Unsettled weather but the morning rain disappears so we can walk down to the Blue Song for our usual Friday gathering. Temperature only about eighteen but the walk long enough to work up a thirst for our regular draft.
Fluctuating numbers in our group but only seven of us today. Always good talk, frequently informative, and plenty of wit. But also a reminder that many people maintain equanimity and humour in the face of circumstances where that is the only defence.
Thus C mostly doesn’t mention unless asked the semi diagnosed problems that lead to frequent blood tests and sometimes transfusions. We do know about, but never discuss, the death of his wife a few years ago, killed crossing a road here. And we know that D’s husband has Alzheimer’s. A couple of years ago he was quite willing to tell people this. Don’t think he goes out much any more but D says he announced today that he is going to his room to commit suicide and she’s not to open the door for a week. She’s learned that these things are very quickly forgotten but there’s an obvious sadness mixed with the laughter. He says he hates everybody - but never the dogs.
My father said many years ago that there’s enough tragedy on any city block to break your heart.
And then on the way home we pass beautiful orange flowers we hadn’t noticed before. iPad identifies them as flamevine, also known as orange trumpet, originally native to South America.
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