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This post is solid, learned a lot from it. By the way, I've been playing around with an AI Tarot platform lately, it can design custom decks and do readings, pretty fun stuff. The site is https://tarotai.art/ if anyone's curious. Anyway, good read, keep it up.

Ah, la famiglia! I learned about the impact of anger from my father, deference and a bit of rebellion from my mother, but how to enjoy life and live it well from my grandparents, especially my father's parents. When I discovered after my father died that my maternal grandpa (who taught me Italian history...Cavour, Garibaldi etc..to go along with Adams and Jefferson) had sexually abused my mother, the sadness was great in my heart. When I read the results of my 23andMe ancestry, or receive communications from Francesco, an English speaking historian from my ancestral village of Fanano in Emilia, I wonder if this diversity of family impacts goes all the way back to my Etruscan and Cis-Alpine Celtic Liguri ancestors, none of whose stories I know. (Fanano and my heritage goes back all that way...the town was founded c. 300 BCE but wasn't named Fanano (after a Roman Centurion name Fananus from Mutina...our Modena..until the 200's CE. The furthest I have been able to go back via stories and blood was to my great, great grandfather Silvestrone, named after the saint of the parochial church, Silvestro. Reputedly, he was famous...they named a street Via Bellettini (as spelled pre-Ellis Island) after him, but all I have been able to find out is that he fathered over 20 children via four wives who all died in childbirth and was reputedly very pious. And I know my grandfather Nazzareno used to carry a gun, and once shot at a "ghost" in the Fanano cemetery one night, but was illiterate when he arrived here, was a coal miner much of his life from age 9 onward, and was reputedly very strong. My grandma nevcer called him Nazzareno, but called him Lazar (i.e. Lazarus) because he survived being run over by a truck, which left tire prints on his torso, and he was not expected to live. But did. One begins to understand how wonder stories (GK mythoi) develop over the years and centuries. I am who I am because of all of this, but what sense of astonishment and courage in my life comes especially from growing up in the presence of my grandmother Carmelina. My life, I have come to think now that I am as old as she was when she was my grandmother, would have been so different without her. Thanks, caro, for the invitation to see my life with and without all the definitions of that surprisingly loosely defined word "reason."

Thanks for the piece on family history which expands into societal obligation. You may not know that Malinda, my wife, was told she could be in the Daughters of the Revolution. Great stuff on reparation and generational guilt. Giving money as reparations seems like a reasonable concept but money or any gift is an apology. Although that's not improper, there's a better alternative. "Give someone food and it will soon be gone. Teach them to farm and you feed them for a lifetime."

Josie and I were hiking in Yosemite when a group of black students passed us, and I realized how rare it is to see that. Young white and suburban, common. Black inner city, rare. Of course, I didn't grow up black and poor, but I did grow up in a city. I was never on a farm or national park and couldn't imagine, except for TV, what the experience of them was. My first day in college in Champaign, I was overwhelmed by the simplicity of a small town. I imagine growing up in the inner city might never give a taste of anywhere else.

Opportunity for wealthy children is like orange juice in the morning, always there if you want it. I grew up in Chicago and went to school in an old building. But at least we had a glimpse of opportunity. Inner city schools offer little for people who need it most.

Rather than give money which will eventually be spent, build good schools with modern facilities and equipment. Pay well for good teachers and provide outreach to involve parents. And make sure these doors to opportunity can never be closed by political avarice.

James Stewart.

I just finished “Card Carrying”. What a good story! Thanks.

I'm loving these P.erspectives From the Precipice! Just asked my daughter in law to knit me a Melt The Ice Cap which i will wear to that weekly demonstration.

"Paperless" is priceless. Made me laugh out loud, such a precious event. Thank you.

Hey my friend whom I have known and loved longer than any of my other friends, your poem moved me deeply in a variety of ways culminating in the aching tenderness of the last line.

November and December have been tough for me...lots of loss, loss of every kind. Hard-to-hear stories. Too much emeritus expectations. Body-age decrepitude advancements. All mixed, yes, yes, with graces interspersed...including izakaya with friends, gallery finds, and films like Hamnet, Sentimental Value, and even that surreal punch in the face Bugonia, which at the very least totally dislodged me a few days from thinking/feeling about anything slithering out of DC, a brief respite.

January 6 is interesting to me...4 people I am very close to celebrate their birthdays that day, and for my two friends in Sankt Peterburg, that is their Christmas Eve. Now the day is so fouled by the fevered goons under the leadership of That Who Shall Not Be Named, an beautifully wrought narrative in you poem, that I have to do spiritual work to even live through the day. Your words helped me with that immensely. xx Marco

Re “Paperless”.

Tell me about it! I spent hours this morning dealing with Paypal, TIAA, and Farmers insurance, all of whom required a phone call because my online accounts couldn’t answer some simple questions like “cancel my account,” “where’s my quarterly statement?” and “where’s my fucking refund?” Not to mention 8-factor (I kid you not) authentication for my online social security account.

But, like your friend and her capital gains, I was able to locate the hard copies of my divorce papers to find out why my ex withdrew money from my retirement account prior to 2012, showing up in the State of New York unclaimed funds site.

How did we ever find time to deal with this caca when we had kids and worked full-time? Clearly, life has gotten more complicated not easier. Not to mention, their menus have changed.

The Louvre and Grand Canyon selfies? Drives me nuts, especially the former every time I go to an art museum. It must reflect an inability to live in the moment. Not to brag but I never take photos which is made easier because I refuse to buy a smart phone. Any photos I post on Facebook (a glaring weakness on my part) are stolen.

As for my legacy, I’ve pondered writing something to be read at my memorial (if there is one) but decided against it. I have, however, requested in my “Almost Dead Tim” folder that “Schlafe, mein Liebster” from Bach’s Christmas Oratorio, part 2 be played on my death bed. That’s for me, not them!

I never imagined the similarities between football and dance but your comparison is great fun. I love the illustration of choreography and a football play! Not to mention, the ancient Greeks battling like a team. Reminds me when I was appointed drill master of my nascent Boy Scout troupe. I loved ordering my fellow Scouts around the floor, clearly savoring my future career as a conductor.