August 31, 2020

Dark of the last night of my 69th year. I have had birthdays before, but 70 seems momentous in ways they did not, the biblical three score and ten after which is mystery.  The idea of being “70" is not realized within me, a goal never anticipated, a reality without context. Three and a half more hours and I can never again call myself anything by “elderly.” It’s shocking. Kyle plans a socially distanced party for me here tomorrow night. I think that is sweet and kind and I know I will look back on it with joy. 

Felt the approach of the Infection last night, took the pills on time and in sufficient volume, so this bout is tiny, tiny, almost nothing. . . except something. . . an hour of fever, ten minutes of chills instead of days and days. One is meant to thank God that bad things were not worse.

A new bear visited this afternoon, young and leggy, maybe not much more than a cub, maybe out on his own for the first time. I’ll name him Orson, after Il Orso the Bear. His muzzle is darker than Bubba’s. He was not used to me, and when I opened the door to greet him he sped off into the bamboo. Clearly he’d not been in the garden before, because when he got to the middle of it, he panicked, thinking he was cornered and there were no exits. There are actually two in addition to the one he entered by, but he’ll discover all in time. I haven’t looked between their legs, but I say “he” because both bears’ behavior is what I’d call “boyish.” I wondered why there’s a fairly clear aisle between the bamboo and the elderberries, and I saw today that is the avenue of the bears. Maybe Orson will come to my party.

Lane has bobcats. I am sick with envy.  

Something made me think of the university. The inwardness of recent years made me forget the public energy of most of my tenure there, hauling kids downtown, putting on their plays for the people, acing, singing, sitting on committees, minding the business of all the arts in this municipality. If I don’t remember unless I work up to it, I wonder if anybody does. I wonder if I care. My name must be down in somebody’s notes somewhere.