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Entry date: 6-30-2022 - Six months already? - Letters to My Friends

Dear Friends,

Thus closes the first six months of blogging. I must admit, I have loved this process and appreciate those of you who have taken the time to read even one or a portion of one of these ramblings. I look back at them from time to time and see where I forgot a word or have misspelled something or any typo, for that matter, and cringe a bit, but it’s going to remain a first draft throughout the year.

What I have decided is that I will definitely be going back, revising, and adding to many of these posts for a future work. I cannot turn back now. As I mentioned the other day, I’m kind of at a crossroads with which story to tell first and I’m still working through that process. Only time will tell where this leads, but it is leading me somewhere.


I don’t post a lot on Facebook anymore, but I posted something recently that drew some anger and strange reactions from people I am “friends” with on there. One old friend even told me, “Bye” because of what I wrote. It’s sad, but all I can say, is thank you. Good riddance. One less drag on this vehicle of life that keeps going faster and faster.

I even let him know I respected his beliefs even if they are different than mine. Unlike many people out there, I celebrate that we can think, believe, worship, create, and love differently if we choose to and are not harming anyone in the process. I truly believe the evil in this Roe vs Wade argument is in restricting choice and denying women the right to make decisions about their bodies.

With people, though, who buy into that “I am right, and you are wrong” mentality, there is never going to be an opportunity to share in a discussion or exchange ideas freely. It’s about winning with them. It’s about power and control, or in this case, the illusion of power and control. Illusions seem real, but they are not and my friend (err, former friend), is grasping onto something that is simply not really there.

Even if you believe in your heart, for example, that abortion is wrong, that is your choice. If you choose to believe in Jesus or Allah or Buddha or Vishnu or a carton of Lucky Strikes as your higher power, that is your choice. Choice is often not about right or wrong.

Some choices are wrong. I learned in Philosophy 101 at Phoenix College many, many years ago about the Objective Moral Order of Truth. These truths are things that, if looked at objectively, you can say are always true. An example would be that murder, in its true definition, is wrong. Lying, in its true definition, is wrong. People choose to do bad things all the time, of course, but what I was arguing for in my post had more to do with sticking to your moral truths and advocating for them than saying “Abortion is good, and I support it 100%.”


Going from heavy to heavier, last weekend I got to spend some time with a person who is dealing with memory impairment. She is a friend of my father-in-law’s and she visited Rangeley with her grandperson (more on this later) for a few days. It was eye opening.

Before I go on, I should probably say that my biggest fear about aging have to do with brain stuff. That could be from having a serious head injury in my life or all the stuff we used to hear about using psychedelics and eventually losing your mind (hogwash!). Either way, it is my biggest fear.

I know my body is going to break down. I accept that. I just don’t want it to be my mind. I don’t want to be a burden on Rhondi or the kids in that way. Wipe my butt, sure. I love and appreciate you. Remind me who I am? I hope you don’t have to do that. I hope you never have to see me look at you and not know who you are.

Watching our guest over the weekend was hard in some ways and easier in others. I could see her frustration when she would forget things which was often … but …. It was also a very short-lived frustration. She moved on quickly, found what she was looking for, and was none the wiser.

Not to oversimplify, but basically, she seemed happy. She shared, though, with Rhondi some of her fears and plans and those indicated she was anything but happy. It makes me wonder if sometimes, just like any of us playing with all our cards and marbles (no comments from the peanut gallery), when we can forget our troubles and be happy, if the coming onslaught of dementia might be a blessing in disguise for her considering all on that is on her plate.

It was clear, from what I learned from Rhondi, that she does not have a strong or supportive family. The grandchild, who is going through a situation where there a clearly some gender awareness questions, was straight up disrespectful to her even though “Granny/Grammy” as she called herself clearly only wanted the child to be happy. The child saw her as a burden, and this stood out to me right away and strongly.

Much of what I felt in interacting with and observing her was just sadness and pity. I know that is not what she wants, though, and I think I have a decent enough poker face that it was not obvious. I would hate to have made her feel uncomfortable as I am certain I will never see her again.


The weather is gorgeous, though. I’m enjoying the fresh air and happy to be alive. Life isn’t perfect, but I have no expectations that it will ever be everything I want it to be. Maybe someday, but I guess, even then, I will still want to be better at something or more present for someone or have a louder amplifier.

See you tomorrow.

There was a storm brewing the other night. It never got too bad. Lots of times, we see clouds like this up here and nothing comes from them. At least in the summer.

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