July 10

Alright, you got me this time, Anu, a word I never heard either used or of until this morning. But “inspissate” is a word? so okay then, I give up. And your usage example, “"These are flavors that have been inspissating in some timeless tandoor for hours, days -- decades." Brad Leithauser; And an Outpost on Rodeo Drive; The New York Times; Mar 5, 1995” opens the book of poems sitting here by my chair, Brad Leithauser - The Oldest Word For Dawn. In my favorite, “The Crush” the poet is in love with someone who is not. Cannot say for sure whether she simply is not where the poet is, or truly no longer is. Either way, he is pining, poor fellow, bereft. Of Leithauser, I also have Darlington’s Fall: A Novel In Verse. After a mandatory evening speed-reading course that for good reason was required of all students at the U.S. Naval War College forty-six years ago, I tend to read fast, and it is not totally but somewhat distracting to speed-read poetry. So while the novel is interesting, I only got so far before it found a permanent resting place beside my chair.

And who but Anu can guess what his Tuesday word was? “Formicate.” No, it doesn't mean that at all, it means to crawl like ants. Some of Anu Garg’s words are potentially more useful than others, Tuesday's not very.

So much for the email, dare I look at the news? Truth, I already peeked. Why people feel obliged to declare for one side or the other I don’t understand. Even less do I understand those whose advice is for the Palestinians to let peace come by quitting firing rockets. If someone is given your heritage and you are moved permanently into squalid circumstances and kept there brutally, you are not likely ever to quit firing rockets. The history of warfare is that conquerors either exterminate or forcibly relocate the vanquished, not crowd them permanently into adjacent sties and expect them to abide peacably. Exterminated they are silenced forever, relocated they assimilate and forget within two generations: these will never be silent or forget, because they are still human.

Down front for Linda's PCNH this morning. There's Jay's obnoxious green light. Looking back, one might prefer to be in Newport, RI again this morning after all, hearing the bell ringing in the harbor near our house. Lots of fog on the New England coast, the bell warns ships away from the rocks. fog ... damp ... chill ... ding ... ding ... ding ... ding ... ding ... ding ...

Every year on this day, July 10, Linda and I become the same age for two months. Happy birthday!!

Why Newport? Clams. Lobsters. Love. Life ahead instead of behind. Down to the sea in ships ...