Fragile Memories

After opening some of the files on a fairly new thumbdrive yesterday, I discovered that a great number of my favorite photos were corrupted and irretrievable. There were several more photos that could be seen, but had large portions of them obliterated in grey or had changed color.

Most of the damaged files were relatively recent pictures, but a few were a couple of years older. There were two file folders of photos that could neither be accessed nor deleted because their names had changed to symbols that don’t make sense to my laptop’s operating system.

What is sadly ironic about the malfunction is that I wanted to retrieve images for today’s blog post about National Memory Day. Fortunately there were a great number of good files and some that I could salvage by cropping off the defects. At least the corrupted thumbdrive could be seen as a physical allegory for human memory.

The scientific field of human memory is a vast, fascinating topic. There are many relatively recent discoveries about how memories are created, how they are retrieved, and how they become altered each time we recall them. Indeed, these are interesting times to be a neuroscientist.

There are several factors that affect how well our ability to store and retrieve memories can work. Do we exercise our bodies enough? Do we enjoy working out puzzles or engage in intellectual pursuits? Do we eat balanced meals? Do we get enough good quality sleep? Our mental memory files can become corrupted through trauma, Alzheimer’s, or Dementia.

Like most people, I want to preserve the abilities of my brain to think and retain optimum memory function. I try my best to have good mental hygiene, but I realize that there are some factors beyond my control. Dementia is present in my family. My paternal grandmother suffered with it in her final years. My stepmother’s second stroke left her incapable of expressing herself by depriving her of the abilities to speak and to write.

Our memories of past events are not like photographs or videos. They are fluid and become altered through time and recollection. My friend Jonathan’s memories of a fun day-trip to Omaha are different than my memories of that same trip we took together. There’s no perceivable reason the memories are different because we traveled to Omaha in the same car, went to the same shopping mall, ate at the same restaurant, saw the same exhibits at the same zoo, and so forth.

We remember our day a little differently. For instance, at the zoo, Jonathan was captivated by the marine animals, particularly the sharks and rays. I was totally taken in by the primates, especially the chimpanzees and bonobos. Jonathan talked almost endlessly about the aquarium during the drive back home. My recollections of the apes were put on hold during the time I enjoyed Jonathan’s reactions to the fish. Even the act of traveling was different for us–I drove and he rode.

Even if we would have shot videos of our day, our videos would have turned out differently simply because of where we stood and walked. We could have recorded the same events, but there would be slightly different results due to our points of view and technical differences in our devices. If we would have made videos, Jonathan’s would have featured stingrays, while mine would have focused on the bonobos.

There are so many variables when we make and retrieve our memories. What emotions were felt when Jonathan’s memory was formed? What emotions were felt when his memory was retrieved? Did recalling the memory alter Jonathan’s emotional state? All of these factors affect how the memory was filed and then refiled in his brain.

Our memories, whether technological as in thumbdrives and other electronic circuitry or biologically in our brains are flexible, and vulnerable. Neither are they 100% accurate. Memory has a lot of wiggle-room.

Ciao
The Blue Jay of Happiness quotes Bob Dylan. “Take care of all your memories, for you cannot relive them.”

Equinoxes 2019

While waiting for a traffic signal to switch to green yesterday, I glanced at the SUV immediately ahead of my car. The word “Equinox” was on the endgate. I thought to myself, “Now there’s a little truck that’s relevant twice a year.”

How strange that the people in charge of assigning names at Chevrolet have chosen some names associated with astronomy for a few of their vehicles.  There was the “Nova” which was a fairly good car. Then, Chevrolet named their first sub-compact car the “Vega”. Experts said that it was a lemon worse than Ford’s Edsel.  Now there is the “Equinox”, which some people like and some don’t.  If anyone at General Motors is reading this and knows why the name was chosen, please tell me.

Today is one of the Earth’s two annual equinoxes. What does that have to do with Chevys? Only the name of one of their trucks and nothing else.

More to the point is that today signals the beginning of Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere, and the beginning of Spring, here in the Northern Hemisphere. As the late Robin Williams said, “Spring is nature’s way of saying ‘Let’s party!'”

Equinox is defined as the instant in time when the plane of a planet’s equator appears aligned with the center of the Sun. If you were standing on the Equator, the Sun would appear directly overhead. On Earth, this event happens twice per year–right around now and again around September 23rd.

There are Equinoxes on other planets. The most interesting and complicated Equinoxes are the ones on Uranus. This is so, because that planet’s axis of rotation is so radically tilted in relation to its orbital plane. Another interesting fact to remember about Uranus’ year, is that it is much longer than an Earth year because its orbit is much further away from the Sun. The most recent Uranian equinox happened in 2007 and the next one will occur in 2049. For many decades, our view of Uranus was of the planet’s southern hemisphere.

Another nifty aspect about Uranus has to do with its ring system. Astronomers noticed “ring plane crossings”. There were two of them in 2007 and one in 2008. Ring plane crossings are how the Planet Uranus and its rings appear to observers here on Earth. As Uranus approached its equinox, our planet, in our own solar orbit, crossed the plane of Uranus’ tilted rings. So, looking at Uranus through a good telescope, the rings would be seen edge-on.

Looking at Uranus today, shows us that it will be springtime in the northern hemisphere and autumn in the southern hemisphere of that planet for the next several years. (Regardless of Uranus’ ring plane alignment with our point of view.)

Anyway, I’ve digressed twice from the subject of today’s Vernal Equinox in the Earth’s Northern Hemisphere. However, I don’t need to explain today’s equinox because we’re already familiar with it. It’s just nice to know that we’re not the only planet in the Solar System that has equinoxes and somebody decided to name a truck after them.

Ciao
The Blue Jay of Happiness likes this passage by D.H. Lawrence:  “Oh, what a catastrophe for man when he cut himself off from the rhythm of the year, from his unison with the Sun and the Earth. Oh, what a catastrophe, what a maiming of love when it was a personal, merely personal feeling, taken away from the rising and the setting of the Sun, and cut off from the magic connection of the solstice and the equinox!”

Projecting (Double OpEd?)

Nebraska’s weather has finally started to be conducive to outdoors walking. With that in mind, my old friend Jorge said he had been cooped up in his truck all day and wanted to go for a stroll to Johnson Park via Norfolk’s new trail. Jorge said he wanted to blow off some emotional steam and walking seemed like a good way to do that.

We hadn’t even reached the trail-head when Jorge began grousing about Mike Pence, our moralistic Vice President. “I’ve done my best to keep quiet about ‘Mr. Sanctimonious’, but he just keeps bad-mouthing our community.”

I asked, “Now what has he done?”

“He made another one of his speeches to some sort of ‘moral committee’–I don’t know which one–but it just got to me. Kinda like the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“I know what you mean. It seems like Pence would like to throw us all in prison or religious conversion therapy if he ever gets his way. I try not to think about him too much.”

“I’m convinced that he is doing a whole lot of projecting of his own hidden inner fears onto the LGBT community.”

I replied, “I know the word ‘projection’ is big in pop-psychology and is probably misused a lot, but I think you’re onto something, Jorge.”

“A lot of folks believe that Pence isn’t entirely straight and maybe his sexual feelings really bother him, so he’s got to put on the public face of being this big, gruff, morally straight guy. Well, Pence is a very powerful, influential guy with a strong network of like-minded, influential people. He’s pretty scary.”

“I don’t know whether or not Pence is one of us or is just acting mean-spirited, but this projection idea needs to be explored by psychological experts.”

“Yes, I’m curious about what they might have to say about his extremely negative opinions about people like us.”

My friend appeared to have calmed down considerably. Maybe talking about his worry with a like-minded pal helped. Anyway, we continued walking in peaceful silence for a few minutes. Then, Jorge spoke up again.

“I know Pence is a sore spot for both of us, but I’ve been thinking about him and projection a lot. Trucking gives me a lot of time to do that. Anyway, if it turns out that Pence isn’t queer, maybe he’s just afraid of life, in general.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It looks like he holds a lot of himself back and uses moralizing as a smokescreen to distract people. Maybe he sees how our community has empowered itself over the past several years by loving ourselves. Instead of being happy for us, maybe he feels very threatened by us for some reason.”

“So, are you saying his anti-gay political opinions might be projections of his fear about people who are unafraid of their true natures and life?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve thought about my own observations about others and myself. It seems like what we say and do is a projection of our so-called realities. People who are in positions of power, who haven’t done the hard work of introspection can inflict their own insecurities onto their underlings and cause a lot of misery.”

“Exactamento! There are a lot of over-paid people, who seem to have serious morality issues, making decisions that affect everybody else.”

“That’s pretty much the entire history of global politics. I’d say a lot of them are in a state of constant existential crisis mode and take it out on the rest of us.”

“…and greed.”

“Yes, public existential crises and greed are a dangerous combination. Maybe that will be my new pet theory about moralism and politics.”

My friend replied, “For a long time, I’ve thought that a lot of the people who become professional politicians manifest a boatload of personal insecurities and control issues. They find a sticky insecurity that bothers them and many others then project it onto scapegoats. There seems to be almost complete disrespect of people…the politicians’ fellow-travelers and the scapegoats.”

“Jorge, I couldn’t have said it better.”

Ciao
The Blue Jay of Happiness ponders something from the neoshamanistic Toltec spiritualist Miguel Angel Ruiz. “Don’t Take Anything Personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.”

Seeking Knowledge

I’ve sometimes wondered about mathematics and science teachers. They have acquired the knowledge and skills to do difficult things that have great commercial and practical value, yet they work as underpaid public school teachers.

Yesterday, I thought about the algebra teacher at my old junior high school in Lincoln, Nebraska and wondered if he’s still alive. I think he was probably the smartest person I’ve ever known. Mr. Mercer was one of those people who can write complex equations on large blackboards and explain what each integer means, why it’s necessary, and how it works. They explain each number while writing it. To me, that is some amazing multi-tasking.

It seemed odd that someone of Mercer’s genius-level knowledge and skills decided to teach junior high level mathematics at a nondescript school in Nebraska. I wish I wouldn’t have been so in awe of him, otherwise I would have walked up to Mr. Mercer and interviewed him for the school’s monthly newspaper. As a budding journalist, I noticed that among his many astute predictions was that computer science would dominate civilization within the next few decades. (It was 1967 when he made that prediction.)

It’s not that Mercer was a gruff, imposing man; it was because I was shy. (I chose journalism as a way to learn how to get over my shyness.) The 20/20 hindsight provided by current knowledge is what made me regret never interviewing the mathematician. Because of my inexperience, I’ll never know why Mr. Mercer chose to teach kids instead of working in aerospace or scientific research.

“Never stop fighting until you arrive at your destined place–that is, the unique you. Have an aim in life, continuously acquire knowledge, work hard, and have perseverance to realise the great life.”–former President of India A.P.J. Abdul Kalam

The acquisition of knowledge is a continuous habit that is not only pleasurable by its own merits, but is a tool to use towards a more productive, satisfying life. In fact, knowledge is one of the most powerful tools to have at our disposal. It takes knowledge in order to learn that hard work and perseverance are also important for the attainment of a great life. The late, former Indian President was proof of that wisdom.

Kalam was born in 1931 into very humble circumstances. As a child, he had to sell newspapers to supplement the family income. In school, he was an average pupil but had a strong love of learning. His best subject was mathematics. Kalam eventually graduated in physics at the University of Madras, then went on to study aerospace at the Madras Institute of Technology.

He began his professional career as a scientist for India’s “Defence Research and Development Organization division of the Aeronautical Development Establishment.” In 1969, Kalam was transferred to ISRO, the Indian Space Research Organization. He was Project Director for India’s first Satellite Launch Vehicle.

Kalam continued his brilliant scientific career until his election as India’s eleventh President from 2002 until 2007. During his term of office, Kalam was known as “The People’s President”.

Throughout his life, Kalam personified the importance of completing school then continuing to widen one’s scope of knowledge. He knew that knowledge is important in order to enhance the overall quality of life for himself and others.

What we need to remember is that we must have knowledge and know other people who also have knowledge. Side with reason and knowledge if we want to avoid defeat. There is a caution to remember: Don’t be the person who doesn’t think that she/he doesn’t know. A great many people believe they know, even though they know nothing. This makes them ignorant of what they need to know in order to truly know themselves. Therefore, they do not know what they need to investigate. I hope you will always remain curious.

Ciao
The Blue Jay of Happiness quotes the late, great Stephen Hawking. “Scientists have become the bearers of the torch of discovery in our quest for knowledge.”

So Much Hurrying

The clinic appointment was 11:00 AM on the opposite part of town. I left home early because these days I do not like to hurry. Halfway to the destination, a slow-moving freight train approached the street crossing and the warning signals began flashing and ringing. I’d have to wait.

It seems that whenever I must be to a certain place by a certain time, a train holds me up. This is one reason I left for the health appointment early. However, this time, the train was perhaps three times longer than usual and it was traveling slower than normal. I could feel some anxiety building tension in my muscles.

After ten-minutes of waiting for the train to pass, car traffic could move again. The anxious feeling of the need to hurry subsided somewhat, but was still with me as I drove into the clinic parking lot. I made it to the appointment with a few minutes to spare.

Then I sat back in the waiting room to wait for the doctor to see me. Then I waited and waited some more. I had hurried to the clinic in order to wait for a few minutes of time with the doctor. This was such a stereotypical scenario that I smiled at the cliché.

It reminded me of working in radio. Every half-hour was a new deadline. There is so much hurrying up and timing, then there was the sitting around waiting for the commercial breaks to end so I could talk or play some music. Then it was waiting for the songs to end so I could back-announce them. That hurry up and wait was part of the artisan-ship of the job.

There’s a sort of Zen-like feeling when solo producing your own show on the fly with plenty of ad-libbing. If there was breaking news or severe weather, the tempo increased. There was no time to plan and analyze the next moves. It was hyper-paced working by “instinct” and habit. Program elements seemed to automatically fall into place. Broadcasting during a tornado warning is hurrying with a purpose. When the end of a severe weather shift arrived, there was a real, solid sense of accomplishment and deep satisfaction with a job well-done.

The particular pride in the fast-pace of live radio is missing with today’s automated and automation assisted broadcasting. It was the minute by minute, make it or break it aspect in real-time production of live broadcasting that yielded immense job-satisfaction. Now, for better or worse, there are virtual computer automation programs that take over most of the technical aspects of announcing.

It’s strange that hurrying to bide my time in a clinic waiting room triggered fond memories of radio. There is no going back to those days of never-ending deadlines, last-moment changes, plugging in tape cartridge recordings of commercials, cueing up vinyl records during breaks, and lots of ad-libbing.

It’s not so strange that pleasant reminiscing of a satisfying past should happen on a slow-paced Sunday. Thanks for tuning in and indulging my nostalgia today.

Ciao
The Blue Jay of Happiness quotes the 19th century Russian writer Ivan Turgenev “In the end, nature is inexorable: it has no reason to hurry and, sooner or later, it takes what belongs to it. Unconsciously and inflexibly obedient to its own laws, it doesn’t know art, just as it doesn’t know freedom, just as it doesn’t know goodness.”

The Evacuation (long)

You might describe the gathering as a mandatory party that nobody wanted or planned to attend. This past Thursday, the powers that be in charge of Norfolk, Nebraska city government ordered a mandatory evacuation for approximately one-third of the town.

The reason was that widespread flooding was imminent and very possible due to severe flooding across some of the Great Plains states–notably Minnesota, Iowa, South Dakota, and Nebraska. This took place at about the same time as the so-called “Bomb Cyclone” was dumping snow on Colorado. However, what took place here in the Upper Midwest was the exact opposite of what Colorado was receiving. We were very rapidly losing our heavy snow-cover to very heavy rain and warmer than usual temperatures. All of this excess liquid water on top of frozen ground was a recipe for the recent catastrophic flooding.

Norfolk is located in a relatively low-lying part of Northeast Nebraska. We have a wide river, The Elkhorn,  that meanders past the southern city limits. There is a smaller tributary, the North Fork of the Elkhorn that passes through the town. It is the tributary that is directly adjacent to my back yard. Due to some historically severe flooding in the past, particularly in 1944, a flood control system was built to prevent future severe flooding disasters. A flood control bypass channel on Norfolk’s eastern city limits was constructed that diverts water from the southern portion of the North Fork of the Elkhorn that passes near downtown and near my house. That section of the tributary is bounded by mechanical “gates” that control river current. The northern “gate” prevents water from entering the downtown section when closed. The southern “gate” prevents backwash when the flood channel and main Elkhorn river are above flood stage.

The historical volume of flood waters to the North of Norfolk that drained into the North Fork had caused the bypass diversion channel to fill nearly to capacity. There was nowhere for the water to go because the main Elkhorn River was already well above its banks. This immense amount of water threatened to overflow the levee that protects the eastern third of the city. If you know anything about levees, you know that they erode quickly when flood waters begin flowing over the top. This was the situation this Thursday. Water was only inches from the top of the levee and more water was flowing into the system from up north. Hence, the mandatory evacuation order was issued.

I knew about the levee crisis, plus I was very concerned about the portion of the channel that was near bank-full near my back door. If the flood control system failed, anyone remaining in eastern Norfolk risked death. Even if everybody evacuated, there would be an incredible amount of property damage.

So, at about 11:00 Thursday morning I packed a few essentials into the trunk of the ol’ Camry and drove away to one of the assigned evacuation centers located on higher ground in the western part of Norfolk. The closest, most convenient location was BelAir Elementary School which is located on the side of a tall hill.

The evacuation was a brand new experience for me, so even though I hated to leave my little house to the fate of an enormous flood from the levee or “minor” basement intrusive flooding from the channel near my back yard, I decided to make the most of the school situation. After checking in with a worker using the city database of residents, I settled at one of the school’s lunchroom tables.

The social atmosphere of the lunchroom was a mix of bewilderment and boredom. I soon blended into the blank-stare feeling because of the sense of isolation from information and the unfamiliar venue–an elementary school. Although all of the evacuees were from my part of town, all of them were total strangers to me. There being no plan to inform nor entertain us, people resorted to twiddling with their mobile phones or tablets. I soon followed suit. There was WiFi available for such purposes as social media and weather sites, but there was no general access to the Internet due to the fact that we were in a school. I could access email, Facebook, and weather, but nothing else. The only outside news sources were land base television and radio.

Half an hour after my arrival, the volunteers in charge of the evacuation center requested “able-bodied” people to help unload a truck full of blankets and bedding provided by the “Orphan Grain Train”. The Norfolk-based organization usually helps in disasters and famines around the world but is almost never needed in its home city. Soon a line of us able-bodied people lined up behind the supply truck in order to pass the boxes from one to another in bucket brigade fashion. I was second in line. The truck unloading took about 15-minutes. The physical portion of the day’s “entertainment” was done. Then it was back to blank-stares and boredom for everyone.

The next event was lunch. There was a bevy of sandwiches from nearly every chain fast-food restaurant and at least one supermarket. The vittles were arrayed buffet-style on tables along with chips, raw veggies and soft drinks. All of this was free of charge. I had a Subway veggie sub and onion with sour cream potato chips and plain water. As it turned out, lunch morphed into becoming the afternoon entertainment. Evacuees continually visited the buffet table for more sandwiches and snacks. I held back, because I’m trying to watch my weight. Then at around 2:30, a stack of a dozen large pizzas from Dominos arrived. I did enjoy one large slice of cheese pizza because–why not?

Meantime, my back and derrière were in pain after sitting at the child-size cafeteria table for much of the afternoon. Also, my tablet needed charging, so I sat on a padded wrestling mat near some electrical wall outlets. There, I became acquainted with Bert, an older man who lives two blocks away from me on the same street. Finally, I could enjoy some small-talk and maybe explore the possibility of a new friendship.

Perhaps after an hour of visiting with Bert, a volunteer spoke over the intercom that it was time to serve supper. There would be more sandwiches, extras, drinks, and deserts. Bert and I exchanged puzzled glances and wondered who had room for still more food. Well, both of us soon queued up with everybody else like sheep to the slaughter. Why not have just a little something to tide us over until breakfast? After our snack, Bert decided to lay down and go to sleep on the mat.

After mingling with other evacuees and volunteer staffers, I returned to the wrestling mat to decompress. A very young boy stopped by the wrestling mat and insisted that I play a game of plastic disks and slots similar to “Plinko”.

After the child wandered off in search of another adult playing partner, I decided to check out my sleeping area. I brought my devices, a stadium parka, and an oversize pillow from home to my temporary “bedroom”. They assigned me to “Mrs, Crey’s Fourth Grade” classroom. My room mates were a young family from northeastern Norfolk. After some brief, polite smalltalk it was time for sleeping.

I was provided with a black plastic air mattress and one of the “Orphan Grain Train” blankets. The peculiarly unfamiliar “bedroom”, along with having complete strangers as room mates conspired with hallway sounds, and strong winds howling outside the window to keep me awake. I tried concentrating on counting sheep as a distraction. That attempt failed and morphed into worrying about the possible fate of my little house and the possible loss of almost everything I own. I philosophically “let go” of the worst-case scenario, but it kept creeping back into the mind. Just as I was finally beginning to drift to sleep, I experienced an attack of GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease). This is because I ate too much and too close to bedtime. Normally, I know better not to do this, but the unfamiliar surroundings and related stress lessened my usual mindfulness regarding food.

There was no way of laying down to sleep without the risk of serious choking, so I struggled off of the air mattress, put on my shoes and eyeglasses then left the the fourth grade classroom.

That’s when I met Carole–a woman about ten years older than me. She said she was also suffering from an attack of GERD so she settled into sitting against the wall opposite from the boys and girls restrooms. Carole and I hit it off right away. Before long, we were discussing existentialism and who our favorite modern philosophers are. She convinced me to read more of Albert Camus’ writings, while I encouraged Carole to give Friedrich Nietzsche another try. But the conversation kept coming back to existentialism.

We both felt safe from GERD and sleepy. So Carole tucked in near the restrooms, and I returned to Mrs. Crey’s Fourth Grade room. With thoughts of Albert Camus on my mind, I was finally able to drift off to sleep.

Then, at 4:00 AM, sharp, I awakened, looked at my wristwatch, and felt cold, cramping pain on my left leg. Much of the air in the mattress had managed to escape–leaving me lying on the hard, cold floor tiles of Mrs. Crey’s classroom. So, I got up and wandered into the hallway in search of coffee. There were a few other early-risers whose air mattresses had also deflated, including Carole. Soon we were eating still more sandwiches, fruit, and some breakfast-type foods.

Near the end of breakfast, we received news that the flood waters had begun to recede. Norfolk officials had decided to cancel the evacuation as of 9:00 AM. We were free to return home at any time. This is when my anxiety flared up. Soon I would find out if my house had become waterlogged or if it had somehow escaped damage. It was the first time
in my life that I was afraid to go home. I had to find out soon because I was cranky and tired from lack of sleep and an excess of anxious thoughts.

I drove the ol’ Camry towards home; made it to my street; and rounded the final curve. There it was, home sweet home. It was on dry ground with no signs that any flood waters had approached it. The feelings of relief were epic. Norfolk’s Flood Control System had worked again. After switching off the car’s engine, I dashed to the front door; strolled in; and felt the joy of being home again.

Ciao

The Blue Jay of Happiness quotes Canadian scientist and policy analyst Vaclav Smil. “People shouldn’t be living in certain places – on earthquake faults or on flood plains. But they do, and there are consequences.”

Amazing Vase …Floral Friday

I examined the off-white Ewer-type pitcher vase at the Goodwill Store and muttered to myself, “That’s an amazing vase.” My friend Melissa, who was browsing the women’s tops rack nearby, began giggling.

I asked her what was so amusing. She replied that I had made a pun when I described the pitcher vase. She thought I had said, “Amazing Grace” and wondered why I’d say the name of a song. Then she noticed I was holding a vase and understood what I’d actually said.

I thanked Melissa for inadvertently supplying the title of my next Floral Friday post.

The off-white pitcher vase is just one container to earn the description, “amazing vase”. It is a relic of the late 1960s that was manufactured for the Lane Furniture Company–the same people who make “Lane Chests”. The vase is in like-new condition but was priced at the super-low, thrift store price of $5.

I brought the amazing vase home and washed it. Then I created a 1960s inspired psychedelic mix of various flowers for it.

A spray of bright blue blossoms fills the next amazing vase. This one was crafted and sold in Modra, Slovakia. A friend brought it back as a gift because I “house sat” his apartment while he visited his family in that city.

The third amazing vase is a small art glass piece with embedded confetti colors. It has been sitting on a window sill catching sun-rays. I brought it down to clean it, then decided to create a simple solitaire with a poppy bloom to match the glass flower at the base of the hand-blown vase.

Ciao
The Blue Jay of Happiness notes that this blogger has taken Jack Kerouac’s advise to heart. “Write in recollection and amazement for yourself.”