It is early on Easter Sunday. It's a snowy day and the forecast calls for cold temperatures. Yesterday it was in the 70s. Today they will fall to below 20.
The Easter weekend has special significance to the Irish. And II think that a president worth his salt would be able to call upon the imagery of this weekend to call make the sacrifice we are enduring this weekend have substance. He or she would make it clear that this isn't an end or a stall, but a new dawn.
However this president is unable to call upon sacrifice as he has never made sacrifice He is unable to lead as he never had that quality and is convinced of his omnipotence. And his followers deceive themselves to follow the fix of appointments to the courts amid the loss of their souls.
I do like the weather. Once, when I was a child living on Laramie Avenue I came out to join my family going to Mass. It must have been very early as the sidewalk had no footmarks on it, except one: a set of rabbit prints leading south toward LaFollette Park. I was still young enough to believe in a bunny that delivered hard-boiled eggs to families on Easter. I remember the wonder of seeing those prints in the snow. Did I share my observation with anyone? Did anyone share my wonder that on that day, at that hour what I thought of as a miracle had happened?
I would smile about it today. I would remember it today and share the news with other adults. But no one ever mentioned it to me and I wonder, did I share my observation? Did it really happen?
A year ago I decided to join the sunrise service at my church here in Broomfield. My only transportation was my electric bike. In the darkness, in the empty streets I opened it up all the way to church, enjoying the darkened streets, the fields, the light in the eastern sky and the wind on my face.
It felt as though I was flying along in the darkness, another moment of magic, this time experienced as an adult. That was a taste of why people love motorcycles, opening the throttle up and feeling the wind on their face, enjoying the rumble of the road beneath them and the fear that you'd lose control.
This year there is Covid waiting to ambush us. It is unseen, unheard and a potential killer. There are no religious services in sensible churches this year.
Back in the East my daughter is sleeping in a hospital. No, not due to Covid, but due to a kidney infection. She had two large kidney stones, perhaps many, but two decided to lodge in her urinary track maybe a week or so ago. They blocked the kidney from working correctly and that in turn led to an infection.
On Friday her temperature his 102 F and she worked her way through the health insurance to gain approval to go to the hospital. She has made the point to me several times during this crisis that people without adequate health insurance are also the people we consider essential in this crisis. They are the ones driving the trucks, stocking the shelves and caring for us when we fall ill.
She is preaching to the choir. The ideas of the "Socialists" are proving their wisdom: a guaranteed income and universal health insurance.
Ceili was instructed by her insurance company to go to an immediate care facility. However the ICF turned her away as her condition was too serious. So she had to locate a doctor who would admit her. My understanding is that she was turned away by at least one doctor. A second wanted to turn her away, meaning that they wouldn't even see her, causing her to have no insurance coverage when she was finally taken to the hospital.
She did something I admire about her: she started to cry. In the office, she wouldn't leave, she started to cry. Maybe she became hysterical, I don't know. But she started to cry. That caused the doctor to relent and see her.
He confirmed that she was correct, she had a fever and all the symptoms of a kidney infection, but not of Covid. He sent her to the Emergency Room. I guess, at the ER they again tried to turn her away, but were persuaded to admit her. They found a run-away infection. She had a lithotripsy early the next morning.
A hospital is no place to be in the midst of this pandemic. She is not allowed any guests. That probably allows her to rest, because I know I'd be there and so would her mom. They are keeping her till Monday.
Another Easter memory.
Bishop Perry released her Easter sermon late last night. It was about Mary Magdalene. Mary was the first of Jesus' followers to learn his body had gone missing from the tomb. A woman, not the men made the discovery. It says a lot about the early church that women were respected.
Bonnie has been hitting it out of the park during this crisis. I'm watching this friend of mine develop a new voice during the crisis. I'm hearing her justify her social justice ways.
It was with mixed feelings that I listened, not that I didn't appreciate the story, which deserves attention by itself, about the death of Bonnie's mother. I'd first heard Bonnie tell the story of sitting with her father at her mother's bed at All Saints Church several years ago. Bonnie, as you can tell, has a great deal of respect from me. And you might think that a woman of wisdom, a spiritual well of depth and sweetness, would be the person her father would turn to as his partner lay dying.
But her father asked the hospital chaplain, a Roman Catholic priest, a stranger even, a religious question. As a writer I've thought about that scene. What does it mean? How did Bonnie perceive it? Today Bonnie married that scene to Mary Magdalene guiding the men to the tomb.
Final thought for the day: Marci saw me get upset here at the house. I don't think she's seen me that upset before. She calmed me down and put me in my place too. I felt lucky to have her as a lover, as a person of sweetness and love who could shake me back to reality.
The Easter weekend has special significance to the Irish. And II think that a president worth his salt would be able to call upon the imagery of this weekend to call make the sacrifice we are enduring this weekend have substance. He or she would make it clear that this isn't an end or a stall, but a new dawn.
However this president is unable to call upon sacrifice as he has never made sacrifice He is unable to lead as he never had that quality and is convinced of his omnipotence. And his followers deceive themselves to follow the fix of appointments to the courts amid the loss of their souls.
I do like the weather. Once, when I was a child living on Laramie Avenue I came out to join my family going to Mass. It must have been very early as the sidewalk had no footmarks on it, except one: a set of rabbit prints leading south toward LaFollette Park. I was still young enough to believe in a bunny that delivered hard-boiled eggs to families on Easter. I remember the wonder of seeing those prints in the snow. Did I share my observation with anyone? Did anyone share my wonder that on that day, at that hour what I thought of as a miracle had happened?
I would smile about it today. I would remember it today and share the news with other adults. But no one ever mentioned it to me and I wonder, did I share my observation? Did it really happen?
A year ago I decided to join the sunrise service at my church here in Broomfield. My only transportation was my electric bike. In the darkness, in the empty streets I opened it up all the way to church, enjoying the darkened streets, the fields, the light in the eastern sky and the wind on my face.
It felt as though I was flying along in the darkness, another moment of magic, this time experienced as an adult. That was a taste of why people love motorcycles, opening the throttle up and feeling the wind on their face, enjoying the rumble of the road beneath them and the fear that you'd lose control.
This year there is Covid waiting to ambush us. It is unseen, unheard and a potential killer. There are no religious services in sensible churches this year.
Back in the East my daughter is sleeping in a hospital. No, not due to Covid, but due to a kidney infection. She had two large kidney stones, perhaps many, but two decided to lodge in her urinary track maybe a week or so ago. They blocked the kidney from working correctly and that in turn led to an infection.
On Friday her temperature his 102 F and she worked her way through the health insurance to gain approval to go to the hospital. She has made the point to me several times during this crisis that people without adequate health insurance are also the people we consider essential in this crisis. They are the ones driving the trucks, stocking the shelves and caring for us when we fall ill.
She is preaching to the choir. The ideas of the "Socialists" are proving their wisdom: a guaranteed income and universal health insurance.
Ceili was instructed by her insurance company to go to an immediate care facility. However the ICF turned her away as her condition was too serious. So she had to locate a doctor who would admit her. My understanding is that she was turned away by at least one doctor. A second wanted to turn her away, meaning that they wouldn't even see her, causing her to have no insurance coverage when she was finally taken to the hospital.
She did something I admire about her: she started to cry. In the office, she wouldn't leave, she started to cry. Maybe she became hysterical, I don't know. But she started to cry. That caused the doctor to relent and see her.
He confirmed that she was correct, she had a fever and all the symptoms of a kidney infection, but not of Covid. He sent her to the Emergency Room. I guess, at the ER they again tried to turn her away, but were persuaded to admit her. They found a run-away infection. She had a lithotripsy early the next morning.
A hospital is no place to be in the midst of this pandemic. She is not allowed any guests. That probably allows her to rest, because I know I'd be there and so would her mom. They are keeping her till Monday.
Another Easter memory.
Bishop Perry released her Easter sermon late last night. It was about Mary Magdalene. Mary was the first of Jesus' followers to learn his body had gone missing from the tomb. A woman, not the men made the discovery. It says a lot about the early church that women were respected.
Bonnie has been hitting it out of the park during this crisis. I'm watching this friend of mine develop a new voice during the crisis. I'm hearing her justify her social justice ways.
It was with mixed feelings that I listened, not that I didn't appreciate the story, which deserves attention by itself, about the death of Bonnie's mother. I'd first heard Bonnie tell the story of sitting with her father at her mother's bed at All Saints Church several years ago. Bonnie, as you can tell, has a great deal of respect from me. And you might think that a woman of wisdom, a spiritual well of depth and sweetness, would be the person her father would turn to as his partner lay dying.
But her father asked the hospital chaplain, a Roman Catholic priest, a stranger even, a religious question. As a writer I've thought about that scene. What does it mean? How did Bonnie perceive it? Today Bonnie married that scene to Mary Magdalene guiding the men to the tomb.
Final thought for the day: Marci saw me get upset here at the house. I don't think she's seen me that upset before. She calmed me down and put me in my place too. I felt lucky to have her as a lover, as a person of sweetness and love who could shake me back to reality.
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