Two Jungles

    Marina leaves the jungle of her gynecological residency after a surgical accident for a career in pharmacology. The drug company for which she works sends her to investigate progress on a potentially lucrative drug being researched in the jungle of the Amazon Basin of Brazil.  There she's reunited with her resident supervisor and learns that the research has found a second drug which is more beneficial but not a great money maker.  All this is in State of Wonder, Ann Patchett's 2011 novel.
     The book is engaging from the beginning and occasionally a page turner. The medical and pharmacological data are far beyond my ability to evaluate. Having spent a few days in the Amazon Basin I found the jungle descriptions very interesting. The book is full of many twists and turns both in the plot and in the moral issues that surface. 
    It's well worth reading.

Takk for alt,

Al

PS Some quotes for pandemic land:
      
Edmund Wilson said, “If I could only remember that the days were, not bricks to be laid row on row, to be built into a solid house, where one might dwell in safety and peace, but only food for the fires of the heart.”
And: “No two persons ever read the same book.” Writer's Almanac, May 8, 2020

"For while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted, and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn't any other tale to tell, it's the only light we've got in all this darkness."  Writer's Almanac, May 8, 2020

―James Baldwin

Who'd a thought?

        It's been many years since I've split firewood. The township board ordered me to remove all trees from my right-of-way. Chris, Rollie and David helped me with that. Cedar, ash and buckthorn so old they were towering trees, were the culprits. While it was much work it consisted of cutting them down with a chainsaw and hauling them away with a tractor. We moved to our house in Golden Valley in 1988 and soon after I purchased some fireplace wood that required splitting. Soon I moved on to buying wood already split.
      What would possess me to read an entire book about firewood?  Who would think I would even enjoy reading it?  Well, I did read it and I did enjoy it. So, go figure. No, I have no intention of splitting any firewood...no fireplace, neither in the condo, nor The Little House On The Prairie.
       Norwegian Wood: Chopping, Drying and Stacking Wood the Scandinavian Way, by Norwegian author Lars Mytting was surprisingly interesting.  It even feature a forward by Roy Jacobsen, whose The Unseen I thought was exceptionally good. Norwegian Wood has beautiful pictures of artistic stacked wood. Included are the kinds of wood, tools for making firewood, instructions on how to stack, information about stoves and much more. There were more details about energy values of types of wood than I needed but to true lovers of wood this is a treasure.  N.M....are you reading this?  T.M. has already been alerted. M.A., you, too.
       Yes, I recommend the book...to selected audiences. 😊

Here's a happy story from The Washington Post.

A girl and her mail carrier
Emerson, 11, loves to write letters. She decorates them elaborately and has been sending them out to friends and family for years. 
Recently, she decided to give a letter to her own mail carrier. 
“I’m Emerson,” she wrote. "You may know me as the person that lives here that writes a lot of letters & stamps; decorated the envelopes. Well, I wanted to thank you for taking my letters and delivering them. You are very important to me. I make people happy with my letters, but you do too.”
Emerson's note sparked a wave of gratitude within the U.S. Postal Service. She's now exchanging letters with about a dozen new mail carrier pen pals. “These letters are so deeply human,” her dad wrote. “They are filled with family, pets, hobbies, community and an overwhelming sense of kindness.”


Takk for alt,

Al

"...a bigger white dot."

    Tonight is full moon.  It was twenty years ago, at 18,000 feet on Kilimanjaro, we made our final camp. There was not a cloud in the sky. I don't remember the moon,  but stars were so bright and seemed so close that we could almost hear them. The air was so thin that climbing into my sleeping bag winded me. Lisa and I were up at midnight for the final climb to the summit so we could be there for the spectacular sunrise over East Africa. We clawed our way up, scrambling through scree of mixed snow and gravel. Finally, gasping for air, we made the summit...which was shrouded in clouds limiting our view to a few yards. The next morning, as we descended, the clouds had lifted and there was the peak in all its shining glory.
     There was no light pollution on the mountain to obscure our view of the stars. Tonight, viewing the full moon, I'll think about it shining it's light on the places I've been. Will I go places again? Could my traveling days be over?  Memories of trips that Joanne and I took enrich my life in the land of grief. Gratitude floods me for the travel I've had.

Starry Starry Night
by Louis Jenkins

A bazillion stars overhead, and I look up as amazed and
baffled as the first hominid who gazed upward must have
been, stars passing overhead like a very slow-moving flock
of birds, going somewhere, disappearing into the wee
hours of the morning. I used to be able to recognize some
of the constellations: the Pleiades, the Big Dipper…but
I have forgotten most. Still, mankind has learned a lot
about the cosmos since Galileo's time. A friend of mine
said, "My wife bought me a telescope for my birthday, a
nice one, very powerful, I've got it set up on the deck.
You know, when you look at a star with your naked eye
all you see is a little white dot, but when you look at it
through a telescope you see a bigger white dot."

“Starry Starry Night” by Louis Jenkins, from Where Your House Is Now: New and Selected Poems. Nodin Press © 2019

Takk for alt,

Al

...the teacher!

     "There is no silver lining here, but there is a lesson. It is not the kind of lesson that anyone can merely teach someone else, as if it were a matter of having the right information. No, this is a lesson that must be absorbed. The lesson is that life, in the end, is about loss, and suffering itself is the teacher." Christian Century, April 22, 2020, p.9, quoting Leonard J. Delorenzo, theology professor at Notre Dame, writing to students about the pandemic upending their academic trajectory (Church Life Journal, March 25)
      One of the teachings of suffering is that which Mary Oliver elucidates. Give into Joy for there is enough pain and "don't be afraid."  The depth of our learnings from this pandemic will be determined by the reach of our openness.  

Don't Hesitate
by Mary Oliver

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don't hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that's often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don't be afraid
 

―Submitted by Amy Anderson (From Grace University Lutheran's post 5/5/2020)

   Takk for alt,

    Al

Blessings counted.

     When I'm surprised by my level of contentment and I drive down deeper into my situation it comes to privilege. Privilege that I'm safe, secure without concerns for my next meal, with a roof over my head and a bed in which to sleep. Immediate family near and extended scattered about I'm deeply connected.  Blessed with companionship and connection with others via phone, internet and mail isolation is not an issue. Possessing good eyesight and access to good books I have the leisure to read and reflect. 
    Of course I continue to miss Joanne but who can expect more than 55 years together? What we were and what we did together cannot be taken away. Frequently, now, we are doing normal things together in my dreams. Life is abundant and meaningful even in the land of grief. It was a great gift to partnered with someone as special as she and for that I'm grateful.
   Yes, indeed counting my blessings and this is just a start!

Takk for alt

Al


   Pandemic
     Quiet
     But worrisome
     Quiet out of place
     No planes
     No sounds from the schoolyard
     Just birdsong and the occasional bicycle bell
     It reminds me of the place I grew up
     Where you could hear a dog bark halfway across town
     A place I was glad to leave but carry within
     Returned to me now in the quiet that blankets all days
  (Author Unknown)

Uff da

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — 13 minutes ago

What does ‘uff da’ mean, and why do Minnesotans say it?

 

MICHELLE GRIFFITH Special to the Star Tribune, Sunday, May 3, 2020

Star Tribune file photo “Uff da” has found its way to Minnesota license plates, cutting boards and other pop spots.

Ever get back home from a long day of work, kick off your shoes and sigh “uff da” as your body hits the couch? Of course you do — you’re a Minnesotan.

We have a lot of peculiar expressions, from “ope” to Duck, Duck, Gray Duck, but Rebekah Schumacher said she receives the most confused looks from non-Minnesotans when she says “uff da.”

Schumacher, 27, who grew up in Savage, said she often utters the phrase whenever she encounters an extreme, like freezing temps or lifting something heavy. Although she’s been saying “uff da” for as long as she can remember, she isn’t quite sure what it means.

She turned to Curious Minnesota, our community-driven reporting project powered by questions from readers, to ask “Why do Minnesotans say ‘uff da?’ ”

In Norwegian, “uff” is an exclamation similar to “ah” or “oh” in English. “Da” in Norwegian means “there.” According to the Dictionary of American Regional English (DARE), “Oh, for gosh sakes” is uff da’s closest English translation.

The phrase is Norwegian, but it is not common and you would have to search for quite a while to find a native Norwegian who uses it in everyday language, said Anatoly Liberman, an etymologist at the University of Minnesota.

“The problem with this ‘uff da’ is that though it is Norwegian, you cannot find it in any Norwegian dictionary,” Liberman said. “ ‘Uff da’ is lost. … It’s typically Minnesotan, which is already very strange. Who brought it and when [did it] originate? No one knows, so that’s really the whole very sad story.”

Many communities have their own words and expressions that are hard to trace, Liberman said, and “uff da” is one.

The DARE, which Curious Minnesota consulted per Liberman’s recommendation, states that the phrase was first printed in the 1941 novel, “The Tall Brothers,” and attributes the phrase’s origin to Norwegian settlement areas in Minnesota and Wisconsin.

In the 1850s, Norwegians immigrated to Minnesota in waves, attracted by the state’s fertile farming land. Many clustered in southeast Minnesota but then spread throughout the state, according to MNopedia, an online resource developed by the Minnesota Historical Society. In 2018, more than 810,000 Minnesotans identified as being of Norwegian ancestry.

Schumacher now lives in Utah and gets a kick out of seeing how her home state’s unique expression can turn heads.

“Explaining ‘uff da’ has just been fun for me,” she said.

Michelle Griffith (michelle.griffith@startribune.com) is a University of

Minnesota student on assignment for the Star Tribune.

   Over the years I've made several trips to Norway. It was a bit of a surprise when I first heard small children speaking Norwegian. In my experience, growing up, only "old people" spoke Norwegian.  😁 A number of the phrases I knew were understood in Norway but then I was informed that they were archaic and not used much now. Uff da would fall into that category.
    There was one occasion when I heard a Norwegian use it spontaneously.  Joanne and I were riding a train toward Bodo. A younger Norwegian man passing me in the train accidentally stepped on my foot. Looking me in the face he apologetically said "Uff da!"

    Here's hoping that this bit of trivia lightens your day  

Takk for alt,

Al

Point's Of View

      A columnist who writes in a weekly farm paper I received today wrote "now that the virus is declining."  What? Where?  When I check the reports it is not what I read. It looks to me the worst is yet to come, while it may be true that in some areas the rate of infection has slowed. More American's have died in a few month than died in America's War in SE Asia and that was over a period of several years.
      Survival is never a sure thing as many persons have found out when they've been surprised to wake up dead. One of my friends appends a Yiddish proverb to his emails: "Man plans, God laughs."  The late Bill Holm's poem says it well:

Last Meal
by Bill Holm

On death row you celebrate your last night
with your last dinner, your choice, your last craving
to make at least your stomach happy before it stops
craving anything at all. Many choose
simple food: a hamburger, mac and cheese, ice cream.
What might it be for you, my friend?
Duckling Rouenaisse? A roast of unborn lamb?
Washed down with Veuve Cliquot '59 and old Armagnac?
And how do you know, my friend, that you are not
eating your last meal at this very table now?
Chew slowly. Make sure you take in all the body and the blood.
 "Last Meal" from The Chain Letter of the Soul by Bill Holm 

     Well, I haven't awakened dead yet, so I keep reading, walking and giving thanks. During this terrible pandemic I'm among those most fortunate.

Takk for alt,

Al

Random picture. 

Monument to  Henry the Navigator responsible for Portugal's success at sea.