December 11 2007

The last night of Hanuka, the eighth candle lit. On this very night 94 years ago my father was born. I wonder, more now than ever, how it was for my grandmother, his mother, giving birth to her fourth child in what surely was a bitter Polish winter. Was my grandfather there, or was he in America? I never thought to ask Dad, and now of course there is no one to ask. I think of my father's family as I knew them, not as they were, and cannot stretch my imagination to see a youngish woman, very Orthodox, very quiet, giving birth to her last child, her only son. Was it a hard labor, or easy? Was she frightened or prepared? And who helped her? Certainly medical care was not readily available in the dorf in which my father's family lived. Were pogroms active then, or was the night quiet? I know from my studies that frequently on Christmas Eve, in Poland and elsewhere, a rousing pogrom and the beating and killing of Jews was part of the celebration. But as the Jewish calendar is lunar, and the one by which I've lived my life is not, I don't even know if in the year of my father's birth Hanuka was as it is this year, well ahead of Christmas, or during it. I only know for sure that whatever else happened that year, they all six survived and made it to America by the time Oscar was six.

In one of the very last coherent conversations I had with my father weeks before his death, he suddenly remembered so many details of that little shtetl. There was a canal running in front of his house, and he and the other little boys urinated in it, even though they were told not to. That boats came up that same canal, that his mother's father was something like the mayor of the little town, and that's why they had such a good house. He spoke for about 45 minutes - I wish I could have recorded it all, as I am forgetting much of what he said. But at the time he was telling Mom and me, it was like watching a movie. I could see the grey streets and sky, feel the cold wind, and best of all, got a glimpse of young Oscar in the smile he smiled when he told me about peeing in the canal against all adult orders.

It's been nearly five months since he was buried, and since then two more beautiful children have been added to our extended family, and both of Brian's daughters are expecting a child each early in 2008, so Brian, along with my sister, will be a grandparent of four. I am curious to see who each of these tiny people is, and will become, and in my blood relations whether I can catch a glimpse of Oscar in any of them. So here along with this year's holiday card is the addition of several views of my dad, from the single treasured shot I have of his childhood, through his very last year. I hope he is pleased with the family's growth; I know he is missed very much by us all, especially tonight.

November 18 2007

As a result of the very mild October, my garden plants are more confused than ever. If you look closely at the composite shot you should be able to see the autumn leaves all around the flower blooms. I'm not surprised at the violas, since I've already experienced them disappearing under feet of snow only to emerge with tiny flowers intact and joyful, but the coneflower is strange (they are usually done by the end of August) and the lily is incomprehensible as they were all finished with blooming, or so I thought, by mid-summer. Once again I am amazed and at least as confused as the plants.

I also spotted a goldfinch this past week hanging on to what used to be a coneflower stalk, pecking out the remaining seeds. So I'm glad I let them stand, ignoring my very strong anal impulse to cut all stalks down to the ground.

We've had our first light snowfall, which while it did cover the ground, thankfully did not hang around more than a few hours. And the next morning, though there was no snow, the frost was so thick it looked as if it had in fact snowed. So we are burning wood fires now beginning at about 4 or 5 in the afternoon, in an attempt to delay as long as possible the dreaded home heating fuel oil delivery. I'm betting this is the month the fuel cost surpasses the mortgage payment - and real winter has barely begun!

There are still days when it's mild enough to poke around in the lower terraces, setting things up for the big freeze and deciding which stone walls need restacking, but mostly it's pretty cold. Carmen the wonder dog has an excellent sense of timing; she got adopted the very week the weather changed, and we are all grateful. Though I do miss her, especially at night, I must be happy that she has found a loving family whose members will exercise her more than we could. Next spring we will probably get another foster dog - when we are absolutely sure the snow is over, which around here is only certain after Mothers' Day.

So I'm hunkering down for the long nights, and planning next year's plantings. Out this way the winter garden is all in one's head.

November 1 2007

A few nights ago, with temperatures predicted at freezing, I stripped most of the tomatoes off the plants and brought in quite an impressive harvest. While the thrill of tomato paella is beginning to pale, I am still so happy to be growing at least a bit of food for us on my own. While most of the toms were still rather hard, they are ripening quickly indoors, and at least some each day can be pulped and frozen. Half the tomato plants came down that same day, and Brian brought the last hose in to the shed for the winter. But the chili plants, which are against the side of the house, didn't have the leaf burn of the toms. And I've really liked the chili rellenos I've been able to make. So I decided to let them go a week or two more, hoping the weather cooperates and I get one more batch of rellenos before the inevitable frost. We've had the mildest October on record here, which has made life with our foster dog Carmen so much easier! I've gotten used to strolling outside just before midnight with her for the last walk of the night, dressed in just a jacket over what passes for my nightwear. Alas, no longer. Now (this week) I don hat, boots, gloves, and a winter coat. If anyone other than the deer could see me, it would make a funny viewing indeed. The deer, however, remain uncritical and fairly oblivious. As the moon was waxing full, Carm and I almost stumbled on a doe lying down in our back garden, right along the doggie pee path. I'm not sure who was more surprised of the three of us; but the deer was definitely the most graceful!

And in just two days, Carmen, the most considerate doggie house guest I've ever had, will be meeting her new family, who are driving up in great excitement from New Jersey to bring her home to live with them happily ever after. While I know I will miss her (although not at 7:30 a.m.), I also know this is a much better situation for her. The family has two children who are old enough to actually care for a dog, and a fenced yard, with a dog park right down the road from their house. They've filled out their adoption application, had a home visit and a vet check, and we've had several lengthy conversations about just what a great dog Carmen is, what she will need, what they will do with her for exercise, and what she likes to eat. As she's taken to running in ever faster circles on her leash lately, I can tell she is overdue for an unleashed run. It's just not safe to do that here, and our alleged dog run, now 3/4 a vegetable garden, is no place for even a small dog to run. So I am enjoying these last few days with her and telling myself that this is the job I set out to do, make sure she was safe forever. I just wish that some of the organizations that deal with children did as good a job as I've seen ABR doing. I continue to be so impressed with everyone I've talked with or met in the organization. The focus is always and completely on what is best for the dogs, and everyone really does work as a team. Case in point, Carm's adopting family saw another volunteer at a mall at some doggie event with another Brittany rescue dog in tow. The dog was so pretty (yes, they really are) that the parents followed the woman for a while and then approached her to find out what kind of dog it was, where it came from, etc. This was a great volunteer, apparently, because she really got these folks excited about Brits and directed them to the ABR web site. And of all the lovely doggies there, they and their children especially decided Carmen was the one they liked best! And so now there will be at least this happy ending to one of my stories this year. It's been a great experience, so much so that we will do it again - just not in the snow season! I don't need to give the deer anything more to laugh at.

October 9 2007

Here she is, Carmen the wonder dog,all the way from Kansas via Nebraska to us here in New York! The wonder of her to me is how despite all her travels and travails since this past April, she is still a happy, healthy, and fairly optimistic girl. I got her past vet's records and thus know her birthday is 10/11/01, so she'll be six in two days. And those records also showed me that she had indeed been well cared for by her former owner, someone still hospitalized with what I think is a terminal disease. In any case, after many moves, over three states, and relying on the kindness of strangers for all these months, she still seems to believe that we humans are worthy of affection. She's smart, funny, and has great manners. If this is what foster dogs are like, then I'm in it for the long run! I can't imagine it will take long to find a permanent home for Carm. She's housebroken, crate trained (I never even thought about a crate until she showed up with her own, courtesy of American Brittany Rescue who flew her out of Kansas to us), and most amazing to me, NOT all that interested in food. It's a revelation to be able to sit at the table and eat without two (or more) eyes drilling into my consciousness while conveying how terribly unfair life is. Carm is not interested in toys (too mundane?) and does not seem to understand chews are for chewing. I tried giving her one that I thought would be an instant hit, rawhide with peanut butter (who can resist peanut butter?) but all she did was run around in circles frantically looking for a place to bury the thing. Reminded me of a guy with a cigar.. After about half an hour, I took it away, as increasing her anxiety was clearly not my intention. Tried twice more, same result, so I've put the entire package away, for the next foster dog. While getting up early has never been my choice, it's worth it to see Carm do the wag, spin, bounce of greeting. And aside from needing to go out about two hours before I'd like in the morning, which most of the time Brian is around to do, there's not much else to criticize. Okay, I guess her slightly weird habit of taking the first few pieces of kibble and placing them in strategic places around the studio (like in my shoe) might get annoying after a while, but for now, the fun of having a dog around again eclipses these few minor lapses. I'm sure you agree - look at that smile!

I am also tremendously impressed with this rescue organization, and the care and consideration they lavish on the dogs. She's been boarded, groomed, had time in doggie day care to make sure she didn't lack for peers, and then of course flown out. And there are dogs on the rescue site that have had lots and lots or medical problems, which are treated no matter how much they cost. I could apparently learn a thing or two about fund-raising from these folks. If you'd like to take a look, go to http://www.americanbrittanyrescue.org and look under "Dogs Needing Homes". The first link under that heading is "Dogs in Foster Homes", which takes you to a map of the several regions. You can click on a state and that area's dogs will present themselves. But be careful to have tissue on hand if you read much, the stories are sometimes heartbreaking. Carmen will be posted in the East Coast section in the next few days. If you know anyone looking for a wonderful, low-maintenance, lovable girl, let us know! And now I'm off for a dog minute..

October 2 2007

The weather is definitely changing, and still there is much to do in the garden. The marigolds are still blooming, and the petunias. The mums have just begun, the coneflowers almost gone, which is very sad for the goldfinches who have enjoyed their feast of seeds for weeks now. I just brought up some Cubano chillies for rellenos tonight, and many basil leaves which I ground up and froze as pesto cubes. There are plenty of tomatoes on the vines, but few ripe, probably because of the chill these last days and nights. Just a week ago I was faced with the perennial problem of too many tomatoes, and found a great solution on the net: tomato paella! There are lots of recipes, but this paella from a chef named Mark Bittman (you can see the video via the New York Times)is the first I've ever made that tastes as good as just fresh cut tomatoes. Thus the photo - I am not a great cook, and so always pleasantly surprised when something actually works out.

In even bigger news, finally after a very long and complicated wait, we got our two foster Brits last Thursday. Holly, 2, and Carmen, 5, are both lovely girls that I am sure will find permanent homes soon. Unfortunately, Carmen had personal space issues that made separating them necessary, so Baby Holly went off to another foster home where she won't be so intimidated. As you might imagine, there will be a lot more about these Kansas Girls soon (yes, they both did fly out from Wichita, we could not find any other way to get them to NY quickly). But right now, while we wait for the first in a long series of photos to be processed,I am going to check on Carm, a very smart, funny, and decidely opinionated dog. Nice to have a furry friend around again.

August 8 2007

So much has changed since my last post. I didn't get to the wedding; I didn't get Princess (though her story has a happy ending, she found a home on a farm nearer her owner's niece). On June 3 I was called to the Chicago area, for what were the final weeks of my father's life. From the 3rd of June till the 22nd, when my father died, I lived with my sister and brother-in-law, and was surrounded by the love and support of my nieces and nephews. To the very end, my father (shown here with his great grandson and my sister Vicki) kept asking about the babies. Their pictures were hung prominently in every room of every facility he occupied.

It was a long and hard parting, but my astonishing mother set the tone as always. I am still amazed at the strength, grace, and love that my mother has, and know more than ever that she is a far better woman than I could hope to be. My sister remained till the end the most loving of daughters. My brother-in-law has been a true son to both my parents for over 36 years. Each grandchild, and their husbands and wife, came to visit Dad many times in the last few weeks. This was a real accomplishment for the mother of 5-month-old twins, and my nephew's wife, then expecting her own twins, who were born just a few days ago. The eldest granddaughter was such a comfort to my mother the night Dad died - she lives very close to Mom, and when Mom told her daughters to stay home, she decided without asking anyone to go over there. I know it was good for both of them. In the end, each of us did what we could, and as we all have very different strengths, many of both my parents' needs were met - at least I like to think so.

A friend recently wrote "Wonder how long I am to be punished for my mistakes" it really struck a chord with me, which is why I'm writing now. I too have been wondering the same thing, for quite a while now, but as one might imagine my father's death has given new depth to my inquiry. We've been gone from SB 10 years now, and much of it feels like "wandering in the desert" (which I guess is strange since each place we've lived has snow). I wonder how I could have been a better daughter, how I could have made Dad's last days easier, why I was squeezed out of SB when so many are there, flourishing. I guess all this speculation is pointless, as, really, without a leap of faith, whichever branch it might be, there really isn't any coherent explanation for any of this - at least not that I can see. Just as last year, when we buried my dear Saul, the earth keeps on turning. The flowers are still blooming, the birds still jostle each other at the feeder, and I know, though I don't quite feel it, that there is in fact much beauty and grace on Earth. I assume in time this will be less intellectual and more an emotional response. The garden provides a quiet and calming respite from my inner turmoil.

In the month I was gone, the peonies bloomed and died back, the marigolds took control of the lower terraces, and the deer had some lovely hosta snacks. When I returned, though Brian had tried hard to keep the garden together, there was easily more than a month's weeding to do. Now that another month has passed, the mums and sedum are blooming, the ecchinachea still standing upright though fading. The goldfinches particularly like to eat these seeds, so I have resisted the impulse to cut them down, at least so far. The maris continue to bloom profusely, their flower heads are the size of smallish carnations and the color range is every shade of yellow and orange and everything in between. I am gathering seeds for next year..

And so our small corner of the world continues. I am once again trying to get a foster dog to bring a bit of joy to our house, and await word when/if a transport will happen. We prepare for the Jewish High Holidays more somberly this year; it will be the first time in my life that I don't leave the prayer hall when the service remembering the dead is read.

June 1 2007

Garden news - the iris have arrived! And as you can see, they are well worth waiting for (we had very little or no blooms last year on most of our transplants). The weather here remains really strange - we go from 90 to 40 and back again. I continue to be amazed at the resiliency of the plants, as they cope far better than I with the temperature swings, and still, as you can see, manage to bloom no matter what the thermometer says! We had almost two solid weeks of drenching rains last month, so much so that for the first time ever I had iris rhizomes rotting (which of course saddened me and made me fear I'd lose everyone). But in the past week of excessive heat, even though it's not great for me, the irises love it, and everyone is abloom and beautiful. Our very first lily, a Stella Doro, also bloomed yesterday, there are buds on the hydrangea (which keels over every single day it's above 80, much like me, except water revives it quicker), and the peonies are about to bloom too. So I'll have quite a collection of cut flowers for the foreseeable future.

Brian's 65th birthday last weekend was lovely. Lisa, his daughter, and her fiancee Josh came out, as did our friends the Packers, bringing salad and plants - Ken and Carol hardly ever come by without plants, we have entire terraces out back that are Packer imports! This was last Sunday; I had already made an enchilada dinner the night before, to just put in the oven. But alas, at 9:30 a.m., the power went out (again!) and we actually got to experience the joys of generator ownership. We had lights, and fans, and refrigerator, and water. So I could wash and use the bathroom as I wanted, but no stove - too electricity-intensive to run. Since Brian had to detour from his usual route to pick up Lisa and Josh at the Middletown train station, they came back the same way, via Pine Bush, and made the brilliant decision to buy veggies to grill - and, as an extra birthday present for Brian, bought the grill and tools and charcoal as well. Apparently Josh is quite a grillmaster. He assembled everything, fired it up, prepped the veggies and veggieburgers, and cooked them as well. By 3 p.m. the power was back on, so after resetting far too many clocks and gadgets with clocks, I baked the casserole and we all ate everything. Lovely day!

My other big news is that just yesterday I became an official part of the American Brittany Rescue network, and am expecting to foster a dog before another week goes by. Having just passed the year anniversary of Saul's death, I am not yet ready for another full-time, many-year commitment, but so miss having that Brittany energy around, I decided this was a good measure for now. Brian was less than enthusiastic, but has agreed we can try it out for this one particular dog (a 9 year old female whose owner just died last month at 90 - she was alone in the apartment with him for days, poor thing, and has been living temporarily with one of his relatives). "Princess" should be coming to stay with us for a week or two as soon as transport can be arranged (she's over 5 hours away and I can't make that long a drive). I'll be sure to let you know how that goes..

In the meantime, we garden, prep for Brian's upcoming shows in Cape Cod and Rochester NY, garden, check in with friends, garden, get ready for Josh Kovac's wedding at month's end, garden, get ready for Lisa and Josh's wedding in August, garden,and garden. Oh, and the old conference center near us has been sold to a Vietnamese group of monks, they are having an open house on Sunday. I am so pleased that meditators have moved in, as the area (including me) could certainly use some spiritual uplift! And that will be another post, too...

May 14 20007

Our garden is really starting to come together now, the fourth season of our five-year plan. Our first flowers, other than the sprays of forsythia which I've been able to force since January (due to the warm days then) have been the daffodils, along with some very hearty wood violets and the ever-optimistic violas. I do get new violas every year, to set out in the front terracing as borders, but our old ones have in many cases wintered over to bloom again a second year, and, if not, at least graciously toss their seeds around to surprise me with little stands of completely unplanned flowers. As the weather has been fluctuating wildly, both the plants and I remain confused. I have set back outside the petunia baskets that wintered over in the completely unheated glassed in porch, and they are happily blooming away - apparently not aware they are supposed to be annuals.

Right now, we uncovered our tomato, cucumber, basil and pepper plants from last night's frost warning (the second since we eagerly put in our little vegetable patch) to today's 70 degree weather. The iris are up and setting some blooms which I hope will open in a few days. The marigold plantings have just begun to sprout, I think careening from 30-something to 80-something degrees in 24 hours was a bit much for the seeds to cope with. The most spectacular showing this week is the creeping phlox. The white, lavender and shrieking magenta swathes of color are really beautiful, and wherever they are not in the front, the ajuga has taken control, and is presently in full flower, with hundreds of blue spikes of flowers. I did notice myself what I had read beekeepers around the country complaining about, the decimation of the bee colonies. Last year I could only pick the 3 to 4 inch spikes in the dark, there were so many bees hovering around all day. This year, I've seen less than half a dozen thumb-sized bumblebees.

Last year's plantings have surprised me in several ways. Some of the peonies moved radically from where I remember planting them, I think in the heavy rains. In any case, we've dug the ones hanging right at the edge of the terraces and moved them back, hopefully to stay in the more secure place. The seedling ecchinachea, which did not do well at all, have amazingly come right back up where they languished all last summer, but big and hearty-looking. Perhaps they'll even bloom this year, I don't really know as I've never tried them from seed before. Several of our stands of lily of the valley are also blooming or about to, the scent is wonderful, as is our single surviving white lilac.

And as for wildlife, the resident group of four, still lead by tiny Annette Deer, are coming around down by the pond these days, and rarely up in the planted areas. In what is probably my most brilliant stroke of gardening genius, I planted garlic and onion sets in the lower terraces this year, and as I suspected, Annette and the kids really don't like them! I see hoof prints occasionally but not a single munch mark - silly deer, garlic is great! I will definitely do this every year from hear on in, it's an easy way to dissuade the munchers and I can always use both garlic and onions in almost everything I cook.

Most excitingly, a mallard duck and his mate came by for a few afternoons at the pond about two weeks ago (oddly enough, friends of ours who live both here and the Hamptons reported they too had a pair of mallards, in their pool at the Hamptons house, at the same time we had our visitors). Mr. Mallard was gorgeous, his bright green head quite visible on the cold, rainy day he appeared. Mrs. Mallard I observed mostly butt-up in the pond, busily eating algae and whatever else she could find, for hours. Mr. M. was not too upset by my approach, but Mrs. definitely gave me a dirty look, and then took off. I hear them sometimes at night, or at least think I do, quacking off in the distance. We've also had a wild turkey or two wander through, but not the large groups I used to see in West Virginia. Thankfully, no skunk (yet)and no bear! And now, I'm off to patrol and see who needs what...

March 4 2007

Last night was both the start of Purim and a chance to see a lunar eclipse. As the past few weeks of serious winter have taken their toll on my small reserves of optimism, I thought I'd take a break from all the electronic overstimulus that surrounds me. Prying myself away from the computer, phone and television, I marched into the bedroom with a clear purpose: to see an amazing natural phenomena. I turned our little bedroom bench around to face the window, pulled back the curtains already drawn to keep the heat in, set my feet on the windowsill, and watched.

At first I could barely see anything. Even though the trees are still bare, with just buds to hint at the possibility of spring, the branches themselves obscured the first few minutes of moonrise. Once I caught a glimpse of the moon, the shiny edge helping me place it in a cloudy sky, it became easier. As I waited and watched, the moon rose slowly above the tree line and was clearly visible with the shadow covering most of its surface. To me, armed with foreknowledge and safe in the luxury of a modern home, it was interesting and beautiful. But as I watched, I began to wonder how other people in former times, lacking both understanding of what was happening and comfortable surroundings in which to ponder, would have viewed this event. It occurred to me that probably it was terrifying, or at least very threatening, to see the expected order of things interrupted. Did they scream and cry? pray? head for shelter elsewhere? And when the moon was unveiled again, was that enough to calm their fears, or did they ever after live in fear that one of the great lights of the world they knew could disappear? That led quite seamlessly to my wondering whether all of my fears were in fact much like those of the ancient people whose lives I had been contemplating. That perhaps whatever invoked such fear in me was at bottom as explicable and natural as the eclipse; I just lacked the proper perspective to see it that way.

And what does any of this have to do with Purim? To me, that holiday, the remembrance of Jewish lives saved by the intervention of Esther and Mordecai, is so much about the hidden face of Gd. And just on the eve of this holiday celebrating the happy outcome of events that had looked to be a complete disaster until almost the very end, almost the genocide of Jews, the moon taking time to show me her hidden face, which was then slowly revealed, seemed such a neat and orderly lesson that coincidence was not enough explanation. As I looked back over the past few difficult and disruptive weeks, the moon seemed to speak to me personally, telling me and showing me that disasters pass; that fears can be overcome; that the great natural plan, certainly beyond my comprehension, does indeed work for the good of all.

January 26 2007

Just in time for the coldest day in two years, the bluebird flock comes to brighten my day. Why they are still around is a mystery, as I had thought they'd go south months ago. Perhaps it's that the weather has been so mild till now; more likely, that my neighbor puts out very high quality seed and has entire flocks of different birds in residence. In any case, I know why bluebirds are equated with happiness so often. Just seeing their remarkable blue feathers flash against the sky, and even especially against the snow, lifts the heart. And I have two more reasons for being uncharacteristically upbeat: my new great-niece, Dakota, and great-nephew Catcher. They were being born almost exactly as my plane was leaving O'Hare last Friday night - I was leaving late, and they were arriving 7 weeks early! I've just seen some early snaps, and am delighted to report that despite some scary moments, they are both doing well, and, of course, are adorable. I don't know who is more thrilled, the proud parents Abbey and Eric, the even prouder grandparents Vicki and Mural, or the absolutely proudest person in the world, great-grandmother Jo (she has been taken to the hospital to see Dakota, has not yet seen Catcher who was transferred elsewhere for a few days but is now back with his sister; Dad will have to wait till the babies come home, as getting him anywhere in this cold is not possible). It's an amazing moment to see the first persons of the next generation in our family appear. Brian and I are scheduled to meet them in March, when we'll also celebrate the folks' 65th anniversary - how does anyone do that? In the meantime, aside from getting the baby bulletins and monitoring the weather, all else is quiet here.

January 8 2007

Marching through time like this line of llamas, I enter 2007. As I gathered my ghosts around me on New Year's Eve, I missed my dear Saul the Dog Prince more than ever. Typically Brian is asleep well before midnight on any night; he's a morning person, I'm a night owl with insomnia. It's a combination that works well most of the time - his prime painting time is early mornings, usually before I even stagger out to the coffee machine, and I like the solitude of late nights reading, watching TV, surfing the net or just ruminating. But I didn't realize that a big part of my satisfaction in solitude resided in the softly snoring dog, always nearby, never at all crabby about being awakened from a rabbit-chasing dream for me to wish him a Happy New Year, or pour out my troubles. It was so comforting to have a confidant for whom confidentiality was never an issue! No matter what dire dark secrets of my soul I emptied into his floppy ears, nothing ever came back to haunt me. When Saul was buried last May, it marked the end of 40 years of living with pets: 3 dogs (Mutzie, Max, Saul), many cats (Bernie, Seymour, Roachie, Sweetpea, and Pearl, who lived to be almost 30, plus about a half dozen others), 3 bunnies (Dog, Rachel, Eeny) and too many aquarium fish to name even when they were alive. I wonder if I'm done for good with that part of my life...

The ghosts of years gone always seem nearer at New Year's, or Rosh HaShona, the Jewish New Year. Old dear college and post-college friends like Kent and Willie appear, now almost forty years younger than I, but still missed. My grandparents, aunts and uncles, some gone decades past, and one, my very last beloved "tante", gone only last year, two months prior to her 101st birthday. Very very sadly and for me completely unexpectedly, my wonderful friend and mentor of over 30 years, Patricia, whose wise advice and grace in living were a mainstay that will be missed the rest of my life. Friends' parents, parents' friends, as each of us ages our lists grow. It almost seems to me that we are like comets racing across our lifespan as they do the sky. The older we get, the faster we pass through time, and the longer our "tails" become, as we drag our incrementally increasing history behind us. I guess this is as close as I'll come to understanding the time/space theory of Einsteinian physics.