Blame it on the Sun

 Paul and Annie said it must have been 50 degrees on top of Mt. Ripinsky Saturday, and Dr. Feldman said he walked all the way to Pyramid Island without getting water in his boots Sunday.  (We walked almost to the airport the day before with the dogs.)The tide was out and the river is that low. Lots of people were saying it was a beautiful weekend- for April--.  Church was sparsely attended, what with all the intoxicating sunshine and basketball games-- the Merchants won the Dick Hotch mens tournament, and the Haines Glacier Bear boys beat Sitka at home- twice-- for a stunning undefeated season.  The Sitka coaches were edgy and challenged every call, which made for an unsettled evening, since we sat over on their side of gym. We got up early Sunday and made Sarah breakfast  at her house and then bathed baby Caroline. (Brian was stuck in Sitka with the girls basketball team which he coaches. The fog in Juneau kept planes grounded.) After church, Eliza and I jogged to the cannery. The ice and snow free road on the sunny side of town out along the water was full of walkers, training wheeled  young cyclists and joggers. (When the newspaper editor drove in from his cabin he said he thought he'd missed some sort of community wellness event. We all had dinner together. It was a busy weekend.)  Anyway, then last night, the Chilkat Center was packed for the Northern Lights Showcase, an Arts Council sponsored evening of local talent. Dr. Charlotte played the violin with Nancy Nash on piano. Dr. Charlotte was on call, and there was a search and rescue in process ( two boys got stuck snowboarding on Mt. Ripinsky, but they were smart enough to call for help before dark, and are fine, I hear.) Her husband was in the back with their baby as well, but even with all of that,  she remained unflappable. ( Actually, she was more than just grounded, she made those tunes soar.) She played Bach on the violin so beautifully  that it made me a little sad, the way good music can.
When it was my turn, I read from the new book. I had a section all picked out about snowshoeing with God, but then the Mormon Ukulele player sang about God, and the  southern (he's from Carolina) magician preached about working hard and not drinking or taking drugs, and while they were both wonderful performances, I decided it would be best to read from a less religious section. So instead, I stood up in front of all those people and read a story about bed pans. My bed pan. Well, my bed pan and the people who changed it in the nursing home where I had to stay for a while to recover from my accident.
 Dr. Charlotte played Bach and I talked about bed pans. Blame it on the weather, is all I can say. Sunshine in February can make you lose all judgment.


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