Not long ago, Pat and I were taking a walk on Cicero Road when we were surprised to see this raccoon picking its way across someone’s lawn. It seemed to barely notice us as it made its way slowly to the drainpipe on the roadside.
Something was wrong. The raccoon wobbled down to the water where it appeared to take a drink. Then it returned to the lawn and started across the road. It staggered, fell sideways, and then wobbled in a confused circle in the middle of the pavement.
Sick? Dying of old age? Rabid?
We kept our distance until it moved away.
When we got home, I called the DEC. The man I spoke to said there was an officer nearby who could check on the situation.
I’m left with an undercurrent of sadness from meeting up with this failing wild animal. Maybe because I’ve reached the age when my peers and I are struggling with illness, solitude, and mortality. Bodies get sick, need repair, and ultimately quit.
What comes next? Raccoon heaven?
Betty and the Boomers
Saturday, May 25
Waterstreet Market, New Paltz, NY
Tight harmonies, fabulous songs, sunshine, iced chai latte–what more could anyone ask?
from their website www.bettyandthebabyboomers.com:
When Betty Boomer, Jean Valla McAvoy, Paul Rubeo, and Steve Stanne began singing together more than 30 years ago, the name made sense—a play on Betty’s name and the fact that all are children of the baby boom. Bassist Robert Bard fit right in demographically when he joined later on. If they’ve had second thoughts, it’s too late to change now. “Betty and the Baby Boomers” appears on the covers of the band’s five CDs, and the name is known to folk music fans from the mountains of Connemara in Ireland to the Catskills overlooking New York’s Hudson Valley, their home base.
I’ve known most of these performers since my days with Clearwater and the Beacon Sloop Club. In fact, I used to sing with the Sloop Singers, but mostly on the choruses.
Husband Pat enjoyed every minute.
Listen to them here:
Mountain or Molehill?
by Dani Shapiro
Alfred A. Knopf, 2019
Even though I became a bit disgusted, I read the book to the end. How Shapiro managed to make a full-length memoir out of this event in her life was impressive. I kept wondering if this discovery–that one’s father was not the biological parent–could be that traumatic. The answer, for me, was “no.”
The word “self-indulgent” comes to mind about the author, and perhaps, also, “drama queen.”
However, the actual situation brings up a lot of ethical and scientific questions that are certainly important and valid. With DNA testing, and the sharing of data from 23andMe, Ancestry.com, etc., we are confronted with issues of privacy and anonymity.
As far as the book goes, I would advise reading the summary, and bypassing the memoir.
This glass design is in the ceiling of the Belchertown, Massachusetts Library. The library is a magnificent building with many features to admire.
It’s always so helpful for me, as a writer, to get away from my desk and out into the world to meet new people and see new sights.
This library visit was courtesy of our gracious Airbnb host, Fran Ferry, who lives directly across the street.
The lacy fan of woodwork spans the ceiling in the main entrance.
Fran introduced me to the children’s librarian. Hopefully, we can arrange an author visit in the future. Serendipity!
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And remember–the new Karakesh Chronicle, Awakening Magic, is available now on Amazon.