Thursday Lunch and Dinner out

Thursday was dominated by lunch and dinner at McMenamins Cedar Hills. The first was my usual lunch with Scott W and Brad, my former boss at the shoe company, who was planning to join us but then felt under the weather. There is a lot of flu going around now, and maybe next time for Brad. Dinner was the Theology Pub meeting for this month, typically on the second Thursday of the month, and now at McMenamins. There, we talked about ‘Acceptance’ and what it means to us.

I rose on Thursday with only one thing on my agenda for the morning: to get to Cedar Hills at 11:30 to meet Scott W. I rose just before sunrise for a partially cloudy day with no rain here in the Pacific Northwest (PNW). The snow pack is at an all-time low, and skiing is not happening this year. The summer melt of snowpack keeps the rivers full and the forests damp, and there is great fear that the dry conditions will soon lead to endless forest fires and smoke. Ugh! We need flooding and rivers of rain! Our prayer in PNW, “Dear Lord, please drop unrelenting rain, floods, and massive snow on us to protect us from a fiery summer! And Lord, we mean here in Oregon, not just Washington State.” Yes, bring it!

I wrote the blog for the next couple of hours. This was not a continuous process. My morning was punctuated by blogging, downloading, and updating Quicken, manually entering the transactions for the sale of stock in Quicken, watching some new shows via late-night comedians, and reading the news. The tragedy and crimes involving Epstein are manifold. The lies of the wealthy, not just Trump, are transparent now, but the consequences are few.

I drank a whole half-pot of coffee from Kalanzoon (a gift from Jeanne, thanks). I had planned to play more of the solo board game Plague of Dracula, but I did not fit it in the morning. I managed to hit the shower, do all that, board Air VW the Gray, and make the restaurant at 11:30.

Scott was there soon, and we had a nice chat about travel, plans, investments (strap in and hold on), and avoiding current events. We tried to stay in our bubble of travel, food, family, and investments to sustain it. It took two beers to stay on topic.

Aside (that game to why writing):

The President’s statement (I watched him say it in his interview) that 10,000’s of arrests should not be ruined by the murder of two people left me stunned. And I remember that thousands have been sent to countries I would have trouble finding on a map (after two beers), and that there are no records to show that they are safe and not murdered and buried in some pit. There is no evidence, one way or the other, that another Holocaust is starting.

Some dishwasher with unpaid parking tickets is now suffering in some unknown place in some foreign land, once our neighbor. They have no family to help them and no way to return to their original country. What would get them sent home, and who would pay for it? Or are they worked to death and then thrown into a pit? Slavery is reborn as deportation.

I cry writing those words, and my soul calls out, “How long?”

Will there be monuments to the folks slain in this process, like those I saw on my trip on slavery and racism? Will some relative of mine walk by this future monument, cry, and wonder how anyone could let this happen so long ago? 

I digress. Back to the narrative.

I returned home in the EV without issues. I read the mail and was going to take a nap (two beers) when Corwin, who knew the door code, walked in. I then made him lunch of pasta, jar pasta sauce, and some browned hamburger. He came early from work, hungry and unhappy. Food fixed that, and it always tastes better when someone else makes it. He went and spent the afternoon delivering food.

The afternoon is a blur of chatting with Deborah, medical things (still no results), and heading back to Cedar Mills for Theology Pub. We had arranged for 14 and got 10 (last time it was the other way). We had a nice group and Dondrea, and I tried their special take on an Old Fashioned. The topic was ‘Acceptance,’ highlighted by Jesus’ moment in the Garden of Gethsemane: “Take this cup away; but not my will, but Thine” (my version).

There was much talk about letting things go and taking the best course of action. That there is a Plan, and we have to remember that. I personally do not find that comforting, having read enough history (current and recent among the worst) and The Lord of the Rings. If it sucks, it does. I did not feel that, as my wife was ill and I was doing chemo, that somehow this was solving some cosmic plan. Again, sucks is sucks. But my lesson was that all I could do was what I thought was best at the time. I would not claim it was ‘right’; it was just available, caused less harm, and might help. That I had to accept my role was mostly to experience, witness, and control my reaction. Tears, anger, and robotic emotionlessness were all bad moments. I learned to accept it and discovered I was helping others who witnessed it, even on my bad days. Being present in the moment, passing through it, and trying to hold it all together was my best witness. To be seen, provide what little harmless help I could supply, and witness and be witnessed was my role.

Sad and disquieted by the topic, I headed home.

I played a few more turns of Plague of Dracula (once again at late night) and began to understand how to play. The rules are that if Lucy, a major character of the original book and movies, is turned into a vampire, it is an automatic loss. I should have rescued her (but having a pistol made her a hazard to Dracula or other fang-bearing threats) from her side of the board. I soon learned there was a card that would get her a bite, and I really needed her somewhere safer. Lucy is the default attacked character.

I had Lucy, well armed, take a shot at clearing her location, and that failed, and she was turned, and I lost. Like in the book, I need to get her to Dr. Seward to protect her. Next time!

I packed the game away. I have cleaning to start. Deborah is here next week (though we may have a change in plans, I learned on Friday while I write this). I head to bed. I read Eric Clines’ book for a while and then put it away, and I close my eyes. I soon fall asleep. No dreams that I remember and no vampires. Just rest.

Thanks for reading.