Over the Labor Day weekend, I went backpacking in the Arroyo Seco river. I am not much into backpacking, hadn’t done that in over a decade in fact. This one sounded easy enough though: about 10 miles in 3 days along the riverbed with nice pools to swim in, under the trees and other pretty nature. Ten miles is nothing, right? Various people from the same crowd have done this for years, we’ve heard. Usually, in 2 days, we’ve heard. Continue reading “Arroyo Seco Dinner Grace”
Stories are Monsters. Part 3 (of 3).
This is Part 3 about haunting stories. Links to the beginning: Part 1, Part 2.
Part 3. The family story
On a Sunday morning, I call Mom on Skype. She is babysitting nephew. Several days prior, I called for Mom’s birthday, from work, Skype on my cell; the connection was bad, and then it broke and I went back to work.
Continue reading “Stories are Monsters. Part 3 (of 3).”
Stories are Monsters. Part 2 (of 3), with Side Notes
This is Part 2 of a series about the monstrous stories we live with. Link to Part 1 is here.
Before I proceed, a side note: as I wrote this Monsters series, I came across this somewhat related post on learned helplessness by another blogger. It’s more scientific than my ramblings here, not like there is a competition 🙂 . And now…
Continue reading “Stories are Monsters. Part 2 (of 3), with Side Notes”
Stories are Monsters. Part 1 (of 3)
This is Part 1 of a series about the stories we tell ourselves. Except, the phrase “we tell ourselves” understates their monstrosity. As if we can just choose to tell them. As if we can choose to not tell them, just like that. As if we can always see them for what they are – or ever. Continue reading “Stories are Monsters. Part 1 (of 3)”
Last night, on my way to a milonga, I received a message from Kathy:
“I don’t know if you saw the post by <so and so> that Nola passed away this morning. We don’t know details but I know you were good friends and you were her mentor.”
I didn’t know that. I knew that Nola was retired, so she must have been older than she appeared and lived, but no, I didn’t see that, didn’t see that coming. She was 67.
Years ago Nola worked as a math teacher somewhere on the East Coast. Continue reading “Nola”