Shooting Stars and Funerals

The sky was perfectly clear this morning as I sat in the hot tub at 6:00. The stars were twinkling, and one lost its footing and shot across the sky. The eastern glow started softly at first, then grew, and finally erupted into a mass of golden sunlight, but by this time I was reading the paper at the kitchen counter, smelling the coffee and planning the day.

Tomorrow Judy and I take a trip to Cashmere to attend the funeral of my Uncle Les Kane. He has finally succumbed to the vicissitudes of life, after 92 some years. He was never one to rush into anything, and I always found him to be one of the most calm, pedantic people I knew. I liked him, but we never really connected. John Peterson and I were visiting in Wenatchee as late teenagers, I recall, and Les and John's dad Clyde were sitting on the couch talking. John turn to me and says, "Let's go for a walk." When we get outside he tells me that we need to get out of there. He thinks that sitting and listening to these slow talkers will drain the life out of us. Maybe he is right, or perhaps the pace they set will prolong life? It didn't work for Clyde.

I have a ton of cousins. Tomorow I will likely see something like 30 to 40 cousins. Direct, first cousins THAT I DONT' KNOW! Damn Smith relatives were prolific as hell, and all of them are older than me. Well, most of them are older. John will be there, and maybe Francse Hansen. Grace Kane and Jim Kane are the only ones close enough in age that I actually know. The rest were off and out by the time I was an person that might be of any interest. Funny how families work. If you keep in contact the little ones that seem so distant became quite interesting, and the only thing you need to do to make the transitory shift is to stay in contact. Just be "present" as the transcendentalists say. With the Kane kids, I was not "present".

Soon I will blog about "being" and "becoming". I know, you can't wait...