Labrador

I spent too much time this morning writing a post that I dare not make public, lest I be accused of conspiracy to practice unlicensed surgery by excising the malignancy of a grotesque public hypocrite from the body politic. That having been said, I join many millions around the world in mourning the death of Ruth Bader Ginsberg. She has been called a trailblazer. She was that and much more. Her remarkable legacy will be long remembered and honored.

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Today began, in earnest, when I finally got out of bed at 6:42. I cannot believe I slept that late. The day is half gone and I have accomplished nothing. My Sleep Number app claims I went to bed at 1:14 and, with the exception of five short periods of restlessness, slept through the night. Until 6:42! The app says I had four hour and fifty-three minutes of restful sleep.  And, then, I awaken to a day half-consumed by emerging daylight and lost darkness.

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I have a Zoom meeting this morning to discuss a website. Though I suppose it’s an important matter for the church, nothing much seems particularly important to me of late. Churches, in general, are on my list of snarl-eliciting matters. In another church-related matter, I have made multiple calls to the local Catholic church and to a Baptist church, seeking a sliver of information about parking lot maintenance contractors; I have not received return calls. I think my mistake may have been saying I am a volunteer with the Unitarian Universalist church; in the tiny little minds of some people… I won’t go on. I’m angry at the world right now. There’s some evidence my little piece of the world may be improving, but there’s so much more evidence the rest of it is swirling into an already clogged sewage mistreatment plant. Jeez! Can’t I finish a single paragraph without diving into the darkness?

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Yesterday, or perhaps it was the day before, I went through a bunch of photos from the trip my wife and I took to Croatia, Bosnia and Herzogivina, Slovenia, and Montenegro. I selected several photos that showed my wife’s smile, saving the images to a dedicated folder. Looking at the photos was at once uplifting and painful; I want to see that smile again, here at home.  It’s hard to smile when confined to a little room and with rare opportunities to interact with loved ones except by phone and an occasional window visit. But those visits will become more common, at least for the next week. The facility agreed to let me visit her every day for a while; I hope those visits lift her spirits.

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It’s almost 8:30. I should make the bed, eat some breakfast, and shower. I feel like crawling back into bed, instead, but I won’t.

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Ten minutes later and I’m feeling more “up.” I called my wife and spoke to her for a few minutes. We talked about a painting in her room; two dogs with a singled stick in their mouths. The dogs look like they are smiling. I think my wife would like a big Labrador retriever to come to her room, put its head in her lap, and allow her to lavish affection by petting its head. I’m in favor of that.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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