second is this
Saturday, November 10, a calendar month after Hurricane Michael, Wednesday, October 10, and the devastation is visually unchanged except that some of the blocks-long eight and ten foot high stacks of tree trunks and storm debris are being cleared. Many ruined homes, at least from Hathaway Bridge to the Glen Bridge, I've still not yet driven east beyond the Glen Bridge, still have huge trees lying across them crushing roof and walls. The wave of depression and anger returns instantly upon driving down streets narrowed by piles of storm ruin so high that one cannot see the houses beyond them. How long, Lord? Also murderous California wildfires. And the second is like unto it, thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. How long? Maybe until every human is as devasted by the misery of others, including those far away, as by his/her own. This is a first for me, and I'm learning. Not all that fast, but learning.
Breakfast this morning, slice of toast, buttered. Toast is a platform for two foods I love, butter, and mayonnaise. Well three, peanut butter. Lunch yesterday, Friday, and again for a light supper last night, tomato sandwich on toast, with mayonnaise. Saturday breakfast, toast with butter, cup of black coffee. Why is this a blog subject? Because wiping my glasses with a tissue that had butter on it just now, and now trying to read through them, brought back to mind a lawyer friend and parishioner from thirty years ago: all those years, I never once saw Joyce clean her eyeglasses with a tissue or cloth or soap & water, she always cleaned them with her thumb. Thinking further, it was from riding with her and two other people from home to Beckwith and back, Joyce driving her Volvo, that sold me on Volvo cars, their obsession and reputation for safety, that made me frantically buy Kristen a new Volvo after her car was totalled, crunched in from the front and from the back, one evening on an Atlanta freeway during rush hour traffic while she was in college.
Which also reminds me that the most frightening and upsetting things that have happened to me in my life have not been hurricanes but things that threatened the safety, health and lives of my children. Joe with motorcycles, my beloved girls with car wrecks, cancer, generally being out of my sight, out on dates, away at college or across the sea. Watching me, another parishioner friend told Linda, "You know his problem: Tom loves too much." Remembering making my way through the intensity of those crises of fatherhood - - this morning I'm going to try putting those memories to work helping the sharp two-edged sword of my emotional dealing with hurricane aftermath and with helping Malinda.
Beyond that, gratitude and thanks for loved ones and friends in my life this Saturday morning of
clouds in blue sky, calm sea, rolling swells, chill autumn breeze.
T
Breakfast this morning, slice of toast, buttered. Toast is a platform for two foods I love, butter, and mayonnaise. Well three, peanut butter. Lunch yesterday, Friday, and again for a light supper last night, tomato sandwich on toast, with mayonnaise. Saturday breakfast, toast with butter, cup of black coffee. Why is this a blog subject? Because wiping my glasses with a tissue that had butter on it just now, and now trying to read through them, brought back to mind a lawyer friend and parishioner from thirty years ago: all those years, I never once saw Joyce clean her eyeglasses with a tissue or cloth or soap & water, she always cleaned them with her thumb. Thinking further, it was from riding with her and two other people from home to Beckwith and back, Joyce driving her Volvo, that sold me on Volvo cars, their obsession and reputation for safety, that made me frantically buy Kristen a new Volvo after her car was totalled, crunched in from the front and from the back, one evening on an Atlanta freeway during rush hour traffic while she was in college.
Which also reminds me that the most frightening and upsetting things that have happened to me in my life have not been hurricanes but things that threatened the safety, health and lives of my children. Joe with motorcycles, my beloved girls with car wrecks, cancer, generally being out of my sight, out on dates, away at college or across the sea. Watching me, another parishioner friend told Linda, "You know his problem: Tom loves too much." Remembering making my way through the intensity of those crises of fatherhood - - this morning I'm going to try putting those memories to work helping the sharp two-edged sword of my emotional dealing with hurricane aftermath and with helping Malinda.
Beyond that, gratitude and thanks for loved ones and friends in my life this Saturday morning of
clouds in blue sky, calm sea, rolling swells, chill autumn breeze.
T