To The Children: Pre-Recorded

    Pre-Recorded. So sorry. Not writing. Reflections? Have there be any? Any Self? Napping, wake-me when something changes. Living. Time-passages. Daily routines. Patterns to lean upon. Propped-up by daily concerns. Every timeless now, and thens which pass unseen, I rub my sleepy eyes. Sitting on my terrace in the chilly, late evening air, my attention on the phone, swiping…

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To the Children: Different Realms

Yesterday, I watched a streaming broadcast – this particular broadcast I watch everyday. Over the years of viewing, I have come to appreciate the views and information and occasional bits of wisdom. However, recently, the duo who speak on a variety of subjects, have become morose — negative, doom-saying, and exaggerated. Yesterday’s broadcast was particularly dark and “doomy.” Afterward the…

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To the Children: Fading Recollections

In the summer of 2017, we drove west. Chicago faded slowly because we drove slowly. I didn’t have time or space to double-down my focus or attention on the magnitude of the moment. Whatever attention I could muster was used to keep us safe, sense the car’s performance, and navigate traffic. I wanted to live, to bear witness to the…

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To the Children: Summer of ’17

The summer of 2017, while our seventh or eighth consecutive car camping adventure, was fresh and lively, like a new birth. Trailing our eleven-year-old car was a small U-haul trailer, packed with all of our belongings. We departed Chicago with a 4x5x4 container of things, and drove west. We had suspect confidence that the car would pull the trailer. Would…

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To the Children

It’s a story that I will tell. The negotiations with myself have not gone well. Logic, good-taste, and style have conversed, subtlety lobbied by my sub-conscious and conscious yearnings and the result? A self-justified abstinence or privacy. Considerations of exhibitionism. The wish for approval. The care-taking of a self-image, despite being uncertain which picture I present. Whatever I do, prescribed…

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The Gates of Tremedal: Time & Timelessness

Time. We are wealthy with time. Ive noticed the not-wealthy imagine that riches bring freedoms. I bet the actuality of wealth brings heavy anxiety too. The poor see and dream of wealth with unquestioned loyalty. I’ve seen the rich, and they, often, aren’t worthy of the emblems the poor place on them. Chocolate. Time. Empty schedules.  We can waste time,…

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A Wee Bit of Context

We moved to El Tremedal in October 2017. Who and Where were we before the move? Who knows, but he ain’t tellin’. No names here, okay? Where? Maybe. Whats and Whens, certainly. Whys? Likely they are found in the subtext. Details are littered throughout the posts. My wife and I (or is it “my wife and me”?) enjoyed a pretty…

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La Tormenta de Reyes

My 77 year-old mother arrived in Spain on January 4th. I am proud of her sense of adventure. Her trip to Europe began in Frankfurt, Germany, where she visited her granddaughter who is nearing the end of her first year of military service. Mother does not speak German or Spanish or any other “foreign” language. Furthermore, she has never traveled…

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The Gates of El Tremedal

It’s cold here. That’s what the folks around here say. I think this village has lived without time, and timelessness warms the imagination, lights it – the light glows revealing the forgotten. Yes, it’s cold here, when the wind blows, and I am standing on the terrace at night. The house is made of stone and plaster and wood. There…

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