What makes for connection with others are good stories. And what makes for good stories are details. If details are lacking, the story goes down the toilet with the brown toilet sharks. Stories support assertions. It’s this way, rather than the other way around.

My assertion is that what is most important is connecting with other people. Those who are hermits or recluses are disconnected. Monks and those who live in cloisters are (they would say) connecting with God. Far easier, I think, to connect with people than it is with God, though no less worthy.

Alys with two pallets of wearhouse books

Yes, the above is my assertion. The question is, can I provide enough detail to support what I now strongly believe? I want to but not for the sake of betraying confidences.

Midmorning I headed over to the Palmer Senior Center. Yesterday I got most of the books that I took with me. I am, and will remain mystified as to why it is that people are fully functioning at 11 a.m. In my mind, the prime time for human to human interaction is between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. In my case, the end time is mid afternoon in the winter because I don’t like driving at night.

So anyhow, I wheeled my handcart into the Senior Center – Bob and Sue, who take care of the commodities set out a table for me. I put the books on the table and then engaged in conversation, first about books, then about other things.

I sat down at one table, and when someone said that the American basketball player, who is being held in custody by the Russians, should have known that she’d be incarcerated for having drugs on her when entering that country, I got up and left. This was just a line of thinking that I didn’t want to pursue.

I then went over to where a group of individuals (is this oxymoronic?) were doing artwork. The table held brushes, paints, rocks. I intimated that the administration most likely wasn’t too pleased about this – but the group had a so what attitude. They could justify what they were doing, where they were doing it. I was simply told that the light was better there.

I did not sit down and paint – next time, I think. I instead gravitated in the direction of my friends Timothy and Scott. Timothy, amazingly, has not succumbed to cancer, and Scott, is his spiritual mentor. I didn’t say it, but I have a distrust of Christianity and organized religion right now because it is hope based. Saying a prayer for this or that, while well intentioned, in my mind, doesn’t change outcome. Best to just work towards the goal of achieving one’s desires.

But I sat down, and we talked, some about homelessness, agreeing that kindness and compassion are lacking in today’s world, and much needed. We also talked about the dire state of the world, coming to no conclusions, but rather, instead, just speculated.

There were other instances of connecting with others. I’ll write about the rest of the day, tomorrow.

Next: 322. 11/23/22: The Lone Ranger