Call That A Solstice?

The Northern Hemisphere's Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year, the day when the Sun rises highest in the sky, is not usually the hottest day of the year in Oregon (that is more often sometime in late July or early August), but you sure don't expect it to be so cold that a homeless person comes to your door and asks for a blanket.

But that's what happened tonight.

Fortunately, one of the reasons Kathe opted for a fixed dwelling place was so that she would have space to store things like extra blankets and food for those who did not, and she went right upstairs and fetched one.

You do what you can, by Golly, you do what you can.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says: "Sometimes even the Solstice will let you down."\\

An Enjoyable Night Out

Kathe and I went out last night, inspired by a flyer from Basic Rights Oregon that advised us that if we dined at any of the listed establishments, the owners would make a contribution to BRO.

Hey, why not?

By the time we haukled our lazy butts out of the house our first choice, the Red Horse coffee shop, was closed, so we moved further downtown to the Old World Center, had beef barley soup, a sandwich and sodas.

We had a good time, with good food, and enjoyed the live music.

Nothing special, just a pleasant evening downtown.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Nothing wrong with that."\\

Lucy

Julian Lennon has gotten back in touch with his childhood friend Lucy Vodden, whom he once depicted in a drawing as "Lucy in the sky with diamonds". Alas, Lucy, now 46, is suffering from lupus.

Alas, indeed, but people do get sick, become crippled and die, often at a heartbreakingly early age.

Lennon has his associations with the song. I have my own Lucy.

I'm not sure why I associated my stepdaughter Rebecca with Lucy, but by now the connection is too strong to ever be broken: Becca is my Lucy. I miss her so much since she died of cancer.

Kathe misses her more, of course. And she has her own associations for Becca, her own ways of remembering her.

And in the end, of course, she is neither my Becca nor Kathe's. Her life and her death were her own business, and we should not fetishize her memory.

But the people who loved her, and love her, and always will, can still remember her, each in our own way.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "We can hardly avoid it."\\

Happy Birthday, Maurice Sendak

Thank you for everything.

But especially for Where the Wild Things Are.

Because every child (but perhaps especially a boy who has strange thoughts and passions) needs to know that it is okay to be wild once in awhile, and your mother will still love you.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "And it was still hot."\\

Bleeding

Donating blood, I must be due to donate again, mustn't I?

What, it's been nine months? For shame!

Well, get on down to St. Mary's and make a donation.

Kind of a long delay. Really should have made an appointment. Never have, though.

Ouch. Sometimes the needle slides right in, and sometimes it flippin' hurts.

Ouch. Pain subsiding some, but still hurts something awful. Ouch.

Oh, well. Still needed to do that. People need the blood.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Sometimes doing the right thing is painful."\\

Neon Gypsies at the Vibe

Kathe and I went down to the Vibe coffee shop last night to hear the Neon Gypsies play. We liked their music and we thought they looked awfully good playing, too -- and that was even before we found out that the drummer who looked like she was enjoying herself so much was Rose Cheyne, the daughter of an old friend of ours.

Go, Rosie -- try not to explode.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "People just explode, you know. It happens."\\

Life Among the Organelles

The other day, Kathe and I entered the long-shuttered Whiteside Theater and joined a small group who were learning (on the job) how to rerstore the Wurlitzer pipe organ that one day will again delight patrons of the Whiteside with its music.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Yo, play the Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor!"\\