Just before 7:00

Sunday

24 December 2017

— Johs and Holly sound asleep.

Good Morning All, 

The sun will not be up until 8:38, over an our and a half away. My cat Skype is perched on my lap (she is not a sitter), her front paws kneading my left thigh and her purr box working overtime. She and her tail are not to tickled that I am insisting upon tapping at these keys. 

My chilluns, after long journeys across the Great Waters, are snug in their beds. It’s funny how I always semi-forget what a cosy feeling it is to be up and about while one’s family sleeps safely in other rooms under the same roof.

Yesterday, the house, excluding the chaos in and around this desk, was absolutely  up to snuff by the time I went to fetch Johs at Ringsted Station at 3:30. We dropped his luggage back here and then set off for the airport, chatting about this and that and everything else the while. Some Trump, but not too much, and with more optimism that his days are numbered. Some about Helen’s mother and sister coming down to Washington for the holidays. And some like gentle surf along the shore, though thanks to my new roof rack and a gale-force wind, we had to talk louder than usual to overcome the wind tunnel effect.

At Kaastrup, when Holly came through the final doors not much after 5:00, Johs and I each had our two Danish flags waving, and she immortalized us with a snap. Lots more chatter on the way home, including excitement about Norman’s and Jo Ann’s moving to a new house in Barre at the end of the month; who was feeding Holly’s cat Cardigan; and Holly and Ryan’s many adventures back on her birthday on the 21st.

Johs also happened to mention that on his flight someone let off the absolute worst fart he had ever encountered. Including his own. The person did not identify him or herself, understandably, and when Johs could not detect anyone looking more guilty than usual, he considered notifying a stewardess of the possibility of a gas leak in the fuselage. (Which, in a manner of speaking, it was.)

Maybe I should mention here that though I cannot speak for your family,  the topic of flatulence in my family gets frequent airing. Such that I then told them about my single best fart ever. I was on the third floor of school in Ashland, New Hampshire, at the top of the staircase, talking to a colleague, when it escaped. It was in the category of SBD (silently but deadly), and—fortunately—of the heavier than air variety. It set off down the four flights of stairs something like an invisible Slinky, until it reached the basement a minute or so later, and I had the satisfaction of hearing one of my students complain, “Jeeze, who died?” 

We stopped at the grocery store for a few supplies, then home for tomato soup, Johs and I getting in one game of cribbage while Holly showered, and off to bed went we.

If you read the history list for today, you will have noticed Du Fu was a Chinese poet from the Tang Dynasty in the mid-700s. It’s astonishing to me how much of his poetry has survived from way back then. The one below is a favorite of mine. I’ve done my best with the translation, but my command of ancient Chinese characters is no better than it once was. (On the other hand, it is no worse than it once was.) (Which is to say, yes, I am only kidding.)

To My Retired Friend Wei

Du Fu

人生不相見， It is almost as hard for friends to meet
動如參與商。 As for the morning and evening stars.
今夕復何夕， Tonight then is a rare event,
共此燈燭光。 Joining, in the candlelight,
少壯能幾時， Two men who were young not long ago
鬢髮各已蒼。 But now are turning grey at the temples.
訪舊半為鬼， To find that half our friends are dead
驚呼熱中腸。 Shocks us, burns our hearts with grief.
焉知二十載， We little guessed it would be twenty years
重上君子堂。 Before I could visit you again.
昔別君未婚， When I went away, you were still unmarried;
兒女忽成行。 But now these boys and girls in a row
怡然敬父執， Are very kind to their father's old friend.
問我來何方。 They ask me where I have been on my journey;
問答乃未已， And then, when we have talked awhile,
兒女羅酒漿。 They bring and show me wines and dishes,
夜雨翦春韭， Spring chives cut in the night-rain
新炊間黃粱。 And brown rice cooked freshly a special way.
主稱會面難， My host proclaims it a festival,
一舉累十觴。 He urges me to drink ten cups—
十觴亦不醉， But what ten cups could make me as drunk
感子故意長。 As I always am with your love in my heart?
明日隔山嶽， Tomorrow the mountains will separate us;
世事兩茫茫。 After tomorrow - who can say?

Merry Christmas Eve!

Go Well and Stay Well, 

Bhekaron

P.S. One Holly and one Johs snap: