The nicest, kindest and most loving obituary I’ve ever read is in this morning’s PCNH, for June Rowell, June Rowell Harrison. I was in the Bay High band with June and Jerry in the early 1950s, both of them a year ahead of my class of 1953. They were a couple then and what a great life story a family member wrote about June from birth to death, and them together, and a family that obviously was loving and close lifelong. I had my own tiny circle of friends in the band, was never close with June and Jerry in the high school band days, but I was there with them and I remember the sparkle of the two of them livening and brightening the already exuberant musical institution that Mr. Whitley’s band always was.  Of it all, being in the band the highlight of my high school years — remembering it all! — what do I especially remember from those days. The football games in Tommy Oliver Stadium and out of town especially to Pensacola and Tallahassee, both places I had dear and special fri...

Tuesday 201702140447 CST Seaboard Pacific V45 525x91 arriving with general cargo from Kingston. In the dark while sitting in my chair-by-sea taking a tentative sip of hot black, I noticed early Bay action, t ug slowly gliding out to stand by. So looked out toward the Pass to see ship lights just moving in to StAndrewsBay, grabbed camera, donned light jacket, out to 7H porch rail to wait.  Pic from left. Green channel navigation light beyond which Χάρων the ferryman of Hades heads ever for me. Seaboard Pacific V45. Red nav light. Another green. Red lighted tower beyond Courtney Point, one of these days I’ll bother to locate it on NOAA chart 11391. Lights of an industrial facility along Magnolia Beach. Lights of cute tug Little Toot, and behind her, condo lights along Thomas Drive. Today. It’s past 6:30 in Winston-Salem, so Joe may already have left — or not, it’s still dark, but he’s a little east of us so may be light there now. Early morning driving away always reminds me. ...

Ah, busy morning ahead. So far, flush out right ear (well wth, who reads this rubbish learns the disgusting life of an octogenarian male). Glass of hot HoneyLemon water, cup of black with chicory. No chocolate by this chair in the livingroom by the Bay, it’s by my chair in the other room and backup stash in the pantry, need to correct that. Open MacBook and quickly scan email, read a fascinating composition and reply. With obsessively sick mind compare pics and specifications of 1930 Buick, Marquette and Viking. Momentarily, shave, shower, dress, drive to Linda Avenue to check out Holy Pavilion, walk, gulp morning cardioPills at eight o’clock, go to six-monthly doctor appointment. Home for breakfast, what? maybe eggs, scrambled with cheese if Linda does it for me, fried egg sandwich if I cook it myself.  What else then, what next? Read email, avoid National News although shunning it by no means removes my responsibility for what is done in my name as an American. Maybe exchang...

Good morning. Sunday, 69°F 96%, navigation lights flashing across the Bay and no fog, but a pleasant, Florida feeling of cool, damp closeness between haze and clear.   Been sitting here for a while now, studying first the lectionary Scripture for today, Epiphany6A, especially what the Jesus Seminar in The Five Gospels has to say about this morning’s gospel reading from Matthew (5:21-37) a little pink, some gray, mostly black, somewhat relieving if one is a sinner (as in "Go in peace, and pray for me, a sinner" BCP 448). But also especially the damning reading from Ecclesiasticus (or “Jesus Son of Sirach” more on this intriguing book of the Aprocrypha someday perhaps). And as I’ve sat here thinking and repenting — which means stop, think, think twice, think again, realize, turn around and go in the righteous direction — I’ve participated in the opening of the day as Sunday moves from dark to lightening to light with a black cloud in front of me, which moves along and leaves,...

Spring 2017, azaleas are blooming and redbud, seems always first in Tallahassee, which we saw last weekend, then begins catching up in PC and spreading throughout town. Several years ago Linda and our neighbor Bill took cuttings from the faintly sweet fragrant pink azaleas in our yard, antiquities that Anderson and I first planted in our yard in the Cove in the late 1940s, that my mother transplanted with the 1963 move from Massalina Bayou to The Old Homestead. The cuttings thrived and we have two healthy plants in pots on 7H porch.  Good blossoms last spring, one plant already popping into bloom now, just beyond my chair. As some few other things, these azaleas are part of my being.  Joe is to arrive Tuesday, TJCC here next weekend, Joe returns to W-C, NC Monday week. He’s to drive down in his new, red Volvo S-60 that we’ve not seen. Watched the partial eclipse of the Snow Moon last evening. Got up at three o’clock to check out the comet, but by then the moon was...

Slept till five o’clock, slow waking, now after six, walk at seven-thirty, so bit late to think through tippy-typing nonsense with mental powers already severely limited as it is. Dark and black but still dozing between wake and sleep, yes and no, maybe and certainly not.  Further, broke my vow and reviewed the good news instead of plowing into something intellectually profitable. Enjoyed and appreciated characterizations imperial and incompetent but not going there blogwise.  We walk Monday at seven, but Friday walk is followed by breakfast out so to give more cafe options we walk at seven-thirty. Two favorites remain cafes on bayous, though I enjoyed a pork chop and a drumstick at the cafeteria place. Breakfast at home this week has been oysters swirled stovetop then crowded atop thin ww toast and toaster oven toasted. About half the price of local oysters, these are pacific oysters from WalMart. Mind the expiration date on top though.  Still captivated by this we...

Case in Point: the responsive psalm for the upcoming Sunday, Epiphany 6 is the eight alef verses of acrostic Psalm 119. Eight verses, the first word of each verse begins with the Hebrew letter alef. Or aleph, the English spellings are phonetic, spell them as you wish. The psalm is below. One can see that the forced poetry, though the psalmist does a commendable work, is somewhat awkward. Also note that Psalm 119 has 22 sections, one for each letter progressively through the alefbet, and that all eight lines of each of the 22-section poem begin with the same letter and letter sound (for the first set of eight verses, ahh or ach ).  The mechon-mamre Hebrew-English presentation can be viewed at http://www.macquirelatory.com/Hebrew%20-%20English/pt26b9.htm where one can see each verse beginning with א the ahh or ach sound, and one can actually hear the acrostic in action as the poem is read in Hebrew at http://media.snunit.k12.il/kodeshm/mp3/t26b9.mp3 Psalm 119:1-16 BCP 763 A...