Years ago, on one of our periodic road trips, my late wife and I drove west from Chicago. I do not recall with certainty whether we had a particular destination in mind or whether it was, like so many of our other long escapes from the city, an aimless expression of wanderlust. Whatever the purpose of the trip, I recall stopping for a night or two to view sandhill cranes near and along the Platte River. I remember going to viewing sites near Kearney, Nebraska and Grand Island, Nebraska. Both towns were groomed for birding tourism, thanks to their positions along the migration routes of both sandhill cranes and whooping cranes. Roughly one million sandhill cranes stop in the area during their March migrations. I was mesmerized by the sight of huge flocks of cranes in the fields along the river, rising in unison from the marshes. If we took photographs, they have either long-since disappeared or they are buried in boxes that haven’t been opened since the mid-1980s. I have mixed feelings about taking photos. On one hand, photos can trigger and clarify memories that grow cloudy over time. On the other, taking time to take photos can detract from the actual experience. This morning, as I consider the pros and cons, I lean toward relying on professional photographers to take pictures so I can focus my attention on what I see through my own eyes. Yet I feel slight regrets for not having captured my own unique experience with a camera. On balance, though, my visual memory this morning is sufficient to make me glad I can rely on it. The sight of those hundreds of thousands of big, regal birds in the fields was stunning. Seeing them turn into clouds that almost filled the sky was just as incredible.
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Thinking about the Nebraska marshes, I considered the differences between what constitutes a marsh versus what constitutes a swamp. A cursory look into the internet revealed that the differences between marshes and swamps seem, primarily, to be in the vegetation. Plant life in marshes is dominated by woody plants and trees, whereas swamps comprise reeds and grasses…”herbaceous vegetation.” Both environments have ample amounts of standing water, but the water in swamps is generally deeper and lasts longer than the water in marshes. Aside from differences in their physical attributes, I think they seem to conjure radically different anthropomorphic judgments. Marshes are sophisticated and compassionate, whereas swamps are unrefined and cruel. Marshes pay more attention to their personal hygiene than do swamps, as manifested by the stench often encountered in the stagnant water of swamplands. When traveling through marshes, one is likely to hear the sounds of classical guitar, while one hears the perverted, echoing chords of menacing banjoes while wandering through swamps. Vegetarians live in marshes. Carnivores and cannibals make their homes in swamps.
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I assume Navelbine, the primary chemotherapy drug being administered to me lately, is responsible for the sudden surge in my requirements for sleep. Immediately after returning home early yesterday afternoon from a chemo session, I took a nap. When I woke two or three hours later, I went into our entertainment room, where mi novia was playing a mix of classical music from a Sirius XM station. There, I reclined on the loveseat and listened to the music until I woke, just before 11 p.m., and went to bed. Something (I have no idea what) jolted me awake this morning around 7:30 a.m. Now, roughly an hour later, I feel like I could easily fall asleep again. Heavy rain just started to fall…a sign, I think, that it is time for more sleep. But I could be wrong.
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The act of teaching cursive writing was criminalized in 2027. Two years later, the sentences given to the first four teachers convicted of the crime were delivered. One was executed by public hanging, one was sentenced to life in prison, and the other two were given sentences of “time served.” The public outcry about the disparity in sentencing led to demonstrations, which had been outlawed in 2025. A single trial was held for the demonstrators all over the country. At the conclusion of the two-day trial, held in Michigan Stadium in Ann Arbor, the universal finding of “guilty” for all defendants was delivered. Immediately after the verdict was read, the judge in the matter ordered the sentence of death to be carried out immediately. Members of the Texas National Guard, who had been activated to keep order for the trial, were commanded to carry out the sentence. After roughly half of the 260 defendants had been shot, the judge ordered the executions to stop and made the following statement: “The remaining defendants are free to go. Let this experience teach the rest of the American public that the law is the law. It may be impossible to explain, but it is equally impossible to escape.”
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Born as a simple “crush,” the emotion evolved over time into firm appreciation. Later, it matured into malleable adoration and then, later still, into an affection whose steel structure was impermeable to water and fire. Finally, it transformed into something a thousand times harder than diamonds: love. The process, which took more than one million years to complete, seemed like it happened in the blink of an eye. But so did its undoing. With its second blink, the eye closed, refusing to open again. Hence the saying, “love is blind.”