activities

Too Busy Too Much

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Can life be too busy? Can it be too much?

At certain times in a time of creativity it is. Yes it can.

I have not been good at blocking throughout my life. I must learn that, the ability to block certain times for certain activities and to block out other thoughts while doing those activities, is helpful to following creative thought.

“Human life revolves around four big questions: What is the meaning of life? What is the ultimate source of right and wrong? How can we reduce the amount of suffering and injustice in the world? How can we understand the world without resorting to magic, using reason and evidence instead? – Jonathan Rauch.” I read this in David Brook’s column in the New York Times. What does that have to do with “too busy”? Throughout my life (and career as a controls designer) I found that when I was up against a particularly vexing problem – dilemma, conundrum – simply walking away mentally for awhile helped with finding a solution or at least a path towards one. Some would call this prayer. I think of prayer as a literal request, so, I do not. (Maybe I should think of prayer differently – a different topic.) Although I am not good at blocking, there are too many devices nearby, I am able to about-face my mind and focus entirely on something very different. Jonathan’s list groups some of the topics hovering in the background that jump into the foreground when I let my mind wander off the vexation.

These are all deep enduring thought exercises. If I truly want to abandon rational thought for awhile I ponder the meaning of Facebook, TikTok and X.

Writing these small blog posts help me to disengage for a bit.

Simply disabling the ringer on the mobile phone is remarkably satisfying.

Life is too busy.

I want to devote more time to writing. I want to devote more time to travel. I want to devote more time to service others. I want to do more me before there is less me to do it.

Carpe Diem

Astoria column

The Left Coast Trip

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The Pacific and Oregon

I have been to visit my sister in Portland several times. It is always a relaxed visit for me. It seems a relaxed visit with Debbie this time.

Seeing and visiting with my sister in her own environment is always a treat. I learn new things about her and find out what a remarkable woman my sibling is.

The next door neighbor who is a single mom, and her daughter had traveled to Mexico to visit with the mom’s boyfriend’s family. For some unknown reason the daughter was flying home before mom and Joyce had volunteered to pick up the daughter at the airport and give her a ride to her home next door. There was a small delay and some excitement at the international part of the airport apparatus as mom had given the 14 year old daughter a bottle of tequila to transport home.

At the custom’s desk the question of – anything to declare? – was met with the young girl’s honest response of – yes I have a bottle of tequila. Not to be judgey but – Gee Whiz, Mom. What are you thinking about?

Info from the Customs and Border agents website — Generally, one liter of alcohol per person may be entered into United States duty-free by travelers who are 21 years or older. …. It is illegal for travelers under the age of 21 to import alcohol – even as a gift. They confiscated the tequila of course and when Joyce communicated this information, Mom was incensed.

Columbia River


This sort of information is not hard to find. I found the words italicized above by typing “amount of liquor one may bring into the us duty free?” into Google. I would imagine Duck Duck Go would work too. I did not need to spell U.S. correctly. An amazing service Google is. Gee whiz, Mom. Were you in an area with no bars for your carrier? Her daughter was burdened with a lot of follow-up questions. Who is picking you up? Where is your mother? Imagine in today’s climate a light brown-skinned child’s anxiety.


A child, a dog and three older folks

My sister swung into action and invited the young one on our own excursion into the Columbia river tour and peach purchasing trip. Ice cream treats were served at the end of the afternoon. What a joy to have this mature inquisitive vivacious young girl with us. I think I may have forgotten the joy and wonder that young people bring to life.

Debbie works with young children in her clinical practice so she is tuned into the younger generation and the culture. This young woman was on the cusp of starting a new high school experience. Much of the conversation was sparked by this fact and the excitement that she felt with starting into a new school in a few days. Mom works remotely at her job so as long as the internet was available she could do her job from Mexico. I could hear the dad in me wondering, shouldn’t mom be here commiserating and agonizing with her daughter about high school, teenage-hood, and all the new stuff? Gee whiz. Maybe go and buy a couple new shirts and some of those pre-ripped jeans that the kids wear?

The huckleberry shakes were pretty darn good although I thought the straw was kind of smallish for an ice cream shake. And what is a huckleberry anyway? The conversation was great. I had forgotten the enthusiasm of young people.

Later in the week we visited Rockaway Beach for two nights. We had the best food at Mama Mia’s in Nehalem. We stopped at Astoria to see the column. We bought a couple refrigerator magnets because tourists do that. We ate more food and came back to Portland.

All in all a good time was had by all.

Carpe Diem

Easter Rabbits and other Muses

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Why Bunnies for Easter?

Copilot responds with: Rabbits are associated with Easter due to their symbolism of fertility and new life, which aligns with the themes of spring and rebirth celebrated during the holiday. The tradition of the Easter Bunny delivering eggs can be traced back to German folklore, where an egg-laying hare called “Osterhase” rewarded well-behaved children with colorful eggs. Over time, this custom spread to other countries, evolving into the modern Easter Bunny we know today. (This still makes me wonder what were the ancient Germans thinking about. Did they not know where eggs came from? I had a student once long ago ask me if ham came from a pig but he grew up in the city and had no idea where food came from. In his mind it came from the store.)

Interestingly, the connection between rabbits and Easter isn’t rooted in Christianity but rather in older pagan traditions celebrating spring and renewal. (There is a surprise thought. Early Christian influencers tied their new ideas to the old ones everyone had previous.)

Google’s AI engine responds with: Rabbits are associated with Easter due to their strong symbolic representation of fertility and new life, which aligns with the springtime celebration of rebirth and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. This association stems from pagan traditions, particularly the veneration of goddesses like Ēostre (Anglo-Saxon) and Ostara (Germanic) who were associated with fertility and spring. (I think Google asked Copilot for the answer.)

From the BBC we get: Even though symbolism and animal fables from the East have entered European iconography, the origins of the Easter Bunny might lie closer to home. Most Christian symbols derive from Biblical sources, although some survived from the art cultures of ancient Greece and Rome.

The Bible offers mixed attitudes towards rabbits. In the books of Deuteronomy and Leviticus, they are referred to as impure animals. (Israelites are forbidden to eat them and other animals.) However, in Psalms and Proverbs they are described as possessing some intelligence, although ultimately condemned as weak. (There also seems a confusion about rock-badgers and rabbits and hares which could be a translation issue.)

What fascinated ancient Greek and Roman writers most about our leporine friends was their fertility. The philosopher Aristotle (384-322 BC), for example, noted how rabbits could breed at jaw-dropping speed. Another influential writer, Pliny the Elder (23-79 AD), mistakenly believed that their breakneck procreation was due to the fact that hares were hermaphrodites, and that childbirth was shared by both males and females. Could the Easter Bunny be connected to this classical idea of fertility, used to express the rejuvenation and fecundity of springtime? (The picture included is from the BBC. – Whereas in Pisanello’s Allegory of Luxuria (1426), a rabbit takes on a completely different meaning (Credit: Alamy)

… and…

These biological traits of rabbits and hares also prompted association with fertility in otherwise disconnected cultures. In Aztec mythology, there was a belief in the Centzon Tōtōchtin – a group of 400 godly rabbits who were said to hold drunken parties in celebration of abundance.

Even within Europe, different societies used rabbits as an icon of fecundity and linked them to deities of reproduction. According to the writings of the Venerable Bede (673-735 AD), an Anglo-Saxon deity named Ēostre was accompanied by a rabbit because she represented the rejuvenation and fertility of springtime. Her festival celebrations occurred in April, and it is commonly believed that through Ēostre we have acquired the name for Easter as well as her rabbit sidekick. If this is right, it means that long ago, Christian iconography appropriated and adopted symbols from older, pagan religions, blending them in with its own.

Does this close the case on the origins of the Easter Bunny? The problem with trying to give any definitive answer is the lack of evidence. Apart from Bede, there is no clear link between Ēostre and Easter, and Bede can’t be considered a direct source on Anglo-Saxon religion because he was writing from a Christian perspective. While it might seem very likely, the connection can never be proved for certain.

Rather like in Alice in Wonderland, the white rabbit can never be fully grasped. Through history, rabbits and hares have been seen as sacred and the epitome of craftiness.

——

I fell down this rabbit hole this morning after receiving a Happy Easter greeting via text message from my sister-in-law with an easter bunny doing a happy dance with Danny Kaye singing on YouTube. I sort of got stuck on Venerable Bede who lived from 672 to 735 as well as Deuteronomy and Leviticus. I could not find any reference to rabbits or hare in Proverbs or Psalms in my New American Bible. A rock-badger is a different although similar animal.

Venerable Bede (Bede, the venerable or simply St. Bede) described in detail how to compute the date of Easter among his writings and he wrote a lot. An early English writer, so early it was not England yet, he has a lot of writings and commentary on things christian. Not the least of which is an early computation of how many years after the start of the world was Jesus born. (This got him in trouble with the heresy police.) He wrote this near his death, “Before setting forth on that inevitable journey, none is wiser than the man who considers—before his soul departs hence—what good or evil he has done, and what judgment his soul will receive after its passing.” (translated to modern English)

Enough! It is springtime. It is Easter Sunday. The sun is shining. There is new grass on the field. (Sorry that is from a song.) A lot of things are coming together this week for me.

Happy thoughts only! He has risen.

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.

Forty Two

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Is the answer to life and the universe but what was the question? Deep thought…

However I got there originally I rediscovered the “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” by Doug Adams (H2G2). His trilogy of five books (yes, five) I read partially earlier in our married life. The children where small. Life was chaotic as it often is with small people around. I never finished the 5 before now.  And the story has reappeared in my reading list. It takes me off of life for a bit. Its depiction of the universe is philosophical and geeky, perhaps even, odd but why not? The story is chaotic.

My life currently seems odd to me without Cheryl. It is time to shake it up.

A big part of life is the journey. It is the part of life that is often ignored. It is important to get there fast. Wherever there is and sometimes when there only disappointment is available. At this time I resolve to enjoy and document the journey. It is early for resolutions.

I am just thinking about what I am thinking about. And putting my notes out there for all to see.

The Deep Thought in the book says that the answer is 42. It also says that the question is unclear.  Suppose I plan a bit for the future but do not be consumed by planning. Tough for a retired engineer. We’re trained planners. A good job is a job that has few to none awshits due to excellent planning.

No plans exist in H2G2. The characters are given to chance in the universe. Ford, Arthur and Zaphod are off to get something to eat.

It is time to put up the Christmas decorations.

Carpe Diem.

Not Perfect but Better

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“Not perfect but better than it was” is my new answer to the question, “How are you doing?”

A good friend told me recently (In my thoughts, I used the verb accused.), “You are good at thinking about what you are thinking about and communicating that…” I thought to myself, huh? I do not understand what that means. My second thought was, is that a good thing?

Maybe that is why I am here talking to the computer (me really) and maybe putting these thoughts on my little blog. Maybe I do think about things more deeply than others. Maybe I do not. Caring for someone every hour of everyday with a chronic disease which gets steadily worse has turned my attention to finding grace and meaning in the little things and simple things around me. I suppose that fits with Carpe Diem.

Carpe Diem is how I sign these blog posts. And these are more and more about me, which fits because Cheryl is no longer here. And down the rabbit hole of meditation and thoughts about life and where it is going and where it was before, I have fallen. Alas. I can consume much of the day thinking about it. I hope I am not mired in grief. I do not think so. I do think that I have a predisposition to helping others if I can. I suppose I learned that from my father. (Ahh! another stream of conscience.)

If you are not used to doing this thought process on your own (finding your space and place), seek out a support group, either face to face or on Facebook. It is helpful with whatever difficultly you are encountering. The anonymity of Facebook works for many. Talking person to person about a mutually experienced disease or issue works for others.

This will sound like a tangent but stay with me. I have a notepad I keep on the kitchen table that I use to take notes about various vegetables and other items that I cook for a meal. I roast many things in the oven because I find it a convenient way cook. And while the oven is cooking there is often a convenient fifteen minutes or so for a glass of wine. Alas, I have digressed. On this pad I note which combinations of ingredients seem to work for me, so that I can repeat them in the future if I desire. (Cooking for one can be a chore.)

My first note is; brussel sprouts / tomato / carrots / salt, pepper, toss with olive oil / roast all 375F ~ 20 mins. This is pretty cryptic but this is a combination of vegetables that I like roasted together. There are others. Trying to eat healthy is a personal goal. I quartered the tomato and roasted it along with the rest.

My second note is; What’s in that soup? And a list of ingredients that I put in the soup. Several days ago it was a list of ingredients for beef, vegetable, barley soup. Today’s soup is a butternut squash recipe modified from the Mind Diet cookbook. I used orange lentils (1C.) instead of tofu and not so much ginger. My scribble tells me what marsala curry powder is made from.

My point is this: I have given myself the opportunity and place to note to myself about what is working. I do not feel the need to keep notes on what does not work in cooking a meal or in life. (Laments are not my style. I just throw away any leftovers… did he mean food or life? Yes.) It must be my personal reason for journaling and exposing my emotions to the blog-o-sphere.

I am not attempting to convince anyone of this method. I just know it works for me. I keep notes about what works for me when I am cooking. I keep notes about what works for me in life – my journal and this blog.

I rarely notice my own habits and attributes and other things that I do to help myself during the day. I used to have Cheryl to do that for me and it is, no doubt, another reason that I miss her so each day. (I know you are reading this , Cheryl, so there you have it.) It seems that I have others who do that for me also and I did not know they were there.

Others have told me that my words help them. If you are one of those, you are welcome. I only know that my writing helps me.

Look for grace where you can find it. (Cheryl often told me, there is grace in accepting help from others.) There is grace in simply being present for others.

Carpe Diem

Food Therapy (revisited)

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In a long discussion with a colleague at work in our little mechanical lab classes that I help with, (I am resistant to calling myself instructor. I know not why.) Fritz described a childhood memory that he called “dried apple stack cake”. This, of course, sent me off to do an internet search for recipes while he was talking. Baking for me is fun and experimental. I found a couple recipes for apple stack cake and when he discovered that I might make one he sent a text to his cousin and she responded with a recipe from down home. (notice the Adjunct Wizard in the microwave oven. Scary.)

Dried Apple Stack Cake

1/2 cup shortening
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, well beaten
1/3 cup molasses
1/2 cup buttermilk
3 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon vanilla
Cooked dried apples (see below)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. (convection)
Cream shortening and sugar; add beaten egg, molasses, buttermilk, and mix well. Sift flour, soda, salt, and ginger into a big mixing bowl. Make hole in center of dry ingredients and pour in creamed mix, stirring until well blended. Add vanilla, stir well, and roll out dough as you would for a pie crust. Cut to fit 9-inch (Here I used 5 – 9 inch pans – somehow I lost track of 7 layers.) pan or cast-iron skillet (this amount of dough will make 7 layers). (Note when I do again – Try rolling out on parchment paper and baking on cookie sheets.)
Bake layers for 10 to 12 minutes, or until lightly browned. When cool, stack layers with spiced, sweetened old-fashioned dried apples. (See recipe below.)
Spread between layers and smooth around sides and top. Sprinkle with powdered sugar, if desired, or beat egg whites into a meringue and spread on outside of cake. You may brown the meringue if desired.
Prepare cake at least a day before serving it and put in refrigerator (it will keep several days, if necessary, in a cool place.) To serve slice into very thin layers.

Cooked Dried Apples* [I found that dried apples are NOT readily available in the grocery store. At least, not in the stores I shop in regularly.]

Put 1 pound apples (dried) in heavy pan and cover with cold water. You may need to add water several times to keep apples from sticking to pan. Cook until soft enough to mash. While still hot, mash apples and add 1 cup brown sugar, 1 cup white sugar, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, ¼ teaspoon cloves, and 1 teaspoon allspice.

*If dried apples are not available, cook several pounds (6-7 lbs. – apples are about 85% water) cooking apples with a little water. Add spices and sugars as listed above, and cook until mixture is very thick.
OR [my fix to no dried apples]
3 lbs. (48 oz.) of no sugar or other spices added applesauce. Bring to a boil then cook on low simmer for 45-50 minutes. Stir in sugars and spices at the beginning. Liquid will reduce by 25% or so. Cool to room temp and chill in refrigerator for several hours (over night). One last thing, this filling is great and there will be leftovers. It is GREAT on toast, for example. (I’m thinking about pork chops for dinner.)

• Mod 1: I used applesauce as above.
• Mod 2: OOPS I made only 5 layers.

This is the picture from Fritz’s cousin. As you can readily see, I assembled my too few layers upside down. Will it taste different if assembled right side up? This is a heavy question. I sense another experiment developing. In the meantime I need to thaw a couple pork chops. (And Fritz pronounced it good.)

Carpe Diem!

To Sit or Not to Sit

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To sit or not to sit that is the inaction.

That is the thought that jumped into my head as I pondered life’s choices and what we make of them when we make them.

The young man yesterday morning who in his zeal to get through the intersection on the Yellow traffic signal even though it was obvious that he had no chance of clearing the intersection before the Red because the service truck before him was also in the intersection blocking it chose to ignore his surroundings and become an asshat. (Was that judgmental of me? I chose to be judgmental just then.) I praised him for his eagerness to get his workplace twenty milliseconds faster as the rest of us became 20 minutes late while I waited to turn left through his driver-side door.

The Rule of Lines: The other line always moves faster.

  • 1st corollary: Switching lines (a choice) removes the delay in the queue you entered originally
  • 2nd corollary: Switching back (a second choice) much like Schrodinger’s cat screws it up for everyone.

Choices have consequences. Own them and learn from them.

All the time I am writing this and thinking about these I have stalled my original task I set for myself of going to the grocery store. Sometimes choices that need to be made are distasteful. Today for me that is pushing a grocery cart.

Cheryl taught me to make a list before entering the store. Mom just went to see what interested her. Her attraction to Sam’s Club was the idea that one could snack their way around the store. This idea was adopted by the Thriftway store that I would take her to when she had coerced me into doing it. I have found that Cheryl’s list method works well along side of Mom’s spontaneous want method for me.

It appears that I am fretting before doing. This attitude will keep one at home idling while the rest of the world moves on.

Carpe Diem.

Autumn Haiku and Inner Thought

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friday comes with cool
sun peeks higher in the sky
autumn is awake

she speaks in my head
often with her quiet voice
our love continues

this day Cheryl is
this day memories of us
happy memories

Haiku form – 5 : 7 : 5 – is a favorite poetic form to me. Real poets, I do not consider myself a real poet, are able to paint a picture, elicit an emotion or start a meditation with seventeen syllables. Distilling feelings and ideas to their basic form. I have noticed in myself that many times words do not work. The search for a word with the perfect nuance of what I feel alludes me often. Perfection at reading what is not there is not my strongest ability.

And yet, funneling feelings into seventeen sounds is sometimes satisfying.

Meditation (I use that word instead of prayer) comes in many forms to me. Today it is distillation of thought into seventeen bits of non-prattle.

abracadabra
in mind appears some pictures
our happier times

grieve companion lost
happy memories abound
love is present, found

Thinking about Cheryl today as I write about our life with its past joys and wonderful trips and the sadness and struggles near the end has pushed me into haiku today. Waiting to see what the rest of the day brings and the realization that existence takes care of itself without my help is comforting.

Is that prayer?

Carpe Diem.

Strange New World

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It is a strange new experience for me this new existence without Cheryl. In order to fill a large part of the time void I have been riding my new bike around for exercise, but mostly, I am exploring bike paths that I have not ridden on before. Occasionally I ride on streets nearby but car drivers generally scare me. I am an old man and I have first hand experience with falling down. I imagine being knocked down by a car would be significantly worse.

I am sitting here in my living area next to Cheryl’s empty chair. between that chair and mine is an end table. It is one of a pair I built many years ago as an off the wall furniture building project I created for myself. There is no special significance to any of that except that one evening last summer Cheryl began to scratch off the coating of varnish that I had finished them with. Over a period of several days she picked at a nick on the edge of the table until she had exposed a flaw in the finish. She worked on that flaw until she had scratched an oval area about the size of a soup spoon. I may have been upset at the time but I distinctly remember thinking to myself, I can refinish the table later sometime.

I think I shall never do any refinishing on the table. It is such a strong image that I get when I look at this little marred spot. She was so very determined. Her only tool was her thumbnail.

As I ride my bike around I think of things like this. How memories can be remembered by an insignificant prompt like a scratch on a piece of furniture. Scratches give furniture life.

Yesterday I teased my neighbor to ride with me. He had expressed an interest before. Occasionally he tells me about seeing a used bike for sale somewhere. I bought a new bicycle and as a result have a spare. He told me he has not ridden a bike since grad school.

It was a good day to ride. It was relatively cool. It was mostly overcast. He could not find his helmet in the garage clutter. I told him we were going to a park and it was mostly flat. As long as he did not fall off, he would not need a helmet. It was my own little joke. Besides I continued, aim for the weeds if you are going to fall over.

We started by riding around the park loop which is a bit shy of two miles. I took him over to a connector that joined this loop to the nearby airport loop. I stopped at the bottom of a long gentle grade and asked if he wanted to continue. He said yes and off I went. At the top of the grade I stopped near a bench to drink some water and watch the airplanes for a bit. A little out of breath, he remarked that the grade was longer than he expected. I laughed and told him the reward for going up was coming back down. We continued on for a couple more miles of flatness and at another bench stopped and watched the planes some more.

We turned around and headed back to the car. When we got there he remarked that he had forgotten that he had hand brakes. His old bike had a coaster brake. It reminded me of another story.

Many years ago Cheryl and took a Road Scholar tour to Mackinac Island in northern Michigan. One afternoon that we had to ourselves we rented bicycles to ride around the island. I tried to get her on a tandem bike with me but she was not having it. We rented a couple of bikes that looked like old Schwinn bikes. Both had coaster brakes. I had not ridden a coaster brake bike since I was about ten years old. I was fine until we stopped at an ice cream place on the island to get a snack. I had a mild panic stop by dragging my feet. Cheryl however made a smooth controlled stop because the only kind of bike she had was one with a coaster brake.

Old furniture and conversation and bike riding remind me of life stories with Cheryl. I hope that it will always be that way.

It was a good day. We only rode for eight miles which is coincidentally the approximate distance around Mackinac Island. When I asked him today how his legs felt he replied fine, but I can still feel the bicycle seat. He used to come with Cheryl and me to pizza Tuesday. He is a good friend.

Yesterday, I left him hunting for his helmet in the organized clutter of his garage as I left to visit with my son. Perhaps when the bicycle seat impression fluffs back out and if he finds his helmet he will come again.

Carpe Diem.