Well, the 10-day sojourn to New England is coming to an end. It began and will conclude with time in the old stomping grounds, next to the house in which my brothers and sisters and I grew up.

We tended to some tasks, were treated to a wonderful stay with my wife’s sister, got some work done, and in between visited with our son and his kids in Mid-coast Maine, along with another sister-in-law and her husband and his daughter in Connecticut.

I reacquainted myself with Maple, a mixed breed dog getting up in years but still willing and able to run like the wind in pursuit of a tennis ball, and Georgie, a younger Golden Retriever who, perhaps longingly, wishes she could run like Maple. I chopped some wood, drank coffee, we ate fresh fish as one can only find it near the coast of Maine, and waited extra long for an order at McDonald’s.

We were entertained by our two Mainer grandchildren who have no fear of performing, and who are busy with one thing or another for almost the entire duration of their waking hours. I was moved by how our oldest child has grown into a loving, attentive father who, like most parents at various points in time, must take a deep breath when parenthood gets heavy and weighs on your nerves.

Time was spent prepping for the Mom’s homecoming from a trip to an exotic tropical destination, a trip she earned as one of Maine’s best teachers.

We leave for PA in a little while, via a stop to see an aunt and maybe an uncle, the two remaining siblings from my Mom’s family who have both reached their 90s and are still percolating, and marveling, like the rest of us, at the inexorable passage of time and that puzzling dynamic of thinking like you’re still in your twenties but moving more like you’re trapped in a sometimes uncooperative old body.

By day’s end, we should be back in PA, somewhat refreshed and mostly ready to get on with Spring and engage the routine once again.

Donald Trump is such a putz. When asked why he thought he’s been a target for assassination so many times, he said, in a self-congratulatory way, that maybe it was because people (like himself) who make such an impact on the world become targets. Or something like that.

It couldn’t be because he sows fear and hate and animosity and maybe people have reached the end of their ropes with him.

I’m not condoning the violence, but I’m not surprised by it, either. It all tracks with the old saying about living by the sword.

It’s not a surprise that nothing has been resolved in the matter of our invasion of Iran. Trump still talks about a deal being in the works. Always a “deal” in the works. Everything is the art of the deal, as if this is the only transactional method worth considering, even as he apparently has never really mastered it.

There are always consequences to consider. Ramifications. Unforeseen—or maybe totally foreseen—outcomes. Just the way they drew it up.

But nothing good. Nothing that brings relief or hope or optimism. Just more ineptitude, subterfuge, darkness, self-involved scheming. Ugliness.

Daily writing prompt

Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?

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The only incident that comes to mind is the same as last year– it unfolded when we were teenagers, all young and impressionable and not fully formed. OK, immature and stupid.

It involved making life difficult for some kids we basically decided we didn’t like. The worst part, beyond the fact that I participated in this mob action, was that it was led by an “adult” who should have known better.

I seldom think about this anymore, but it haunts me when it does come to mind. I didn’t speak up or try to put a stop to things. I just joined in.

We eventually made peace, thanks to the passage of time and also what I now recognize as grace-filled behavior on the part of the person done wrong. We became friends again, though I’m not sure about the parents involved– they may have held onto the hurt for longer than their kids did.