FOR A FEW MINUTES

  I just came in from shoveling snow but I’ll go back out to finish the work in a while. Trucks from the city have been around, I can hear one now with its blade scraping against the blacktop. My educated guess is that we received about 3” of light, fluffy stuff that is easy to shovel. I know better than to over-do so use my shovel like a snow plow blade, push stuff downslope and to he side so I am mostly pushing down hill with little little bending over and no heavy lifting. 
Accuweather is a weather forecasting service that has been around for at least thirty years. I check their 10 day forecast, understanding how difficult it is to predict high and low temps that far ahead. Two weeks ago all of the forecasters were telling us the winter blast wasn’t over, that February was going to bring more snow and the most bitter bitter lows we’ve seen in years. I checked on the 10th for this week and the forecast for today’s low was -2. When I got up at 7:00 the temp was -2. It has gone up to 4 degrees and the high is supposed to get up to 9. I’ll try to keep up with it but I’m not betting against Accuweather. 
I am finishing my second mug of coffee and put away several cookies (several for me is 6 or 8). I’ll go sit down and close my eyes for a few minutes, set alarm on my cell phone. (few for me is 15, give or take.) Then I’ll layer up and go outside. Even in the cold that light, fluffy snow will start to settle and the easy part will become not so easy. But all that is left is the stuff on the low end, the steepest part of the drive. My glasses will fog up when I come back in so I can’t see a thing. But I’ll close my eyes again for a few minutes and they will be good to go. I expect to go the rest of the day inside. Accuweather is predicting a small dusting of snow and a low temp here tonight of -9 degrees. I can hear the snowplow again, scraping along the curbs to get as much snow back into my drive as possible but that’s alright. They do a good job and have a lot of it done before I get out of bed. 

IF I WERE YOUNGER

  A guest minister conducted our service this morning. As denominations go his is about as liberal as Christians get. There are two Churches of Christ, one that is extremely conservative and evangelical. Their faith is rooted in the conviction that the bible is not only divinely inspired but absolutely true, word for word, every word. The other Church of Christ has a prefix to make sure they don’t get confused; The United Church of Christ (UCC). In Grand Rapids, Michigan before I retired in 2001 I was a member at Saint John’s UUC. There were no hard-fast rules on what was required of members but our pastor’s degree was in philosophy and his message was always about redemption, not salvation. He was very familiar with Joseph Campbell’s views on God. He said that God is a metaphor for a mystery that is beyond human comprehension (or) in my translation, we attribute to God (the metaphor) what we cannot understand. That’s what made the church attractive in the first place. 
Anyway, out guest minister preached on how to be joyful in the act of defiance. In the audience you would have to have been in a coma for the past four months to not know what he was talking about. In our spiritual community the principles of justice, fair play, equity, democratic process and environmental responsibility are at the core of our religion which basically puts the White House and Congress at odds with everything we hold dear. 
We were put on notice that others like us would be challenged soon to put up or shut up. Some of us will likely be arrested at protests, peaceful or otherwise but that should be expected when demagogues, authoritarian bigots and despots don’t have to answer to anyone. That’s not me having a tantrum, that’s the Christian minister who is challenging a bunch of progressive activists who have just been kicked to the curb. When I vent my disappointment I remember how old I am. Not one to throw stones or provoke authority figures I will be left to call and write my elected officials. My guess is that every elected partisan, either side has an AI program that reads and tallies how many (for & against) contacts come through their office but the only ones who get a legitimate response will be those who donate to their re-election campaigns. I could go sit outside their office with a placard but I’d probably need an expensive permit but there you go, off to jail. I’m too old to immigrate. Nobody wants me living off American retirement and draining their national health resources 
When this kind of sh*t happens (Project 2025) I default to my favorite make-believe. When my great-great-great grandparents immigrated to Nova Scotia in the 1880’s they stayed a while and ended up in Indiana. I fault them for robbing me of my Canadian roots. But then my parents would have never met and I would be like every other non-person whose parents never met and they were never conceived. So if I blame anyone it will have to be my mom and dad. They stayed in the USA during the Great Depression, got support from their families and I turned 2 just a few months before Pearl Harbor. 
My experience (journey) in Canada may be thin but it is real. Two months in Nova Scotia in 2001, a month in British Columbia in 2010, Nova Scotia again another four months in 2012, and a long drive up and down the AlCan highway in 2015: I know enough to know I love the culture and I made friends there who still ask when I’m coming back. I asked one friend (a technical writer & musician) what it’s like living next to America. She replied without a second thought; “A lot like living next door to the Simpsons” (Homer, Marge, Bart & Lisa). 
When I give it serious thought the thought always takes thee same path. All things being equal I would have been a much better Canadian than I am an American. I have a friend (Unitarian-Universalist minister) In Halifax who spent most of his professional career (an engineer) in Atlanta, Georgia, retired and came home to Nova Scotia and became a minister. He thinks the big difference between us is that the USA gained independence through a bloody revolution (A zero sum game). While it took longer in Canada the process came out of negotiation and a (Win-Win) solution. One culture is still looking for a fight while the other is willing to compromise for the greater good. I don’t think Norm’s assessment is all there is but I think his view makes a strong case and is easily defended.
If I were younger immigration to Canada would be a worthy option. Back in the 70’s when Americans were escaping to Canada to avoid Nixon’s unwinnable war in Vietnam I was starting a career with a Master’s degree and a young family. We could have made that leap with relative ease. As I think of it now there is an urge to apologize to my middle age kids for robbing them of their Canadian roots. I doubt they would feel the same, who knows? The road not traveled is not for us to know and I’m not going to blame my parents after all. But when authoritarian bigots go boldly about robbing me of my American roots I feel a strong pull to Halifax and a culture that works faithfully to create Win-Win solutions. For the record, I would think long and hard if the opportunity to migrate north was made real. I could live in Saint Stephen, New Brunswick, just across the bridge from Calais, Maine, a stone’s throw in distance but far enough to be under the red maple leaf. Wishful thinking. Talk’s cheap when the possibility is so remote.

WE FUMBLED THE BALL

  There was a point in my life, sort of a transition from a gleaner of wisdom to its source. You’re old enough and experienced enough to know better but still find yourself on the receiving end of condescending, middle age authority. It’s like morning dew, not enough to take notice until it collects in tiny droplets on the windshield. Then I decide how to deal with it, rejection with one swipe of the wiper blade or share space with what has come to me uninvited. I was full time student throughout my late 20’s, about a decade behind my high school classmates. My mentors treated me a little different than my teenage peers, didn’t preach at me in particular but in a group the lessons were condescending. The ability and will to prepare was something I had never thought much about but a lesson well learned. Still, you can’t treat every responsibility with the same sense of urgency so the ability and will to prioritize became the real life lesson. Research credibly informs us that people will do what makes them feel good or comfortable in the moment long before they take on the important but unpleasant task. That wisdom hasn’t changed; “Do things in the order of their importance.” Wow! How many times have I heard that line? Sounds easy but somewhere in the bible it says, “. . . the mind is willing but the flesh is weak.” But I know better and that gives me an edge when I need it. 
I am well into my 8th decade and I should know better. When used in the same context, growth and learning are synonymous. I prefer 'growth'. Intellectual-emotional growth is forward leaning while no-growth signals decline and end times. Nothing wrong with growing as you age just keep moving your feet. Wisdom is what we say it is, a rule of thumb that to guide you; but 2nd hand wisdom is simply what worked for somebody else and feels good. But trusting religion to reveal all truths is diametrically opposed to trusting reason and science and I trust the numbers. As a profound Skeptic I doubt I will give in to myth, wannabe wisdom or demagoguery. I have wrestled for decades with ideologies and beliefs in search of a best way. My heroes are open ended thinkers who would rather be disappointed with the truth than (fat, dumb & happy) believing that greed is good and that social diversity is bad. 
I am wandering a little bit, off track from what I started. At my age most of my heroes are passed on but their writing and actions leave no doubt as to their virtue. Ruminating on how I will be remembered, for how long or if at all, it’s too late to become something new. Still, it is a trigger to be consistent with whatever shadow I leave behind. I am still interested in good information and new ideas but the times have not leaned toward due process and credible, reliable sources. Expertise has been associated with cultural stereotypes. People from New England with a PhD. are automatically labeled liberal elites, out of touch with the people they claim to represent while QAnon, a loose-knit network of conspiracy theorists with neither expertise nor credibility claim a huge following. (Believe what feels good without tangible proof). 
My point to begin with was; after World War 2 the next generation had all of the resources and talent to change the world for the better but as a people we fumbled the ball. We practiced greed, racial hatred and environmental abuse as well as other vises. Seventy years later ‘Karma’ has proven itself; what goes around comes back around. The same self-serving abuse of power, greed and white privilege that gave us Hitler & Tojo have come back around. I’m just an old Biology teacher who sees the similarity between a petri dish full of bacteria and a global community that feeds until there is nothing left to eat and then consumes it’s self. I would much rather end with a hopeful, positive observation. When the National Football League is more important than the United Nations one has to dig deep into the culture, down to family and friends to put your hands on something you want to wake up to. Tomorrow I expect to wake up to warm feet, clean socks and a short drive to drink coffee with a small group of friends. We disagree sometimes but never on anything more serious than where to get the best BBQ.

IS JUST A GOODBY

  When my room was just down the hall from my parent’s and they had no qualms about telling me what should and shouldn’t be it was my mother who kept me informed. Dad told good stories but otherwise he wasn’t much for conversation. If I wasn’t a happy kid at least I was content. I made do with what I had except for wanting to be older, like my big brother. When we moved from the city to the country, school was nearly three miles away and there was no bus. So David got a full size, 2nd hand bicycle and we rode the bike to and from school. He drove while I sat sidesaddle on the bar. I was a 1st grader and Dave in the 4th, I got teased at school for the sidesaddle thing. If there was snow or bitter cold my mom drove us in the car but otherwise we bundled up and rode the bike. Needless to say, I wanted my own bike and I let it be known; “I can’t wait until I get my own bicycle.” Mom always had the same advice; “Don’t wish your life away.” When Dave got his driver’s license he got a job, bought an old car and I envied his newfound freedom. “I can’t wait until I turn 16.” Again, my mom shared her wisdom, not to wish my life away. 
Tapping into that sense of being in the moment took a long time for me to appreciate but then Life Lessons move in their own time. Someone once told me that Life Lessons are framed by circumstances and if you don’t learn it then-&-there the lesson recycles and reboots. The same lesson will come back around in a different situation with a new set of circumstances and we get to experience it again, and again, and again until we finally get it. My mother knew that but she didn’t squander it to a 6 or 13 year-old. She knew that her one-liner about wishing one’s life away would resonate in its own good time. 
Something to think about; as years keep accumulating the way that pattern reverses itself doesn’t need an explanation. I wish, if I could have my wish, that some experiences just hang on and on, dwell in a time warp that slows down to suit your appetite. But my mom would tell me; “Wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up first.” Of course someone else would give me the same advice except for substituting ‘pee’ for ‘spit’. My mom would never, not ever suggest the pee option even in jest or for effect. The kernel of truth there is another lesson; time flies when you’re having fun. I found that having fun is not a hard-fast requirement for time to fly. All it takes is to be busy with something that requires one’s undivided attention. 
The longer I live the more I appreciate my mom’s patience and persistence. Not that my dad wasn’t wise or interested. Whatever he had to share would come out in a narrative, a story with a beginning, a middle and an end. She wasn’t condescending but maybe didactic and certainly informative. The two of them, they learned how to live in the Great Depression, she had a profound religious faith and he with a profound sense of fairplay. Between them they combined their talents and gave us (3) boys a proper home. In many ways we’ve mirrored their values but each in our own way. All of us rejected the Christian tradition, I was the last to make that leap. I was the only son to embrace plurality, diversity and equity as how one should live. My World View is left leaning progressive but my practice is to doubt all (every) ideology that competes for power. My brothers both doubted everything that conflicted with their me-first appetite. Neither had much interest in riches and power, just enough to satisfy their creature comfort and unmerited privileges. Likable, even lovable, the Greater Good was no more to them than high-minded propaganda. 
With my StoryTelling history (maybe inherited or modeled from Dad) my favorite stories are songs; 3 verses, a bridge & a chorus. Short stories with meter and rhyme; if it’s good enough I never forget. There are so many great songs, for ever so many situations and experience it’s hard to pick one that speaks best to family, siblings and this journey. Wandering off the subject here but I’ve been watching You Tube (Playing For Change) from Australia. The song was first recorded 55 years ago and it’s still current, still potent, still awesome; Crosby Stills & Nash “Teach Your Children Well. When my days have all been spent and people gather ‘round to wish me godspeed, taking comfort in each other’s company and confronting their own mortality I would ask whoever’s in charge to let me go with this song. The You Tube (Playing For Change) group from Australia goes over the top. I have been watching, listening to it for months, not every day but several times a day on many days. It is a good song to end the day with. If you haven’t listened to the (Playing For Change) version then you should.
    You, who are on the road; Must have a code that you can live by
    And so become yourself; Because the past is just a goodbye
Chorus
    Teach your children well; Their father's hell did slowly go by
    Feed them on your dreams; The one they pick's the one you'll know by
    Don't you ever ask them why; If they told you, you would cry
    So just look at them and sigh; And know they love you

    You, of tender years; can’t know the fears that your elders grew    by
    Help them with your youth; They seek the truth before they can die.
    Repeat Chorus