I have been a little busy-- what with leg surgery stuff, Ted's thing, getting ready for winter, the family far and near, writing-- and just this morning chasing a hawk out of the chicken coop-- so forgive me for not posting a few more pictures. I do add them to facebook, but forget that a lot of you don't go there, which is probably a good thing. You're not missing much. I'm thinking it is time for a facebook fast myself and have decided to take more walks instead. Like my friend Merry always says, there's no such thing as bad weather, just bad gear.
I am so glad that I don't have to keep checking the web, listening to the radio and clicking back and forth between opposing news channels on the TV anymore-- the election sucked my time like a black hole. It also made me very anxious for what turns out was no reason. The other thing that struck me when the Obama's came on stage was how much can change in a family in four years. The president's daughters aren't little girls anymore. They have changed more, it seems, than our politics, or the country, and no matter how you voted, that should be a head's up to pay attention.
My husband's hunting buddy called this morning, just like he does every morning, and he asked how the weather was over here on Mud Bay where all the hippies live, and I said lovely. The sun is out, it is a new day dawning, full of hope and change. (It is raining and gray, but I love election day.) He laughed. Then I asked if he voted, and he said yes, and I joked, "For my guy Obama?"
"Yes Ma'am I did."
What?--- "You're joking right?"
This morning my husband is pretending to make microphone noises like a rapper. "How do I sound?" He says. He has been packing for his annual deer hunt, and yesterday was making sounds he said were like a doe, and since I hadn't had my coffee yet I was a little confused. "Like a male deer? What are they called again?" "A buck." How could I forget that. Did you know that's why we call a dollar a buck? Because in Daniel Boone's day a deer hide was worth a dollar? This is one of those things that a history major doesn't forget. Like all politics is local.
"Guide the people of this land, and of all the nations, in the ways of justice and peace, that we may honor one another and serve the common good. Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer."-- From the Book of Common Prayer
There are three defining events which make a family: weddings, births or adoption celebrations, and funerals. Of these three, the last one, it seems to me, is the one that cements those bonds--the one thing that confirms we are part of the tribe-- by marriage, birth, and even friendship-- that we are connected-- for better or worse, sickness and health, 'till death do us part.
The Coast Guard suspended its search for Ted Lynch. That sad news came in a press release issued shortly before 8:00 p.m. Tuesday. Ted, a 62 year-old Haines fisherman, is my daughter’s father-in-law. He had promised to make the Thanksgiving turkey this year for our now combined families. Ted and I share a granddaughter, and between our families we have 11 kids. At the wedding last January, when I said I hoped the newlyweds would wait a bit to have the next baby (the first one was on the way) Ted smiled in his very sweet way, and said he hoped they had lots.
I have the Internet, public radio, a few good books, peanut butter, rice cakes, apples, Perrier and a huge flat screen TV to watch the debate and the baseball game on, which is a long way of saying I'm as comfortable as I can be away from home and that this is why you haven't heard from me in a few days. (That, and I spent the weekend in Juneau with my school-teaching daughters before flying up to Anchorage.) I'm still dopey from the procedure meds-- nothing serious, just a little tune up on my legs.