The morning started early on Sunday, but this time, my iPhone alarm woke me instead of rolling over and over until I gave up. It was better. At 6:30, I started the blog, and it took me a few hours to write and find my focus. I get tired around 9 at night, but rising early is starting to fade as I align to the Pacific Northwest time (PNW).
Cold pizza was again breakfast, sticking with one of Susie’s favorite breakfasts. I have not heard when my friend’s memorial (if there will be one) is planned, but I intend to return to Michigan for it. When there are plans, I will name him and include a link to the information now that it is on the Internet. But my thoughts are with his family and friends.
Sunday morning, I was writing, reading, and chatting on the phone. I made liberal coffee in my French press, as I have done ever since Donald Trump won the presidency. It reminds me every morning that vigilance is required to resist darkness. In this daily writing, I will not be critical of him or his policies. But I am liberal, and every morning, when I sip my coffee, I think of justice, compassion, and community. I have hope for the future.
The blog was finished around 9, and soon, I was cleaning up and putting on my gray suit. I have lost enough of my waistline that I need the suspenders to hold up the pants, and the suit is beginning to look like a wool bag. I will have to replace them in the spring for my birthday in April. Much like the drinking song from George Thorogood (“One bourbon, one scotch, and one beer–the long version“), it will be one blue, one gray, and one black. Plus shoes and a belt.
I put on the New Orleans tie (see picture) I purchased in the French Quarter on the last trip for too much money. It is silk and reportedly from Italy (though I imagine that the only thing from Italy is the spelling of Italy). I put on my golden vest (now a bit large) and added the cheap but good-looking pocket watch and chain.
My new belt (already with holes added to it), my Cole Haan plain black shoes, and my black Homburg hat finish the look. I boarded Air Volvo, put the Apple in the co-pilot seat, and crossed Beaverton in the Oregon Mist (with a bit of rain). The leaves are red and yellow, melting and slowly leaving the trees. The vacuum trucks are out on the street sucking up the detritus of summer green. This prevents the mass of fallen leaves from choking the drains necessary to prevent local flooding.
I arrived not early for church and watched the switch from Emmaus Church to our set-up for First United Methodist Church. Our church now shares (rents) our space with a younger community. We are happy to help them; they find it better than a school gym. The central church for the United Methodist approved the change and has published a note that other churches should be bold. It has its rough edges and some of the usual sharp elbows from the older Methodists, but most think it a good solution for us and them.
Church is the usual, with the hymn being easy for me to sing again, and one of my favorites, Lift Every Voice and Sing, makes me cry. We sang this after Pastor Ken Wytsma recounted his trip in the South, overlapping New Orleans, where I was last week. While my trip was for cooking and being a tourist, Ken’s experience faced the past and existing challenges in the USA with violence and racism. There’s was a tour of a civil rights pilgrimage, and he recapped it and offered to form a tour from our church members and friends. The most powerful image, for me, was the lynching memorial, the National Memorial for Peace and Justice. Today’s reading was from UMCJustice.org and included The UMC Social Creed.
Ken mentioned his experience at the Witney Plantation while I did the Oak Alley Plantation, which has just begun its voyage to understand its connection to slavery. Still, as I said last week in the blog, I was impressed with their mix of focus on slavery, building all this opulence, selling a Mint Julep (with or without booze), doing weddings, and focusing on their plantings. At Oak Alley, I found it to be a strange mix of history and emotion with drinks.
I connected with Anne and Wayne and joined them at Red Robin, and we talked about my trip and my next trips. The Beaverton location was unprepared for the after-church rush and the number of birthdays that descended on Red Robin. We were not in a hurry and waited for our food. I had a Stella, sadly from a bottle, thinking of Susie. Red Robin was a favorite for her.
I returned home, changed out of the suit, which still looked good, and put on my LL Bean pants and sweater vest. I rested briefly and headed to First United Methodist Church for the 2024 (2025 Church year) charge conference in Air Volvo. There are enough of us to fill two round tables, and I sit next to Rev. Anne (who I had lunch with). Pastor Anne, an elder in full connection (for you, United Methodists, reading this), runs the meeting. I helped Anne with a few details. I have done over a dozen charge Conference Meetings in various positions and report-giving. We all completed the meeting without controversy (with a few explanations of why and what) in less than thirty minutes. Perfect.
After discussing church business, I headed to Matt’s place to play Dungeons and Dragons. We are playing a high-level published campaign and reaching the end of the Vecna: Eve of Ruin. The writers decided to create a story that tours all the major (and some minor ones) Dungeons and Dragons settings, with the campaign starting at mid-level and taking the players (hopefully) to the start of Epic level. I have played two characters in our Dungeons and Dragons games as someone had to be sacrificed in the previous campaign (my good paladin of Death, Rath, volunteered to die as death holds no mysteries for him). I am playing a once-evil cleric who is now good and follows Light. My character never focuses on one god but instead works to bring light and end darkness (it has nothing to do with my liberal outlook, he says when sipping his liberal coffee).
(Yes, Matt has the best toys)
Matt has two epic-level monsters for us before we start on the next part of the adventure. We are collecting and reassembling an artifact as we go. Being Matt, he has the giant pre-painted official figures for them, and I am surprised as one is quite expensive (Matt said he got a discount). We will face a high level of undead known to all long-term players.
Our strategy focuses not on collecting treasure or fighting but smash-and-grab, and only what is fast and easy to take and, of course, parts of the artifact. It is a very old-school outlook. It will not service us well in the old-school tomb raiding and dungeon crawl. I will be developing a new list of spells for my cleric. Hmmm.
When I return home in Air Volvo, I stop by Plaid Pantry, our take on 7-Eleven in the PNW, to get a few overpriced popcorn packets. I make popcorn (dropping the last twenty seconds as the ‘Popcorn’ setting on my LG microwave burns it now—I suspect they shrank the package a bit, explaining the burning) and watch more of my Kolchak: The Night Stalker first season (episode three), I bought on Apple TV (through my laptop, but available on my Apple+ Cable now on the larger screen). This is one of the better ones, as it is about a lost alien, and Kolchak is nearly slain twice and blown across the screen twice. The film work of this copy is too dark, but this is likely the result of a poor transfer, as I do not remember it this dark on the broadcast version. Someday, there may be a rereleased version like Star Trek that will clean this up, but seeing the late 1970s take on news and Chicago is still fun.
I shower and sleep soon. I manage one more story in the Vampire Cookbook. With D&D, Kolchak, and vampires, I leave the door closed (to keep it warmer, not that I am scared) and soon sleep. I sleep through with strange, unremembered dreams. I wake early in the dark, but not stupidly early, and I am relieved that I am aligning to local times.
Thanks for reading.
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