UU

 July 12, 2026

Concert at the UU fellowship in Hendersonville. It brought back memories of my visits there as a guest speaker. We did well (in the sense that we pleased the crowd) and shared remembrances of B. They served us delicious sandwiches. Drove home with T, which provided pleasant conversation rather than the usual melange of brooding thoughts. Fell asleep on the sofa, and woke at about 3 AM to a news program announcing the death of Senator Lindsey Graham. They were trying mightily to name accomplishments other than the various hypocrisies he used to stay in power. They repeated, “he was a friend to Israel” as often as they could. Shocked that he was younger than I. I’ve not done my research, but I’m thinking he spent a whole lot of time in the public eye for doing not much of anything.

Deaths

 July 10, 2026

All Souls gets a million $ + grant from FEMA to pay for clean up that happened two years ago. Sarah says on the news, “It allows us to start from ground zero, instead of from a hole.” 

Brief, welcome rain. 

B has died.

FT has died. 

Supper at Rye Knot with M and his kids, passing on their way to Williamsburg. After hard times, he has landed in his feet. 

 July 9, 2026

The last several nights as I’ve gone to bed, birds were singing in the dark. I can’t identify them, but they go from midnight until dawn, when the usual suspects take over. Considerable weeding in the heat of the sun, which I had not planned to do, but one foot gets set before the other. Snipped or pulled the vines that peak out at the summit of the holly wall. Rehearsal for our Saturday gig. Each time I sing these silly songs I think it’ll be the last time, but so far it has not been. My desire that we sing really well is thwarted at the very start, as the repertoire into which we have fallen does not require it.

 July 8, 2026

Rose and gardened before the heat, paying attention to the street side garden, which is doing better than it ought to do, considering the level of neglect. Mostly a wilderness of  hibiscus, unplanned but well enough. Pulled weeds out of soil that was essentially dust. Has it been that long since a soaking rain? Finally took down the winter bird feeders, the remnant seeds glued together inside in blocks by gray-blue fungus. To discard is probably better than to clean. 

Anniversary

 July 7, 2026

Fifty years ago today they were opening my heart in Cleveland Clinic. That, at least, seems to have been money well spent. 

Donated money to Ossoff’s campaign in Georgia. 

MAGA occasionally responds to my Facebook posts. The speed with which they resort to belligerent stupidity is staggering, generally in the first try. They are not even expressing opinions, but mouthing talking points, like those dolls we used to have where you pull a string in their neck and they repeat a recorded message.  

Lord, why do you make creatures you do not love?

 July 5, 2026

Sat on the front porch listening to the deep throat of the rolling thunder. Rain came, not enough to kill the drought, but enough to get the green things through the night. I was up early watering on my own, amazed that a long time standing with the hose in my hand didn’t get the water very deep in.  Pulled up a vast wild grape root that I have been fighting for a decade, finally victorious. As I sat on the porch listening to the thunder, I listened also to my own thought. Why was I thinking those particular things? Arguments with people long dead, or who never existed. Contemplation of my youth, when, I realize now, I was averse to the show of emotions, keeping mine in check, avoiding or judging others when they let theirs free. This must have been a tribulation to my mother. I remember my fury when I found her crying because someone (maybe it was me) had hurt her feelings. My father embarrassed me terribly. I don’t know why. There were certain things I would say in front of him, and when I had to put my hand on his shoulder in Indians Guides and say “Pals Forever,” the mortification was unbearable. I don’t know why. I was too young when I noticed this for it to have come from me, but I had no memory of anywhere else to look. 

 July 4, 2026

Firecrackers in the gathering dark. Spent the morning delving Yeats, trying to discover why he could write a political poem that is a great poem, and we cannot.  Part of the reason–and the part that cannot be amended–is that his opponents at some point believed what they were doing was right, and preserved some of that dignity. We are shooting hogs in a wallow. It is hard to make that matter. It is hard to give that dignity.