FB notifications come by email, and one this morning, from a friend of a friend says, "Come to the City. Sweater weather." So I click on it. San Francisco. "Lead us not into temptation" fails me this morning, SFran is one of my three favorite cities, with Seattle and Sydney, none of which I have visited in over thirty years. San Francisco, this week high to mid 60s, low to mid 50s, 52° 95% at the moment probably that wonderfully mysterious fog, arguably my favorite of the three. There in my mid-twenties, later in my mid-thirties, then early and mid-forties, delectable times of life. What did I like about SF? Easier to list what I did not like: nothing. No, well on second thought, I'm going with the earthquakes. Still, I left my heart in three cities and if wishes were horses, I wish I had bought apartments there sixty years ago. Life changes and moves on, and one can dwell in wishes and dreams, and knows what's behind but never knows what’s yet to come, b...

Der Geizhals. Online depicting tomorrow’s gospel, Margret Döring (1910-1994) painted it when she was sixteen years old. The Miser. I don’t love it best of all she did — which anyone can view online, landscapes, sketches, portraits, quite a bit of the modern art genre; Bodensee , a seascape I especially like; and a blond blue-eyed Aryan mother and child, traditional blue obviously the BVM -- any reflection of the era in which the artist grew up -- — but on my wall I’d like Der Geizhals to keep me mindful of myself.  Here’s tomorrow’s gospel:   Luke 12:13-21 (RSV) The Parable of the Rich Fool 13  One of the multitude said to him, “Teacher, bid my brother divide the inheritance with me.” 14  But he said to him, “Man, who made me a judge or divider over you?” 15  And he said to them, “Take heed, and beware of all covetousness; for a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” 16  And he told them a parable, saying, “...

In one of his books of essays, reminiscences of early twentieth-century growing up in the Jewish garment district of NYC, I don’t remember which book, I loved them so much that I had them all, Harry Golden writes about when his parents decided he needed a new suit. Probably twelve and maybe headed for his bar mitzvah at thirteen, he was a growing boy and needed a new suit. Dead serious, no simple matter, such a purchase would be a family undertaking, with several family members going along on the shopping trip. Mother, father, Harry himself. An aunt. And of course The Maven , the uncle or cousin or close family friend who had worked in a garment factory at one time or other and so styled himself and was considered the family expert in fabrics, their quality and value.  He may have sewn on buttons, but having worked in the sweatshop he was the expert. Harry’s story is hilarious, the family going from tailor shop to shop, looking at material, the maven examining cloth, jerki...

Still as death. 84° 78% and not a breath of stirring. Oh-three-something hours, coming up on oh-four-hundred. Where would I be if I could? Maybe 1959, my upper bunk in a destroyer underway in the Atlantic. With a Harvard degree in Russian language, my shipmate, also a lieutenant (j.g.), has just left our stateroom cursing me bitterly because he has the morning watch and I do not. Rushing, he must be on the bridge promptly at 0345 to be briefed and say, "I have the conn."  Hating the Navy as much as I’m loving it, Don does not get my request to augment from USNR to Regular Navy, his plan is to return home to Boston, and his family’s Episcopal parish that serves sherry at coffee hour, and resume his Harvard studies toward a masters degree and beyond. Snuggling back down toward sleep I lean against the cool skin of the ship, soothed by the sound of water rushing by.    Sometimes friends who somehow see through me send me links. Or pics. From Joe, waiting for me th...

A long and exhausting Tuesday finished happily at 7H with a visit, Lillie running in and jumping up in Kristen’s lap, standing on a stool looking out at my Bay, pointing a lamp and asking, ‘sat?  Closing at Ferucci Ristorante for family supper beginning with a bottle of Peroni, my first Italian beer, quite good -- -- cup of their matchless tomato soup, a beautiful and more than ample serving of snapper topped with capers, succulent spinach, small side of spaghetti with tomato sauce. Black coffee with their incomparable ricotta cheesecake. Some kid in a highchair left a terrible mess on the floor at the end of our table, but it must’ve been there before Lillie arrived. Home for 9 1/2 hours sleep. Wakeup of black coffee and crack of die wunderfullen Schokolade mit Orange. Breakfast from last evening of half my snapper, bit of spinach and spaghetti, still lovely this morning. Calm Bay, 82.4° 72% and light blue sky, white at the horizon. Hazy beyond Shell Isla...

Wonderful here, the clouds never cease to amaze me, light playing on them; and the Bay, earlier a shrimp boat with nets in the near channel, now pouring rain in the far east end of StAndrewsBay and in EastBay beyond Tyndall Bridge. Clear here at 7H at the moment, 80° and 84%, stiff breeze has died down a bit. Rain in the Gulf south of Shell Island. Breakfast black coffee with a sprinkle of the chicory Joe brought me, furoforty and a four oz cup of blueberry noosa.  July 25th: day of thanks, memories too deep to stir. Tuesday, July 26th: short walk, hour or two in the office, haircut at TAFB? Pelicans circling high above me. Waves lapping noisily ashore seven floors below me. Breeze off the Gulf bringing the salt air that gives me my Being. Life's moves: Georgia, Michigan, DC, Ohio, Pennsylvania. Seven floors up is as far from StAndrewsBay and salt sea as ever I mean to Be again. I bind unto myself today  the virtues of the starlit heaven the glorio...

A nature person, I might rather be a nature person, it’s nice out this morning, but only as nice as breathing 93% can be even at a July dawn of 75° so not sitting outside.   Black and a square of 72% for waking up though not working fast, may be due to last night’s late-to-bed, 9:30 pm, now a lingering brain fog. Supper on the porch, tug pushed a barge by,  sailboat catching the evening breeze to head home; seeming suddenly to lose their bearings, pelicans circled overhead on their way to bird island for the night As ever needing advice for myself, this from a friend’s FB page to correct me Monday morning wisdom from Anu Garg in a frightening election year of demagoguery and terror:  A THOUGHT FOR TODAY: Hatred is the most accessible and comprehensive of all the unifying agents. Mass movements can rise and spread without belief in a God, but never without belief in a devil. -Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (25 Jul 1902-1983) ...

Up about usual for a non-preaching Sunday, there’s the waning moon up high. Northwest to southeast, a wide contrail stripes the sky, appears clear though’ve not yet been out. Three red lights flashing from my Bay chair, and if I lean a bit, my green light that winked at me from the house those years. And I do lean a bit to remember. After our Saturday family supper, Seaboard Valparaiso 595 x 92, left port bound for Houston, general cargo. About a 29 to 32 foot draft, I wonder if she has to watch the tide for sailing — Last evening the “paddlewheeler” Betsy Ann steamed by, well lighted up. We’ve generally seen her only in the north-south channel that turns right out here and heads north toward Hathaway Bridge, but this time, maybe someone’s birthday party cruise, in the east-west channel off 7H. My green light at her stern like in my own life; above her and farther away, a white light tops something at Tyndall.  Today’s my brother’s birthday, 1939, Happy Bir...

… and I save them בַּיהוָה in Yahweh Elohim of them (Hosea 1:7) We have a lovely Saturday morning, one of my favorite times of week. Come to think, it’s Sabbath, isn’t it, sundown Friday to sundown Saturday.  Morning began not spectacular but nice. Just after seven o’clock we watched as two vehicles met and passed, tug pushing barges eastward came round the bend from Hathaway Bridge to meet barges being pushed westward, they met just off 7H porch. Standard rules of the road, I reckon, passing port to port. Think to be a tugboat captain in my next life, Linda seriously undecided whether to be ship’s cook.  First lesson tomorrow is Hosea 1:2-10. I get it all but the phrase in verse 7, above. What means “I save them in/by Yahweh their God”? Somehow the meaning is in the context, the contrast set up in the thought “I will not save them by bow, or by sword, or by war, or by horses, or by horsemen — but by their Lord God.” Am I to understand that deliverance will ...

Cool (for July) 76F 87%, breezy, lightning off Shell Island, but iTitan shows storms far south of here and moving off and away over the Gulf. Black coffee and rationing orange dark chocolate, two chips. Good weather for walk this morning, along the Bay unless Robert wants to do Massalina Bayou.  From his car collection, my friend Mike sold me his Model A Ford tudor sedan, black.  With foot starter just above the accelerator, it started instantly and ran smoothly, gears shifted easily, and although I expected it to, it didn’t cut off when braked to a halt at stop signs. I kept it parked on the basketball court at Cove School. After the first tank of gasoline, I realized it needed leaded gas no longer available, so called Mike, who told me to pour a pound of lead powder into the gas tank with each refill, and I was wondering where to buy lead powder just as I woke up this morning. Slightly waning moon is high in the sky, lovely over the Bay. Control tower at ...

In eighty years I never learned a damn thing by talking. Yesterday was somehow a really bad day, comma for me comma, mind not working quite right with something in the background I couldn’t quite touch, a mood that kept coming and going before I could ID it and know what it was, repeatedly returning realization through the morning that I’d not yet written the blogpost that I count on to keep the brain working, music that once lifted happiness so stirring grief that I turned it off, at church prayers that took me where I couldn’t bear to be. Wednesday: an ineffable day, not going there again. Starting with reading several YogiBear-isms including that Yogi said he didn’t really say most of the things he said,  Thursday will be better despite the steamy day that hit me on rising at five o’clock for the second time, and stepping out onto 7H porch.  And now this morning thinking I was being complimented by the word “literati” when in fact she said “litterotty” linking...