Absent the Muse

It has been over a week since my last post.

I was honored to speak at the memorial gathering of a departed friend last weekend. The event was attended by a couple of hundred people, as the man and his family are well-known, and he had many achievements for us to commemorate. We feel greatly diminished when a friend departs this life, yet our personal sense of loss is of course nothing compared to that of spouse, children, and other family members. Who bravely carry on, in the warmth of his memory.

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A schoolmate of mine, from six decades ago, surprised me with a phone call today. He was in the area to visit his older sister, and will soon leave for his home in Australia. From there, he often visits the new republic of East Timor, where he is involved in work helping with that country's economic recovery from years of occupation and civil war. We would have met in person, were it not for time constraints. We hope there will be a next time.

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Last week we attended a concert at our younger granddaughter's high school. She was a member of the chorus. The kids really enjoy themselves at these events, particularly since it is so close to the end of the school year. We too, the old folks, enjoyed their singing. We also enjoyed the performance by a young violinist, a high school junior, who appears to be headed for a distinguished career in the concert halls of the world. He performed the Tchaikovsky concerto, just the first movement, and he did so very well, as did the orchestra.

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We leave in a few days for Britain on a long-planned vacation. The vacation includes a cruise to northern Spain, southwestern France, and one of the Channel Islands. I am especially looking forward to visiting Santiago de Compostela, and the shrine reputed to contain the remains of St James. I hope the weather in that part of the world is at least as agreeable as what we are experiencing in California.

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The Sounds of Age.

Oh, they come and go for the most part. A creak here, a snap there, when you least expect it. Joints, bone, cartilage, it could be anything. It's almost as though, like the Tin Woodman in "The Wizard of Oz", we need a drop or two of lubrication from time to time.

But what I find increasingly disturbing is this thing they call tinnitus, a persistent ringing in the ears. The sound of mating summer insects comes closest to describing it. At certain times one is more conscious of it than at others. It's best not to think about it, as thinking about it brings it on.

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Pleasures of the iPod

On my morning walks, my iPod is a great companion. Whether it is listening to the Gipsy Kings playing "A Mi Manera" or the "Florida Suite" by Frederick Delius, I find the music makes the exercise a good deal less tiresome.