Holy Doughnut

So could it be said of an entirely sanctified sacramental doughnut that it is wholly holy, and holey? 

Just Passing Through

We’re all just passing through one another’s lives. 

Whether it be the parents who raised us, the brother or sister we sparred with growing up, a close friend, a spouse in a life-long marriage, a beloved pet, or a passing stranger on a mountain trail – the only thing we are guaranteed is the now.  It is where we live.  We may seize the moment to reach out, or let it pass.  But when that moment is gone, it's gone.    

When one we have loved is taken from us—their candle dimmed by death, infirmity, physical distance, or even alienation—we should remember that if it seems dark, it is because we so loved their light when it was nearby and full. 

Unnecessary Euphemisms

I come from a family of non-cussers.  Mostly non-drinkers as well, so I suppose it’s been my responsibility to make up for their deficiencies in both of these areas. 

I find it compelling—in a literary sense at least (I’m not a mean person in real life)to push a non-cusser to profanity.  They mess it up, either as a result of inexperience, or by hedging their bets, and it comes out in the form of awkward semi-euphemisms.  Here are a couple I’ve come up with so far:

‘Hush the fuck up!’

‘I hope you burn in H – E – Double-Hockeysticks!’

The Divorce

This is from 'the book' I'll write one day.  It's mostly centered around a bunch of old buddies camping, and swapping updates on their lives, and other lies.  This is one of them relating his final conversation with his most recent ex-wife (probably #4, but I haven't decided yet). 

The Breakup

“She was always givin’ me shit about leaving the toilet seat up.  One day, I offered her what felt like a decent counter-proposal.  I’d leave the toilet seat down for her, if she’d leave it up for me.  She turned red, glared at me, and said, ‘How about if I leave it down, you leave it down, and I don’t walk over there and scratch your stupid eyes out?’

“Well, on balance that seemed like a pretty workable deal, so I told her, ‘Okay great, we’ll just treat it like it’s nailed down.  You leave it down, and I leave it down, 24/7.  But I pee standing up, and there’s nothing about a smaller target that’s gonna improve my aim.’

“She walked over to the vase her parents gave us, wound up and chucked it at me.  I suppose I could’ve caught it, but I just ducked to one side, and it smashed into the wall, right where our wedding picture was hangin’.  Then she turned around and walked out the door; slammed it so hard another couple pictures fell of the wall.  I ain’t seen her since. 

Thank You

I have a good friend who ends nearly every conversation or visit with ‘Thank you’.  There are times that this catches me off-guard, and may seem even a bit out of place.  I don’t know if he’s even aware that he does that, but it’s clear that he means it.

I really like that. I’ve never pointed it out to him, because he does this unconsciously, and I don’t want to spoil that. 

We should all be grateful for our interactions with other human beings. And whether we explicitly tell them so, it is nice if that attitude is reflected in our behavior.

In the end, all those we love will one day be lost to us, or we to them. This may happen gradually through distance, alienation, or old age; or it may be sudden and without warning. The only sure chance we have to share our sentiments with them is right now. My friend seems to understand this implicitly.

[I posted this originally at mid-day Monday.  I learned later in the day that my friend's father had passed away early that morning.  His passing was not unexpected—he was scheduled to move from a skilled nursing facility to home hospice care later this week—but it was more sudden than expected.  His doctors estimated that he might live another six months or so.  Porter Newman was a fine man, whom I was privileged to know over the past few years.  I miss him already, and will never forget him.
My friend called in the late afternoon to tell me that his father had died.  We had a nice talk about Porter, and what we would do to celebrate him.  Characteristically, Paul ended the call by thanking me.] 

Profound

Latine scribentes quod non facit profundam.
       (Writing it in Latin doesn't make it profound.)

THE BEACH HOUSE

They walked slowly along the water’s edge at low tide.   She picked up a piece of driftwood, and wrote, ‘I love you’ in the wet sand.  

He took the stick, and added words so it read: 
‘I WILL love you FOREVER'.  
“Forever!” she said, rolling her eyes, softly laughing. 
“What was your name again?” he asked.

They had gone to Road’s End each year since they began dating. They always waited until fall. The weather at the Oregon coast is best in the shoulder months—April and May, then again in September and October—and with summer vacations over, the town and beach were quieter. 

At low tide, the beach seemed endless—the ocean stretching forever in the distance—and anything seemed possible. They held hands as they walked, watching the gulls bickering over edible treasures stranded by the receding water.  

As the breeze began to pick up, they returned to the beach house. He built a fire as she opened a bottle of wine, carefully cut up an apple, sliced cheeses, and set it all on a board. She placed the board, the wine and two glasses on the window ledge, next to the long pillow-covered window seat. As the fire came to life, she opened the window just a bit, letting in the salt air and the sounds of the sea. He poured the wine, first in her glass, then his own, and set the bottle aside. He raised his glass, clicked it to hers and said, “Here’s to another year at Road’s End.” She looked down, then back at him, and said, “Here’s to forever.” She sipped from her glass, and as she set it down, the fire reflected in her eyes. She took his glass, set it next to hers, and reached her arms around him. As they held their quiet embrace, he felt the warmth of her tears on his shoulder. 

There would be no forever for them. They would have today and tomorrow; perhaps a few more tomorrows, but not forever. When they were first lovers, they spoke of growing old together, but even as their love grew, they knew that their time together would be a sweet chapter, but not the whole story — and now they knew this chapter was mostly read. They were too different—or perhaps too much the same—but it wouldn’t last.  They did love each other, but were never both fully committed at the same time.  It always seemed that whatever one was holding back was just what the other needed at that moment.  They spoke less and less of the future – at least not seriously.

Neither remembered who was first to make light of this disconnect; but somehow, ‘forever’ became their inside joke. They’d drop it in conversation when they were with friends, ‘This red light is taking forever’, or ‘I wish that movie could have gone on forever’. Only they knew what they meant, what they could never have, and how much it hurt. They chose Send in the Clowns—the very anthem of bad timing—as their song. ‘Isn’t it rich?  Are we a pair?  Me here at last on the ground, you in mid-air.’

He kissed the tears on her face, then her lips. “I really do love you”, he said as they entwined on the pillows, “And I will love you forever.” Beside the open window that evening at Road’s End, they made love – to the sound of the wind, the waves, and the inexorable incoming tide.  

Bugs

Like anybody, I occasionally get a bug up my butt about one thing or another.  But it seems like some folks are just running an entomology lab up there - and keep a bug for just about every occasion.

Purgatory

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Cindy's Uncle Bob

We went to Redding over the weekend for the Celebration of Life for Cindy’s Uncle Bob, who passed away in November.  Here are a few of the highlights from an amazing life. 

• During the height of the Great Depression, Bob moved from the family farm in Sugar Bush, Wisconsin to a logging camp in the Wisconsin North Country. He was 15 years old. His pay wasn't much more than room and board, but this was the depression, and room and board was pretty decent pay.
• In early 1940, when WWII started in Europe, but before Pearl Harbor and our active involvement, Bob responded to a military recruiter, and joined the Navy.  He got a raise to room and board and $20 a month.   He was aboard the USS Augusta, when it carried FDR to his meeting with Churchill in August, 1941, where the Atlantic Charter was created - outlining allied war aims, and defineing a vision of the post-war world.
• When the US declared war, Bob transferred to the Pacific, aboard a ship that was active in support of the US invasion of Guadalcanal. The ship was severely damaged (with the loss of over 400 sailors), and had to limp back to the US for repairs.
• Bob then transferred to the USS Bunker Hill—an aircraft carrier—which saw action in many of the major Pacific Theater campaigns in the second half of the war. In the spring of 1945, in action supporting the invasion of Okinawa, she took two direct hits from kamikazes, and also lost nearly 400 crew-members. My father was in this same battle, aboard the USS Enterprise—another aircraft carrier—saw this happen, and logged it in his diary. He was amazed that the Bunker Hill stayed afloat. Two days later, a kamikaze hit the Enterprise too - killing 12, and putting her out of action. Both ships were in Bremerton, Washington being repaired when the war ended.
• After the war, Bob got married, move to Hollywood, and opened a liquor and grocery store. Through a combination of timing, drive, intelligence, and a warm, charismatic personality, Bob became very successful, and became friends with many 'A-list' Hollywood celebs – many of whom ran up quite a tab during their lean years, before they became rich and famous.
• One of the businesses Bob got into was exporting lumber to Japan, and helping them rebuild after the war. Some of his kids have  worked in that business, and a couple of them are fluent in Japanese.  The war was over, and Bob looked forward, not back.
• I went to Bob's 80th birthday party about 7 or 8 years ago. Among the people who showed up with a couple of business associated who came from Japan to help him celibrate.
• The year before his 80th birthday, Bob climbed Mt. Whitney—the highest peak in the lower 48 states—with one of his sons, and a granddaughter, and went on to climb Mt. Shasta that year. (He also climbed Mt. Fuji with Japanese business associates within the couple years prior to that).
• Oh ... he had survived colon cancer in his early 70's, before all this climbing. He ate tons of carrot juice that he made himself, and swore that that was what got him back into things. I personally think it was his Sugar Bush upbringing.

There’s much more to his story, but these are a few of the highlights that were shared at his celebration.

I feel lucky to have known this fine man.

W.E.M.L.

Maddie is teaching me sign language – at least one four-character phrase. You extent the three fingers between the thumb and pinky, and spread them. First you point them upward, then to the left, then downward, then make an ‘L’ with your thumb and forefinger and put it on your forehead. She demonstrates this for me a lot. 

She usually demonstrates it for me after I tell her to do something (piano, homework, get up, etc.), but doesn't tell me what it means. Hmmm. W-E-M-L.

Procrastination

I start each day with the best of intentions ... 'Today, I'm going to get some procrastination in'. 
But I get distracted; work, ferrying my kid, etc. etc.  I get to the end of the day, and realize I haven't gotten around to it.