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One week ago

One week ago I was flying in Business Class (on an upgrade!) on Air Canada.

I don’t recall ever visiting a water closet on a jet and looking out a window at the same time. So I did my business at 36000 feet, overlooking Canada.

From the flight:


Jet lag

With apologies to Paul Simon:

Hello jet lag, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the ache of jet lag

In restless dreams I flew alone
Friendly skies, but never prone
‘Neath the halo of a blazing sun
I could not sleep — this is no fun
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
I kept awake, with jet lag

Meanwhile, on this Sunday, I decided to repair to my bed after breakfast to listen an NPR story before showering and venturing forth into the gray day. Church was on the agenda, and brunch later.

Instead, I day-slept from 930 a.m. to noon.

My body is still a mess from the travel and time zone changes!

Doctor Week

Spring Break is a time to plan doctor visits.

I saw my ophthalmologist two weeks ago.  No worries there.

Monday was ortho day, with a visit to the hand specialist.  We will wait for one more cortisone injection, and then consider surgery for this pesky trigger-finger issue.

And Tuesday was dermatologist day.  My scalp is cratered like a lunar landscape right now, but seven (7) pre-K spots are gone.  And we found no other worries, unlike last year when I had more than a dozen spots frozen. Thanks be to god for a) annual check-ups, and b) the insurance that makes them, and my health as I age, possible.

#TBT: Class evaluation

1987 – 1999.  My parents were missionaries to Argentina.  I wrote regularly, first by long-hand, then by typing — sometimes using aerograms, sometimes using onion-skin paper — and later by sending faxes of typed letters, and finally moving to email.

From May 1990, here’s a letter recounting the end of my first semester of college teaching, and the comments from the Longview Community College professor who evaluated my teaching:


#TBT: Drum major

Found in my father’s belongings, these photos of me as drum major in October 1978:

I was not drum major for my high school band, but David Flick, the drum major, was in the Homecoming court, so I subbed as drum major for one homecoming parade and football game.  I recall even now that I did not have the strength for it, nor the stamina. But I liked blowing the whistle and being the boss.

And yet . . .

E’en so, Lord Jesus, quickly come,  and night shall be no more. They need no light, nor lamp, nor sun, for Christ shall be their all.

This prayer is mine tonight, as my father lingers yet.  His nurse said again tonight “he’s making his way,” but slowly and in his . . . and God’s . . . own time.

He is no longer recognizing us, and has not spoken today. His breathing has changed, and we are aware of other signs of the progress toward death.

But he’s still here.

Great-niece Lily visited again today.  So did my niece Anna.

This is one cute child…..