But. on the other hand......

     In Wendell Berry's novel Jayber Crow, which is as much essay as novel, his narrator bemoans the movement in agriculture from subsistence farming to "big ag."  Certainly much was lost when farming became industrialized. However, it isn't quite as simple as Berry would suggest. There are farmers who mechanized while maintaining a healthy respect for land, soil and wildlife.
   However, there is another aspect to this issue that he also ignores. My father was a horse man responsible for maintaining the herd of horses used in the farm he worked with this father and brother. Someplace there is a picture of him with 24 horses. He came late to tractor power buying his first tractor in 1941, a B Farmall. He kept two horses which he used for mowing, raking, and pulling hay and bundle wagons. I even have a very early memory of him using the horses to pill the tractor out when it got stuck. During my childhood we were lightly mechanized. Hay was loaded by pitchfork into a hay wagon. That was very hard, hot work and not romantic. Grain was cut with a binder and the bundles were made into shocks by hand, later pitched into wagons and then into the threshing machine, This was hard, hot work and not romantic. Rocks were picked out of the field by hand. Cows were milked by hand.  It is clearly etched in my memory from experience and not something I wanted in my future. Mechanization relieved much difficult, tedious, mind numbing work. Certainly there were many good things about subsistence agriculture but it was filled with drudgery and much manual labor. I know, I did it.
 
    There are many memorable passages in the book such as this one:

      "I whisper over to myself the way of loss, the names of the dead. One by one, we lose our loved ones, our friends, our powers of work and pleasure, our landmarks, the days of our allotted time. One by one, the way we lose them, they return to us and are treasured in our hearts. Grief affirms them, preserves them, sets the cost. Finally a man stands up alone, scoured and charred like a burnt tree, having lost everything and (at the cost only of its loss) found everything, and is ready to go. Now I am ready." P. 353

    "One by one, we lose our loved ones..."  Now, isn't that the truth?

Takk for alt,

Al

HAPPY LEAP DAY! 😃

Missing out.

What the Dead Miss
by Laura Foley

"This morning I think I see, in the light
dimpling the river's emerald green
beneath me, the faces of my dead husband,
parents and younger sister,
feel their fingers in the fresh breeze
on my cheeks, as I breathe the diesel smell
of passing trucks, reminding me
of my need to refuel. As I hold the nozzle
in place, I watch clouds scurry
and reform, like roving ghostly crowds.
I hear music in the liquid trickling,
filling my tank to the brim,
music in my steady footsteps,
tapping percussion on pavement,
the car door closing with a click.
They say that's what the dead miss most,
an ordinary day, spent like this."      from Today's Writer's Almanac

    It wasn't long after Joanne's death, April 12, 2018, that I was walking Trygve and I noticed buds on a hedge heralding spring. The thought struck me "Joanne's going to miss spring" and that made me sad. She's missed so much over these nearly two years.
     Today is her sister, Mary's, birthday, and yes, she just missed being born on February 29, because she was born on a leap year. Unfortunately Mary recently broke her hip and is recuperating. Older sister Joanne is not available to offer comfort and support even from a distance. Joanne misses news both good and bad.
    Tonight I again had the privilege of spending the evening with my granddaughters. This is where the presence of absence is very profound. Evy and Sella have grown for two years since Joanne left us. She took such unbounded delight in the girls and she left them while they were so young, it makes me very sad. She lost and they lost.  Indeed, What the Dead Miss!  
    And, so it is in the land of grief.
.

Takk for alt,

Al

Feb. 27, what might have been.

    Americans arriving in Thailand are given a 30 day visa upon arrival. Typically, for the past several years, I've been staying for six weeks. This means that either I've had go to the immigration office and purchase a visa extension or exit Thailand for another country. Then, when I returned to Thailand, I'd be granted another 30 day visa.
     This year my plan was to stay in Asia six weeks and manage that by spending some days in Cambodia. With the spread of the COVID-19 virus I decided to return early to avoid either the virus or quarantine.  Based on my original itinerary, today is the day I was scheduled to return. It looks as if that was a good decision. Following the news about the virus carefully as I do, it seems we are still at the tip of an iceberg. Certainly I'm no expert but I do expect a pandemic.
     Re-entry has been particularly easy for me this time. Traveling from the tropics to Minnesota winter as not been an issue. Having lived so many years in northern latitudes cold adjustment is almost instantaneous.  Of course that doesn't mean I like the cold, it just means that I can tolerate it.
    The most significant loss incurred with my early return was less time at "my"  school with students and teachers. The brief time I had was important for maintaining relationships and connections but leaves me wanting more. Seeing the significance of my presence at the school is humbling and motivates me to maintain the connection.  At the school I was once told that other volunteers come to teach English but I am the only one who returns. Perhaps it's that old business of the significance of "showing up."
    It is good to be home and spring approaches.

Takk for alt,

Al

My school.

STUG: Sudden Temporary Upsurge of Grief

    Occasionally the daily paper, Minneapolis Star Tribune, will insert a special section aimed at geezers like me. Given a patronizing title, today, THE GOOD LIFE; LIVING BETTER, LIVING LONGER, it's primarily an advertising blitz with an article or two to justify its existence.
    In the section today there was an article on STUG: Sudden Temporary Upsurge of Grief. There are times when a bereaved person will get so slammed with sudden and unexpected experience of grief it overwhelms them for a period to time. This has not been my experience yet. Yet, because some grievers have experienced it as long as ten years after the death of their beloved.
     One paragraph in the article I found  particularly clarifying. "The process of grief involves the survivor's new search and acquisition of experiences to live a healthy and full life in the new world without the loved one's physical presence. Grief helps a person to resolve--i.e., re-solve the way the worlds works, requiring adoption of new ways of being in that world and reinvesting in it to compensate and adapt for the loved one's absence.
   "Grief guides a person toward revising the assumptive world ad the way markers of self- identification are discerned and employed." Jackson Rainer, author.

     "...requiring adoption of new ways of being in that world and reinvesting in it to compensate and adapt for the loved one's absence."  Yes, this is the essence of adjusting to life in the land of grief. Now I live, admittedly a good life, without the benefit of daily interactions with Joanne. That is a huge adjustment to a very different reality. Graving deeply was integral to preparation for reinvestment in life as one newly single. For 25 years I was single, for 54 years I was coupled and now for almost 2 years single again.

     Here's another paragraph from the article that I think is very helpful.
     "Finally, remember that the word "closure" is never relevant in the loss of a loved one. If we have loved another intimately, grief does not lead us to forget. Rather, the process facilitates resolution, clarity and meaning...."

Takk for alt,

Al

Shifted?

    One of my friends, whose wife died shortly after Joanne, has remarked that for him the hardest times are eating meals alone. That's not been my experience, as I've often written on this blog, the hardest for me is not being able to tell Joanne about....
    When asked if I cook my typical response is "No, I graze."  Eating alone has not been my issue. With a number of friends with whom I  meet at happy hour. the small, inexpensive portions are suitable. Residing downtown offers myriad choices. However, on those times when a friend is not available I'm increasingly choosing to go out to eat alone. It's just helpful to be in the presence of people even though I may only interact with the wait staff.
      Why this change? It's not clear what has shifted, I just notice that it has. Life in the land of grief is not static. Joanne gave us, and now me, a great gift by encouraging our downsizing and moving. Through friends we found this condo on the 15th floor. It is perfect for my current situation which feeds my gratitude for Joanne, and her leadership, in our moving.

Takk for alt,

Al

Norwegian bachelor......grave digger.

     Childhood, for me, was peopled with an interesting cast of characters. In childish naivete I assumed that cast to be largely static. Now I see clearly how fluid it was and remember fondly many of the characters who inhabited it. It's one of the fun things I do with the few childhood friends remaining to me.
     Since Joanne was buried in the country cemetery, near The Little House, I've spent much time at her grave and visiting her neighbors, family and acquaintances, resting in peace. Having finished my assigned reading, The Alice Network for book club, I returned to Wendell Berry's Jayber Crow, which Lisa gave me for Christmas but I didn't finish before leaving for Asia.
    Jayber Crow is a novel in the form of Jayber Crow reflecting on his life from the perspective of old age. Jayber was a barber in a hamlet. Deciding he needed more income to provide for his old age he accepts the side jobs of grave digger and church janitor. These are jobs he can do after his barber shop is closed for the day,
   Jayber reflects on the people of the cemetery:
"...They had all belonged here once, and they were so much more numerous than the living. I thought and thought about them. It was endlessly moving to walk among the stones, reading the names of people I had known in my childhood, the names of people I was kin to but had never known, and (pretty soon) the names of people I knew and cared about and had buried myself....The people there had lived their little time in this world, had become what they became, and could now could be changed only by forgiveness and mercy. The misled, the disappointed, the sinner of the sins, the hopeful,the faithful, the loving, the doubtful, the desperate, the grieved and the comforted, the young and the old, the bad and the good--all sufferers unto death, had lain down there together....Why should have I felt tender toward them all was not clear to me, but I did.
    "There were a lot of graves of little children--most of them from from the last century or before--who had died of smallpox, cholera, typhoid fever, diphtheria, or one of the other plagues. You don't have to know the stories; just the dates and size of the stones told the heartbreak." PP. 157-8.

    Berry expresses much of what I feel when I visit Joanne's cemetery and wander among the graves. She lies next to my grandparents whom I never met. Many of the graves in this cemetery were dug by Ed Olson, who worked with pick and shovel for eight hours to dig one grave. His pay?  $10.00. Now, he too, lies buried in this cemetery.

   With winter upon us I'm not visiting The Little House nor Joanne. I ma keen to return when spring breaks.

Takk for alt,

Al

If not "perfect," sensible.

  Excerpts from "How to be Perfect" by Ron Padgett "Get some sleep. Eat an orange every morning. Be friendly. It will help make you happy. Hope for everything. Expect nothing. Take care of things close to home first. Straighten up your room before you save the world. Then save the world. Be nice to people before they have a chance to behave badly. Don't stay angry about anything for more than a week, but don't forget what made you angry. Hold your anger out at arm's length and look at it, as if it were a glass ball. Then add it to your glass ball collection. Wear comfortable shoes. Do not spend too much time with large groups of people. Plan your day so you never have to rush. Show your appreciation to people who do things for you, even if you have paid them, even if they do favors you don't want. After dinner, wash the dishes. Calm down. Don't expect your children to love you, so they can, if they want to. Don't be too self-critical or too self-congratulatory. Don't think that progress exists. It doesn't. Imagine what you would like to see happen, and then don't do anything to make it impossible. Forgive your country every once in a while. If that is not possible, go to another one. If you feel tired, rest. Don't be depressed about growing older. It will make you feel even older. Which is depressing. Do one thing at a time. If you burn your finger, put ice on it immediately. If you bang your finger with a hammer, hold your hand in the air for 20 minutes. you will be surprised by the curative powers of ice and gravity. Do not inhale smoke. Take a deep breath. Do not smart off to a policeman. Be good. Be honest with yourself, diplomatic with others. Do not go crazy a lot. It's a waste of time. Drink plenty of water. When asked what you would like to drink, say, "Water, please." Take out the trash. Love life. Use exact change. When there's shooting in the street, don't go near the window."   from today's Writer's Almanac    One small point of disagreement with this "Don't think that progress exists. It doesn't." On the contrary I think there is progress, e.g., we don't burn witches at the stake anymore. Progress is uneven, full of fits, starts and backsliding. My friend, Peter is fond of quoting Martin Luther King, Jr., "The arc of history is long but bends toward justice."   Joanne's piano accompanied the choir this morning; she should have been singing with the choir and celebrating "her" piano. Powerful was the presence of absence at that moment. Takk for alt, Al Joanne's piano.

Worth Reading.

The Alice Network, Kate Quinn,  2017, a novel, is a good companion to A Woman of No Importance: The Untold Story of the American Spy  Who Helped win WWII, Sonia Purnell.
The former is a historical novel about an effective female spy network in France during WW I. The later is the true story American, Virginia Hall, who was a very effective spy for England, serving in France during WW II.
     "Alice" is well told with much historical merit and, like "A Woman Of No Importance', a paean to competent women suffering under prejudice because of their gender. "Alice" is a suspenseful page turner very well told.


    Here's a bit of poetry.

When you, that at this moment are to me
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

"When you, that at this moment are to me
Dearer than words on paper, shall depart,
And be no more the warder of my heart,
Whereof again myself shall hold the key;
And be no more—what now you seem to be—
The sun, from which all excellences start
In a round nimbus, nor a broken dart
Of moonlight, even, splintered on the sea;
I shall remember only of this hour—
And weep somewhat, as now you see me weep—
The pathos of your love, that, like a flower,
Fearful of death yet amorous of sleep,
Droops for a moment and beholds, dismayed,
The wind whereon its petals shall be laid."

Takk for alt,

Al

Picture: every class begins with the students standing, waiing me and saying "Good morning teacher how are you?" 

"Good morning teacher, how are you?"

Who knew?

"What is the Grief Recovery Method?

The Grief Recovery Method is an action plan. It is a series of small steps that when taken, in order, by the griever it leads to the completion of all the unresolved business linked to the loss."   (copied from the internet)

     Often I've been known to say "There's a method to my madness."  But, I did not know that there was a "Grief Recovery Method" which one can take, from the "Grief Recovery Institute."  There is also a way to become a certified grief counselor.  My suspicions arise a bit when they promise "the completion of all the unresolved business linked to the loss."

 What would that look, or feel, like?...completing all the unresolved business linked to the loss?  While I understand all the words in that phrase I don't understand that kind of completion.

    With Joanne's move into home hospice, and subsequent death 21 days later, I plunged into deep grief. My method? Feel what I feel and articulate those feelings, which created an online community giving me support as I learned to navigate the land of grief. Have I completed all of the unresolved business linked to the loss? No, and I don't expect I ever will. For what has been resolved I'm grateful and, for what has not,I'm learning to live with it.

Takk for alt,

Al

The dinning room at the Christian Guesthouse.

Once more, James E. Miller.

"I have known the blessing of sharing time on earth with another,
        one whom I have loved deeply.
I have been enriched by their life,
        and I have felt diminished by their death.
I have lived it all:
   the laughter and the tears,
       the singing and the sighing,
           the darkness and the light.
I have know how the world can change before your eyes
     when you lose the one you love so much.
I have felt lonely and alone.
Like so many others, I have been acquainted with grief.
Like so many others, I have been taught the mysterious lessons of mourning."  Winter Grief, Summer Grace: Returning to Life After a Loved one Dies, P. 60,  James E. Miller

   Life in the land of grief is certainly also a land of learning. Among the learnings; survival is possible, life still has meaning, to let go of questions which cannot be answered, the importance of friends/family who will speak her name and tell stories of her, that I am not alone in my grief,  my experience can benefit others, there are many fellow travelers in the land of grief, grief has no given timetable, relationships are crucial and much more valuable than words, the bereaved hunger to hear the name of their lost loved one spoken, and much more.

  Life is good and I am grateful!

Takk for alt,

Al

"A grace."

    Something is important for awhile, then gets put on a shelf, but when pulled off and opened, reveals new insights. Winter Grief, Summer Grace: Returning to Life After a Loved One Dies, James E. Miller was helpful to me in the immediate aftermath of Joanne's death. Then I moved on and it sat with other books about grief. Sue's request for a title brought me back to it.
   In returning I found sections that didn't resonate at first are now filled with meaning.  An example of which is what I quoted in last night's blog. And, now this......

     "This new life blooming within you grows out of all you have undergone, all you have done,
This summertime of your grief does not just arrive on its own; you invite it to come.
You summon it by making your way through all your pain,
  so that you can welcome what lies on the far side of pain:
    the possibility of thanksgiving and hope.
You encourage this experience of summer
  as you face your fears and your doubts, the silence and the aloneness.
Because then you can greet what is taking hold within you:
   your fortitude and faith, your inner strength and outer awareness.
This new life of yours also has another source, a larger one.
For while you invited this change, you did not by yourself create it.
While you nurtured it, you are not responsible for its birth.
It comes to you as a gift.
A grace."  P. 51.

   Yes, certainly,  "It comes to you as a gift.
A grace."  

   When Joanne died my decision, to embrace the grief and pain, has served me well. Keeping this blog alive has been a significant factor in my recovery as it has created a virtual community giving me companionship in the land of grief. The blog has also disciplined me to identify my feelings so that I can articulate for others what I'm experiencing.  Yes, indeed it comes as gift, this new life.

    Those little things........  When Lars was living in Chicago, Joanne and made numerous trips to visit, 9 the year Evy was born. She and I agreed that Culvers was the best of the fast food places on that route. We both appreciated the option of green beans as side so there was a healthy alternative to french fries. Recently Culvers has added steamed broccoli as an option. For the first time since broccoli was added to the menu I ate lunch there today. Broccoli is not easy to cook so I was curious how it would be. My rating? at least a B and maybe B+.
    This is where Joanne comes in. She would be delighted with that option. Yes, at Culvers I was missing her, the presence of absence.

Takk for alt,

Al               

"...quickens with life."

"SPRING LEADS EVER SO NATURALLY AND COMFORTABLY INTO SUMMER

    "New shades of green appear.
     Leaves grow full and varied,
     plants reach upward and outward,
     fields blanket themselves in bold displays of color.
     The sun stays longer than before.
     Mornings begin brighter,
     afternoons turn warmer,
     and evenings beckon in a way that they have not in a long while.
     There is a sense of renewed vitality.
     What happen around you in nature
     can also happen within you in your grief.
     Something begins to take root and hold.
     Something quickens with  life.
     But this is more than just something within you.
     It is you." 

        From Winter Grief, Summer Grace: Returning to Life After a Loved One Dies, James E. Miller, P. 49.
     Susan, who lost an adolescent daughter, gave me this book when Joanne died. When, another Sue, asked for a book recommendation for a recently bereaved spouse I recommend it. For the first time in months I opened it to discover a reflection of how I have moved.
    Initially it was helpful as I was in the depths of the most profound grief. As time passed I laid it aside. With Sue's request I opened it again and found, well articulated (see above), a description of my current place in the land of grief.

"Something begins to take root and hold.
     Something quickens with  life.
     But this is more than just something within you.
     It is you."

   Yes, I have suffered a grievous loss. But, beyond that loss I have found hope and I have found life.For this I must say "Thank you!."

Takk for alt,

Al

Contentment.

    When I am with my spiritual director and describe a feeling of contentment she often rephrases it as "peace," By which ever nomen one calls it it's my experience today. Recovered enough from jet lag now to be able to read again, is part of it. Two meals today with two different friends who wanted to hear my Asia travel stories is also a significant factor in this contentment. When I was first traveling and would return it was a disappointment that few people were willing to go beyond "How was your trip?" Now I've come to cherish those who are genuinely interested in my stories without me expecting that everyone will be.
    Tomorrow I will return to school and I'm looking forward to that. Some of the students and teachers have followed my blog. Were there not a 13 hour time difference between Ayutthaya and MN., I'd connect the students via Facetime, or some other such media. It's just not feasible with the time difference.
   In my aura of contentment I'm filled with gratitude for the relationships with family and friends.

Takk for alt,

Al

Applause?

    In 2012, Thailand suffered a devastating flood (serious drought this year) and Pastor Mary asked if Grace University Lutheran,  could send money with me when I go to teach. Since that beginning Grace has sent money with me each year to distribute to persons in need. This, my first Sunday back, I conveyed to the congregation gratitude from the recipients. In addition I told one brief story of a woman who had to pawn her motorbike to obtain a loan from a loan shark. Not only did she have to make daily payments the interest rate was 50%! Paying off that small loan was one of the things I was able to do. When I concluded my announcement the congregation applauded. I've made hundreds of announcements but this may be the first that brought applause.
    Trygve and I are back into our usual routine as if we'd not been separated for a month. He's good for me, getting me outside and moving when I'd be tempted to stay in and inactive. He's not very talkative, the only time he barks is when he's dreaming. Tuesday I will return to school.

Takk for alt,

Al

The principal with the skiing themed towel I gave teachers this year. When I thanked her for her kindness to me she replied "We consider you family."

Joanne's favorite!

   They had a goldfish once. That was the total pet experience in Joanne's family as she was growing up. In the fall of '76 Marilyn called Joanne and said, "I just think you should know, Frank's planning to give Al a dog for Christmas." Thus it began. The was pre-Google so off I went to the library to find out about Springer Spaniels. The dog was Kjell, who died of liver cancer when he was only 7. But, the die was cast. Then came Bjorn, followed by Kai, Gunnar, Kjell and now Trygve. Sella's birthday party complete, Trygve came home today.
   Joanne, as  was her nature, was tolerant of the dogs who lived with us. Should one have an "accident" it  was abundantly clear whose dog it was "Al, your dog just......!" Things changed with Trygve with whom she bonded. He is a particularly sweet dog and perhaps it was also a change in Joanne as she shifted into "senior living." . Trygve was clearly Joanne's favorite. So, I'm not alone anymore.

   Last night's blog about grief abounding struck a chord. A friend, who's wife recently died, emailed to say I "hit the nail on the head."  Closing in on the 2nd anniversary of Joanne's death I'm aware that my grief is at a different place than it was earlier. In the past I've described it as a dull ache and that is a good description of  my experience. It is a dull ache with occasional sharp pains.  Every day I miss her but the presence of absence has become the norm. When I replaced the toaster cover after my 2 a.m., jet lag snack, I thought "Joanne would like that."  It is poignant but not overwhelming.

Takk for alt,

Al

Kjell in the background and "Joanne's favorite" in front.

Grief Abounds!

    First, it was a friend in contact via email. His wife died a few months ago after living with Alzheimer's a number of years. His inquiry; "Should I be having crying jags months after her death? She'd lived with Alzheimer's for a number of years." Shape up and get over it! is not what I said. Grief has its own time table and what is one person's experience is not necessarily true for another's. Mostly we need to feel what we feel without "oughts" or "shoulds."
    To get a bit of exercise, out of the wind and cold, I headed out into the skyway, the multi-miles elevated sidewalk that connects much of downtown Minneapolis. Shortly into my walk I met an acquaintance from my condo building. She told me her father's funeral was two weeks ago, which I missed because I was in Asia. Describing the difficulty she was having doing what needs to be done I reflected "Grieving takes energy, doesn't it?" "Wow! Does it ever," she responded. Those first days, months, or more functioning can be very difficult. Grief soaks up energy leaving little for anything else.
    Denizens of the land of grief are all about us. For me, these two experiences are important reminders to 'have my listening ears on.' Listen for the feelings and talk about the deceased! Who do you think the bereaved is thinking about?

    HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!

Takk for alt,

Al

Hearing Joanne...

    Even arriving at the walk-in, audiology clinic at 7:00 a.m., I was third in line for its opening at 7:30 today. They're only open until 11:00 and once their quota is filled its "come back another time."  But, all was well, the repaired aid (or replacement) will arrive in the mail in about two weeks, and I was home shortly after 8:00.
   This is where Joanne enters the story.  After her death a wise friend suggested taking her hearing aids to Costco, where she bought them, and have them re-programmed for me. Which I did. So, now while the VA fixes mine I use one of Joanne's, thus "hearing Joanne."
    Time in Asia is vacation from the most profound part of the presence of absence.  Returning to an empty condo filled with reminders of Joanne has brought me back to the presence of absence.  She loved Valentine's Day.  It was just made for her gift of remembering persons who were important to her. 
    Abigail Adams (see below) certainly had a way with words. What she much have suffered through the long separation from John can only be imagined.  This is a world of much trial and tribulation which is a good reminder for us to be kind to all because all suffer in her/his own way.

"On this day in 1779, Abigail Adams sent a letter to France, to her husband, John Adams, who was there serving as an ambassador for the newly formed United States.

John Adams had left for France exactly one year before Abigail wrote a letter that begins:

My Dearest Friend          Febry. 13. 1779
This is the Anniversary of a very melancholy Day to me, it rose upon me this morning with the recollection of Scenes too tender to Name. — Your own Sensibility will supply your Memory and dictate to your pen a kind remembrance of those dear connections to whom you waved an adieu, whilst the full Heart and weeping Eye followed your foot steps till intervening objects obstructed the Sight.

This Anniversary shall ever be more particularly Devoted to my Friend till the happy Day arrives that shall give him back to me again. Heaven grant that it may not be far distant, and that the blessings which he has so unweariedly and constantly sought after may crown his Labours and bless his country. 

From 1788 to 1798, John Adams was in Europe, with only occasional visits home to see his family. Abigail stayed home, ran the family farm, raised their children, and wrote her husband many letters."  today's Writer's Almanac.

Takk for alt,

Al 

First Report From Minneapolis,

    A long time friend just called to see if we could meet in March. It was a bit weird to say "This morning when I left Bangkok..."  "It's warping" I told another friend.  But, here I am and having my temperature taken at the airport at Inchoen, Korea, that's a first, seems ages ago. Even though I went through security in Bangkok, and I'd only been on a plane, Korea insists on herding everyone through security again. That's when they took my temperature as the divided us into one of two lines: "Those who have been in China " and "those who have not been in China."  Were I to teach a course on efficiency I'd cite Korea's security procedure as a classic case of "how not to do it."
    It's now about 8:30 p.m., and I've about reached my limit so longer reporting will need to wait. One of my hearing aids up and went into the shower which did it no good. So I plan to use my early morning 'can't sleep because of jet lag' time to visit the walk-in, audiology clinic at the VA tomorrow.  Fortunately it showered only a couple of days ago. For the flight home I turned the other one off "noise, what noise?" There are advantages to being deaf though I realized how dependent I am on lip reading when Thai suddenly all began wearing masks.
    Enough now...more tomorrow.

Takk for alt,

Al

Final report from Bangkok

    With one gift left to buy and my bags packed I'm nearing departure. When Delta had gates at Narita, Japan, to connect to Mpls., flights left at 6:00 a.m. When Delta lost those gates they partnered with Korean Air. Tomorrow I will fly Korean to Seoul, roomier seats, wider aisles, to connect with Delta. That flight leaves at the civilized time of 9:40 a.m.! Then I have a direct flight from there home and, for a few dollars, got an exit row.
    One of the disadvantages of spending a month in the tropics is that I lose complaining rights. No one will want to hear me say "it's sooo cold!"  Which puts to mind that Thai complain as much about the heat as Minnesotan's do about the cold.
   This means that there will be a hiccup in blogging and then it will be back to the old schedule. Trygve, the wonder dog, has been staying with Lars' family. Sella's birthday party with her friends is Saturday and she promised friends there would be a dog at the party. So, I'll not claim him until after her party, but, will he go with me?  He gets much more attention from a family of four than from a single geezer.
    This has been a much different trip. It will take some time to process it all. However, one thing is clear, I have very well treated at every turn and I am deeply grateful.

Takk for alt,

Al

Student teacher giving me a gift.

The 2 teachers with the best command of English.

Cooking my supper.

A feast of seafood.

Living a life of lethargy in the tropics.

Somebody's Mother
by Mary Dow Brine
 

The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the Winter's day.
The street was wet with a recent snow
And the woman's feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of 'school let out,'
Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep.
Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way.
Nor offered a helping hand to her—
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir
Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At last came one of the merry troop,
The gayest lad of all the group;
He paused beside her and whispered low,
"I'll help you cross, if you wish to go."
Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm,
He guided the trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.
Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content.
"She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor and slow,
And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
If ever she's poor and old and grey,
And her own dear boy is far away."
"Somebody's mother" bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was, "God be kind to the noble boy,
Who is somebody's son, and pride and joy!"
 

"Somebody's Mother" by Mary Dow Brine from today's Writers Almanac,

     Perhaps a bit syrupy, this poem, but it calls to mind people struggling to navigate the windrows of snow left at corners by the plows. (Not an issue here in BKK.)

     It was farewell pizza at my favorite place where I can sit outside and watch the activity in the night market. Ultra thin crust and they have a variety of good choices. You should have been here. Monday night is pizza special night with 2nd one half price, but what would I do with two? Started my shopping but I'll not bring home as much as when Joanne wanted gifts for her 200 closest friends.


Takk for alt,

Al

Any electrician want to work on this?

A very big pig.

Coconut juice...could use a little rum.

Young mangroves.

Grade six, note the simple desks.

Well, I am retired!

    As another day of idleness draws to close it struck me that "I am retired".  The retirement concept for me has meant the freedom to do what I want and very little that I don't want. Sitting around has not been my idea of retirement life. These few days of quietude reinforce my more active approach. This is not a complaint, living in the comfort of the guesthouse while I avoid crowds which may harbor the virus, is not difficult or painful...just not what I would regularly choose.
    Looking for noon lunch I did venture out to the monthly street fair on Silom Rd., a couple of blocks away.  After eating my lunch I mosied back to my room. Last night I even ordered
room service.  Within twenty minutes an order of chicken fried rice was at my door for $2.50...it was very good, too.
   So, this is life in the slow lane. News broke this morning of a mass shooting in Korat, about four hours away. This is very unusual in Thailand...perhaps the shooter thought he was in America!

Takk for alt,

Al

Three dogs hang out at Met's coffee shop so she feeds them.

The sign for Met's Coffee Shop.

Fifth graders at work.

6th grade, the teacher on my left is standing a step higher than I.

Keeping my head down.

    Perhaps it's a good thing that I'm very familiar with Bangkok. It seems the wise thing to lie low until my flight on Wednesday, minimizing any chance of contacting the virus. Consequently, I'm not missing visiting the tourist sites while I await my flight. The census is very low at the guesthouse but I don't know if that is related to the epidemic.  This is a popular place with persons from many countries but I've seldom seen Chinese here.
   So, I'm biding my time, avoiding groups and patiently waiting for my flight. My school friends have been busy posting pictures on Facebook. I'll just bask in the glow of the send off. Today I read the 33 handmade cards. Art is taken seriously in Thailand and that is reflected in the sophistication of the art work on the cards. There was no discernible difference between the creativity of the boys and girls and every card was up to the same standard.

Takk for alt

Al

Every morning they raise the flag.

Fifth graders hanging around.

Fifth grade.

Modeling the shirt the school gave me.

Planning to leave quietly??????

    Just yesterday I announced to the school that today would be my last day.  This year I've only taught a few days and with a departure day 24 hours away I thought I could just slip quietly away! Perhaps it was a little less elaborate than some but they gave me a huge send off including 33 hand made cards, gifts from the teachers and one from the school. There were hugs, and fist bumps, and high fives and speeches. It is nice to be a rock star occasionally! 
    After all that I left for BKK with my 'cup full'. Staying with tradition, rather than trying to teach, I led the 5th and 6th graders in games. Do you think they liked that?  Then we took pictures and I said a final goodbye to grade six.
    So, once again, I'm in the Bangkok Christian Guesthouse, from which I'll depart on Wednesday, for MSP. The unscientific poll of respondents seem to indicate, in deciding to leave, I'm making the correct decision.

Takk for Alt,

Al

Grade five.

The farewell.

Grade 6.

The faculty

"Discretion is the better part of valor", though Falstaff had neither.

     "To stay or go, that is the question?" I've decided to go. As the Wuhan Virus makes its way around Asia it seems prudent to cut my stay here a bit shorter. On the one hand, I don't want the virus. On the other hand travelers from Thailand may eventually be subject to quarantine as are those coming to the U.S., from China, who are sequestered for 14 days.

     Delta Airlines had room for me on a plane leaving February 12, for a price of course, and with the marvels of jet travel I will leave at 9:40 am, and arrive Mpls. at 4:17 p.m. Besides,for a little more money I got an exit row from Seoul to Mpls. 

     The trajectory of the virus is not clear and there is evidence that it is mutating. Tomorrow, Friday, I will teach and say goodbye, then go to Bangkok until  my flight.  Monday is a Buddhist holiday so there is no school, Buddha's birthday maybe.

      This morning I taught the 3rd and 4th grades. In only my second time with them I discovered the 3rd grade to be quick on the up-take. Too bad I'll only have those two times this year.

      The sixth grade will be poignant tomorrow as it will be goodbye. Should I return next year they will have scattered to different middle schools. Four years of meeting with them will end. 

Takk for alt,

Al

My housemate, Nice, is by the post.

The current school.

The new school, may it never be finished.

Sweet sticky rice in banana leaf.

A new challenge!

    It was joyous reunion with the 5th grade, 25 students and much sparkle in the group. (If you're on Facebook go to my page where the Principal posted pictures from the first day, and look at the video of 5th graders swarming me."  Many of the names came back to me from previous years.
    Now in my 4th year with them, and a small group, all of the 6th grade names came to me. But, I have a real challenge with them. With the older groups I will speak Thai words and phrases and they say the word/phrase in English. Using my Thai phrase book I do the same, speaking Thai and they responding in English. They were unstoppable! There were a couple of phrases they stumbled on but they were so proficient I'll have to produce some new lesson plans! Of course it is a nice problem and the 6th teacher's English is excellent and she's very helpful. We ended up in conversation; I, on one side, and the students collaborating on their part.
    The teachers at lunch sit in the same configuration every day. On my left is the 6th grade teacher and on my right is the first grade teacher, who was new last year and she's been reluctant to use her English. The principle sits at the end of the table one place from me. She and I conspired to encourage the first grade teacher to use some English. We told the teacher she couldn't leave lunch until she spoke five English sentences to me. It's all in fun and it turns our she does know some English. All students study it trough University so she needs encouragement. If I have an impact on the school it may be in raising the level of English among the faculty.

Takk for alt,

Al

5th grade

5th grade

6th grade

Where the painting stopped. For the first time ever the ceiling of the dining hall got some paint...until they ran out of time.