Thankfulness

Funerals

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These events are for the living. The usefulness to the living is a final farewell. The tradition helps the living cope with the fact that they too will eventually succumb. (Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we are here and then we are not.) Nice music and often monotonic recitation of traditional prayer provides solace.

This particular funeral service was held for my sister-in-law. Three of us brothers-in-law are widowers now. Is this a trend? I hope not. I chose to sit near the back of the church to avoid sitting with the grieving immediate family and to be alone with my own thoughts. Cheryl is still fresh in my mind.

As the homilist was speaking I heard the first allusion to purgatory in a Roman Catholic sermon that I have heard without using the word for a very long time. (It could be that I did not listen to funeral sermons carefully before this one.) I was interested by the implication that the person might not be in heaven. But me being me I was not alarmed, I went off to the Wait wait What? to read current doctrine of the Roman Catholic church. Every thought, idea, law and religious doctrine exists on the WWW somewhere and it exists for any religious philosophy.

There is a YouTube video for the reading challenged at www.catholic.com that tells all. Reserve an hour or so if you are interested. I have got to admit that the current view of purgatory is much different than what I got from reading the catechism and listening to the Sisters of Mercy seventy years ago.

I have misunderstood the difference of “praying for” and “praying to” for many years. Today I read this: “… prayers for the dead: “In doing this (offering a sacrifice) he (Judas Maccabee) acted in a very excellent and noble way, inasmuch as he had the resurrection of the dead in view; for if he were not expecting the dead to rise again, it would have been useless and foolish to pray for them in death. But if he did this with a view to the splendid reward that awaits those who had gone to rest in godliness, it was a holy and pious thought. Thus he made atonement for the dead that they might be freed from this sin” (2 Macc. 12:43–45). Prayers are not needed by those in heaven, and no one can help those in hell…”

There is an in-between state (Limbo of the Fathers, Purgatory, Sanctification) and those souls we pray for. Souls in heaven do not need prayer. They are there. They are sanctified. They are prayed to. Souls in hell (damnation) are lost and cannot be helped. That is sad. The distinction was lost on me when I was six years old and I was not interested enough to ask. Catholic philosophy is laden with guilt and I did not seek out more of it by asking the nun to compare and contrast for and to.

As for me, I prefer to sit near the back of any church. It is a fine old Catholic tradition that if you get in early you can sit in the back. Cheryl liked to sit midway up and to the left side. After her death I sit near the rear and to the right. I can look at the other side of her. I see her often in church, any church, when I am there.

Family is mostly what I thought about during her funeral after I made a mental note to educate myself about the concept of purgatory. Two of my children sat with me. We did not stay for the reception in the church hall afterward. Cheryl’s death is too fresh for all of us.

Cheryl… when she died I was sad and happy… She was better at religion than I was and am now. I think women are better at religion. It is odd, I think, that men are in charge of them, all of them. I was sad that she was gone from my life and I felt that here in church at Teri’s funeral.

Cheryl came to me in an early morning dream a few months ago. It is incredibly vivid in my memory, as though I had lived though it. In the dream there was a special service in our church – Nativity. For some unclear reason we had to bring our own chairs to the service – a mass as I remember it. At the end of the service she hoped up and announced to me that she had to go. I can hear her, “I have to go!” I thought she meant to the lady’s room. She was in the midst of her Parkinson’s and with that her memory and spacial issues. She could not always find her way around. In this instance she was moving with ease towards the lavatory door which was around the corner and out of my sight as she moved through the crowd of folks leaving the service. I waited anxiously near our chairs gathering our stuff up to leave. I looked in her direction often to be sure she would make her way back. She often was unsure of where she was, so, I was worried. She was gone a long time and as I began to move towards the lady’s room a young man came up to me and asked if he could help with the chairs. He explained that Cheryl was gone.(He said, “She’s not coming back. She’ll be okay.) It is a very vivid memory/dream and I cry whenever I recall it. She is in heaven. This is what I take her last visit to me in this dream to mean.

I am happy for her because she was no longer suffering from Parkinson’s scourge that took her from this life and my life. I am happy that I can pray to her.

Carpe Diem

Fire

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https://wlwt.com/article/4-people-displaced-after-fire-engulfs-home-in-pleasant-ridge/69582581

A house fire is a terribly scary thing.

This picture of my son’s house on fire makes me glad and sad at the same time. The whole family went to a nearby church to buy a Christmas tree. Gone for perhaps 20 – 30 minutes they returned to this conflagration at their house.

Glad – they were not home.

Sad – their home was messed up and will need extensive repairs.

So now starts the extensive task of cleaning and repair.

What caused it? A small remote control outlet that allowed them to turn on a floor lamp without climbing over the couch to do that task. (Ah, It shorted out you said to yourself.) Not a “short” as electrical folks think of it. A short circuit would have popped the breaker. This did not. It cooked and got hotter until the nearby couch caught fire.

Many of us have similar devices. I have one I talk to, “Alexa! Light on!” Same thing, different remote style. I have touched all of those little chargers, bricks, power supplies, thingies plugged in anywhere in my house. Look at the picture again. Scary stuff. I will do it more often, maybe even, a nightly routine.

“I bet they did not have smoke detectors.” Social media is rife with experts and lookie-loos. One of them took this picture. “I saw them take someone out on a stretcher.” Nope.

The smoke detectors were screaming when the fire department showed up. I am glad no one was home to hear them. One of the pet cats, “Snowball”, did not make it.

Glad – they are all safe. Glad my family is safe.

Sad – one of the cats died in the fire.

Glad – they have good insurance. Things can be replaced.

Sad – for all the clean-up that will occur going forward. Enough laundry is done to get on with life and the recovery process.

Both sad and glad. Several days beyond the initial trauma, the world has stabilized a bit and the clean up begins. My son got a ticket from the zoning commission for having an unlivable domicile. We laughed at that. My grandson who stored all of his toys and cars in the living room where the fire occurred incurred a loss of all of those. When my son mentioned that to his teacher at school the first day afterward, she replied, we can fix that. My grandson came home with cars and truck carrier and some new clothes.

He has a great teacher and a wonderful school.

Carpe Diem.

Thankful

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This time of year I think of the things, people and situations in my life for whom and which I am thankful. The positives outweigh the negatives. Do this for yourself and assess were you are. (I am rarely thankful for negatives.)

People: (Be careful here. It is easy to miss someone.)

  • Anna & Eric & the kiddos
  • David & Melissa & the kiddos
  • Scott & Mavis & the kiddos
  • My sister Joyce
  • Debbie Joy
  • My cousin Bob (also Tom)
  • All the Nancys
  • Sr. Carren
  • Sr. Janet
  • The stock club guys
  • Grief Share support
  • Bea, Bev, Marg, Peggy, John and Peg and the back pew support crew

I stop after this list because the people who have saved me is too great for me to remember and the people who are so very special to me crowd my thoughts. It is remarkable that Cheryl is talking to me in my head; “you forgot… and what about…“ After three rounds of Grief Share group support I can hear her voice with almost perfect clarity. So, I tell her, “okay maybe I shouldn’t try to list everyone. You are right someone I missed will be sad I did not list them and they will think I forgot what they did for me.” She just said, “I am (right)!” I laughed out loud at her.

Things:

  • A place to live
  • Bike paths and a car big enough to put my bike into for travel.
  • No mortgage or loan payments
  • Enough cash to last until the end of me
  • Enough food and the ability to prepare it
  • Pie and coffee cake
  • Blueberry sorbet (I am listing the truly important things now.)
  • Also pecan pie. Mavis sent me her pecan bars recipe with the note that the filling makes THE BEST pecan pie. I have made it twice now and she is ABSOLUTELY CORRECT.

I am thankful that in our society I think I will get by with the means at hand. I am pretty sure I will get to the end of my life before I get to the end of my money. We (Cheryl and I) have always been fiscally frugal.) Tricky to do raising three kids but they all turned out perfect and these days their families are perfect. (I am thankful for them too.) I think the little pile of money Cheryl and I put together will last until the end of me.

Situations:

  • Good health
  • Bike paths and the ability to ride on them
  • Loving family
  • Wonderful friends
  • I have decided and have started the process of complete retirement. I hope to have enough time to pursue my own interests and hobbies without interruption of commitment not of my own decision.
  • Mental relief of making that decision and starting the process.
  • Wearing pajamas until noon

One of the reasons for retirement – maybe one of the best – is wearing pajamas until noon. On baking days and writing days I do this. No one is here except me. I do not concern myself with good looks when no one else is about. Lately there have been fewer writing days. My school schedule has picked up. All of that changes at the end of 2025 and I look forward to it.

Carpe Diem

Late Summer Early Fall

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Dear Dad,

I was thinking about you today. I realized that I have not written to you in awhile.

How are you doing in heaven? Have you and Mom found each other? I suspect it is crowded there. I wonder in my own mind how you are able to find her but I imagine that love and connection is an eternal string. You just follow it to the end and there she is.

I am writing this time because I haven’t told you about what is going on in my life. A lot has been happening since you left this plane. That will be eighteen years in a couple months. (Wow.) You taught me well, Dad. I don’t feel like I need you every day but quite often there are things that happen and other thoughts that I want to ask you about, talk to you about, get your opinion.

Cheryl is gone too. You know that, of course. Look around for her too. You know about Bill and Laura. By now you have found them in the crowd there.

I met another girl, Dad. She is nice. She has five kids. Her first daughter is hers. All the rest because of who she is and maybe, because of, what she does are adopted. She is a wonderful woman, Dad. You would like her. I would like you to meet her but as we both know that is not possible right now. Just be on the look out for her. (I do not know which of us will get there first and Debbie does not want me to talk about it.) I love her, Dad. I did not think that possible with all the time I spent with Cheryl but I do. She makes me laugh. Much like when Cheryl was here, I feel an aloneness when I am not with her. Did you feel that when you were away from Mom?

I have been feeling this for some time. It is why I am writing to you.

Yesterday was a working day for her. She called me in the afternoon and told me that she was free for dinner after work if I wanted to meet her somewhere but she was not sure of when our Grief Share group was finished. We met at a restaurant near that LaRosa’s where we used to stop on the way to the playhouse on Sunday’s when we had tickets to the play. Remember? Anyway, this restaurant had the best beef stroganoff. I think Mom used to make that. Isn’t that right? But it was not the food at all, it was Debbie being there. I think it could have been a so-so dinner and I would have ignored all that. It was very good though and that made our conversation all the better. We talked about our day and how it all went. Not a lofty conversation but we caught up with each other about our hours apart.

I forgot to tell you about grief share. Remember the kerfuffle I had with the cemetery years ago when Cheryl and I set up our place there? A woman came to our group session who had lost her son in a flood on a rain swollen creek while camping. A very traumatic experience for her and her family. I remember you telling me about your friend who had drowned in the Ohio river when you were young. But anyway, the cemetery buried him in the wrong place. Can you imagine? (Do you imagine or can you just see it, Dad.) They waited several days for them to recover her son’s body and then the cemetery tried to lose it. Her anger with the cemetery folks is visceral. She is very sad right now. It has been just a few weeks since this happened. I felt sad for her. She was angry and sad and cynical and disappointed and on top of everything grieving the loss of her son. We let her talk for some time. She needed to get it out.

There is a lot of other stuff going on but mostly I wanted to tell you about Debbie. We did go out to Portland and visited with Joyce. Joyce is doing good. We had a great time touring around. We also spent a couple days at the coast. Joyce had found a place to take her dog teddy along. That dog is really attached to her. It took off down the path to the beach and then turned around. Then it ran around the little house we were staying in. then around Joyce and back inside. Teddy took in all the smells quickly and found its owner after the enthusiastic jaunt around the property. It was fun to watch.

There is a lot more for me to write to you about but I think I will save it for later. I hope all is going well with you.

I have one more thing. This deer often visits in the morning. I call him Fred. He has a buddy that I call Frank. Now that they both have their antlers back it is hard to tell them apart. They are majestic animals and I think they grew up in the woods out back. Whenever either of them saunters by they are snacking their way to the old golf course across the street. I think that is where the girls all hang out.

I love you, Dad.

Carpe Diem.

Text Banter

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All the puzzles were easy to do for me. Is it a good sign that I was able to do both the Wordle and Connections in the NY Times and solve them both rapidly? Some mornings my brain is alert and my favorite puzzles are easily solved. They are almost trivial.

Is that because I will be with Debbie today? Both of us have Friday off. We have a couple of activities planned. My heart is happy. My brain is anxious for our bantering conversation.

A typical morning text string from a few days ago:

You up?

Me, Of course but you are not sleeping late… (smiley face)Ÿ˜

Me, Happy Wednesday

Asleep before 10 so woke up by 6. Happy Wednesday ! 82 degrees today ! 15 percent chance if rain now. Very windy tho

Oops 50 percent

Me, Yep. Gayle is wearing red and black too

Me, Lonnie lost Wisconsin

Gayle? Weather looks bad tonight. Good to hear about Wisconsin . Lonnie needs to learn how to lose. He’s like a spoiled 5yr. old.

Me, BMWs will be more expensive tomorrow

Darn I’ll get mine today then.

Me, (smiley face)Ÿ˜Š

Wanna come?

Me, In general? Or to get a beemer?

100 percent knew you’d say that. Yes and yes

Me, You are incorrigible (smiley face)Ÿ

Thank you

Me, Hmmmm….

Me, Tuff schedule today?

Right? Lol. Only 6 today thank goodness.

Me, AustedoXR comes with a free coffee mug. It’s orange though.

Is that a bmw?

Should come with a free trip

Me, How come Donnie has so many blond haired women around him.

Me, Does no one else notice stuff like this?

Me, XR is some kind of drug for some thing.

Few people notice what you do.

Men in power frequently want blondes with big breasts around them. Just sayin

Me, I think Tara only has 3 pairs of shoes

Now I like her more.

Me, Hmmm… now I have to focus on tit’s. Hard to see past the podiums.

Where there’s a will there’s a way

Me, Eureka! A side view of whatshername reveals nice boobs. How do you know these things? Are you psychic?

You’re welcome. Yes I am psychic

Me, Huh. I imagine that can be burdensome on some days.

Kids at office say that too. Haha. they think I can read their minds. Yes I would actually not want to be psychic.

How’d you sleep?

Me, Pretty swell. I only woke up twice. I’m unwoke today.

Me, Wordle

Me, (picture of the puzzle)

Me, Going to look for more coffee

Good. And you are the opposite of unwoke. What’s the orange mean?

Me, (picture of the puzzle)

Me, S out of position

Did you get it?

Me, Yep… moving on to Connections

Well let me know if you need help. Haha

It is a common back and forth us and I love it. We are a little smartypants and a little flirty. It makes me laugh out loud.

Carpe Diem

Kilo 8 Kilo Bravo Kilo

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Yesterday as I spent time paying bills electronically a conformation code from my bank began with KBK. It made me think about my older and only brother.

When I was much much younger, fourteen to be precise, I took all the testing and successfully received an amateur radio license. My brother Bill had achieved that many years prior. His call sign was K8KBK or as he often said, and I can still hear his voice, kilo number eight kilo bravo kilo. Dad was also a ham radio operator. His call sign was K8JZA. With my success I became WA8PRQ.

It is interesting to me how earlier experiences in life influence situations later in life. Early analog radio communication was often full of scratchy static and in order to clarify that communication a mnemonic was added after the original series of letters.

“Hello, CQ, Hello CQ, this is K-8-K-B-K, kilo number eight, kilo, bravo, kilo.” This is a request for contact of a non-emergency nature. CQ is Morse code shorthand for: calling all stations that are able to hear me. Ham radio folks just like to yak a lot. I used to have a key much like the picture. I could not get proficient with the dual key. We had one but I did not like it. I could do about 15 words a minute with this J38 style. Those days are other memories.

To this day, if I see WTF in a text message, in my head, I translate that to Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Other leftovers from my Morse code days include TNX for thanks. Text messages from young people are often full of cryptic hieroglyphic-like emoticons and pictures of vegetables. The old Egyptians would be proud.

My ham radio days with Dad appeared in my head last summer while wandering through my time without Cheryl and wondering what to do with my time. I thought to develop old interests and maybe make new friends. Something that I was looking at caused the Facebook lunacy checker to send me a teaser about the American Radio Relay League (ARRL) and memories from teenagerhood came flooding into my head about QSL cards, Field Days, portable communications, hidden transmitter hunts and the Oh-Ky-In clubhouse which is now part of the I-275 loop around Cincinnati.

The memories are numerous and fond. I got excited and sent them money to get the current books to study up get a license back which made me wonder if I could get my original call sign back. I have not found that out, yet. When the books turned up a week or so later, I wondered what I was thinking about when I ordered them.

Life is like that when your anchor gets disconnected from the chain as mine was. The summer moved on and so did I. The books look good on the shelf next to other technical references of greater but passing interest. Once an engineer, always an engineer.

Cheryl was not interested in any of that but she was if I was. These days I write and read and read and write and wonder if I will ever get certain students to understand certain engineering topics and translate a control diagram into a physical circuit (that works.) I have over time morphed into an instructor at a community college near me. It has become over time either more of an interest or less of an interest depending upon which day. Life is full of ups and downs.

I think I have found a new anchor, a person to be with, a listener, a friend, a place to feel comfortable and home.

We read and I write and we text and we talk. She teaches me the meaning of various glyphs (emojis). She admonishes me for the incorrect use of other glyphs. We have fun and enjoy each other’s company.

I think I have mentioned that before in other posts here.

I have fond memories of my earlier days. It has taken this past year and a few strategic moves and removals for me to mainly think about the great times in my life.

Reminders of recent sad times are still here and there. They are just not in the front row any longer.

Carpe Diem.

Is This Fly Shit or is it Pepper?

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Is this fly shit or is it pepper?

And old friend and I used to have this discussion after various business meetings. His point was always shrouded in “Is this important or is this merely seasoning?” I for one was enthralled with that question (fly feces or seasoning) and the comparison itself. Both seemed important to me but for different reasons. Both were good metaphors for events as they about to or were happen(ing).

Fly shit seems like something that you would not want in your food and one might strive to determine which specks were those, so that, they could be removed. If you are focused on the fly poop you probably will not enjoy your meal. I posit that one might not taste their meal simply due to a narrow focus on insignificant droppings. One might also choose to only eat white foods and season them after close inspection. One might only use salt to season their food.

I think that is a boring way to eat. Salty meringue seems less than satisfactory, maybe even, unfortunate. To me that seems, also, a boring way to live life.

The universe is full of specks. Many of which are there for an intended purpose. Many are there merely for seasoning but even the fecal matter matters. Sometimes flys will land on the carrots or broccoli.

Looking backward through life I see a lot of pepper and other spices. I know that there are other things that do not fit that category with exactness. I do not focus on those. I do not look back with sadness and loss. Cheryl and I had a great time. More and more I envision the good times, the great times. More and more it occurs to me that the fly shit is merely something to be disregarded as wrinkles in the fabric of the universe. It was (is) events and things and times for learning and growth to happen. It is more life to be embraced.

I thank the universe for that opportunity. (Now, maybe not then.)

Yesterday our grief share focus was on being stuck in grief and ways to break out of that stuckness. In other words fly shit. Embrace it. It is hard to do but embrace it with enthusiasm given to other more embraceable events: birthday parties, holidays, vacation trips, the list goes on. Allow new connections to develop.

I made a new connection. I tell myself I was not looking for another new relationship but apparently I was. It is definitely all pepper and spice with a little fly shit here and there. Flys do not seem to eat much. The spices overwhelm the other things.

Carpe the damn Diem (and do not forget the Herbs de Provence.)

from https://premeditatedleftovers.com/blog/

Daffodils and Forsythia

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I think of these as two of the basic food groups of the Spring flowers. The picture included here is immediately behind my little condo on the next property. Some kind soul who is probably no longer with us on our journey planted this bush and the clump of daffodils near it just so Wisdom could show me the beauty of nature.

This particular forsythia had its ruffled skirt trimmed off by my neighbor upstairs who felt that it was unfurling too invasively across the meager lawn covering last season. At that time in my life I was preoccupied with the end of Cheryl’s life and my own stupidity after a bout with too much vodka one evening. I did not speak out in behalf of this fine example of nature’s finery. This year I feel better suited to defend its propensity to thrive into its natural shape both ungainly and glorious though it may be.

We humans have a propensity to modify, adjust and change the world to our own design. Why is that? Are we unable to accept nature in its natural form? I enjoy formal gardens as much as anyone but I also enjoy woods and flowering plants in their natural habitat. With Cheryl gone almost a year I am slowly and considerately adjusting my living space to me and my habitation of it. The view of this forsythia and its companion daffodil clump are very special to me. They shout, SPRING IS HERE. I can hear them.

Soon our landscaper folks will show up to tune up the gardens around the building, spruce up the mulch and generally trim things. Rigor will be added to the plantings. The forsythia will be ignored, thankfully, because it is on another’s property. We do not own the woods next door.

Further down the property others have cleaned out the forest floor to plant and maintain various gardens and “improvements” to nature. I will not. But I will trim up my little space around my patio after the landscaper does his thing.

Rains come down, daffos dil, sun shines, birds poop and honeys suckle. The landscape is unfurling as it can and should. The vernal has had its equinox and light is returning to our part of the planet. Wisdom speaks again.

Carpe Diem.

What If?

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Once in a while, not very often, but once in a while when someone I care for says something that piques my interest, I think, what if? This time around it was Midwest Mary who in a chat about writing fiction she said, fiction is when you play what if with reality. That comment spiraled my mind into lalaland. It may never come back. I have been thinking about that on and off all day for the past several and to me “what if” falls into the category of second guessing one’s own decisions and actions in life.

But what if the reality of those decisions and actions cause a different reality to develop. Second guessing reality. Those three words seem to suggest all sorts of outcomes.

Recently the newsy folks, the Congress of the United States, some guy in New Jersey and a lot of people who do not look at the night sky leaped to the conclusion that Iranian drones were spying on people and activities in New Jersey and southern Florida and to avoid detection those drones had their running lights on. What if? Are we about to be invaded or attacked by Iran? This sounds a bit like a Stephen King story. (One of my favorite story tellers is Stephen. He makes me interested in going to Maine for something other than chowder.) A better question might be why? But asking why the Iranians might be standing off shore of New Jersey flying drones to spy on us and looking to see if President-elect Trump putts out or just picks up, takes away from a good fictional story.

Maybe I am too clinical as I think about background, situations and possibilities. The Martian is a great book and was made into a great movie. A what if. The atmosphere on Mars is so light that a violent storm is pretty much like turning on the ceiling fan in my bedroom on low. Beyond that though, all the rest of the actions are believable as reality. Great story tellers are not concerned with this reality. They are making a new reality in the story. Mary has a strong argument. (Thank you, Mary for making me think about the ordinary and extraordinary.)

I do not live on Mars.

I have no desire to be there. I exist in this world and I am unable to imagine another so no doubt I will not be a fiction writer. I should embrace that in myself. There is a new person in my life and life moves on into the future. This is my reality.

We first met in a coffee shop and talked for two hours or so. We were total strangers then, not so now, but we connected that first time. We have met several times to have a meal. We have eaten brunch, lunch and dinner. I have cooked for her which at the time I think surprised her. We have seen a couple movies. During one of those I reached over to hold her hand. It was a comfort to me then and it is now. We went to a bookstore and shopped for books. She is a buyer of books, I am a library borrower of books but I bought a book anyway. We are both readers of books. We met in local winery to have a glass of wine and just chat. I cannot think of a better word than connection. Between us there is a connection.

Cheryl and I connected the first time we met more than fifty years ago. That is a long time between connections. I had forgotten how important connection and conversation is to me, is to us as humans.

In between all of those meetings we exchanged many many text messages and phone calls. I am interested in her family and her life and her thoughts about stuff.

She makes me feel like a teenager. I am happy around her. I am uncomfortable around her like a teenaged boy. I say stupid teenager like things because I am less guarded in my conversation. I enjoy her conversation and she is a good friend. It is not all about her when we talk. (I try to not make it all about me when we talk.) I do not know where this is going but I do know that within myself I miss relaxed conversation about anything and everything. With Debbie’s presence I can have that conversation and comfort. I hope this feeling does not escape from me. I hope it does not escape from us.

Ten weeks or so later and I feel as though I have known her longer. I can tell her my stories without fear of boring her. She tells me her stories and I listen with great interest. We have a lifetime of stories to tell each other.

We only just met. So what is up with that? When see sends me a text message I have to respond even though it may not require a response. When we are chatting I am comfortable with her silence until a new thought appears. We tease each other like young people do – not vicious teasing, it is light, warmhearted and fun loving teasing.

Where is this going? Where are we going? I should take my own advice and Carpe the damn Diem. I will and I am. I am grateful that Deborah is seizing it with me. I am grateful that we found each other.

Carpe Diem.

When Disaster Happens

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As I was watching the news about the continuing wild fires in and around Los Angeles this morning one man was helping his father-in-law who he revealed later in an interview with Gayle King had Parkinson’s disease to get away from the fire coming down the hill. It broke my heart so I turned off the news program and thought about him and them.

In my part of the world about 10 inches of snow is sitting on everything and a couple inches is expected. Melting water is truly annoying also but not life threatening. I have heard from a couple of the residents in our little condo community about dripping water. Ice and snow build up in and on the architectural features and drip. Sometimes the drips are annoying. Welcome to home ownership.

For me the furnace quit working early in the morning with 5 inches of snow on the ground and another 5 still on the way. Nothing to be done there except put on warmer clothing. And thank the architects and builders who insulated the building properly. They did not skimp on that part. My favorite repair guy came when he was able. My girlfriend called in the morning to make sure I had not turned into a Popsicle. I slept later than usual. Cool bedrooms do that to me. (Maybe an AHA moment?)

Shit happens. (Forrest Gump.)

How we react to those situations explains what is important to us. One gentleman is helping his father-in-law who is unable to walk very well with his PD. Eventually as he tells Gayle he sat him down on his walker and pushed out of harm’s way. All the while another person is making videos with his or her smartphone.

Disaster is grim. Some people respond with help and kindness. Some people become amateur videographers. Which one will you be? Which one are you?

The furnace is working after an injection of $1100. The temperature outside froze the ice for now. The roofers will figure it out after more dollars are given. In March there will be good stories on the patios. In Los Angeles many will be arguing with the insurance companies. In the rest of the country insurance premiums will increase. The universe is unfolding as it should.

Keep calm. Make a video if it is necessary for insurance purposes but do not ignore the situation you are recording. Be useful.

Carpe Diem.