End of the year musings. So much to be thankful for. The sound of violin and viola that Rachel and Nick create, Rachel's face when she meets her students, Allen's beard, Mom's cheesecake (in spite of way too many calories), friends who e-mail from faraway home, keeping me part of their lives, the beautiful sun that seems to shine nearly every day, so far good health and a curious mind, my laptop which sustains me through good and bad writing days, our car that has two new tires, and libraries and museums everywhere.
The cusp tips though to some things I'm not thankful for. How could our government support waterboarding? Why haven't we signed the Kyoto Protocols? How dare the VA not provide the very best of care for returning vets. Everyday the newspaper reports violence, with gunfire a common solution, and the new year promises much talk about "the issues" in this presidential election year.
Yesterday we returned books to three libraries, and I saw homeless men sleeping behind the monumental sculptures on the grand boulevard leading to the Philadelphia Museum. It can dip down to 20 at night, yet some choose to live this way, I'm told. Free. They may choose to do so, but many suffer from mental illness as well. Are there enough beds in shelters?
We drove along the reservoir just off City Line and an older man, bundled up for winter, walked along the street, scattering bird seed as he ambled along the edge of the reservoir.
Generosity, compassion, kindness, peace. That's what I hope for the new year. And I wish good work days. Consideration for others. A sense of each day as a gift. Family time that nurtures each person. Appreciation for the wonderfully rich life that surrounds us and inspires us. OK and no boring movies. And maybe that my writing will go well. And if there is sadness in the coming year, which there will be, may it be surmounted in ways that heal the world.