The air was still this morning, and as I looked out my kitchen window, I couldn't figure out why some leaves on the fig tree across the backyard were moving. Then I saw the grey squirrel up among the topmost branches, mere twigs really, having a feast on the ripe green figs. I never knew that squirrels ate figs, but it did not surprise me that they do. Figs are delicious, especially when made into jam. And those dried figs from Greece -- I think they are called crown figs, from Kalamata -- they are among the sweetest things one can find.
* * * * *
There is hardly a gesture between men more comradely than a handshake. Handshakes occur at all times and in all places -- upon first being introduced, at departure, at graduations, weddings, and funerals. Even former enemies will shake hands after they reconcile. Many other cultures than the Western have adopted the handshake as the gold standard of expressing friendship. Asians will bow. Arab men may kiss one another on the cheek, left, right, and left again. Yet they will also shake hands upon meeting.
A handshake should be firm, the participants delivering a certain light force to the act, to express manliness and sincerity. What irks me is the limp handshake that one or two of my acquaintances will offer. Nothing is more disagreeable than to hold in one's hand the four soft digits and the flaccid thumb that an otherwise robust fellow can present as a sign of friendship. I would be most distrustful of a man who cannot deliver a firm handshake.
* * * * *
A compendium of images - most original, some not - words, and links, sometimes musical, gathered for the exclusive enjoyment of friends and relatives, some old, and some new.
