All They Have

Inflation is alive and well. The cost of my Medicare supplemental insurance increased by $42 a month; the cost of my prescription drug plan jumped by almost 213%, a $50 hike. Food prices seem to be on an upward trajectory, too. Gasoline prices, though, are drifting downward; trustworthy predictions say they will continue to decline. The average price for a new car in the U.S. (Average Transaction Price) has surpassed $50,000 for the first time. Clothing has long seemed obscenely overpriced, in spite of the fact that much of what we wear is produced in other countries by people who are paid unconscionably low wages.  Thus far, inflationary pressures have not been sufficient to put a dent in my comfort and convenience. But people who were already struggling, and have never been as fortunate as I, must find themselves in increasingly tight spots. And people who were just barely hanging on are at risk of becoming casualties of an economic model that is notoriously lacking in compassion and driven largely by greed. Those who already had been left without resources and without even the thinnest safety net? The society in which we live is trying to hide them by erasing homeless encampments.

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About eight hours ago, just before 12:30 a.m., I woke to light washing across the open blinds and filling a wall across from the bed, with what I initially thought might be a a car’s headlights panning across the house, as the vehicle drove around the circle of the cul-de-sac. But the breadth of the beam of light changed dramatically, as if a very bright flashlight was being used to illuminate a wide area with a side-to-side motion. The blinds on the French doors suddenly lit up, as did the bed and the walls. Peering out back, the light seemed to swing back and forth across the entire forest. This isn’t the first time I have been startled by light pouring in from the dark forest. I wonder whether I actually saw it this time…or was it imaginary illumination?

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Two huge crows just arrived, landing first on the garage roof (from which they had a good vantage point to keep an eye out on their “feeding rock,” where they are used to finding plenty of peanuts in their shells) and then on the driveway. The birds are communicating with one another—and others, hidden in the trees—about the unpleasantly cool temperature. At the moment, the outside temperature is 49°F, approaching 30°F cooler than the temperature I find increasingly attractive.  The idea of immersing myself in a hot tub or a heated pool is quite appealing. There’s a correlation between fat loss and comfort; apparently, there’s something to be said about body fat being a good insulator. As body fat diminishes, so does the comfort it provides. Speaking of the joys of heated water, a geothermally-heated swimming pool is featured in a few scenes from The Diplomat. The pool is presented as being located on the private estate in Amagansett, New York, belonging to the occupants of the White House. In fact, though, the filming location was in is the Seacroft Estate on Centre Island in Oyster Bay, New York. I want that pool. I might not refuse the entire estate, if presented to me as a gift. 

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Unlike most mornings (and other day-parts) lately, I find myself feeling hungry at the moment. Having already gone through an Ensure, a banana, and two slices of bacon, I normally would feel more than satisfied. But not right now. Mi novia cooked a pot of  Anasazi beans yesterday; they were extraordinary. Perfectly spiced, perfectly textured, perfectly flavored. Now THAT sounds like a great way to assuage my hunger this morning.

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Never deprive someone of hope; it might be all they have.

~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr. ~