Now We Are Here

This is the end of the first quarter century (or is it the beginning of the 2nd quarter of this century?–Did 2000 begin us, or did 2001 begin us? Was the beginning a time and calendar turmoil, or was it a space odyssey (anyone who gets the references is, I am guessing, at least a quarter of a century old)

As I begin this post, it is Friday, January 10th. Yesterday, January 9th, 2025 this nation’s population honored former U.S. President, lifelong person of faith in God and in the tenet to love your neighbor as yourself, Jimmy Carter. I remember when he ran for office. Not knowing anything about him, I stood in Boston’s Quincy Marketplace and watched his young, enthusiastic smile and listened to his young, enthusiastic words and wondered. I believe he showed us how to become, how to be and become, good, again and again. This is what I would like to be, always in place, and always in motion for the good. And to see that and encourage that in “my neighbor”–who is anyone, who is everyone.

How often I fall short. I bet he did too. It is an element of the very good creation called human. We can fall short. We can also step in place, reground, and step longer forward. I am grateful that this is.

I’m thinking about how I opened this post–talking about a quarter of a century. That seems to me an enumeration of so much more time than 25 years. You? What do you think?

To open this quarter, winds have beset this country–literal–on one side chilling, on the other burning; and–figurative–on one side chilling, on the other burning. Many losses for many and very diverse people.

It’s hard to envision hope as viable for some. And yet, imagine the absence of that fragile emotion. From it comes strength, love, kindness, courage, faith, even, I believe, wisdom.

It’s late afternoon. Low sun sky, sunset in 20 minutes from this moment that I am typing. Will I complete this before the sun is now below this day’s horizon? It is a clear day, first in a few, gold glow is already dominating the western horizon, visible among the bare maples, willow, birches, nearly bare oaks and beeches, the box edges of houses, their angled roofs, the breeze rustling shrubs. The neighborhood dogs have all emerged in the last two minutes, announcing themselves. My nearest neighbor dogs beside and behind my place are Luca and Jack, and Guinness straight across from me. Three beauties. Three sweet companions to their families.

The edges of all structures, as I type–the houses, sidewalks, stairs, fences, chimneys, porches–are coming into detailed relief. No shadow to disguise them, no precipitation to distort them.

Here’s a poem I just found by Galway Kinnell, it’s called: Daybreak (hmm, I add)

On the tidal mud, just before sunset,
dozens of starfishes
were creeping. It was
as though the mud were a sky.

Note: the photographs were added, because I couldn’t leave you pictureless. Of course, one’s mind is always overwhelmed with pictures.

Thanks for reading. It is now 4:34pm here, the sun has set.