Hello everyone,
I come bearing greetings from Oldbat. She wrote,

"I have been thinking about and following all my Cvh friends on-line since I've been here, (hospital/rehabilitation/rest) which is now close to three months.  Have also been wishing I could dredge up enough energy to get back on-line myself. But that hasn't happened.    

I've had to conserve the little energy I do have for some very unpleasant treatments and for my weekly visits to Karl who, thank God, continues to thrive.  

I miss my e-chats with Nouce, Jimmie, Xenia & NatR so much.  Please let them know that.   The good news is that I'm supposed to be sprung at the end of next week and am determined to make a real life for myself this time.  One that includes all my friends - virtual and actual, something that I have been unable to do since Karl had his stroke. Please pray that I will be given the strength and courage I will need to succeed this time!

Affectionately
Oldbat"

Secretary: Katherine:) - who also signs off Affectionately 

If you don't know the folk singer Stan Rogers, you should.  Many of his songs are rooted in this part of Nova Scotia where I live.  Get a recording of his song The Mary Ellen Carter".  Crank up the volume until the paint peels from the walls.  Crank it up loud enough to muffle the challenge of your "unpleasant treatments", turn it up loud enough so that your spirit is stirred and strength returns to your bones.  Play it until the hospital staff begs you to leave, BEGS you to leave.  And when you do leave, leave like the regal individual you are - leave like royalty reclaiming your life, your love, your domain. "Rise again! Rise again! So your name won't be lost to the knowledge of Men! " . I know it's not high class music, but for people in these parts, it's a full throated, beer bash ballad worthy of any call to life ever written. It's a common man's "Ode to Joy".  Play it - I will sing along with you from way down here. I will thump the table thunderously during every rousing chorus.  I can sing like hell when I want to, and the spirit of ife is upon me, and I'll sing my lungs out in honour of you, Oldbat, and in honour of Karl, and your lives of struggle and love.

There....I'm done, me lady.  I shall go over now to take Sarah for a drive along the coast. I shall think of you when I watch the gulls soaring over the Cape.  And when they shit on my car, I'll give them the finger - half in jest, half as a reasonable man's response to the inequities of life.  And I'll roll down the windows of our car, with Sarah slumped against my shoulder, and play the hell out of our Stan Rogers CD ....for you, dear, and for everyone else broken in body and spirit - Rise again, Rise again...

Jimmy P.

^{Good morning, everyone}

^{My regular computer has been in for repairs for the past week.  I have resurrected my older one which, like myself, is well past it's best before date and particularly tempermental in the mornings.  With luck, I'll be able to get this post written and delivered before my contrary technological friend here awakes to the fact that it is in fact working and immediately and spitefully shuts down.}

^{Katherine, I am really happy to hear that you are going on a trip in the good company of your sister. I wish you all the best. New country, new sights, and sounds, and experiences - new worlds really.  I hope the experience will be both rejuvenating and relaxing and provide an opportunity for you to let go of all your responsibilities. In terms of "nothing left to offer", from my own observations, particularly of late, that seems to be both an occupational, as well as life hazard compounded by stress, loneliness, and a kind of weariness that can take up residence in the marrow of your bones. There are times you need to let the world hold you, so that you might take a rest from trying to hold the world.  Sometimes, becuase our feet keep walking, however awkwardly, we feel we can still stand, when in fact the weight of our weariness is longing for a deep rest, to lie down and rest.  And just one final piece of advice ( I am particularly wise and ready to give advice for the first 8.5 minutes of each morning.  It's all down hill after that)).  You do not have to have anything to offer, you are allowed to not have answers, or comfort, or energy to offer.  Your friends and collegues and all those on this site love and treasure you for just being.  It's enough for them that you just are there - with them.  Let go of all the rest - and rest.}  

^{Frustrated, I want to hear more about your life in the wooods.  I am hoping to retrieve my good computer by tomorrow and will write again.  This one is starting to play one of its favourite tricks which is "hide the cursor".  It's other irritating game is "chase the cursor" where as soon as I think the cursor is settled and begin to type, the curson will randomly leap to another part of the scipt like a dog refusing to be caught and put back on a leash.}

^{All the best to all of you ...north, south, east, and west.  It is a bright sunny morning here, alovely fall day.  The trees are still.  One of my favourite memories is of being four or five and standing on the sidewalk of our little side street in the older section of Halifax.  Someone was burning leaves (which I guess you were allowed to do at that time).  I love that smell, like I love the sight and smell of salt water (which again you could see and smell in those days when the harbour was still visible from our street level view rather than, as now, from some tenth floor condo window.}

^{take care, everyone. Things change.}

^Jim

^Jim

Getting ready for work, I attempt to send Melinda Nolitha, a South African friend working in Austria, a message on WhatsApp. I didn’t think last night at 10, when I found her request, was good timing for Vienna.  In a minute, a reply: Good morning. Have a good day.

Put my godson Jonathan’s Amazon packages out on the porch. He forgot to change his mailing address (to where?) so UPS is picking them up—to take them where? He is in New Jersey (I think) training for some kind of chemistry job in Liberia.  

The young woman student housemate comes home at 7:15. She’s been with her boyfriend in a nearby town all night. Apparently her car, which I long ago sold to her father, is drivable, since the front fender smash up is visible and unrepaired. We usually don’t see each other.

Riding my bike to school, I feel a silent presence behind me. Suddenly, it’s a twelve-year old friend. Don’t you know, I say, that bike etiquette is to call out “On your right!” ?  OK, he says, on your right, and speeds past.

Pushing my bike up the final hill to the classroom building, I see a mockingbird feather on the pavement.

Over lunch, I will go to see Pablo, bringing him a fresh local golden delicious apple.

I open my computer, and you are all there.  May your days be blessed.

Nouce