EVERY DAY CAN BE FULL

Full, though different. This will break your hearts, but I’ve not paid attention much to news today. That’s quite the rarity because I’ve become fairly addicted, and the night is young, I’ll be checking my Twitter feed for all the latest outrages and quick and longer takes on them. On our situation in the continuing pandemic and economic hardships. And the political mess.

I did listen, however, to Michelle Obama’s new podcast which I also recommend. It’s a new thing she’s doing now that she’s out of the fishbowl that was the White House. From the time before a wall with barbed wire was constructed around it. Boy I’d vote for her for president in less than a second. I think she’s just wonderful in so many ways. Smart and down to earth. With a lot of integrity and talent. Well, unfortunately she doesn’t want to get anywhere near that, I gather, which I can understand. America’s loss though. No news today, but working on other stuff, poetry and poets (a couple of online recorded interviews with Billy Collins, one of my heroes) and still organizing digital photos and notes of our lives.

A SIGHT
BILLY COLLINS
Last night I watched a documentary on war,
and the part I carry with me today
was the spectacle of a line
of maybe 20 blinded soldiers
being led, single-file,
away from a yellow cloud of gas.

That must be what accounts
for this morning’s brightness—
sunlight slathered over everything
from the royal palms to the store awnings,
from the blue Corolla at the curb
to a purple flower climbing a fence,
one gift of sight after another.

I couldn’t see their bandaged faces,
but each man had one hand
resting on the shoulder
of the man in front of him
so that every man was guiding
and being guided at the same time,
and in the same tempo,
given the unison of their small, cautious steps.

Also a story that I’m working on that we’re doing this way — Isabel dictated a story of some incidents / people she remembers when she was growing up in San Bartolo, and I translate and polish and amplify it into a story in English. Hopefully, a piece of ‘literature’. So killing a few birds here with one stone…working in another literary form, touching base with and recording a strong memory from Peru. Isabel is the queen of memory…she’s one of those people that can recall — almost relive — moments in the past in great detail.

Also heard this masterful song, Anthem, that Leonard Cohen did in the twilight of his life.
https://youtu.be/c8-BT6y_wYg

Also had a visit from Quilla and her new beau, another Amazonian. We had not seen our daughter for some time — we’ve only had a total of 3 brief and sightings, with no physical contact, since February when all the tightening of screws was just starting on socialization. We were outside at some picnic tables here– keeping a distance and using masks — across the way from our apartment in a little playground on the complex grounds. They are both working from home although they have gone out much more than we do in Seattle, masked up, and trying to stay uninfected. So far, so good. I was moved to see her and have a chance to talk to this young man from North Dakota, that I forgot to take a photograph. And I NEVER forget to take photos to capture moments.

And then, with far more difficulty and sweat and less art, I’m trying to lose a goodly few of some of these ‘pandemic pounds’ that have silently attached themselves to my person. Having some luck but this part of the equation is so much slower and less enjoyable than their ‘coming aboard’. I’m trying to keep disciplined about this and all processes. Trying to ‘get somewhere’ with each and every effort no matter the realm.

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