If You Understand, or If You Don’t

Remembering the time in the dorm, late spring 95, on a 3-way call with Pam and Karen having a really good chat and smiling, when I loaded my CD player, put earbud to phone, and played part of Enigma’s “The Dream of the Dolphin”, and they loved it. That was a special moment in time.

I miss those ladies.

If you understand,
Or if you don’t.
If you believe,
Or if you doubt.
Remember the shaman
When he used to say,
“Man is the dream of the dolphin”

Enigma: “The Dream of the Dolphin” (The Cross of Changes, 1993)

I miss knowing Pam is walking on this earth. I hope her family has picked up the pieces and continued walking for her.

As long as someone remembers, we live.


There is a Spirit Halloween open in every town. I refuse to believe that there’s a global supply chain shortage. There is only the reticence of retailers to pay what the middle-men are charging, because the price from their suppliers has gone up to reflect reality.

But you can still get your spooky plastic spider skeletons.

Remember: the cause of inflation is the consumer fear that there’s a shortage.

Missing 8

Requiescat In Pace, Jeremy Howze, 1971-2021.

As I was writing my last post a month ago, my eldest cousin Jeremy was hours away from his last breath. He passed that evening from complications due to COVID-19. He leaves behind his wife Shanelle, daughter Paige, and stepson. He is preceded by his father Danny, stepmother Sally, and first wife April. He leaves us all.

He was cantankerous and had a wild streak. Following in his father’s footsteps, he was a great guy to be around, as long as you were in on the joke. He was the asshole joker that we all loved regardless.

I have so much to say, but I just can’t say it. The whole thing was completely avoidable. Completely.

I’ll miss knowing he’s out there giving someone a hard time.

Notes from a Pandemic

Drive like there is a shortage of parts
Travel like there are no rental cars
Eat like the store shelves are thin
Dine out like the staff has no insurance
Conserve as if the grid could fail
Share as if the neighbors have nothing
Exercise as though the ERs are infectious
Mask up as though the ICUs are full
Call like they can’t speak after tonight
Love like they are gone tomorrow

Parable of the Flood

A man and his home are under threat of a terrible flood. As the nearby river overflows its banks and fills his yard, the man’s neighbors come by on a tractor and ask if he would evacuate with them.

“No thanks,” he answers, “I believe God will save me.”

His neighbors nod and drive away to high ground.

The water surges and floods into his home. A rescue team powers up in a boat and tells him to evacuate with them.

“No,” he answers again, “I believe God will save me!”

The rescuers boat downriver to look for more evacuees.

The flood rages on to reach the ceiling, and the man climbs up onto his roof. A helicopter flies over and they lower a rope and a basket.

“God will save me!” he shouts as he pushes the basket away.

The helicopter lifts off to look for more stranded people.

Ultimately, the river crests over his roof and the man washes away and fatally drowns.

He gets to the gates of heaven and pleads, “God, why did you not save me? Am I not faithful? I believed you would save me!”

God raises his hands and tells the man, “I sent you a tractor, a boat, and a helicopter, but still you refused my help. Your boastful pride brought you here.”

As more of my friends and family fall to this terrible COVID-19 flood, I am reminded of this parable. Please, don’t decline the help; get vaccinated. With the mutations raging in the wild and washing over our homes, that vaccine makes all the difference between feeling ill for a few days — and death.

Please. Don’t be prideful.