not to be anxious
Thanksgiving Eve breakfast then: mug of coffee, one slice ww toast wrapped round half slice yesterday's bacon. Sitting in a lawn chair brought in from the 17th floor balcony, back to the sliding glass door that separates me from Wednesday's black, chill November predawn. It's like a January day here, seems unseasonally cold. Thanksgiving in my memory is Time for a Florida Gulf Coast boy still to go barefoot on the green grass.
Across the Bridge to town for a few minutes yesterday, check mail, check 7H, in the garage start two cars, mine and Malinda's. Next time, maybe Friday, drive both of them around the garage a couple turns for sake of the tires, which are new and shouldn't be left weight-on in one position for so long. But then, lots of facts and things shouldn't be these days. Nice light lunch at Alice's, romaine lettuce with blue cheese dressing and diced tomato, only to arrive back here and read the dotgov forbid on romaine. But I'm good so far. A man at the table next to us had a three martini lunch, well it was three when we paid and left and he was still sitting there sipping. I'm off martinis until when and if life lets me be a real boy again. Bubba, Pinocchio, and the Velveteen Rabbit. Leaving town, stopped by Buddy Gandy's for pint of oysters. They have the steamer back in operation, but I wasn't there for shrimp.
Mindful that "for every loss there's a gain," I'm noticing, with the hurrication's temporary hotel type living, that I don't need all those things I'm so attached to; that life is fine with a few changes of underwear, socks and handkerchiefs, couple of long-sleeve shirts and pairs of black pants, one belt, two pairs of shoes, one sweater, one sport coat, and my toiletries travel kit; I'm doing fine with no personal property. Well, okay, cell phone and lap top. It's a good Time, maybe life's only good and right Time, to realize that life really is short, temporary, heal myself of the strong emotional attachment to all my objects, art work, furniture and furnishings, books, silver and china, coffee mugs, things that loved ones have given me over the years, things that belonged to my parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, even a package of things, his handwritten sermons and keepsakes that belonged to my great-great-grandfather. My fondness for things; opportune, the apt Time of life to be shed of attachments, specifically the lifelong cling-to-it habit. What's my personal memory-symbol of my obsession: one Easter more than seventy years ago, Gina, Walt and I each got, were brought by the Easter Bunny, who as usual left our stuff on the front stoop, a basket filled with beautiful colorful and decorated candies, candy flowers and such. My sister and brother promptly disposed of theirs; but I, they were too pretty to eat all up so quickly, so I didn't eat any of it. Wanting to keep it, I hid my Easter basket with beautiful candies in the under-roof eaves front closet of my upstairs bedroom. When I thought of it again weeks later, I opened the closet door and took it out to admire it again: every candy had been eaten up by mice and roaches. There was nothing left. What's my problem - - -
Maybe buy a bus ticket and begone, where?, wherever. My sister turned in everything and her residence is an RV, a motorhome. I'm counting her smart. Where's Gina these day? Wherever she wants to be. Inching out, easing away, October a place just west of Middle Beach Road. November a place just west of the "Y" at PCB. December, etc a place Across the next Bridge and further out and further west, out of Bay County. After that? Maybe the bus ticket, an extra pair of socks and a change of underwear.
Collect for Proper 20
Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
RSF&PTL
T+
Across the Bridge to town for a few minutes yesterday, check mail, check 7H, in the garage start two cars, mine and Malinda's. Next time, maybe Friday, drive both of them around the garage a couple turns for sake of the tires, which are new and shouldn't be left weight-on in one position for so long. But then, lots of facts and things shouldn't be these days. Nice light lunch at Alice's, romaine lettuce with blue cheese dressing and diced tomato, only to arrive back here and read the dotgov forbid on romaine. But I'm good so far. A man at the table next to us had a three martini lunch, well it was three when we paid and left and he was still sitting there sipping. I'm off martinis until when and if life lets me be a real boy again. Bubba, Pinocchio, and the Velveteen Rabbit. Leaving town, stopped by Buddy Gandy's for pint of oysters. They have the steamer back in operation, but I wasn't there for shrimp.
Mindful that "for every loss there's a gain," I'm noticing, with the hurrication's temporary hotel type living, that I don't need all those things I'm so attached to; that life is fine with a few changes of underwear, socks and handkerchiefs, couple of long-sleeve shirts and pairs of black pants, one belt, two pairs of shoes, one sweater, one sport coat, and my toiletries travel kit; I'm doing fine with no personal property. Well, okay, cell phone and lap top. It's a good Time, maybe life's only good and right Time, to realize that life really is short, temporary, heal myself of the strong emotional attachment to all my objects, art work, furniture and furnishings, books, silver and china, coffee mugs, things that loved ones have given me over the years, things that belonged to my parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, even a package of things, his handwritten sermons and keepsakes that belonged to my great-great-grandfather. My fondness for things; opportune, the apt Time of life to be shed of attachments, specifically the lifelong cling-to-it habit. What's my personal memory-symbol of my obsession: one Easter more than seventy years ago, Gina, Walt and I each got, were brought by the Easter Bunny, who as usual left our stuff on the front stoop, a basket filled with beautiful colorful and decorated candies, candy flowers and such. My sister and brother promptly disposed of theirs; but I, they were too pretty to eat all up so quickly, so I didn't eat any of it. Wanting to keep it, I hid my Easter basket with beautiful candies in the under-roof eaves front closet of my upstairs bedroom. When I thought of it again weeks later, I opened the closet door and took it out to admire it again: every candy had been eaten up by mice and roaches. There was nothing left. What's my problem - - -
Maybe buy a bus ticket and begone, where?, wherever. My sister turned in everything and her residence is an RV, a motorhome. I'm counting her smart. Where's Gina these day? Wherever she wants to be. Inching out, easing away, October a place just west of Middle Beach Road. November a place just west of the "Y" at PCB. December, etc a place Across the next Bridge and further out and further west, out of Bay County. After that? Maybe the bus ticket, an extra pair of socks and a change of underwear.
Collect for Proper 20
Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
RSF&PTL
T+