Sunday’s Theme Music

I use the phrase “Check it out,” often. Used it all of my life. We used it in the military, along with variations like, “Check this out.”

‘Check it out’ always meant, “Hey, look at this,” or “Notice this,” because it’s something special. In our house most recently, it’s been, “Check it out,” regarding something stupid Trump said/did, but also wildlife wandering through the yard — bucks in the day, skunks at night. Check it out.

My friend, a retired doctor, has more varied wildlife at his place. Although just a mile away, it seems further. He sends video of wildlife caught via a trail cam. Check it out, says his email subject line, and it’s a video two cubs nursing on mama bear a yard away from the camera. Or it’s a big bear scratching his back on a pine, another bear taking shelter from a rainstorm. Once in a while, it’s a cougar or fox taking a stroll.

John Cougar, who became John Cougar Mellencamp, who became John Mellencamp (the name he was given at birth), made a song of it in 1987. I saw him perform it in a soccer stadium in Germany the next year, a good show.

So, check it out.

David Also Said

I found that rhythm in typing, too. I first started writing on a typewriter, and that rhythm was satisfying.

After finding it in writing in notebooks and on computers, I realized that it’s the rhythm of the writing process – thinking, putting it down on something, editing – that I enjoy. The typewriter’s clacking, thumping, and bells (whether on my old Brother portable or my second-hand IBM Selectric II, which sounded more like a machine-gun firing out letters when I was going at speed), the noise of pen on paper, the computer keyboard clicking, is all melody to the writing in my head.

The movement and flow of writing is addictive and satisfying like nothing else the world offers.

The Trump Dream Segment

In the middle of my dreams was a segment featuring Donald J. Trump.

We were evacuating somewhere. The reasons for that were unclear. It was a watery place, more like a large lake or ocean than river or flood.

I was somehow involved with organizing it because, it’s my dream, right? We’re following OPLAN 1067. I don’t know if such an operations plan exists, but that’s the dream’s claim. For that, we need aircraft.

They’re being acquired. This is like the planning phase of the evacuation.

Donald J. shows up. We all get respectful, waiting to let him speak. He says, “You know what your problem is. You got too many planes.”

We’re all puzzling this out. We’re following the OPLAN. OPLANs follow painstaking processes and are based on past learning experiences. The OPLAN dictates how many planes we should have.

Although I’m not the head honcho, I’m about to point this out to Trump when the head honcho does. “We’re following OPLAN 1067. It calls for us to have sixty-seven aircraft.”

Trump then replies, “What’s an OPLAN?”

That leaves us all gaping and speechless. I answer, “OPLAN is an acronym for operational plan, a formal plan to address a problem or situation.”

Getting testy, Trump replies, “I know what an OPLAN is.” Then he turns to leave and says again, “You have too many planes.”

Then he’s gone.

Just Another

My friend passed away this week. It’s the polite way of saying he died, an easy way to express and digest it without harsher emotions and pain attached to it. He passed away. It’s like a boat sailing into a sunset, going on a journey, out of sight beyond an horizon, but really still there.

Ed was eighty-nine. He had a brain tumor. Actions were taken, but the body is the body.

He had a spectacular intelligence and a sharp sense of humor. I was flattered to know him and pleased that he sought my company. We always had lively conversations. Since I’ve known him, he’s had white and gray hair, with a receding hair line, and a gray and white riotous beard. His daughter included a photo of him from his youth. Turned out he used to be a blond, handsome man, a far reach from the fellow I knew in appearance. Yet, the resemblance beyond the superficialities of hair and beard was clearly there.

After gaining his PhD from Stanford, he joined NASA in the mid 1960s and was with them until he retired a few decades later. He was less involved with manned space exploration and more engaged with sending satellites out to find information and send it back.

In one sense, we’ve been expecting Ed’s death, in one form or another, since he was born. In another, it took him sooner than we hoped, and we wonder if it’s the curse of 2020.

I know that he’s not the only one who died this week, and that his life and death was much better than what many experience. His daughter informed us of Ed’s death on Wednesday.

“So last night mom went in to chat with dad. His breathing for 48 hours had been in the labored, raggedy stage. But he opened his eyes and they sparkled and he smiled. Mom chattered to him and told him it was ok if it was time for him to go. They had walked a lifetime together. She loved him but could let him go. I came in after to sit the rest of the evening not realizing what mom had said and told him “You’ve climbed a lot of mountains, and this has been a grand adventure of a life, it’s time to finish this final climb. We will walk it all the way to the end with you.” One tear rolled down his eye and about two minutes later I watched him hold his breath, carrying what had become a common pause in breathing, just a little further, and he was gone. He took it before it took him. And that’s the way he wanted it.He set the tone for all of us all the way along this last one year+. And I promise you he spent a lot of time over those 6 days, mostly pain free, sitting as an observer to this final unfolding, with his always enthusiastic and curious mind. He showed no struggle, no despair, no sadness. He fully leaned in to the enitre journey. I think he just would have liked it to go a little longer. But no regrets.”

I always wonder what happens after death, spiritually, but also along the lines of quantum existence. If there is something more, I’m sure Ed will make the most of it. If not, he led a life here worthy of being emulated and celebrated.

Either way, damn, I will miss him.

Sugarfloof Gang

Sugarfloof Gang  (floofinition) – American floof hop music trio who became a major international sensation. Active from 1979 into the late 1980s, their crossover success introduced floof hop to a broader audience.

In use: “Sugarhill Gang’s single major hit in the UFA was the1979 gem, “Floofper’s Delight”, a song with five different versions.”

Floofvict

Floofvict (floofinition) – 1. Expel an animal from a location, especially a pet.

In use: “When he went to his office to work he had to floofvict a cat from his keyboard and a dog from his chair.”

2. Declare an animal to be guilty of an offense according to the house rules.

In use: “Fur on the counter was the evidence. “Harley,” she said, turning on the cat. “You were on the counter. The cat returned on innocent gaze. “Fur.” She swiped her fingers across the surface and held them up in the ginger’s direction. “Floofvicted.” Marching over, she said, “You will be punished with hugs and kisses.” Picking him up, she began kissing his head with loud noises. Though Harley her swatted once, he closed his eyes and purred.”

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