Good Friday

 

April 7, 2023

Good Friday. 

Baking a potato last night, I discovered that the convection oven would not turn off and the house was heating up fast. Had to go downstairs and flip the circuit breaker. Assumed the stove was new when I moved in, but maybe not.

Horrific dream. A new professor, I couldn’t find my classroom and couldn’t get on line and couldn’t find any documents to help me, and when I finally found the room it was like a saloon and I had to lecture on the Gothic by shouting over drunks and boors. One young man whose dorm was nearby said I could lecture to the few who wanted to hear what I had to say in his room. 

Inevitably when I miss a service, this time Maundy Thursday, K Facebooks that it was the best the choir has ever done. Should send me a message. 

G has died, less than a month after his sister, of dementia and Parkinson’s, the obit said. G was the main character in my first published fiction, wherein I recounted the backyard football we used to play. I was G’s preferred receiver, because I had “great hands,” he said. Made me wonder what might have been had I been able otherwise to get onto the field. My other memory of him is when my friend Laurie and I brought a basket of baby mice to show him, and he threw them in the fire. 

Sang the Good Friday service. No one would say that was our finest hour, but I believed those who came to be moved were moved.

Foot in agony from faciaitis. 

Barrier-breaking painting of a bear standing at a spring roadside. 

Guy on Facebook says I was the best professor I ever had. Needed to hear it.