And a time to every purpose, under heaven …

It took Pete Seeger and The Byrds to put a few verses from Ecclesiastes into perspective for many of us:

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

So it would seem for the contents of last week’s letter.

April 24, 2017

Ellen/Reid: By the time you open this, Ellen, surgery on your arm will be done and you’ll be all sewed up, good as new. Good for the dermatologist to catch it in the apparent early stages. There’s nothing wrong with check ups every three months. I’m still on that quarterly regimen, too, as is your mother and your uncle. Reid, I know Tim hit you hard about a skin check up but really, get in since this insidious beast can lurk around almost unseen. Almost the entire family has had melanoma. So please, get checked.

It rained all day yesterday around here and still is this morning. I didn’t realize how much of a downpour we had until I brought up the digital Charlotte Observer. Apparently some neighborhoods were badly flooded and are still out of power. The little creek behind the house is bank full. I guess it’s good for the reservoirs but it washes all the litter into them.

It’s a relief in a lot of ways that the Road King is nearly gone. I’m quite fine with it. It was just time. Not my favorite of all the Harleys I’ve had and maybe if it was the old Heritage Softail then there might still be a bike in the garage. But there’s not and that is just great. The guy who bought it was excited and he picks it up sometime in the next couple of days if the rain stops.


The Road King needed a new owner who could put the bike through its deserved paces. And it got one in a great young guy named Matt.

We didn’t haggle much on the price, and I threw in lots of misc. gear like a cover and tour pack and a jacket and cleaning supplies and a helmet and some Harley tees just to be rid of stuff. I’ll use some of the proceeds to recover the kitchen cabinets, maybe re-carpet the place and buy tickets to see you goons. Whatever is left will go to my trek in Spain this fall. I’ve started to go to weekly coffees about how to plan for the Camino de Santiago. Since I’m not the planner extraordinaire, even a few tips will get me down the road.

Ellen, I’m close to a ticket for your graduation. Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with me visiting since you guys will need to be in a motel? You may not need me as a fifth wheel so help me make the call. Why aren’t they having the graduation there on campus? Wouldn’t that be the normal thing? I don’t know how you handle all the visitors you get. Reid, give me a couple of dates that work for you and Liz to have me visit Chicago. Let’s go to a Cubs or White Sox game.

At 11:00 this morning I see the doctor. Things are going fine, knock on wood. Antsy to get the rehab behind me but need to keep reminding myself not to overdo it. Got a nasty taste of that yesterday when I tried to heft a box of leftover Harley chrome parts that were part of the deal. Ouch. Gotta let the heavy weights go. There are a bunch of questions I’ve got for the surgeon in terms of rehab, normal healing, stitches popping, reoccurrence, that sort of thing. But I’ve been walking, albeit slowly, 2-3-4 miles and have felt no ill effects. There sure is on helluva lot of swelling, though. But it’s getting better day by day.

I get on a bus late this Friday night to cavalcade to the People’s Climate March in Washington, D.C. An email came through about it and it occurred to me I can either watch from the sidelines or put my money where my mouth is. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually participated in something like this. Back in the ‘70s I took part in some anti-Viet Nam war protests but those were localized in Lincoln, Nebraska. This Trump guy is a just a pure idiot, plain and simple. An essentially bad man to his core. He’s just so inane (I feel bad for his wife). Interesting that psychiatrists en masse are piling on his mental issues. Of course, they might say the same about me.

Okay, the repairman comes here shortly to fix a microwave that’s on the blink and to look at a drier that won’t shift into final spin mode. The microwave is a must-fix so I can nuke my coffee. I know you’re dead set against nuked coffee, Reid, but that’s not how we do it down he’ah.

Love, Dad


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