May be some time . . .

By circumstances we are unable to alter, separated from my son by continents, oceans and contagion, I work every day building our boat, this graceful little dory that turns my focus from the macabre. In times past I have counted personal challenges and adversity, even sorrow, as “thick slices of life”, but this one is far too thick, too steep and way too dark to characterize as mere experience, much less life. This is Hell for most of the world.

We are riding the whip-saw of emotions one would expect. At one moment by the side of my magnificent wife and in the presence of songbirds, a fig tree bursting with fruit, abundant ripe lemons and a small craft growing each day in my shop, my dog who is dizzy-in-love with me, and so far good health. The backstroke of course, is the surreal media coverage of death and despair and the knowledge that our quiet village on this beautiful river and ocean is not languid, but is mortified and quivering in silence behind shuttered windows.

Being an American, a guest as it were here in Portugal, I feel shame and fury at the feckless and rat-like scurrying of our political figures, the pronouncements of self-serving untruths based on specious logic that will never fits our needs, the mindless adherence to dogma simply to win, the turning away from desperate triage toward re-election once the world returns. If you detect disgust, well…

If our political system is torn and wounded, there is also a world-light in this struggle…it comes from the incredibly brave and selfless men and women who are in the trenches of the hospitals, clinics, ambulances, pharmacies, assisted living facilities, fire houses and even grocery stores and pet shops on every continent. Bless their hearts. Bless their hearts….may they all find some small “dory project” to help turn from the horror. May their dogs love-them-silly. May you remain healthy.

It is not yet time to step outside.