July 10, 2019: You see a pattern. Head-achy on Monday July 8; seagull droppings on Tuesday July 9; and then — huh, what will Wednesday bring? Stunningly, it brought happiness and freedom. I didn’t see it coming. But a joyous song written and recorded by our friend Jesse Palidofsky kept thrumming through my head: “Lift me up. Take my hand. We’re all on that same journey, crossing to Canaan Land.” And I practiced a smile, which actually did make me feel better. And then I started thinking of possibilities, and colleagues at work flung their arms around me, and I had found my purpose again. Lots of purposes, actually. The headache dissolved along with the bird poop on my shoulder. I was the possibility of energy and life and joy, again. (Writing this on Thursday morning, I still feel that way. So far, so good. Come what may, I can do this.)
p.s. Here’s Jesse’s song: https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/jessepalidofsky Scroll down to #10, “Lift Me Up” and smile.
July 11, 2019: This photo reminds me that sometimes the constraints that surround us don’t bind; rather, they help prepare us for bigger things.
July 12, 2019: Not how I expected to spend Friday night, but there I was squishing around on flood-sodden carpet, moving and labeling about 30 shelves of books in Kevin’s church-basement office. Finding a book I’ve wanted to read on one of those shelves. And grabbing a midnight snack with Kevin at the local diner, where we were certainly the oldest and grubbiest patrons there. Kinda fun.
July 13, 2029: Tonight, I watched the powerful James Baldwin documentary “I’m Not Your Negro.” Drawn directly from his writings and mixing period and contemporary footage, the film is important, dispiriting and demanding. And throughout, I was stunned by the magnificent prose of a masterful essayist. Not delightful, but beautiful.
July 14, 2019: Both beautiful and delightful was a breezy screened porch, a few refreshing glasses of wine, a lovely casual coneflower-and-hydrangea bouquet, and tales of Tuscany and the Amalfi Coast. Thank you, Kathy, for sharing your evening with me.
July 15, 2019: I watched a dad walking down the sidewalk with his family. The dad, wearing a Mark Spitz mustache and bright Hawaiian shirt, pulled a canvas wagon. Tootling along in front of him were a little girl and her younger brother in bathing suits riding their scooters. I imagined someone at home waiting to greet them with hot dogs and watermelon.
July 16, 2019: Small mouth bass, rockfish, and brookies. Reel sizes, pole tension, even widths of fishing line. “And look, up there at that tree, Mom. See how the setting sun illuminates just those top branches? And the moon there, and the jet passing by?” I’m sure glad I turned away from my front door tonight to join my son Nate on a short walk with Majka.