Archive for October 2018

FYI-2: A LITTLE HISTORY FROM THE DEVIL

October 31, 2018

“A little”  (history)  being the operative phrase.

Pumpkin Pals.jpg 370

It’s Halloween!   A perfect week to read or re-read The Screwtape Letters, the highly enjoyable allegory by CS Lewis.   Well, “enjoyable,” if it weren’t so true!

CS Lewis remains an important literary influence in the English language for those who are in the process of being educated; for those who don’t have to be persuaded of the importance of being educated.

(For that reason I won’t give a synopsis of The Screwtape Letters,  just one quotation.)

Quote:

(This is Screwtape talking, the demon educator who is instructing Wormwood on how to corrupt the education of humans.  That is,  we’re the ones being “Screwed.”)

“To regard the ancient writer as a possible source of knowledge  –  to anticipate what he said could modify your thoughts or behavior – that would be rejected as absolutely simple-minded.   And since we (devils) cannot corrupt   the whole of the human race all of time,  it is most important thus to cut every generation off from one another, for where learning makes a free commerce between the ages, there is always the danger that the characteristic errors of one may be corrected by the characteristic truths of another.”

Know that quotation well.     It is the whole reason our socialist education system prevents you from knowing (or respecting)  history.)      For corruption and evil to make headway,  you must cut off each generation from its own history — lest people learn from past mistakes!

When an entire culture is floundering around in ignorance and corruption,  it is easy to tell the members of that generation anything!

Don’t know what your Constitution says?    There is someone waiting to tell you what they want you to think it says!!

Don’t know the history of your own nation?   There are those who will tell you what your history is – and how evil your nation is . . .  and how all our heroes aren’t really heroes at all!!

Don’t know how to distinguish objective truth from opinion?   There are those who will tell you how to think and feel.

Don’t know where humans came from?   There are those who will describe human creatures that developed, by chance, out of the slimy muck,  with no more dignity than a common animal.

Don’t know the wisdom that comes from your parents, your grandparents,  the culture of your great-grandparents?   There are those who will tell you they don’t have anything to offer you and who will give you their own purposes in place of the wisdom of the past.

And so on.

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I’m not going to read Screwtape Letters tonight.  I’m going to read more of the book that presented that quotation:    Reasonable Pleasures  by  James V.   Schall,   highly recommended for all-around general understanding of our times.

I am going to do a different Halloween thing, though.

HILL

I’m going to watch The Haunting (of Hill House), (1963 version)  and then I going to watch the modern Netflix series version of it.    Just for comparison . . .  research, you know.

I’ll probably have the lights on all night long!

pumpkin banner

Thanks to Son for carving the pumpkins;  and thanks to our little family for picking them out of the pumpkin patch.

Pumpkin Patch the three.jpg 160

 

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FYI: A LITTLE HISTORY FACT

October 31, 2018

Kitchen Mess.jpg 350

My kitchen floor is in pieces,  all rolled up and discarded;  I’m squeezing between the “storage disaster”  that has become my home, to use the keyboard of my disarranged computer,  just to make some comments — which, because I love my country (I love my nation;  call me a nationalist!) — because I love this nation,  I think are important   (the comments, that is).

Two days ago, I think,  I heard on the radio that the president is looking into some ways to end the anchor-baby  problem which is harming our country.  He said he was going to make a “directive”  to have some people, some experts see how this could be done.

(“Exploring how”  not “dictating.”)

The next time I heard the news,  he had either added a comment or else the “news” people decided to report more of what he had had to say.   The further comment was that he was being told by some of his advisers that he could just issue an executive order to eliminate the anchor-baby procedure.  He didn’t sound enthusiastic about the executive order method.

(It’s possible, but the Barack Hussein person in the White House so much overused the executive order,  changed the system with his orders, and exhibited such unhealthy glee in doing so — Remember his  “I have a pen and a cell phone and I know how to use them,”       Remember that statement?)

So that first day I didn’t know what method our current president would use to alleviate our anchor-baby-non-citizen-parent problem.

However!   Every time the “news” came on the radio,   there seems to be hysteria about this president using an executive order to “change the Constitution”  !!!   the debate rages — rages, I say —  about his use of the executive order and about the “difficulty”  of changing  the Constitution,  et cetera,  et cetera,  et cetera.

Now the 14th Amendment to the Constitution that the “news” people are discussing was put in there to allow the children of former slaves — in 1866 –  to be considered American citizens.   Their parents hadn’t been;  but after the  War Between the States,  they were — and their children could be.

Later the 14th Amendment was also applied to American Indians tribes,  or nations.  Children born of American Indians were to be considered American citizens.

The key phrase that applied to both instances was that the parents were not under any foreign jurisdiction.   Neither former slaves nor American Indians were under the jurisdiction if any foreign nation.

So babies born to them are American citizens.

Hope that’s clear.

The thousands of young men (and a few women and children)  who are coming this way:

on their way feed etc

.   .   .    .   these young men are citizens of foreign countries.  They are under the jurisdiction of a foreign nation.   Their babies do not become American citizens —   at least until socialist policies began to prevail in our judicial system.

That is the wrong that needs to be righted.   That is the intentional misinterpretation of the Constitution that needs to be corrected.

By some means.

We’ll see.

.

A CAMEL’S LAMENT

October 28, 2018

camel complaint

Just want to say I’m still here.   So much to talk about and write about and share . . . I feel all jammed up with unused information.      I’ve missed communicating.     Writing has been terribly difficult.

Feels like this:

 

blue funk

Been there this week . . .  deep blue funk.

Or is that purple?   Can’t tell because my computer screen has gone into Night Mode again . . .   taken away the blue light . . .

Many reasons to feel worn out and funky and blue . . . or purple.

Here’s one:

KITCHEN IS 390

That’s my kitchen,  all jammed into my living room and dining room –  and spread out in all the other rooms too.     I can’t reach anything that I want.  I suppose that’s okay because I can’t find anything I want either.   If I move one thing,  it covers up other things I need and I lose the next thing I’m looking for.

I’ve decided I can’t live all disorganized like this.  I mean I can’t think clearly and I’m just about out of patience.   Well, I’m out of sorts is what I’m out of.

It’s been three weeks?  Three?  Maybe more.

It all started with this:

KITCHEN CORNER 370

I don’t have wood floors in my kitchen,  that’s just  half the floor with the vinyl removed.    There was a long wait for the tile installer to be scheduled,  then he was sick on the day he was supposed to start,  then we had a power outage on the next day;  another long wait to be rescheduled,  and then — they found a water-damaged area under the floor that had to be fixed and built up first.

Then that was done,  then the installer was rescheduled . . .

If I could only be  like “Annie”  and believe in “Tomorrow.”

The installer is supposed to begin work . . .  tomorrow.

I know.   These troubles are small.    They’re small compared to what I and my family have been through these past few months.   They’re small compared to an ongoing “worry”  that I have.     They’re small compared to  other people’s problems.

I appreciate that.     I do.

This messed up house kitchen thing is just a straw.

camel

Oooooph.

.

Temporary.

I’ll be back to my chatty self soon again;  catch up on things.

After “Tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TOLD YOU SO

October 22, 2018

bear paw bracelet

 

I told you,  I told you, Dear Readers, I told you I told you about the Bears. 

bear talking to you You go along in your everyday world,   doing everyday things,  handling everyday issues,   everything is ordinary and everyday — but all along you don’t know, you didn’t know,  you were being stalked by a “bear.”

 

And it sometimes decides to jump out at you — and then you know you’re no match for the bear.    Or as my Dad and Mom and I found out,  Dad’s  .22 rifle was no match for an angry mother bear who jumped out at us during a nice walk in the woods.

Bear Brown snarl 350

Well, we weren’t eaten,  but I learned a lesson back then when I was just a child:  Bears can jump out at you anytime.

Bears are metaphors for the unexpected bad things in life.  Everyone is stalked by bear.  They don’t always attack — but they always could.

There are little bears too.  And sneaky bears.  And maybe . . .  cute? . . . maybe cute bears if you’re not around to see what they’re doing.   Cooper’s World got visited by bear a few weeks ago.

Bear Pair Looking

Cooper is my grandson.  He lives in this house in  the High Sierras of California,  on Donner Lake, specifically.   A neighbor took these photos one afternoon when Cooper and his mom and dad weren’t home.    That’s the deck on the side of their home.

They relax there.

They give parties there.

I’ve relaxed on that deck at times.

Cooper and his mom and dad were away doing ordinary, everyday errands.

This pair was on a mission:

Bear Mission

They knew where the goodies are kept, all locked up in an airtight refrigerator.

But not locked up enough;  not airtight enough:

Bear Mission Accomp 380

Yep,  they found the”beverage” supply.   Beer beverage.   Wonder if that was Baby’s first taste.

Bears do cute things.    They’re . . .  cute, maybe.     But I remember sitting in that nice pink chair on their deck, with my eyes closed,  enjoying the brilliant mountain sunshine.

Bears are there.   “Bear” are everywhere.    In my difficult, mixed-up, dangerous, deadly, and almost deadly world of my past four months,   “Bear” have been all over this place.  Deaths,  disease,  disappointments, distrusts,  dying cars and dying TVs, schedule conflicts and extra repair time, self-inflicted injury  —  I think I’ve had them all.

Strength.  Resilience.   Coming back for more like a little Weeble-Wobble.   Faith.  Hope.  Trust that the Bears will let up for a while.   And the certain knowledge that we are not meant to be happy in this life,  but in the Next.    (That is Christian teaching.)

SAMSUNG

I told you there were Bear in this world, ready to surprise you with an attack.

But so did Jesus.    He didn’t promise us an easy life,  but He did promise us He wouldn’t leave us as orphans.   And: “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”    “I will send you the Comforter,  the Holy Ghost . . .”    “Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will never pass away.”

That means some day the Bear will be gone,  but God will remain for us.

 

Bar Cross in middle

 

I guess I can handle all the Bear. 

weeble wobbling

 

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WHAT’S IT? #22 (humor)

October 19, 2018

(Every time I hear the phrase “dumb and dumber,”  I think of grim and grimmer — a description of our past couple of months around here.   But . . .  we’re getting through it.  Life still keeps happening “out there.”   And we’re alive.)  

Perhaps a little humor . . . .

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I used to have a series here called “What’s it?”  in which  I showed you some inexplicable photo or phenomenon  that truly had no explanation.   Just plain fun.   There are 21 previous What’s Its if you’d like to use this page’s search engine below (type in WHAT’S IT)  or maybe I’ll see if this blog has a “Page” function and I’ll put all the What’s Its on one Page.

Well, here is the latest one:

Lighting up sky

Something appeared over the sky somewhere in China a few weeks ago.   Shook up a lot of people.    Many photos were taken of the thing, from many different locations.

Many explanations were offered, but none quite fit.  And, no,  it was not a meteor streaking across the sky.   It didn’t move fast across a trajectory, and it wasn’t a fireball (I’ve seen those).    It “developed.”   Soundlessly.

Changed shape and added some color:

Lighting up curved sky

More importantly,  it changed direction.

As usual with intriguing news stories, there has been no -follow-up.

Arrrrghhhh!!!!!

JUST SHOULDN’T BE

October 15, 2018

(So many things going wrong)

As the Morton Salt company used to say:

Morton Salt

It’s pouring now in the Spruce Tunnel.

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I don’t mean all the deaths —  our five close family members in the last eight years.

I don’t mean Hubbie’s car finally rusting sadly past repair:

Red car

And I don’t even mean the recent demise of my TV:

TV

“Put to death”  by our last lightning storm a week or two ago,  frying the remaining port.   (The TV works, the pixels are all there,  the sound is there —  there’s just no way to input any signal into the TV.)

No, it’s worse.  It’s this.   It’s something that is just so wrong …..

Son’s  beautiful gleaming black Pontiac GTO:

GTO red 260

“It was a dark and stormy night . . .”  Or at least dark and drizzly, slick roads.

Son is a good driver.  The young lady behind him was not.  She smashed into his left rear end going probably more than 80 m.p.h.  on the Interstate.

Thanks be to God that he didn’t spin out of control and roll over.

I love that car too.   It’s the most beautiful sports car anyone in our family has ever owned.   Many times when  it’s parked in my driveway I wash it.  I tell Son it’s to thank him for doing my heavy yard work,  but the truth is, I like to wash it and make it shine.

.

I have a simple philosophy: 

This is something that “should be.”

 

GTO right side.jpg380

This is something that “shouldn’t be” –

GTO y 260

But it is.     “Should”  is our judgment call.    Our own opinion.

To paraphrase Yoda,  There is no “should,”  there is only “is.”

What “is”  is the substance of each day.    What “is”  is our task,  our challenge,  our joy,  our duty,   our sorrowing,  our work,  our purpose . . .  our life.

Sometimes life just pours out on us.

YOLO

October 15, 2018

 

(A chatty post for those who like to read — and meander a little)

YOLO:  It took me a moment to remember what this meant.  It was spoken in response to a dangerous, seemingly impossible  “situation”  that the characters of a book had gotten themselves into.   It means:  “Oh, well;  forward!”

(The actual letters stand for You Only Live Once.)

________________________

News Rock 1

Recording the history of a past Age

I have been defiantly unproductive today.

Apparently my body thinks it’s at the end of its rope;  you know,  too many things going on;  too many “issues” all at once, as I wrote to a friend.    I’m pretty darn resilient, and I’m pretty (almost)  healthy,  but I guess my body has limits.  I’m not physically tired, not too much, though I should be.

What I am is mentally tired.  I guess that’s why I’m always walking around with my eyes stinging and burning, wanting to close down to repair themselves in a long,  deep sleep,  no matter how well I’ve slept the night before.  I just want – enough – sleep.

News rock 2

The whole Newspaper Rock,  Utah,  made by people long ago who Only Lived Once.

So I had an errand today, and then I decided to return a library book I’ve just finished:  a second errand on a day when I didn’t want even the first one.  But I would not take home any  more books from the library for a while because . . .  then I’d just have to return them some day, and it would probably be on another day when I didn’t want to return them.

I came out of the library with four new books.

I think one of them will aid my unproductivity.

The plot involves one of those minor, minor interests you have, so minor that you don’t even think about it until you come across it again and remember,  “Oh yes,  that was kind of interesting,”  and you spend a few moments on it again.

new mt cl in grand canyon

Exploring in the Grand Canyon

 

Well, here’s a whole little minor-interesting book that’s giving me an excuse to “take care of my body,”  wrapped in a warm quilt, next to a steaming hot pot of tea-and-honey and my go-to comfort food from childhood:  soda crackers and slices of Cracker Barrel cheese.     Hot tea,   crackers and cheese, and the promise of a few chocolate chips after a while.

(It’s relatively cold out there in this Far North October.    A sudden abrupt drop in temperature;  high temperatures in the mid-40s.     Quilt and hot tea weather.)

new party of six

Searching for signs of ancient cultures

Apart from the slightly intriguing theme of the book,  it has the added bonus of being written by probably a Millennial with a warped, hip sense of humor — the kind I like:    flippantly irreverent.   Or is that irreverently flippant?     And slightly hyperbolic.   Perfect for a light read.

FUN WITH WORDS

In addition to the flippant humor,  there is the creative use of familiar words and phrases.  Just one example for your enjoyment:     The small group of about a half dozen men and women,  none of whom are rock climbers,  are climbing up the almost sheer wall of the Grand Canyon.

There are many very desperate physical trials,   Indiana Jones style,   but they have to be faced and they do so  courageously.       If you die trying, you die.     YOLO.

One woman  climbing  above the main character-narrator,  slips and falls, sliding down into him.  He breaks her fall, just barely.  Not much to be said.    (She’s a tough,  hard-mouthed “modern”  independent woman.)    She wipes off the blood and climbs again.

new cave gr canyon

Later, when they’re resting at the cave opening where they intended to go,  she thanks him for saving her.     He tells her  it was more like “collateral salvation;  he was just busy hanging on tightly to save himself.

Collateral  Salvation.

Silly made-up phrase.  But, see?    It has a ring of deeper significance to it.   I’ll die soon, some day.   At least “dying”  is in my future.    And I desperately want to  please my Creator so that I can be with Him forever.     I want to know the right thing and to do the right thing so that I can be with my Creator forever.  And ever.  My soul depends on it.    I want to please my Savior and live with Him forever.   Simple.

Perhaps my quest, my journey, my choices will have the effect of “Collateral Salvation”  upon some of you.

new patagonians

Portion of an engraving recording the 16th century  meeting of European explorers with the Patagonian giants, leftovers of a previous Age

This little book I read today winds its narrative around the premature triggering of the next Age.     Fun to think about,  but  we were given this present world Age to live in.      To learn.  To find our way back to God and to choose Him.

It’s a matter of Life and Death.  YOLO.   You get only one try.

Risk all to attain it.

It’s a worthy fight.

NOT ALONE ON OUR JOURNEY

October 11, 2018

“After a Funeral;  after a Death.”

Hope and Consolation comes in many forms,  but the quiet beauty of a thoughtful poem gives us the time to truly take it into ourselves.

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Jesus,  “Rabboni,”   Teacher,   Master,    told us many things.  He instructed us,  admonished us,  warned us,  and prepared us to understand why He came to die for us.

But He couldn’t tell us everything.   We are not capable of understanding everything.  When He told His closest disciples that He was soon returning to the Father,  He said this:     I will not now speak many things with you. For the prince of this world comes, and in me he hath not any thing.   But that the world may know, that I love the Father: and as the Father hath given me commandment, so do I: Arise, let us go hence.  .  . (John 14:30, 31)

“I will not now speak many things with you:     For  (Because)  the prince of this world comes . . .

The spiritual ruler of this world is (for now)  the Enemy,  commonly called Satan.  Maybe you think of him as the devil.    This powerful creature will bring about the death of Jesus (through our actions),  but yet has no power over Jesus   ( and in me he hath not any thing.).  They are diametrically opposed to each other, and that “commandment”  that Jesus refers to in this passage is God’s commandment that Jesus come into this world to die for the world, breaking the power that this evil prince of no love has over us.

So it is:  We all must choose either God our Savior in Jesus Christ;  or Satan and all that this world offers.

No matter which you choose,  you and your loved ones will experience that great and terrible consequence of human rebellion against God:  Death.

(And all the things which accompany our  Death:   sickness,  pain,  loneliness,  bad feelings towards ourselves and others,   lovelessness,  doubt,  uncertainty,  sadness, anger . . .  all these things contribute to our Death.)

And so we here in the Spruce Tunnel experienced the Death of a dearly loved one,  our own Meghan.    And here is the Bright Spot:   If we can hear through the spiritual clutter of our lives, through all that strong, insistent chatter from the Enemy,  we can hear words of  Life and Comfort — and Hope that we may be united once again, everyone who lives within the Love of Jesus.  Some day.

Jesus alone has power over life and death.  He said He has the power to lay down His life and to take it up again,  and as surely as He resurrected from His own death,  so  will He do the same for those who live in His friendship.

No easy thing with all that spiritual clutter!   But it can be done.   And we can have real Hope and real the Comfort that we are not alone on our journey.     Some people can testify to this beautifully.     Beautifully in poetic form so that we can enjoy and savor each thought:

 

What God Hath Promised
 
God hath not promised skies always blue
Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.
 
God hath not promised we shall not know
Toil and temptations, trouble and woe;
He hath not told us we shall not bear
many a burden, many a care.
 
God hath not promised smooth roads and wide
Swift, easy travel needing no guide;
Never a mountain rocky and steep,
Never a river turbid and deep.
 
But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.
 
Annie Johnson Flint
Learn it.  Its words are true.
For this poem of Comfort:   thank you to my Recorder-playing  friend who has brought beauty into my life through our shared music,  setting a beautiful  table afterwards,  and always beautiful thoughts.
Deo gratias.
.

AFTER A FUNERAL

October 7, 2018

 

St. Therese of Lesieux,  Little Flower,  who promised a shower of roses on us, 

Meg Yellow Rose 380

.     —  shower on Meghan now your intercession for her soul,   and your   “Little Way of Love”  on all of us she left behind.

We can do nothing more . . .   we  too  are “little” . . .  all that is left is love.

_________________________________________________________________

What I feel strongly today, this first day after Meghan’s funeral service,  is not what I truly believe;   nevertheless,   it is what I feel:

M eg Flowers 380

It is this:

I give the fight up
Let there be an end
A privacy, an obscure nook for me
I want to be forgotten, even by God.

(from Parcelsus by Robert Browning 1835)

Usually it’s the poet Blake that I quote here for you.   And often Yeats, since God saw fit to place me in this place and time, this most wicked, inhumane, un-religious, God-forsaken century. *   Our Heavenly Father’s love and care for us is still there, infinite and eternal, but we have so thickly veiled it  that it takes  effort on our part to see through that cold, dark veil.

Our Dear Meghan  touched so many lives, and circles of lives, and so profoundly,  that as one of her friends put it, we all have her  flame like  a little “pilot light”  burning in us, each in our own way,  because she knew each of us, each in our own way,  and she gave herself to us wholeheartedly with cheerfulness, proficiency, and unconditional friendship.

She herself was the bright spot in any room.

In observing all the people that came to honor Meghan,  and the young men and women of Son’s circle of friends — Son’s and Meghan’s circle because to know one was to know the other ––   in observing all these people,  I could see that Meghan’s light was in them too, and they live and talk in reference to her . . .  and they are better people for it.

Works in progress, of course, even as I am,  but we want to be like she was.

Here is the young man,  Meghan’s,  at the end of it all:

Meg Son there

“….A privacy, an obscure nook for me…”

At the end of words.   At the end of thoughts.

Viking blood.  Viking courage.   Viking strength.   Viking-size feelings.

He’ll be all right.    He has a surprisingly close group of friends,  the young men standing by him;  I call them a Band of Brothers.   Who else commandeers an extra table at the funeral parlor and writes a sign with the words   “Care Package”  with a calendar for his friends to sign up on certain dates marking when and how they will do something to support him, my Son?

He’ll be all right, but not just yet now . . .

I give the fight up
Let there be an end
A privacy, an obscure nook for me
I want to be forgotten, even by God.

It’s about feelings now,  not belief,  not faith,  not Truth.  Just feelings.

________________________________________________________

 

Advice from a Mom (me):

Meg Book of Friends

When you go to a funeral or to a Memorial, go to it!    Help the family set up and plan  for it, if possible.    Those are difficult days between the death and the funeral.    Sign the book!     Mix and mingle with others who come. Make new friends and acquaintances – you belong there too, having known the loved one, now absent.

Sadly,  I give that advice to all of you because we will all experience someone’s death, eventually, and some day our own.

Don’t ask:  “For Whom the Bell Tolls.”    John Donne had the answer.     It’s a good time to look it up and review it.

 bells

(Not the book, not the movie, not the song . . .  the poem, in plain, simple English.)

 

 

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.*   Don’t misunderstand:   I have NO complaints about God’s wisdom in placing me in this “here and now.”    He was right,  this is the best time and place for me to be able to be directed back to Him.

(And for you.)

 

CURSE OF PELE

October 4, 2018

We’re not feeling very humorous right now, Son and I.    We both want to tell Meghan what a horrible awful sad and grievous week we’re having.   She’d know what to say.  She’d know what to do.    But Meghan’s not here right now.    She’s not with us.  She’s not in this world.

But, this is some humor – for you.      Maybe it’s humor.

________________________________________________________________

We absolutely do not believe in superstitions, Son and I.    I think.

peles hole

But things happen in Hawaii.

Volcanoes and things.  And goddesses, like Pele, who watch over the islands.

closer

And jealously guards everything that belongs to the islands.

You know the legend.   If you remove rocks, especially lava rocks, from the islands,  Pele curses you with bad luck and things until the rocks come back and she is restored.   So many people have found this to be true that the post office in Hawaii has built several warehouses now to contain all the rocks sent back by chastened tourists.

Volcanic rocks like these:

lava rocks

And like this one, which Meghan picked up  a few years ago, brought it home with her.

lava holes

Her home is not in Hawaii . . .  .

Some day we’re going to write down  all the things that have gone “wrong” in Meghan’s life.  All the bad luck, the bad timing,  the unusual one-of-a-kind bad results.   No matter how hard she planned and worked at something  — and she was intelligent and talented and determined —     at the very last minute something pulled the rug out from under her — and always through no fault of her own.

So many projects that just couldn’t be brought to a conclusion.

It’s astonishing really.  Kind of amusing sometimes.  But always,  you just have to shake your head and say, “That’s Meghan.”

So here was her plan:

Rock in paper 380

 

Before she went into the hospital this last time,  she had wrapped her souvenir Hawaiian lava rocks in newspaper and placed them into a Priority mailing box.

And she placed this one in the box too.

Rock White

Then she arranged the newspapers and rocks, and also put in an address to be used,  one like this:

Rock Return

But as efficient and prepared as she was,   she never quite made it to the post office.   Bad luck intervened, bad timing.     She never came out of the hospital …  at least not alive.

Son and I took the box to the post office.

The box is on its way to Hawaii right now,  I think.  Oh, we have the Tracking Number.   I haven’t dared to check it out yet  —  you know, to see just where the box actually is.   Given bad luck and unforeseen outcomes,  it could be anywhere.

All I know is Pele is not yet happy:

Pele

 

Pele is not yet done with messing up Meghan’s life.

And here’s how I know.    Son and I had to have that very difficult meeting with the funeral home director.   Painful.  We nearly had ourselves under control as we answered all the questions,  made all the decisions.

One decision was which day to have Meghan’s Memorial Service.   Saturday?  Sunday?   No,  Saturday.   Noon.

Which we afterwards realized just turned out to be  our local Big Ten college Homecoming day:   everyone around here has  tailgating plans,  football watching plans,  and kickoff is at . . .  noon.

Of course.

Pele strikes again.

Or is that Meghan?