A Bookless Library

  I heard one opened, in San Antonio, Texas, the first library without books.  I suppose it's possible to call it that.  "Liber" means book in Latin, but it could be a place to access what is written in books, minus the actual volume.  I don't plan to transform my home  into a bookless house exactly, but am in the process of trying to bid adieu to a whole lot of books, probably about 700 of them.   I'm getting a headache from them, though;  not only am I developing eyestrain from perusing them once again, but that musty, old book smell attacks me right in the sinuses.  And my margin notes and papers remind me that I once possessed a great depth of knowledge that is foreign to me now.  I used to be smart and now I'm dumb.

In dreams

    Funny how the atmosphere in dreams can seem to be so different from how things look in real life, but somehow the dream  feels so familiar and more natural than your waking state, if only you could just capture that essence that hangs just on the edge, but you can't because the more you try to bring it into focus, the more you feel it slipping away. 
     I dreamt the other night that Dave was away and just on the point of returning when we received a call saying he should pack his bags and head elsewhere. He was shocked when he heard the news, but it was not what we had thought was most likely, not quite.  We were left wondering how he would be able to be back in time for the wedding.  (I do remember the missing part of this dream, but can not name it.  I'm not superstitious, but not morbid either.)

IF....

  If I could, I would recount to my sister a recent visit to a medical office which we had each attended, though at different times.  I would tell her that the "Halloween Lady" receptionist is still there. She still has on her desk and surrounding area  every extant Halloween-oriented tschotske ever put on the market.  Still has the orange hair, and a lot of orange in her wardrobe.  The doctor's children have gone on from being little kids to college age, with the "baby" now in high school.  And my sister would know what I mean when I tell her that the hiring of the office staff is obviously still done by the same person. She would laugh, as we used to........

The End

  Love may be  all there is.  The Beatles, the Bible, Thornton Wilder all thought so.  But so many times it just isn't enough.  I can tell from the love letters that are now in my possession that he loved her, but he was unable to undo what had gone before.  He couldn't bring himself ultimately to do what might have confirmed his love to her.  He continued to proclaim his undying love until......yes, until the time he died, some years ahead of her.    She kept the letters, though, until her death.  Forgotten perhaps, or could have been as a link to one who cared about her. Those links become thinner as time passes, and memories become more precious. 
    What to do with  those letters.  I've already thrown them away, then retrieved them.  I have no link to him except as a casual acquaintance, but through his words to her, I sense her presence.  He wanted to spend the last part of his life with her, to be near her.  It makes me picture her as warm and alive.......

Baby Steps

 For the first time in a long time, about 5 years or so, I had the choice of  the stairway or the elevator, and I opted for the stairs.   Sure, it was only one flight, and yes, I did use the handrail, and it was true there was no one else around to observe any awkward gait, but still I did walk down a flight of stairs in a public building even though the elevator was available.  Only those so afflicted can understand how it felt, sort of a "walker's high."

Date to Remember--or Not

September 26, 1964   The wedding  of Dorothy and Gus
  In the good old days when everybody was alive.  And death not much more than a myth..

Health Check

  Are you sure your Sphincter of Oddi isn't too tight?