Circle of Life

I've mentioned that we feed the neighborhood squirrels peanuts we buy at BJ's. We grab three five-pound bags of peanuts every couple of weeks and toss them by the handful out the backdoor of our house into the yard, between the stoop and the garage.

We attract quite a few squirrels, some more forward than others who are willing to take peanuts out of my hand or climb up on the handle of the screen door to attract our attention. We also draw quite a crowd of bluejays and crows, both of whom also enjoy peanuts. 

I made a disturbing discovery yesterday evening while putting the newspapers into the recycling bin. Atop the garage was a squirrel carcass. It took me a moment to get it off the roof and into a plastic bag for disposal and then I racked my brain thinking about what had happened. 

This morning I had the confirmation of my theory: a HUGE hawk was sitting on the handrail of the rear fire stairs, staring through the kitchen window and curtains, looking at me. Feeding the squirrels is also feeding the animals that feed off the squirrels. 
-bill kenny  

Life Goes On

With so much going on in the world and so much of it going wrong, I decided I could use a break from all the buzzing and head noise and so could you.

You're welcome to tell yourself your own John Lennon lyric punchline.
-bill kenny

Life Goes On

Somewhere last week, I lost track of almost all the days in it. I've had this happen before and have put it down to 'getting old' but that doesn't actually make sense since I've lived through all the days, I just didn't seem to get any of 'em on me.

The most memorable item as best as I can recall was how we will celebrate Thanksgiving (and by extension, Christmas) this year. My wife and I have two children who are, in every sense of the word, adults themselves, though in recent years I've developed a vision problem that precludes my successfully seeing them with my heart as anything other than as they once were.

I have memories of my son, Patrick, now 37, being no more than two or so when I'd pick him up to put him in his backseat car seat in our BWW 518 while cheering 'nur Patrick!' to which he shouted in return, 'nur Daddy!' It was always a pep club rally in the garage behind Ahornstrasse 67, Offenbach am Main. Zwei Deppen aber glucklich.

Michelle, our daughter, a proud graduate of Eastern Connecticut State University, would (back in the day) balance herself on my right arm as I held her up so she could see herself as a tiny toddler in our bathroom mirror while we (her brother and I) serenaded her with 'How Much is that Baby in the Mirror' to the tune of some other song whose name I've forgotten, as she peered solemnly into the mirror and then slowly smiled when she realized the baby she was seeing was herself. I smiled because the song was one of the ways I obliquely introduced English as a language into my children's lives.

And now, part and parcel of all the days I don't recall, our family which went from two to three to four and then down to three is back to two again and I'm feeling sorry for myself even though I did my job as a dad (and will testify to that effect in court) and should be happy our children are, themselves, adults with their own lives.

My wife, whose country and culture have no formal Thanksgiving holiday is the architect for every reason I have to be thankful for every day, even the days that have rushed by, unheeding and unmindful. The moments that I thought I'd remember have so often, too often, been joined by all of those now lost to me forever. 

And though I've always tried to move as quickly through life as it has through me, I've not been as successful as I could and should have been. And yet, somehow, the days I'll remember all my life are those of miracles and wonder and all of those seem to involve, and revolve around, those I love.
-bill kenny