Stay Reminded Friday Round-Up

A young friend lost her boyfriend to suicide. I sent my condolences but I didn’t tell her what we had in common, except my boyfriend didn’t die until about thirty years after we split up. It wasn’t for lack of trying while we were together and after. The story is scary and messy and life changing, so I’m not about to tell it, revisit that scorched time in my life. So, I just sent my condolences. I told her she did all she could. She probably won’t believe me.

This is Disability Month or some such so I am getting message to Celebrate Disability! I thought of this today when the battery on my cochlear implant receiver died when we were about an hour from home. For the rest of our outing, while we were walking through a crowded national park with people commenting and asking questions about our dogs, I smiled and nodded toward my husband, the interpreter of all things sound, and quietly, silently as it were, celebrated diversity like I’ve been told to. It is startling and anxiety-producing to be suddenly deaf. You almost can’t hear the celebration.

We are having an enormous trout filet for dinner. We bought it in Munising at a store on the bay, the fishing boat from whence it was transported from Lake Superior tied up at the dock just yards away. It is a beautiful, huge, meaty fish. This is a fish that gives the word bounty true meaning. Lots of lemon.

Swirl had a long night being anxious about an extraordinary thunderstorm that took place right over our house. He paced for hours and this morning slept as if he’d been on a bender with a dozen unmentionable escapades. Part of his coming back to the planet involved being afraid to go down the stairs. I know not to force him and to stuff my pockets with Milk Bones. It took a while but descend he did. Think like a dog, I said to myself. Think like a dog.

Our ten-year old grandson is playing in the final games of the California states baseball tournament. He is matter-of-fact and sturdy and very serious about baseball. He is also humble, as his mother noted today, which I think is a rare thing in anyone, much less a kid rolling high in his ten-year old baseball world. The local news station spotlighted his team this morning. He spoke clearly into the microphone held by a reporter, “My name is Alex and I play right field and second base.” I wanted to fling myself across the country to hug him.