Ongoing conversation about faith, good works, clarity.

Losing my religion or not:

Me: ... I admire people who manage to stay but still engage. Like, if someone says something awful, they just speak to it, without rancor, because they're still brothers and sisters. But they engage.

Historian: ....

Me: I know, it's not what you'd do.

Historian: Well, it's not like there's just one way to respond.

Me: Right, exactly. And I know, it's not like people at church don't say stuff and do stuff that actually hurts people. They do. But still.

Historian: Right...?

Me: ...So what I'm saying is, if I'm still in, then what good am I doing out here on the sidelines? I could be engaging. [body language and hand wringing.]

Historian: ...

Me: I just wonder if I'm doing my part.

Historian: Oh, sweetheart.

Me: I know.  [dramatic change of subject:] Well, at least we're going to a movie.

Historian: ...I was going to say, nothing is ever easy for you, but some things are easy.

Me: Like movies.

Historian: ... like movies. I was going to make a list of things I'm completely clear about. Like riding my bike. I'm completely clear that I love riding my bike.

Me: Movies.

Historian: Right, for you, movies. And also poetry, you're clear about writing poetry.

Me: [to self: well, most of the time. Aloud:] Yes, definitely.  [...] But what else is on your list? That list of things you're completely clear about?

Historian: Oh, well, I haven't actually made the list. I was just thinking I was going to make it.

Me: [to self: dammit I need that list STAT! ...  Aloud:] Hey, I need that list!

Top 10 things about being home.

1. I located the following in my kitchen, without having to give any of it a thought: box of pancake mix, egg, milk, sunflower oil, maple syrup, griddle, plug for griddle, butter, knife. My favorite mug. A yellow plate.

2. I slept till the blessed hour of 10 a.m.

3. The comfortable bed in my study.

4. Quiet morning.

5. Buying groceries for the week.

6. The sounds of my son's friends downstairs.

7. Going to my daughter's for 'hodge podge bbq,' her words, and eating outside while the children played and ran around, as if it were spring or something.

8. Bruiser, ever faithful, ever waggy, ever at the door when I'm carrying the groceries in from the car.

9. My bed, ever faithful, ever cozy, ever the best night sleep guarantor. Well, usually.

10. The whole street has burst into bloom.

(the item that is without number): Seeing the historian at the airport, and when I woke up. Taking a walk in the morning and evening with him and Bruiser. Listening to him at his desk in the next room. Watching television together.

Tomorrow: work. But today: home.

The historian, it's your birthday, happy birthday, the historian.

Happy birthday to the historian!  I asked him to tell me ten things he wished for.  He said he wished 

1. that he understood more about economics;

2. that he were a painter; and/or

3. that he were a musician, and especially that he understood jazz;

4. that we will be able to travel in the future to at least some of the places we want to go;

5. that he would enjoy good health for the rest of his life;

6. that the Scotlands would move here in the not-too-distant future;

7. that he would remain productive as a historian;

8. that he were a swell pool player;

9. that he were a magician; and finally,

10. that none of our kids will have financial difficulties.

In light of these wishes, I wish the historian a year filled with learning, art, music and especially jazz, travel, excellent health, lots of family visits, new and exciting historical projects, pool-shooting, magic, and prosperity spread all around--to everyone, because prosperity is just better that way.  

In conclusion, please substitute "the historian" for "Lisa" in this song: