Another one of our children left for college for the first time this past weekend. You’d think by the third time that college drop-off would get easier. In a way, it does. But, for the most part, it doesn’t. For a parent, drop off is a mixed bag. You’re happy that your children are happy.
A funny thing happened to me at the river today. I awoke at 3:30 am for a two-hour drive that would put my on the water at sunrise at a favorite spot. It’s small-bug season, and it’s one of my favorite times of the year to fly fish. Delicate presentations, small flies, and light lines
To paraphrase Hemingway, Covid-19 came into our family “gradually and then suddenly.” I’m not sure where I was when Mrs. T. told me that her two relatives, whom I’ll call A. and B., were at risk. A. had tested positive for the virus, was with fever, and had trouble breathing. And, most ominous: B. was
I cannot remember if it is week number eight or nine of the virus lock-down. But, I suppose, it really doesn’t matter. When most days feel largely the same, I’m not sure if marking time is that useful. On the home front, Mrs. T. put up a chores schedule, and assignments, on a white board.
On Friday morning, I was on a Zoom call with members of my parish men’s group. We used to meet every other week. We now convene electronically each Friday. Some of us are crazy-busy. Others, not so much. Many are in-between. We all agreed, however, that this was a Lent we would never forget. In
In a way, Saturday was business as usual. I met up with one of my fly-fishing buddies, and we hit a river in western Massachusetts. But, we also made sure to keep at least six feet away from each other. And, we talked about COVID-19, and our concerns for our parents. In a way, it