HAP

Dear Anne, The creatures all get along fine. But apparently they like radically different food sources Hummers, for example really like petunias and impatiens but bees prefer other flowers instead. I thought all nectar plants would have similar attraction for everyone. Apparently I was wrong. Unfortunately, lemons, oranges, and grapefruit, while wonderful where bees are concerned, don't do well in New England, though they can do well in containers. I once had a lemon tree in a bucket. Unfortunately, I don't have much left for window space. Are you saying you want to take point for a golf tournament in Arizona? I need to know a lot more about running a tournament from a practical standpoint before I try to take that piece national. Peace, Harry Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I did my weekly bread baking this morning. I'm still playing with the recipe. I had so,me loafs a couple weeks ago that had a big hollow space at the top of the loaf--which I seem to have solved by not pushing the rising time out beyond an hour. The loaves are still smaller than I'd like, so I've been increasing both the flour and the liquids. I think part of the issue may be the size of the pans, but it's hard to know for certain. Today also seemed like a good laundry day since it is in the upper 20s to low 30s. The heavy snow won't arrive until early this evening--and we expect some freezing rain at some point overnight. Locally, we only expect 4-8 inches which, in a normal winter, would be a major storm for us. But this year we have been measuring things in feet, so this qualifies as a smaller storm here. Boston, on the other hand, is getting as much as two feet before this winds down. I have no idea where they are going to put all this--no idea where Fall River is going to put even this amount, honestly. I started the research piece of my beekeeping plan today by looking at what plants make good pollen and nectar sources for bees. While some of the flowers I like made the list, a lot didn't make the cut--which surprised me a little since hummingbirds and butterflies approve of them. It is also clear that I was wise to decide to give myself this year to do the prep work. Getting new flower beds built and planting fruit trees is not something I can do overnight--and certainly not by early spring. Kay, I bought some foam backed curtains for the basement project. Unfortunately, It doesn't seem to have made much difference down there. The temperature this morning was no different than normal. Sigh. At least the curtains give it a slightly more finished look. On the other hand, the curtains at the front door and on the cellar door seem to make a difference upstairs. When I open them there is an immediate release of cooler air that would otherwise be coming right up the stairs--and the living room feels much more comfortable than it has. I talked with someone today who has run several charity golf tournaments. I need to figure out some things, but the potential is certainly interesting. That's something for next week. Time to go run the vacuum and get something to eat. Peace, Harry

Dear Butch, Sometimes we are the support and sometimes we are the supported. Relax where that is concerned. We have your back. I wish i could make these days vanish for you, but they are what they are and we have to endure them as best we can. We've got your back on that as well--and you always have our shoulders. Peace, Harry

Dear Fae, Anniversaries are always tough. I hope today went as well as it could--and that your memories were good ones. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, So much good news from so many people today on here. QMary, I am so sorry hear about your sister. I had a very strange experience this morning. I had a very vivid dream of Jane--so vivid I could feel her arms around me and mine around her. When I got up, I did my usual Saturday chores--cleaning the kitchen and bathroom--then went to the cemetery. My brain felt pretty scattered there today because of that dream. When I came home I installed some curtain rods in the basement and put up some insulated curtains down there. I've already put curtains over the front door and the door to the basement. The weather has been so cold this year that I am plugging even the smallest potential leaks as best I can. Keeping the living room, dining room and kitchen--which share a cathedral ceiling--warm enough has been a challenge for much of the winter. The basement has been in the low 50s much of the last month. The curtains down there really change the way the space feels. Lately, with the curtains closed whenever there is no direct sunlight coming through the windows, the house feels increasingly like a cave and it makes me a bit claustrophobic. I am close enough to the coast that I will get much less snow than they are getting further inland. Boston may get another two feet--that will be six feet in the last 15 days. I have no idea what they are doing with it. We aren't seeing much melting between storms, either. But the larder is well stocked--and I'll bake bread for the week tomorrow. I have books to read and movies to watch--and plenty of candles and lanterns if the power goes out. QMary, enjoy the band, Anne enjoy the PT progress, and Marty, thanks for being here for all of us when we need a shoulder. Be well, everyone. Peace, Harry

Dear Marty, Wow. I have no words. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, Thank you all for your kind words. I wish i felt there was courage in what I do, but I actually think it is less that than being too stupid to know when I should stop and walk away. My father and I didn't get along very well for much of our lives--but I really am his son in being mulishly, stupidly stubborn when confronted with anything. I don't smoke. He did until they told him to stop or die. But when he hit a snag on something he was working on, he would stop and say, "I need a cigarette." That would give him an excuse to stop doing what he was doing and let his subconscious work out the solution. Strangely, when I hit a similar snag, I say, "I need a cigarette." I bring my fingers to my mouth, take a deep breath, and then slowly let it out--exactly as he did, minus the cigarette. Programming--crazy. I know I am making a difference on NET. But there are other dragons I need to be fighting, too. I have a United States senator this week who says we have to continue burning fossil fuels as much as possible so that the plants will have sufficient carbon dioxide to breathe. I have a governor who says homosexuality is causing autism. I have a president who laughed at "drill, baby, drill" but has overseen the greatest increase in oil drilling in the US in history. In the middle east we have lunatics beheading and burning people because they do not believe as they do. I was raised to believe in the idea of service. I was raised to believe in the practice of unconditional love. I was raised to accept that we should judge a person's character based not on color, sex, creed, or culture but on the content of his or her character based on the evidence of his or her actions and deeds. You know a tree not by its shape but by the fruit that it yields. I do not understand how the leaders of the world--raised, most of them, in circumstances similar to my own--cannot have imbibed a similar system of values. I know NET cancer needs me as an advocate, but I feel guilty, periodically, because there are a lot of things that I feel I need to be doing in addition to that. What good is a cure for cancer--any cancer--if there is no one to use it because we have killed ourselves as a species--taking all our knowledge with us? And yet. We change the world one life at a time, one day at a time. If you want people to learn compassion, you have to live compassion. If you want the world to learn tolerance, you have to live tolerance. If you want people to learn peace, you have to live peace. And if you want people to learn love, you have to live love. I can't see someone who is sick without trying to help them. I can't see someone who is poor without trying to address their poverty. How any loving God can see what I see with my merely mortal eyes and not act is beyond me--except that adults need to solve their own problems. I did not expect my father to solve my problems after I was 18. Only an immature species demands the Gods save them from their problems. A mature species takes a deep breath and solves the problem for itself. In a very real sense, this NET cancer work is a vehicle that takes me on a necessary journey. In solving this riddle, perhaps I learn or do something that will make a difference elsewhere in ways I do not see or expect. As Bilbo tells Frodo, it is a dangerous thing, stepping out of ones door in the morning. We never know where the day is going to take us--or if we will come home at all. The one thing that is certain is that the person we are when we go out in the morning will not be the person who comes home that night--even if the trip is only to the market. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, Despite the negatives of the last two weeks reported elsewhere, there has been some positive energy out there as well. Last weekend, I finally tackled the faucet on the kitchen sink. It went much more smoothly than the one in the bathroom did. I have to replace the faucets every ten years or so because the acidity of the local water supply corrodes their inner workings so badly. Lifetime does not mean lifetime here when it comes to plumbing. I went to the funeral of Jane's Uncle yesterday. He was 98 and, as one of his sons said, 95 of them were great--and only the last few months could not be described as at least good. Jane's dad seems to have stabilized, though they've had to increase his pain meds a bit this week. I'd like him to see 90--that would be in mid-June--but only if he has something that looks like a decent quality of life. Uncle John was his best friend in many respects and he couldn't go to the funeral. So the funeral procession went to him on the way to the cemetery. He stood in the window and watched it drive by. Gail had a tough time with the funeral. Every time she looked at the coffin she saw her father's near-term future. But there was a bit of a breakthrough yesterday--she was able to talk about that prospect in real terms for the first time. Hank served in the Marines on Guadalcanal, and everywhere else in the South Pacific during WWII. She said she wants him to have a military funeral when the time comes. I'll have to figure out how to get the Marines to send an honor guard. Jane's cousin is a funeral director. He does all the family funerals. We usually sit together afterward. He is going to help us set up a golf tournament for the Marathon Walk team in Jane's memory. My follow-up with the dental surgeon went well. I still need to avoid even alcohol containing mouthwashes for a bit longer, but I can safely eat solid food again. The next phase is in early June. I started the Marathon Walk push yesterday on social media. That will mean several posts a week on NETs in a variety of venues. I need to get moving on the Relay for Life stuff shortly as well. I just have to keep moving forward. I lost about eight pounds in January. That leaves me with about 20 to go between now and June. It's a start. Kay, any time you don't have to pay in more is a plus. Anne, I keep rehabbing my knee. I'm glad to hear your PT is going well. I wish mine were going better than it is, but it all takes time. Mary--you'd tell me to be patient, so I'll return the favor. Marty, I didn't realize your joints were in that tough shape. What are you doing for them? I have to get out and do some things before the snow flies this weekend. The good news is they are saying we may get a bit less than first predicted. That would be nice. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, It's been a rough few days. I hope this will explain my recent silence. Peace, Harry I learned something important over the last two weeks. While I am not constantly aware of the pain Jane's death has caused me, I am in no way fully recovered from that event despite nearly 50 months having gone by. I can pretend, sometimes for weeks at a time, that I am back to a state of normalcy. But that is an illusion--or worse, a lie I convince myself of. Two weeks ago, I had the latest in an ongoing round of oral surgeries. I followed the surgeon's post-operative directions flawlessly. I iced the site of the latest wound the way one is supposed to, avoided the nuts and crispy foods, outlawed juice, tomato sauce and all the other acidic foods I like, gave up the heavy lifting of my constant training. I spent four days largely confined to the house we built, reading novels to take myself out of the world. It wasn't enough. No matter how effectively the books populated my mind with other people, when I came out to eat or sleep, I was still alone--am still alone. I posted to my online grief group, trying to stay positive. But words on a screen are useless when what I really need is Jane's physical presence--her voice--even the sound of her breathing. Then it began to snow. Neither of us liked to shovel snow, but we made a game of it. Jane would start at the garage end; I would go down to the street where the plow had left a drift. We would set to work. Sometimes we pretended we were working on the tunnel between England and France. Other times, it was the transcontinental railway. When we came together somewhere in the middle, we would hug and kiss as though we had been separated for days in celebration of the breakthrough. When we were done, we would come upstairs for hot cocoa, then sit on the couch--her feet buried under my legs to warm them up. Now, I wheel out the snow blower I bought after Jane's death. There is no romance or fantasy involved in the task. To be truthful, I try to avoid thinking of anything beyond guiding the machine down the driveway. I fail at doing so, miserably. There are too many memories and they flood into me like the Red Sea on the Egyptians. The days have been cold--far colder than normal--the last two weeks. That, too, isolates me. A group of us has a monthly lunch date. But many of the retired teachers in that group are elderly. They don't do well with the cold. This month's gathering was cancelled as a result. I didn't realize how much I was looking forward to the event until I got the call it was not going to happen. And then there was Friday. A group of student councils from area high schools was having a conference. I'd been asked to set up a table and do a series of short presentations for Walking with Jane in hopes of getting some of the schools interested in doing fundraisers for the Marathon Walk. I told Jane's story seven times over the course of about three-and-a-half hours. I taught high school for 34 years. Every class was a high wire act. As Jane said one time, even if you were teaching the same thing five times over the course of the day, the last group deserved as much energy and focus as the first one got. You had to do every show as though it were the first time you'd said it. Great stage actors, great stand-up comics have to have that same attitude. So that's what I did Friday night with the most wrenching material any teacher, actor or comic ever presented. There's no way to insulate oneself from that much raw emotion--that much reliving of the horror of watching the person you love most die before your eyes. It comes at a steep cost--but I pay it. NET cancer doesn't die if people don't tell their stories--and I want it to die more than I want to live most days. I understand why people don't do what I do. I understand why people bury the dead not just physically, but also mentally and emotionally as well. I know why many men remarry within a couple of years of losing their spouse--and why many women, given the chance, do so as well. We want to find some way to mask the pain--to bury it any way that we can. Grief is Hell. I used to teach Jonathan Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." I tried to explain his vision of Hell this way: Have you ever scalded yourself with really hot--literally boiling--water? That pain you feel, right at the outset, before your brain intervenes or the nerves die--that is the beginning of Hell. Now, imagine that initial pain never lessens, never eases in any way--but goes on and on forever at that same intensity--and you never, in any way, get used to that scalding initial pain. That is the Hell of Jonathan Edwards. Sometimes, I think that is what real grief is like. It never truly ends. But, unlike Edwards' Hell, it ebbs and flows. And somehow, that makes it worse. We get the illusion that we are getting better. We begin to hope that, finally, we are going to stop hurting--that our lives are going to be more than coping with the pain and that we will be able to truly live again. And then we are walking through a store and see a can of a particular soup on the shelf--maybe so briefly we do not even know we have seen it--and the pain comes roaring back in, overthrowing every coping strategy and barrier we think we have in place. My problem is that because of what I am trying to do--put an end to this foul cancer--I purposely set off those triggers constantly. Every article I read, every piece I write, every talk I give puts me in contact with the raw emotions I felt the day Jane was diagnosed--and every day thereafter until we buried her. That makes me a stupid fool who insists on putting his hand in the flames every day because maybe the evidence of the last 100 times is wrong--maybe today it won't hurt. And maybe today I will tell that story to the right person who will have the right skill set to eventually kill NET cancer. But probably not. We can't stop NET cancer from killing those 34 people who will die of it today. We can't stop NET cancer from killing the 34 people it will kill tomorrow or the next day or the day after. Nothing we can do will bring Jane back to me--or bring anyone else's loved ones back to them. Those are all truths, and we have to live with them. But our actions today can make a difference for others on down the line. There are thousands--maybe millions--of people out there who have NET cancer and don't know they have it. They have husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, children, loved ones who will feel this pain someday if we do nothing. So I made a choice. If increasing my pain means that somewhere someone in the future doesn't have to feel what I feel now, then that is a trade I am willing to make--even if it means I lose a week periodically to recover. It's the only thing that keeps me sane. I look like Hell in this picture likely because I seem to live in Hell these days. But I was at a conference for student council members from the region to talk about Walking with Jane.

Dear friends, You would think that after 34 years of teaching I would have no anxiety about a series of five minute presentations to high school students about Walking with Jane. ButI didn't fall asleep until 3 a.m. last night. It went well and we have a few nibbles from Student Councils to do some fundraising for the Marathon Walk--and some other kids who may be interested in joining our Relay for Life team. Of course the podcast is still hanging fire, but it will just have to keep until later. I'm pretty well bushed. I think this is likely to be an early night. I was thinking Wednesday that if I put a curtain across the door to the basement it might cut down on the draft that sneaks under the door. I bough a cheap curtain rod yesterday and put that in place. Things seem a bit warmer in that stairwell tonight than they had. I thought about doing something similar with the front door, but couldn't find a long enough rod in the hardware store I was in. I have to go out a bit tomorrow and will be going past a place with better selection, so I'll likely see what I can find then. The weather next week is supposed to be brutally cold--and they are forecasting another heavy storm here for Sunday night into Monday. I need to do all I can to keep the heat in. Carrie, falls of the kind you describe are always serious enough to have checked out. Part of the reason my father is no longer with us is he kept taking serious falls and kept refusing to seek medical attention. Those falls damaged the inside of his head as well as his back--but the head traumas caused no pain, so he thought he was fine. He wasn't. Get to the ER and let them do the tests to make sure you haven't done more than add to the damage in your back. I got my hair cut yesterday. My barber, who is 70 and semi-retired--he works three mornings a week because he likes cutting hair and talking to people--said he'd just come back from a cruise to St. Croix. He said it was a beautiful place and not filled with tourists the way St. Thomas is. He wants to move there and tried selling me on the idea as well. It's a shame I like weather too much to live in Paradise. And housing would be prohibitively expensive in any event. But lying on a tropical beach this week does have its temptations. My intern tells me I need to get Walking with Jane an Instagram account in the next couple of weeks. I haven't figured out Pinterest yet. She also tells me young people have largely abandoned Facebook in favor of Twitter and Google+. At least I've already sort of figured those two out--sort of. Sigh. Stay warm and stay safe out there. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I appear to have survived the blizzard. Now if i can just survive the cold of the next 10 days--two days next week aren't supposed to get out of the mid-teens. Ouch. And only one day is above freezing--and it is supposed to rain. I woke up this morning to discover a cold house. The thermocouple on the furnace died sometime during the night, less than 10 months after it was replaced. We supposedly got down to 5F last night. The house was 54 when I got up at 6:30. The furnace guy was here by 9:30 a.m. and the furnace hasn't stopped since he left. I figure sometime tonight I'll get the house warmed up fully--just in time to go to bed. My brain doesn't work well in the cold, so lots of things I'd like to get done today are not happening. My mind and body both seem to have gone on vacation the last week or so. I have no ambition. And I have a presentation to do tomorrow late afternoon. Sigh. Just no energy in the system. So I've been curling up with books and just taking it easy. The good news is everything for the presentation is pretty much done--I just have to box it all up and print a couple of things. Good gravy, but it's cold. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I've been out with the snowblower twice since I posted this morning. We have 19-20 inches on the ground and expect maybe another 3-5 inches. The good news is the snow is very light and easy to move. We have a travel ban in effect for the Eastern part of the state--it was statewide until noon, when they lifted it for the Western sections. It's about 17F with a windchill around 12F. The wind has let up significantly. We had gusts in the 50 mph range over night and earlier this morning. The island of Nantucket had 75 mph winds last night. The entire island is without power. High tide there this morning was awful--5-7 ft of flooding in some places. 17,000 people live on the island and are without power. But here is nothing like that. The birds have eaten about 10 pounds of food so far this morning. Normally, that's about half a week but with gardens and wild seed sources under two feet of snow, feeders are about all they have to work with. The squirrels seem to have decided this is a good day to stay in the nest. Butch, I hope things have let up where you are by now. Stay warm. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, We are in a snow oasis here. Plenty of stuff blowing around--but nothing coming down the last two hours while it snows like mad everywhere else. Yesterday afternoon, before things got bad, I went out to get the mail, only to discover a group of ROBINS sitting on the phone wire. Someone clearly didn't get the memo about the proper date to show up for spring. Or the one about the blizzard. Jane and I used to shovel together. She would start at the top end and I would start at the street end and we would kiss when we finally got together in the middle. I miss that every time it snows. R, stay warm. It's 16F here with a wind chill well below zero. I'm not sure what we have for a snow depth yet. It's hard to tell they way the wind is blowing. Jan, sorry. That came out all wrong--more a reminder to myself than anyone else. Time to eat and check on snow depths. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I've had a busy couple of days battening down the hatches, getting the shovels and snowblower ready, baking bread, checking the larder, feeding the birds and locating my snowshoes. Worst case scenario, we are looking at three FEET of snow. They said yesterday we would see snow showers about 3 p.m. It started snowing about 10 a.m. Not a really good sign. But I am ready as I am going to be. The play Saturday was really good--a modern meditation on Thornton Wilder's "Our Town." The first act was funny in places. The second was especially difficult for me. We had a good conversation with some of the actors after the show. It's always interesting to hear how they got where they got to in the play. The set was amazing. I'm hoping to get to a conversation with the set designer on Friday, but that will depend on the weather--and whether or not we have any of this mess cleared up by then. The podcast went on the back burner once the forecast started to get nasty. I remember the Blizzard of 1978. It closed everything for a week and cars were banned from the roads except for emergency vehicles. Making sure I had everything I needed--and that my in-laws did, as well--became the priority. Fae, it's good to hear they are letting you do light workouts. Don't push it too hard. Kay, glad to hear the church recognized your value. R. enjoy the kids. This blizzard is looking like something else. Jan, I know what you are saying. Somedays it feels so empty I want to scream--and editing the book is probably bringing a lot of things back. But, as Jane would say, we have to keep moving forward. It's the little things--like Mommy1201's garage door opener and trip to the Play Place with the kids--that remind us we can endure this--and grow. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, It may be the calm before the storm here despite the fact it has rained all day. The latest forecast for Monday night through Wednesday morning is for highs in the low 20s with as much as 15 inches of snow possible. In NH, this would be no big deal. In Wisconsin, ditto. Here on the New England South Coast, where six inches slows everything to a crawl and eight inches can mean multiple no-school days, 15 inches is snowmageddon. I did laundry this morning and spent an hour working on the basement clean-up. The Christmas outdoor decorations are boxed up and put away and I found the bottom of Jane's craft table, including the birdhouses we bought years ago and never painted or assembled. Once the weather warms up... I also found a tim wooden train set we found one year and never set up for Christmas. Maybe next year. I've read something on the order of 1100 pages worth of novels this week. I really have not had the energy for much else--and felt more tired than I should have after this morning's projects. I have a ticket to the theater tonight in Providence--about a 30 minute drive and am looking forward to that. Normally, I take myself out for dinner when I go to a play, but with my diet so limited it isn't worth doing. It looks, at this point, like I won't start working on the podcast until tomorrow. I hope to have it posted by Monday afternoon, but we'll see. The audience for the first one was not very big--under 50 as I write this. I know it will take some time to build an audience and that I have to be patient. By September, though, I should have a clear idea whether it is worth the effort it will take every week to make it happen. Honestly, anything smaller than 500 at that point will likely mean I need to think about a better use of the time. My FIL seems to like his new bed. My SIL says he is having less trouble getting out of it than the regular bed he had--and that making it in the morning is much easier on her. Jan, I know what you mean about editing. It does seem that there is only so long one can focus on the fine detail before it all begins to look right. Jo, good to hear you are getting out socially a bit more. Keep at it--it's good for you. Anne, I'm glad to hear the second bit of this is easier than the first. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, Mary, your news is wonderful! Marty, thanks for posting the link. This week's edition is running behind. Anne, if you have not had the surgery yet, I'll warn you it is taking forever to get my energy back. The pain has been non-existent, but I am really tired, even after nearly three days spent doing virtually nothing more than reading and watching DVDs. After the gum surgeries, I was fine after two days--and they seemed like a much bigger deal when I was sitting in the dentist's chair. So I am taking it easy again today. No walking beyond what it takes to get to the mailbox, no lifting beyond plates, bowls, and small pots of oatmeal, soup and pasta. I've looked at potential stories for the podcast but won't write them up, record them or do any post production work. I did some writing yesterday, but could feel the focus was not entirely there, so I won't frustrate myself with that today, much as I may need to. There is no point to it if all I will have to do is throw it out anyway. Time to fix some lunch then head back into a novel for the rest of the day--with maybe a nap thrown in if the spirit moves me. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I won't push myself any harder than is healthy. I just know that, unfortunately, once I get back to full strength, I am going to be up to my eyeballs--as I generally am. I have a presentation a week from tomorrow I have to prepare for, but I will likely wait until after the weekend before I really start ramping up for that. I've cancelled a trip to Boston early next week for something else I was really looking forward to. But I do have to make choices periodically. And my audio podcast is also sliding away for the week. I'd like to get there, but if it happens, it happens--if not, worse things have happened. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I spent yesterday with my feet up, reading. In terms of pain, nothing serious to report. I know it's there if I think about it, but most of the time, I don't think about it so it isn't there , if that makes sense. My FIL is getting his new hospital-style bed delivered to his apartment this afternoon. My SIL and I took down his old bed this morning. I visited with them for a bit. He is in more pain than I'd like, but it is hard to say whether it is the arthritis or the cancer causing it since the weather here has been raw and damp for most of the week. Certainly, my joints are not happy. I'm still not 100 percent--mostly just tired. Yesterday, I had the hiccups every time I moved. I wonder if that was related to the surgery. I'm taking it easy again today--something I will have to pay for eventually, since I have several projects falling behind that are on a deadline. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, The surgery went well--other than the pounding to get the implant in place. The doctor says I have very strong bones. I now know how a piece of wood feels when you hammer in a nail. I'm on 20 minutes of ice, ten minutes of rest until about 7 p.m. The good news is there is no dressing this time, so my diet is marginally expanded--I can have bread, but still no tomato sauce, juice, or anything acidic.. And nothing but cool and soft today. The novocaine has worn off. There is about the same level of discomfort as in the previous surgeries--a dull ache once the cold wears off between icings. I don't think I'll need the codeine on this one, either. And I have a mild headache the Motrin should take care of. I'm not supposed to do any heavy liting the next two days. The good news is there is no heavy lifting to be done at the moment. There goes the timer. Time to get the ice back on. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I've brought in the supplies I will need for the next two weeks. I have my--I hope--final oral surgery tomorrow morning. I've been here before. I have food, drink and books. What more does anyone need? Well, yes, now you mention it... The sparrows don't seem to be around the feeders this afternoon. But there are a dozen nuthatches and a squirrel. And the Patriots won last night. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I woke up this morning with my head on Jane's pillow. Then the radio came on and they were interviewing Rep. John Lewis, who was close to Martin Luther King in the 1960s. He talked about the power of love--which I woke up thinking about this morning. I wrote a long piece about unconditional love today. I thought about posting it here but decided it is too political to be appropriate in this place. It doesn't fit on walkingwithjane.org either, so I posted it to my FB pages and to my other, more political, blog, The Franklins Children. It brings together a lot of the things that have paced around my brain in recent days about what I am doing and how I got here. I've had a difficult few days dealing with the outside world and what is going on globally and nationally. Part of me would like not to care about anything, but it is not in me to do that. The writing went slowly, which is not normal for me. Part of it was looking backward so far to try to understand how I got here. I've written before about how important MLK was to me as a kid growing up. But I haven't written about how things began coalescing from 1969-1971 into something important--at least for me. I don't often get cynical, but I was certainly there last night--so much so that one of my students called me on it. He's pretty cynical himself--that happens to people who spent time in combat in Afghanistan. So if he thought I'd lost it, I must have been pretty far down the rabbit hole. I have a couple of chores to finish before the Patriots game tonight. Not sure how much of that I'll be able to watch if they try to put me through another game like last week's. Green Bay was winning the last I heard. If the Patriots lose tonight, I'll be done for the season, as I am boycotting the rest of the NFL because of the league's response to several abuse cases earlier in the year. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, About a month after Jane died, a falcon landed on the back porch when I was on the phone with Jane's best friend from high school. The bird stayed for the two hours we were on the phone, then flew off not long after we finished. I've seen a falcon maybe twice since. Until yesterday afternoon. I was standing at the kitchen sink to get a drink of water when one flew into the small tree behind the garden. I watched it wrestle with the branches on the tree, trying to hold its balance in the strong winds. It seemed to have settled in and a couple of small birds saw it sitting there and gave the yard a wide berth as a result. I went back to what I was doing for a bit and it was gone when I came back. It was sitting on the ground when I got up this morning. I watched it again for a few minutes. It flew off again. I always think of Jane when I see a falcon. Perhaps it is a holdover from Shogun--but she always stuck me more as a falcon than a cardinal. I continued working on reorganizing the kitchen today. I went through the mugs in one of the cabinets, packing up about half of them for the inevitable yard sale or donation. I am through all the upper cabinets at this point, and just have one small lower cabinet to do. I should have spent the day replacing the faucet ninth kitchen, but I am just not up for that project yet. I went to the cemetery today, as I do every Saturday. My mind has felt a bit scattered the last two days--especially today. The kitchen project was mostly to blame. But there are other things bothering me this week. The NET cancer support groups I participate in have had an awful week--we've lost five patients this week already, and have two more who are failing. Most of the time, I know I am making a difference, but today it just does not feel that way. And there are political things making me crazy as well. It was brutally cold on the hilltop, but at least there was no wind. I have to take the Christmas decorations down there next weekend. Right now, they are frozen into the ground so hard I wonder if I will be able to move them. I came home and had an early dinner--or late lunch, depending on your perspective. A friend got word that they have scheduled her liver ablation for early February. It will buy her more time with her husband and her twins. That is the best news anyone can get: more time. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, I have finished the first edition of the Walking with Jane Carcinoid/NETs News podcast. It took about five hours to write, record, and edit; 12 hours to compress/render and another three hours to upload to YouTube. The first part of that will be quicker in future since I had to make a number of design decisions as I went along. I had a vision of what I wanted, but the further I went the more bells and whistles got added to the mix because I couldn't get it to operate to that vision. Actually, the finished product is better than what I originally planned, so that is a plus. The last 15 hours just eat computer time and require no attention from me. Maybe I need a faster computer. Sigh. QMary, I'm glad you got through the colonoscopy. I hate them--hate them so much I've forgotten how far away the next one is, since they found one polyp last time and wanted another one in five years rather than 10. My doctor will tell me when the time comes. I got my walk in again this morning while waiting on the upload. I'm in less pain every day and increasing the pace steadily, but don't seem to be losing any weight. I've been at this over a month. The good news is I don't seem to be putting any weight on, either. I'm thinking about a nap later this afternoon. I've been sleeping fairly well for me, bu the cold weather is really wearing me out. It always has. Peace, Harry

Dear Kay, Some of the crafts will be zebra-oriented. They will all be made by people with carcinoid/NETs or caregivers. I don't know how many kids will be there--this is a new venue for me. But I'd guess there will not be many. I'll pass on the deer. They are cute, but they tend to eat things other than grass hereabouts. Peace, Harry

Dear friends, It's a bit slick out there this morning--as I discovered when I got out of my car in the mall parking lot. I've seen worse, but getting in the door for my walk was a bit of an adventure today. I just had a bowl of the five-alarm vegetarian chili I started yesterday about noon-time. This was more of a general alarm variety. I don't stint on the chili powder or the peppers when I make it. And I let it simmer for at least 16 hours before I am ready to serve it. It clears the nasal passages, let me tell you. It will continue to simmer until tonight when I will package it up for future meals. In this weather, I doubt it will survive the weekend, though. The script is done for the Walking with Jane podcast. My next job this afternoon is to record it, edit it and get it uploaded. The transcript will be on our website when everything else is finished. We'll see how many takes I have to go through to get what I want. Time to get to it. Peace, Harry