Fog City

 I guess you could say winter has arrived. The temperature has been in the forties. The weather casters are no longer singing the fearful drought refrain. Real rain storms have continued saturating our thirsty land and dumping tons of snow in the mountains. All good for our future water needs. The grey wet days with glistening streets and reflecting rain drops add to the spirit of the holiday season. Christmas is just a few short days away. The weather keeps us indoors with the thermostat turned up, and the darker, shorter days allows for turning on all the colorful Christmas lights. Ambiance is the key to holiday cheer. Instrumental Christmas carols provide background music, while the muted television shows irrelevant football bowl games and myriad college basketball games. Tamales are steaming on the stove. Reminisces are the main subject of conversation and thumbing through old photo albums. Where are the children now? Happily with their own children!

 Unfortunately we all can't gather to share our lifetime of experiences. Distance is one culprit. The Covid virus in all its mutations continues to surge and the latest version is more transmissible. It's been nearly two years and the social restrictions, which had eased are now back in place. Isolation is once again in play. So although we have all the external manifestations of a wonderful Christmas, the deadly virus hangs over our collective cheer like Scrooge himself! But the spirit is indomitable and we are secure in our comforting devices, like rum balls, eggnog, chocolate truffles, mint candy, assorted nuts of which we are included, old classic movies we've memorized over the years, and good books when there is a lull. And we can give our time and money, what little we have, where we think it helps. Close to home in most cases, and remembering to extend an open hand of tolerance, to paraphrase a concluding line in one of my favorite movies, The Bishop's Wife!

I don't have many Christmas's left. I won't be dwelling on the usual negativities I have no control over. I'd usually list them here, but I'm sure you know what they are. Anyway in my old age I'm attempting to create a better balance and rid the useless negativity from my battling psychos. On that note I want to wish a Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. 

          Here's a few family photos of this year dedicated to our loved ones long gone!

            

Fog City

 Today I finished a pseudo biography of Lawrence Ferlinghetti. It's incredible. He recounted his youth somewhat, but mostly it was a stream of conscious illumination. We shared his journey through Greek mythology, iconic philosophers, beat poets, American politics, the digital age, business as usual, and social injustice. It's an amazing rant, a brilliant rant on materialism, capitalism, spirituality, religion, climate change and our ultimate demise. I was enthralled because he elucidates with humor and clarity all the ills of a society at perpetual crossroads. I envy his ability to rattle off these complexities, their essence, and expose them for debate. He speaks to me and says what I would if I could. I concluded reading it this morning and the last line was, "AND that is why the cries of birds now are not cries of ecstasy but cries of despair.'

As I closed my eyes to ponder and absorb what I just read, my wife interrupted my reverie informing me a young murderer, symbolic of our extremist home grown terrorists, had been acquitted. This form of right wing vigilantism steeped in racism no longer fears repercussions. The law, a term I use lightly because it doesn't work for all, has become absurd. White rage, white backlash, white power has been reinforced, and validated by a radicalized judicial system. It's only getting worse. Our government is torn in two and doesn't work, our society is torn in two and there's no overlap, violence in all it's many forms seems to be the only recourse. We are killing ourselves and we are killing our planet, not at all a rosy picture. Worst of all my golf game has deteriorated to have become boring and no fun!

See ya in the funny papers😎

Fog City

                                                        A Shock

This blog is a personal rant. I only bother to write it because I know It probably won't be read. You see yesterday my son sent a golf video of me six years ago titled Veterans Day. I made an assumption mistakenly. A bit of a back story is in order. First I have three sons which makes for the ideal dream golfing foursome. I'm a veteran (Army) and my oldest son is a veteran (Army). He by the way has two Purple Hearts, seeing action in both Iraq and Afghanistan. A few years ago good fortune conspired and we all came together on Veterans Day for a family round of golf. It was a success and we decided a tradition was born. Last year of course the Pandemic put the kibosh on our convergence. Now though public gatherings aren't as restrictive. So when I received my son's message with the video earmarked Vets Day, I thought he was reaching out and planning our traditional golf outing. I messaged back about what's what. Now comes the shock. He said his brother, my son, was coming from Portland specifically for golf, and he had notified my other son, which makes three. Here it comes. Then he says he penciled in his cousin, my nephew as the fourth, and I'd be sitting this one out. I was stunned, shunned, snubbed and dissed. 

What hurt and cut to the bone was my failure to realize they didn't share my sensibility about this family event. You see it should be a poignant and singular chance to acknowledge our four generations of Vets, and all Vets. Plus the lads have their own families and live in different locales, meaning once a year the four of us could be together, for a half day, without the responsibility and distractions of women and children. Alone, sharing laughter, reminiscing, reinforcing our bonds. When the boys were little I fantasized about a family foursome when they were all adults. Back then I got them clubs, showed them the fundamentals, watched them get better and grow to love the game. My dream foursome had come true.

I got old. I suppose now I don't measure up. It's a hard reality to accept. I'm no longer an integral ingredient in a foursome I thought would last. I don't begrudge the boys, I've never let expectations rule. 

Shattered Toe

Fog City

I  haven't written a word in a good long time. Why? Ideas, opinions, declarations, all seem irrelevant. The problem it seems is containment. The overlap of personal dilemmas and national political dilemmas is a matter to be resolved. How? Deciphering and analyzing the problems and studying a possible solution. Ironically  this mission is similar. Measuring for what enhances one's existence and that which doesn't. What then from each quandary can I contain and nurture? The big picture of a national government stymied by intransigence without any sense of compromise is utterly frustrating. I've decided to disassociate myself from the daily news cycle because it overwhelmingly detracts from any personal enhancement. The political divide and utter polarization sucks the positivity out of the air. It's difficult enough inhaling and exhaling the constant air of greed, corruption and deceit, so I tune out. 

Now closer to home tuning out would have the opposite affect. It's about balance. The negative affect from the macro-view of an incompetent government is balanced positively by multiple micro-spheres. Foremost is family. After a long lifetime of suffering the observance of injustice and inequality, children old and new are the ultimate saving grace. When I'm slumping near depression I can bask in the happy, humorous, innocent laughter of children and grandchildren. There's nothing quite as powerful as the unconditional love of a toddler grinning at the very sight of you. The want to be needed and the need to be wanted. Existence enhancers. Extending beyond the family are small social circles built around positive and uplifting activities. Friends who reinforce what is good and are civil, shining examples of what could be. Understanding and containing what only enhances our lives and understanding and ridding what detracts from a graceful view. The balancing act is necessary for peace of mind. Mindfulness!

            

 

 

 

Fog City

Today is another unremarkable day. I did feel the need to post something, anything on my blog. I guess I should start with what's happening with the Covid 19 pandemic. Now that the radical trump administration has been more or less deleted, the government under Biden's guidance can get busy. Nearly two thirds of the adult population has been vaccinated and the production and distribution is moving forward. Reported cases continue to drop as well as deaths and hospitals can breathe a bit easier. Certain restrictions have been lifted and businesses are starting to open. People can gather in ever larger groups, like sporting events, and masks are less mandatory. All in all people are still cautious but less fearful, as a sense of normalcy creeps slowly back. The country is still unalterably divided though and the fabric of America is torn. The future is one big bold question mark. I choose the here and now.

Maybe I'll just complain about every little thing like most old codgers. Those complaints center around the inevitable deterioration of the body, which keeps me definitely in the now. Different levels of pain are evenly spread throughout most joints and muscles. Any movement takes focus because you never know how the body will react or not act. I was trying to carry heavy grocery bags up the stairs. First I lifted one to make sure my back could do the job. Then I put one in each hand and lifted insuring my biceps and elbow joints were up to the task. All this before taking a step. The climb up the stairs is the real test. Now that the upper body seems able, the first step up will indicate how competent the lower half is. The aching hip, knee and atrophying thigh muscle all cry out, stop! Fortunately they push the weight upward, but one bag is heavier and the process begins to tilt, and I stop to regain balance and catch my breath. Focus. Up I go finally getting to the kitchen and start unpacking. I used to take all these body movements for granted. Now each action is calculated. This focused calculation keeps me cemented in the now. Sometimes I stay still avoiding action and pain, which also keeps me in the now. Oh well, cliché..."nobody said it would be easy," 

Thinking on...my son springs to mind. He's experiencing aging and has been struggling and learning about the now. And I'm happy to report his dedication and focus are exemplary. Happiness is elusive and illusionary when searching afar. But when you realize playing with and teaching your son in the very now, you begin to understand happiness. Which I think he has. When I see the laughter and interaction displayed when they are together my heart soars. His now is my now! Love...

Rowan, Reina, and Ramsey! 

 

Fog City

 The relationship between age, or old age, and current events, the strange and difficult times we are living through, at least I am, is perplexing to say the least. A half a million Americans have died of the Covid virus. Seniors are the most vulnerable but now they are first to receive vaccines. I've received the first of two vaccine shots and feel somewhat relieved. But we are by no means any where near normalcy. Schools are closed and teachers are fearful, and shouldn't they be first to be vaccinated. Businesses are struggling mightily to stay alive. Jobs are scarce and the economy is suffering. Legislators remain stymied by intransigence to provide financial help for all. It's been a long and tumultuous year with many levels of anxiety. The new year and new administration have provided a much needed hope however illusory. 

I zoomed with my granddaughter last evening, a treat, I'm watching golf on TV thinking I should exercise, as life marches on. My point is the fragile conditions for most don't really affect me. Being old I'm concerned about climate change, but only in regards to my grandchildren because I'll be long gone from this world. Since I'm retired with a secure pension and social security, the financial woes affecting the average American aren't a worry. In a self centered way I smirk at the obvious travails burdening most. Only for a moment. I do really feel a deep sorrow, a sadness for my fellow humans affected through no fault of their own. Our democratic system, which we have taken for granted, has been threatened and come under question. All the problems and struggles we face seem less for me simply because of my age. As I near the end of this remarkable journey I linger on all I've been gifted. Needless worry is just that, and I don't have time for it. 

The larger problems of the world dwindle after my coffee takes affect. I cross my legs and stare out into the misty morning. My worry shifts. Will that lady quiet her yapping dog, which is driving me bonkers. Are the neighbor kids playing in the fairy garden going to be nice or destroy? Is my neighbor in the upstairs flat going to use the washer and dryer all day or what? Do I have to remind Christine, who's at the grocery store, not to forget the peanut butter? Am I going to have to go outside and help the nervous driver trying to parallel park? These are my kind of problems, which I personally can deal with if I choose. Ice bergs melting, global virus threats, republican insurrection, however worrisome are out of my league. 

I really have nothing to add, the twenty four hour story tellers and pseudo pundits continuously inundate us with speculation and bias ad nauseam. So I'll bid you adieu until another blog update.

Fog City

 A full moon shone brightly ushering in the new year. I wish the change I and we need occurred spontaneously with the calendar page flip. But it won't happen. Democracy is still teetering as Trump refuses to concede his election loss. He is a tiresome individual and his lies are so tedious yet half of all Americans believe and support him. Go figure. I guess they'll have to drag him screaming from the Oval Office!

Since Thanksgiving, when millions defied stay home recommendations, the covid virus has surged and spread. Hospitals are at capacity. The numbers are staggering but vaccines have been produced and distributed. Time will tell how successful the vaccines are even with new strains of the virus emerging. Politics and the virus are waiting games coated in speculation and doubt. It certainly has been a tumultuous and fretful year, but there is a glimmer of hope for the future.

Although major gatherings were replaced by FaceTime and individual family visits, the Christmas holiday worked just fine. The necessary precautions were taken, masks were worn as needed and outdoor visits minimized questionable contact. Gifts were exchanged, food shared and enjoyed keeping the holiday spirit as close to traditional as possible. Christine had our humble abode decked out in shimmering Christmas splendor. Colored lights warmed each room and heirloom ornaments decorated our view with memories of past joy. 

So you see as the world fluctuates ever precariously between levels of chaos, we manage to maintain our pride of spirit sharing traditions of goodwill and tolerance. So I'll conclude this brief blog post with a couple of recent notes, one a haiku the other a wish!

Change happens simply

By stepping across time lines

Puzzling but hopeful

May your walls know joy,

may every room hold laughter,

and every window open to great possibility.

Happy New Year!