The time is right

More than enough has already been said about yesterday's bombings with much more to come. While it's too early for us to know what it all will mean, it is the right time to reflect on the ways that good deflects evil.

For those who put themselves in harm's way for our sake.

Better than OK

According to people who know such things, the phrase "We are OK." was the most common phrase in Facebook posts during and shortly after Post-Tropical Cyclone mega-Frankenstorm Sandy. We are and then some.
As we mentioned on Facebook, the storm blew over a 50-foot, 100-year-old spruce tree onto our house, slicing off the chimney top which tumbled down to the roof of our family room. The sound caused my wife, Sandra, to jump up just as pieces of the ceiling came crashing down. It took a few minutes to figure out what has happened, by which time power went out town-wide.

Son Mike, a building contractor, lives a couple miles away and showed up quickly. His quick assessment, with the storm still strong, was we couldn't be sure that the house was safe. Water was coming in around the stub of the chimney and the family roof was sagging. We' couldn't be sure if any electrical wires were damaged.  After an hour of muddled thinking, we decided to spend the night with Mike's family.

There we were greeted and comforted. We listened Miss Cassie read her report on E. B. White's Stuart Little. Her report was a retelling of the story from the perspective of Snowbell, the family cat. Power came back to the town earlier than expected. Mike and Lynn gave up their bed to us. We were up early and returned home at first light.
The day passed quickly. The tree company that Mike called was on the scene with three trucks by 8 and the tree was gone by 10. A mason inspected the chimney. Mike and a framer friend cleared away the old chimney and patched the hole. The insurance inspectors were on the scene by 4. At 6, we were back at Mike and Lynn's for a birthday party for Cassie and me.

Back home, we have heat from the wood stove. (The furnace will be off until the chimney is repaired.) We are moving onto the new normal that, for a time, has a torn ceiling and a silent furnace. The house, for the first time in more than a century, is open to the east.

More importantly, we are energized with the fresh expressions of love and friendship and competence. We settled in long enough to watch the TV news of the fires and flooding in New York and the concomitant need for  heroics and compassion and money.

A while ago, after a rough personal episode, I remarked to one of my doctors that I was eager to get back to normal.

"There is no normal," he said. "There just is."

Some things are still good

There's a line in Agatha Christie's "Witness for the Prosecution" - "One can get tired of gratitude." The line is spoken in the context of several plot twists, so we don't want to go too far with it. Being grateful, though, does require a certain amount of surrender. We recognize that a certain amount of our happiness is out of our control, that it comes to us as a gift. As I said, I don't want to go too far with that thought because that kind of thinking requires hard work, which is not what a nice summer weekend needs.
Last night, we joined friends for dinner at their camp on the lake. The air was warm and a breeze came off of the still cool waters. We talked about things near and far and about our grandchildren more than anything else.
After dinner, the four of us went to the Barre Playhouse where we saw the aforementioned Agatha Christie play. We didn't know it going in, but all of the actors were young, under 22. It was a fine a performance as you'll find in any community theater. The standout was the girl, all of 14, who played Romaine and who delivered the line about gratitude. The actresses name is Kate Hood. Watch for her. The kid's got skills.
We returned home late, our second late-night in a row. We were tired and yet renewed. Seeing young people having fun with their talents, imagining, as they might, what's ahead for them, well, this is good.