Sunday, and our church is celebrating it as All Saints Day, with those hymns and those lectionary propers. "I sing a song of the saints of God" is a regular hymn now, in our Hymnal 1940 it was grouped in the category "Children's Hymns." Always popular for this day - - "and one was a doctor, and one was a priest, and one was slain by a fierce wild beast, and there's not any reason, no, not the least, why I shouldn't be one too." Linda's cooking our breakfast, which happens on Sunday morning, not other days. Other days we do our own thing twice a day, graze the refrigerator and/or pantry for breakfast and supper, with usually one prepared meal together, generally noon dinner which we sit down to at one o'clock or as late as two o'clock. About once a week, usually Fridays after visiting Malinda at Pruitt, we go out to eat, most often at a seafood restaurant but last week at Enzo's for pizza. Supper at home is a salad or a couple of...

Some days, for lack of whatever, I don't write a +Time blogpost. There was a Time when it bothered me to miss writing, but that has passed, it no longer bothers me in the least - - I write when I write and when I don't write I don't write. Today, Thursday was one of those days. Which? When I don't write. Exhausted from yesterday's activities, I fell into bed about seven PM, woke at 12 something midnight and was up for a couple hours to contemplate Secret Mark, then back to bed and slept until nine o'clock. Linda had something on the calendar, and we no longer go out and drive just one of us alone, so dress and go. But I read Arthur C Brooks' weekly life improvement essay, which brought again to mind, as so many things do, F. Schleiermacher, his essays, his criticism of the Nicene Creed, and his theological assertion that "there is implanted in each of us a sense of the infinite" as the reason that, as a species, we cannot resist being religious. Th...

Which to read: Fr Richard's guest on his Daily Meditations or John McWhorter's column in The New York Times, "These Are the 10 Old Television Series Every Kid Needs to Read" - - not that there's a limit of only reading one, and of course I read McWhorter because glancing down his favorites I see more than ten, including some of my own, "The Carol Burnett Show" and "Fawlty Towers" and "The Amos 'n Andy Show" although I remember it better as a radio show. "The Honeymooners" and "The Twilight Zone" Maybe television is still good, IDK and don't need to know, because I can scroll and find Carol Burnett, Ralph and Norton any Time I want to lose myself in the twentieth century. "The Smothers Brothers' Comedy Hour" is not as funny as it was in the late 1960s, nor is "Rowan and Martin's Laugh In." Once, I searched and found Red Skelton, it was sad, lower and worse than pathetic. Jack Benn...

12:35 am, then 1:22, now 1:49 am, instead of being sensible and letting the under-desk eliptical exercise my legs and feet for thirty minutes or an hour and sapping my energy so I can go back to bed for a long autumn's nap, I'm sitting here with the early mug of hot & black and three saltine squares, each with a smear of a soft cheese from Zingerman's Jewish deli in Ann Arbor and thinking to blog for a few minutes.  Or not thinking. At ninety and not counting I need all the physical exercise I can muster. This is a tart cheese, could be goat milk cheese but it's not. We bought steak yesterday, and will cook it probably early afternoon; Kristen is coming over for Sunday dinner. Weeks ago we'd made the family commitment for Saturday and Sunday and we're keeping it, everything else will have to wait, is suspended, off the calendar.  Steak, and Linda's made a salad. There'll be a couple kinds of mushrooms, collard greens, chocolate chess pie from Zingerm...

Some of my blogposts do not make it past Draft and may eventually be deleted, or I may press Publish, or it may stay in Draft until the eschaton; this is one of those; I intend to wander and think and remember. It's because I'm still agonizing over Kristen's loss of Pacey yesterday. He was critically ill and she took him to the vet knowing what the vet might say but hoping against hope. Anyone who has ever loved and lost a pet understands, as do I even as my agony is about Kristen; I can hardly bear it when one of mine is hurting. There was the film "All Dogs Go To Heaven," and any dog owner and lover knows it's true. This death of Kristen's cat brings it to mind, and the entire nature of my own faith in the human realm. So, I'll muse on it a bit. That said, ... ++++++++ Emily Dickenson's poem The Bustle in a House The Morning after Death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon Earth - The Sweeping up the Heart And putting Love away We shall not wa...

Instead of our usual Christian approach to prayer as an opportunity to ask God for something, a Jewish formula of prayer as praising God for something, bread, wine, life itself, seems most right and good - - baruch ata, Adonai Eloheinu, Melek ha-olam: blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who creates little animals that fill our lives with companionship and our hearts with love, and breaks them too.  Kristen named him Pacey, a Maine coon cat whom she loved all his years. Pacey was seventeen, Kristen is thirty-two, he was a kitten, seems to me they chose each other on her fifteenth birthday. They saw each other through the critical years of growing up until yesterday; baruch ata, Adonai Eloheinu, blessed are you. Kristen asked for a photograph that hangs in our dining room, Pacey as she holds him. I will miss the picture, which makes it even dearer to give it to her and for her to have it. +++++++++ Our own last cat - - he was Tassy's cat actually, from her teen ...