Frode Jespersen, Part V

    Frode's memory was always good, both short and long term. Living to over 100 there was a lot to remember. Here's an example. His parents immigrated from Denmark to a farm northwest of Westhope, N.D. That places the farm a mile and half from the Canadian border. As boy during prohibition he recalled accompanying his father on a special mission. Riding with his day in the car they drove cross country through the fields to the Canadian border. At the border they met Canadians who sold his dad beer. Thus, evading the strictures of prohibition. 

    Always quick with a quip Frode also would tell jokes. There was an elderly couple in an unhappy marriage. They were always fussing at each other for one thing or another. Finally the wife had had enough so she had an idea. She said to her husband, "Let's pray the Lord take one of to heaven, and I'll go live with my sister."

Takk for alt,

Al

Cooking lessons on Crete, Greece, 2023.

Frode Jespersen, Part IV

     The winter of 1948-49 was particularly snowy in the upper Midwest. With a lengthy driveway that wound through the grove of trees of the farmstead it became impossible to get our car to the house. Consequently, it was parked by the highway, which as U.S. Highway 81, was always kept open. Walking the mile to school we were able to step over the telephone wires on the huge drifts of snow. The National Guard was utilized to plow out the township roads.

   Somehow this winter situation came up in conversation with Frode. By then he was out of the Air Corps and back in his hometown of Westhope, ND. Westhope is on U.S. Highway 83, about four miles from the Canadian border, Manitoba being the closest province. Frode was giving flying lessons out of the local airport.

  One day the local Westhope postmaster approached Frode relating the difficulty of delivering mail becasue the local roads were blocked with snow. Frode had his Piper Cub equipped with skis. So he took the postmaster up in his plane. Flying over the isolated farms the postmaster would drop the securely packaged mail to the families below. How many knew that Frode once flew airmail? 😀

Takk for alt,

Al

A ferry in Hong Kong Harbor, with family occupied junks in the foreground.  1962

Very Naïve!

    Being around books as much as I am I should have been aware. Published as long ago as 1988, and made into a movie, still I didn't know. When M. lent me a book by Kazuo Ishiguro, lamely I assumed it would be about Japan. Duhh! Nobel Literature Prize winner Ishiguro moved from Japan to England when we was five and writes in English about England.

   Remains of the Day, is tutorial on what makes a good butler. That is the means Ishiguro uses to reflect on life choices and cultural and societal changes. Set in 1956, Stevens, the butler, reflects on his life and decisions, particularly events in the 1930s. Melancholy about much of the past, he decides to make the best of the future, The Remains of the Day.  It's remarkably engaging for a book in which almost nothing happens. Of course, things have happened in the past on which Stevens reflects at length.

   So, I'm happy to have finally read it!

Takk for alt,

Al

PS Future blog posts will contain more stories about Frode Jespersen.

Frode Jespersen, Part III

     When a person ages, as Frode did, gradually peers die. As he moved through his 90s there were fewer people with whom to visit on the phone. At some point we began talking every week, a practice that continued until he entered hospice. Past golf episodes were recalled and he related stories from his life. One of those stories was about hunting for war criminals, which he also recounts in his memoir. 

   With insufficient time overseas to be sent home after the war ended he was to Tachikawa Army Air Base, Japan. There wasn't much for him to do there so he was assigned to maintenance. Then a request  came from Headquarters of the 5th Air Force, for a plane and crew to undertake a war crimes investigation trip through Asia. Mentioning to his superior that he'd like to go the boss said he'd get him on as co-pilot if he'd bring back silk from Shanghai. The crew consisted of the pilot, co-pilot, navigator and engineer. Also aboard a Marine Colonel, a Navy Prosecutor, a French Prosecutor, 2 or 3 civilians and several Chinese officials.

  He writes "On April 21, 1946 we departed Tachikawa with out first stop Seoul Korea for refueling, then on to Shanghai,...Hong Kong, Saigon, Singapore, Batavia, Canton, Kwailin, Heng Yang, Hankow and Peiping."  At each stop they'd stay a few days for the officials to document atrocities and they were wined and dined. Again he writes "I was introduced several times to 12-course dinners, while starving people roamed the streets with tin cups requesting food. It was disconcerting...." He said the worst conditions were in Heng Yang. 

   He writes again, "On a lighter note, when we arrived in Batavia, (now Jakarta) we were informed that we would be there for a few days....So we borrowed a Jeep from the Dutch Army, loaded it on the C-47, and proceeded to Bali....We spent a day or two in Bali, were wined and dined by local officials....returned to Batavia....and were ready to continue our trip."  This was an unauthorized trip.

   When I mentioned to Frode that on my recent Asia trip I'd been in Saigon it brought back his memories of the aforementioned travel. He said "In 1946 I ate at sidewalk café in Saigon."  Too bad he didn't have pictures.

Takk for alt,

Al

   

    

Notre Dame Cathedral, the Basilica  of Saigon. One of my memories of visiting were all the beggars on the steps.

Frode Jespersen, Part II

     During World War II, Frode was a bomber pilot in Asia. After retirement he wrote a sixteen page document about his flight training and flying experiences. Originally from Westhope, ND, which was about thirty miles from where I lived in Mohall, he returned there after the war. He supported himself giving flying lessons, for which he received $2.00 an hour. From there he joined Federal Aviation Administration, where he worked until he retired in1987. He served the United States for 34 years.

   In his story about his military flying experiences he wrote "The first aircraft I checked out in was the PT-17, an open cockpit biplane. The last aircraft I became qualified in was the Boeing 747 jumbo jet. I remained in the Reserves until about 1956 during which time I flew F-80 fighter jets and the C-119 cargo carrier. During my time in the military, I flew about 11 different airplanes. In civilian life I became qualified in 6 more, plus several small civilian planes."

   To my question "What was it like to fly a 747?" he replied "It was like sitting on your porch and flying your house." 

   He concluded his report "I met a lot of people and made a lot of friends during my time on active duty. Even though it was an invaluable experience, I don't think I would want to go through it all again. Most of the time it was a grind. The training was hard, sometimes the flying part was frightening, sometimes the living conditions were substandard. But one thing, it was never boring." 

  So fortunate to have known him!

Takk for alt,

Al

Frode and I, with members of St. James Lutheran, when they celebrated his 100th birthday.

Frode Jespersen, March 23, 1923-February 20, 2025

      It all started in 1989. Richard, Dick, Olson was newly retired. Frode had been retired for awhile as had Don Davies. Frode's son is married to Don's daughter. and we formed a golf foursome. In the first years we  played a number of courses deciding each week where we'd go the next. Living in the NW part of the Twin Cities most of the courses we played were in that direction. It was high stakes golf, the weekly prize was free lunch at McDonalds. Frode keep our scores on his computer so he arrived to each outing with our fresh handicaps. Even though he was the oldest Frode typically had the lowest handicap. Thursday was golf day becasue senior rates applied. Many were the days we had to wait for the spring frost to melt from the greens before we could tee off. Many were the days that we had to search for balls under autumn leaves. Yes, we took playing golf seriously.

    After about ten years Don's age caught up with him and he dropped out. Frode knew Elon Nash, a retired physician, and recruited him to replace Don. It was during El's tenure that we shifted playing to Lakeview, west of Lake Minnetonka, thus its name. It was well suited for aging golfers. It was a bit shorter than many courses, had no sand and little water. El played with us for about ten years until he needed to withdraw to care for his wife.

   Needing a fourth I recruited my high school classmate, Lloyd Hope. Eventually Lakeview closed. We shifted our playing to Shamrock which had the same attributes for older golfers as Lakeview. There we played until 2017.Our group disbanded. Dick, in his 90s decided he was too old. Frode needed to take care of his wife who was suffering memory loss. Lloyd moved to South Dakota. Without the partners with whom I played, I lost interest in golf, so, I too quit.  While I didn't miss golf I certainly missed our group.

   Both Dick and Lloyd died a few years ago. Frode and I stayed in touch with weekly phone calls. He was a remarkable man who drove to church a few weeks ago. In subsequent blog postings I'll write more about Frode.

Talk for alt,

Al

Frode and I at St. James Lutheran the day they celebrated his 100th birthday.

Priorities!

     After talking to P.L. for almost an hour it was time to post a blog but that plan Unrivaled. That's a little pun for the uninitiated. Unrivaled is a new, professional, women's basketball league, so I watched and delayed blogging. It was started by two WNBA players; Minnesota LYNX own Napheesa Collier (Phee) and New York Liberty's, Brenda Stewart (Stewie) Because the WNBA salaries are modest most players play in Europe or Asia in the off season (winter) where they make much more money. The WNBA season runs opposite the NBA season, therefore their games are mostly in the summer. Phee and Stewie wanted an alternative to playing overseas, thus, they formed Unrivaled, which is now in its first season.

   Unrivaled is a three on three format. The floor is a little shorter and the shot clock only 18 seconds. There are other changes, too. Locally the games are televised on TNT and TruTV so I can watch. It's a very fast paced game. Because I follow the WNBA, being able to livestream their games when I'm at The Little House, I recognize all the players. This adds to the enjoyment.

   Recently Unrivaled hosted a one on one tournament for their players. Phee won this event. Thirty players entered the tournament which was single elimination.  Phee won, capturing the grand prize of $200,000. That's more than her WNBA salary. Compare that with NBA salaries! Each of her three on three teammates received  $10,000. based on her win. Phee's  team is leading the league with an 8 and 1 record.

  So, that's my priority, which sure beats football.

Takk for alt,

Al

Book Report

    Rifling through the container of books MJV sent home with me last fall I came across Ghost Boy: The Miraculous Escape of  a Misdiagnosed Boy Trapped Inside His Own Body, written by the boy himself, Martin Pistorius. Intrigued I picked it up and found the promo-blurb on the front cover, "Read Ghost Boy. It is really a 'page turner' and you will be a better person for experiencing Martin Pistorius' life." Michael Hingson. to be true!

   Struck by a mysterious illness when he was 12, Pistorius, ends in a comatose state. In a care facility by the day and home with his family at night, he regains consciousness. Yet, no one realizes it for years while he is totally aware of his surroundings. He is incapable of alerting others that his mind is active. After years a compassionate care giver at the care facility intuits that he's alert. With her insistence he's tested and found to be cognizant. Gradually, from this testing, his life unfolds.

   His honest revelation of his "captivity" and the struggles to live in a world foreign to him are more than poignant. There are many ups and downs to his story. He has to teach himself to read, while he intuitively understands computers. Revealing his assessment of how others respond to him challenge the reader to evaluate his/her response and reaction to the differently abled. Therein lies the opportunity to be "a better person."

  Yes, I say, read it!  Perhaps you've seen the movie.

Takk for alt,

Al

Thanks, one more time, MJV!

Absent

   The other reader pointed out that there was no post yesterday.  Sat down to blog and livestreamed a basketball game which went to overtime. When the game finished blogging was out of mind. And, "NO" it had nothing to to do with the two bottles of wine in the previous picture/

MY BAD and I'm sorry!

al

Prohibition Dinner

     Periodically the OFH features a special theme dinner. Jim, our food services director is an accomplished chef and he enjoys doing these specials tonight the there was Prohibition Dinner and admittance required a special password: Blind Tiger. Reservations were required and seating was limited to 60 persons. Because it's the OFH seating was at 4:40. When I asked Jim "Why 4:30?" He said "If I say at 5:00 everyone comes at 4:30." 😁 Proof positive it is the OFH! Seating was by affinity groups so dinners were seated with friends. See the menu reprinted below.

   Living the good life in the OFH.

Takk for alt,

Al

                         Our dinner table.                              

The menu which you'll need to read on its side because I gave up trying to turn it.

Short Read

   Who knew that Saskatoon, Juneberry, Shadbush, Sugarplum, Sarvis and Serviceberry are all names for the same plant?  I didn't! The official name is Amelanchier. "Ethnobiologists know that the more names a plant has, the greater its cultural importance."  P. 3, in Robin Wall Kimmerer's book, Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World. She's the author of Braiding Sweetgrass.

   It's a sweet little book, full of common sense we usually bypass, only 112 small pages and large print. She writes from her mutual perspectives as a botanist and one of indigenous heritage. The book could be summarized by the difference it makes if one considers the produce of the natural world as commodities or gifts. When these items are commodified the result is their treatment as part of the dominant economic order and impersonally bought and sold.

   When the offerings of the natural world are seen as gifts their exchange fosters relationship and community. Want to guess which Kimmerer extols? Using Serviceberry as a case in point she offers illustrations of what happens when the berries are received as gifts. This she contrasts with the often exploitive results of trading in commodities.

  Take a couple of hours and read it yourself.

Takk for alt,

Al

       Monastery on the cliffs Greece. No place for persons with acrophobia!

Recruit?

     These blog posts about things Marine haven't caused either of you to seek out a recruiter and enlist? Wait, maybe you're not in the appropriate age category, that would explain everything.

    So, backing up my computer brought to mind backing up of a different kind. Here come the Marines again so feel free to tune out. While stationed in California I was sent to jeep driving school and it took two weeks. A couple of memories of that experience came back. After a bit of behind the wheel experience the jeep was attached to a two wheel trailer. Pylons were set up behind the trailer and we were to take turns backing the trailer between the pylons. When it was my turn I successfully maneuvered the trailer between the pylons on the first try. "How could you do that? I was asked. I said "farm experience." Completing the course required testing by the state of California. Passing that I was issued a California Drivers license needed if we drove off base.

   When I was getting my CDL (Chauffer's Drivers License)  it was necessary to a back a semi-trailer through pylons. Those trailers are essentially the same as a two wheel trailer. Farm experience to the fore.

Takk for alt,

Al

The Corps had it's own version of a jeep called a Mighty Mite. It was manufactured by  American Motors. It had a four speed transmission and no two speed as the jeep had. Made of mostly aluminum it was designed for transport by helicopter so weight was kept to a minimum. It was a snappy little thing and much more fun to drive than a jeep.

  

                            Mighty Mite

This n That!

     Despite my previous declarations about not watching TV, I do watch sports frequently. The "not watching" applies to programs, news, movies, etc. Surfing between sports shows has shown how many commercials are aired, over and over and over again. It seems that a high percentage of the time than I switch to a game of interest it's during a commercial. 😒

    Yesterday's blog with the accompanying picture reminded me that as a Marine a whole new vocabulary, i.e., nomenclature, had to be learned. Part of it was military jargon. However, with the relationship between Marines and Navy, Navy parlance predominated. Here are some examples: bed=rack, floor=deck, door=hatch, cap=cover, wall=bulkhead, toilet=head, upstairs=topside, cafeteria=mess hall, stairs=ladder, kitchen police=mess duty, gun=rifle and don't ever make THAT mistake, Enough about this.

Takk for alt,

Al

A helicopter leaving the USS Princeton, LPH 5, note the 5 on the superstructure. This was in the Spring of 1962 and they went to Vietnam to relieve the first squadron of Army helicopters in the country. (LPH is Landing Pad Helicopter.)  I spent several months aboard this ship in the South China Sea and from Okinawa back to the States. That trip took half as long as the trip to Asia on a liberty ship which travelled at 13 knots.

One of those times!

      With little to say it's best to keep things brief so that there's not a demonstration of how little I have to say. You've all heard "it's better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool, than open it and prove you are." 😀 So I'll post some random pictures and leave it at that.

Takk for alt,

Al

Sitting on my rack (bunk) aboard ship shows how close they were to each other. The bed consisted of canvas with grommets through which a rope was stretched. The rope was wound around an aluminum, tubular frame. ( See picture) It was quite comfortable though lacked much clearance above. My M-1, rifle hangs nearby. I was issued that rife after boot camp it was with me until we left Asia to return to the U.S. You ask, "why am I wearing sneakers?" The battalion commander mandated we wear them aboard ship to avoid scuffing the decks with our boots and they were issued to us. They caused the sailors to snicker.  On one of the liberty ships the racks, in the hold to which we were assigned, were stacked ten high. The air was bad at the top but sleeping on a lower one meant that Marines above would use your rack as step as they climbed to theirs. 

My Case

 

  

    Yes, I've been living for years without adult supervision.😜

Book Report

 "And three apples fell from heaven

One for the storyteller,

One for the listener,

One for the eavesdropper."   Old Armenian Saying

   Therefore the title of the book Three Apples Fell From The Sky, which is set in a remote mountain village in Armenia. The author, Narine Abgaryan, who is from Armenia, now lives in Russia. It's a grand story, a novel? perhaps. The book cover calls if a 'fable' and that's perhaps the best taxonomy. The cover declares it an "International Bestseller."

   It's unique as it follows the hardscrabble life of a small village in the mountains. The village is linked to the outside world by a single road and a telegraph. Life is not easy as these people suffer earthquakes and hunger from drought. The book cover accurately states "...a heartwarming tale of community, courage, and the irresistible joy of everyday friendship."

   Here's a sample from the book. "Anatolia.... grasped that happiness was heaven and grief was hell. And their God was everywhere...because He was the unseen threads that connected them with each other."       P 124

   Yes, read it!

Takk for alt,

Al

Well then...

 "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry..." Robert Burns.  "Into each life a little rain must fall..." Ella Fitzgerald. Yesterday was my day to fulfill aphorisms. There I lay in the prep room for cataract surgery with a nice nurse helping me. A bit into the preparation she left the room for a few minutes. With glasses taken away I was marveling on how far I could see with the eye which operated on three weeks ago. The nurse reentered the room and announced "You're going home."

   As it turns out my pre-op physical was completed 32 days ago and regulations specify not more than 30 days before operation. So, home I went. Likely it's a liability issue becasue if something did go amiss with the surgery legal or insurance sleuths would have latched unto the discrepancy. There was a cancelation so, rather than having to wait for months, it's rescheduled for early March.

   If nothing worse than that happens to me I'm very fortunate.

Takk for alt,

Al

   

Sunset on Santorini from a restaurant in a cove which explains the land in the background.

Well then...

    Cataract surgery is scheduled for later so this will suffice as today's post.

Takk for alt,

Al

"From A Distance

     Looking a the pictures of the distant white buildings on Santorini the immediate thought was "snow?" Not here, not even even though there's threat of earthquake. Better Midler's song comes to mind.

From a Distance

Song by Bette Midler ‧ 1990

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From a distance, the world looks blue and green
And the snow-capped mountains white
From a distance, the ocean meets the stream
And the eagle takes to flight

From a distance, there is harmony
And it echoes through the land
It's the voice of hope
It's the voice of peace

Takk for alt,

Al

Four Footed Discipline

     Rolling out of bed early in the morning (before 6am) the thought strikes me "Would I have the discipline to be up and out for a walk without Kaia?"  She needs to go out so lingering in bed really isn't an option. Though I've discovered there isn't much difference in the discipline to arise at 6 or 7. There's also another minimum of three times daily she needs to get out. Often I've said "She keeps me from being a slug." 

   This is only one aspect of her presence. Besides enforcing movement discipline she's a great companion. Yes, she's spoiled, and why not? Spoiling her gives us both pleasure. 

Takk for alt,

Al

                      Kaia looking out the sliding glass door in the living room of the OFH.

Cable TV

     There are a package of items that come with rent at the OFH. Among those items is cable TV. Though I don't watch TV programs, I do watch certain sports. This afternoon simultaneously I followed two basketball games and two golf events. 

    The golf events were interesting. The PGA one was won by a man born in Belgium, the first from his country to win in the PGA. He led by so far for so long that the drama was among those contending for second. 

    A first time winner, Yealimi Noh, an American of South Korean descent, won the LPGA event. The 23 year old won by four strokes.  She was bogey free, i.e. no hole over par, on her final 18. 

   Rumor has it that there's a football game today. I though the season was over. The Vikings probably aren't playing.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                 There are news reports of earthquakes on Santorini.

Point of view...

     In the years living in downtown Minneapolis in a 15th floor condo it was a practice to observe on Facebook that snow was pretty from that level. This post was not universally admired by ground dwellers who had the doubtful joy of shoveling said snow. 😀 

   Today as reclined in my recliner the gentle morning snowfall was almost as pretty from the 4th floor of the OFH as from the 15th floor condo. Looking out toward Mendota Heights, then obscured by falling snow, the view stopped about at the Mississippi River. As with the downtown condo, snow removal at the OFH is not my concern. Having done much shoveling in my life I must say "I don't miss it." The weather app reports 2.85", and it's light and fluffy.

Takk for alt,

Al

 

                             Hiking above Holden Village in the North Cascades, 1963.

Reporting in...

    Another day without an original thought. Lunch with a friend, who just returned from Argentina, brought back fond memories of travel there. After Lisa and I climbed Kilimanjaro I remarked to Lars that if we were to do that it should be soon becasue I was 60. He said "I don't want to do that but I want to go to Argentina," so we did.

   We started in Buenos Aries, bused to El Calafate, Patagonia where we saw Perito Moreno Glacier. We did some hiking in the Andes. Traveling on by bus we went to Ushuaia, and Tierra de Fuego. Ushuaia is the southernmost city in the world and the jumping off place for trips to Antarctica, which is 600 miles away.

Takk for alt,

Al

Perito Morena Glacier

                    Penguin Colony in the far south of Argentina.

                 A tree shaped by persistent winds, Tierra del Fuego

Odd Title

    It's an unusual juxtaposition of words, both of which are familiar, but not usually found together. By now you both have likely read Interpreter of Maladies, but in what other contest have you seen these words used together? Jhumpa Lahiri received the Pulitzer Prize for this book of short stories, published in 1999. A well deserved award. 

   This book jacket blurb does justice to the volume "...this stunning debut collection unerringly charts the emotional journeys of characters seeking love beyond the barriers of nations and generations. In stories that travel from India to America and back again, Lahiri speaks with universal eloquence to everyone who has ever felt like a foreigner."  Not all of the characters are Indian but most are and they appear in each story. The interesting title makes sense in the context of a story by the same title. My favorite story was This Blessed House, but I liked them all.

Takk for alt,

Al

              An Okinawan home, circa 1961.

Funnies wisdom...

 

Asian Food Stalls

      At dinner the other evening with my Niece, to hear her stories of her recent trip to Cambodia, food stalls and Angkor Wat came up. Those two entities are intertwined in my memory. Thereby hangs a tale.

     On my first trip to Cambodia in early January, 1994, I visited Angkor Wat. Tourists had yet to discover it so we had this famed temple to ourselves. Siem Reap, the town next to Angor, was little more than a sleepy village. In 1997 Joanne and I were in Cambodia, to visit Lisa. We planned to visit Angkor Wat together. You know how plans are!

   Lisa made friends with a Cambodian family while she was working there. On a day's outing to an historical site near Phnom Penh with this family, fate intervened. While Joanne and Lisa left to use the facilities, a nice euphemism for a walk in the woods, I was left with grandma. She bought food from a nearby food cart. Too polite to refuse of proffered food I ate and soon came down with raging food poisoning. With tickets to Siem Reap Joanne and Lisa left as I recuperated in Lisa's house. However, I did return to Angkor Wat on a subsequent trip.

   So now the scene shifts to Bangkok. Some of the best food in Thailand is street food in Bangkok. The two times I got food poisoning in Bangkok it was from food in restaurants. Never did I get sick from Thai street food. In 1994 Phnom Penh was in the early stages of recovery from the Khmer Rouge and sanitation was iffy at the best.

Takk for alt,

Al

PS  She said almost no one listens to her travel stories!

                    Thai food stall in Bangkok where I often ate.

Poetry speaks!

    Writing about Marilyn Robinson's Reading Genesis, some days ago, Peter commented on grace. He said he was in a class where the instructor struggled to define grace. Finding that unhelpful he exited the class. In response I offered this definition of grace. "Grace is the undeserved (or unmerited) love and mercy of God." He responded by sharing this poem he wrote about grace, and, as you can see it, was published.  Good isn't it? Each time I read it I see more, poetry is like that.

GRACE

 

Grace is a side

wise place

shimmed into

this square world,

a humbling reminder

hawks do not

catch all squirrels

chased, nor even most.

An else is in it.

Grace is

God's retainer,

ensuring clients

come back

after the crash

hat squashed

firmly in hand.

We don't get it

by wisdom

by hard work

nor luck, surely not

by deserving.

It's provender

in the desert,

unexplained,

tender.

P M F Johnson (first published in Iconoclast)

Takk for alt,

Al

2024 Nobel Prize Winner

     That prize winner would be Han ( that's not a mistype of Hans, for you Norwegians) Kang, who is Korean. She's the first Korean to win the prize. It was awarded in 2024, for her work prior to Greek Lessons, which I just finished. My friend, Peter, who is reading many of the books awarded the Nobel, claims that some are not as good as the previous works of the award winner. Not having read her previous works I can't judge, but this one is superb.

    This is a book for lovers of language. It's set in both Germany and Korea. One protagonist teaches and the other studies Greek. Their interest in Greek and their maladies bring them together. Some have described the book as poetry and that certainly is fair. In many ways it's a sad book but throughout there is a current of hope. Letters are written to unknown person that reveal the innermost character of the writer. Kang has the ability of acute observation. NPR quotes this passage as an example of her power of observation, "The man standing by the blackboard looks to be in his mid to late thirties. He is slight, with eyebrows like bold accents over his eyes and a deep groove at the base of his nose. A faint smile of restrained emotion plays around his mouth...The woman gazes up at the scar that runs in a slender pale curve from the edge of his left eyelid to the edge of his mouth. When she'd seen it in their first lesson, she'd thought of it as marking where tears had once flowed."

    It's a short book, quickly read and some reviewers quickly reread it. Personally I found it engaging, compelling and profound. It did show me much how much of my own Greek lessons has been forgotten as I struggled to read the simple Greek in the book.

Takk for alt,

Al

Could be said about this blog!

 

Happy Candlemas!

 

Takk for alt,

Al

A skiff of snow fell...

      "If wishes were fishes we'd all have a few." Winter sports are in my past. Winter camping? No thank you, cold weather training in the Marines more than met that need. Never having owned a snowmobile I've ridden enough to know that neither the cold nor the bouncing are attractive.  Cross country skiing was fun, the little that I did, but the risk of falling, at my age! Ice fishing was once fun but now I can hardly stay warm in my apartment. You get the drift?

     All this leads back to wishes. My wish would be for snow in late March or early April, Better yet would be gentle spring rains of substance. Moisture is certainly needed but in the realm of wishing might as well wish for rain..

Takk for alt,

Al

                               I love grass!