazilian steak house, but we’ve decided on take-out sushi instead. Jon’s taken off to get the sushi. He’ll take Jen’s order over to the ER. So, I’m here with Gabe and Ruth, both asleep. I’ve got a bit of hummus and some goat cheese as an appetizer.
The redevelopment of Stapleton Airport, just blocks from Jon and Jen’s house, is a major urban infill project. Lots of new housing and lots of new upscale shops. This, too, is ironic since Jon’s neighborhood has the reputation in Denver as the ghetto. It is a mixed income area with the poor and the middle class sharing property lines. On the whole it seems a pretty calm place, though Jon says it is Crips territory. He also says the occasional crackhead will break into houses looking for loot.
Barb’s injury on the eve of Gabe’s bris is family. The connected web makes her injury now a part of family lore. Had an odd thought while holding Gabe yesterday. I am now in the generation that will be remembered, no longer am I part of the generation that remembers. This underlines the long and ancient trail of generational succession, reaching back to those brave folks who walked out of Africa and stretching forward to where we do not know.