I seldom draw a blank in coming up with dispatch writings. Tonight I stood here for five or so minutes, and nothing, absolutely nothing, came to mind. This was rather odd given that I had a very full day. My subconscious must have been attempting to figure out if I should write about one small happening, and elaborate on it, or attempt to write about all that happened.

Another long pause. And then another. Best, I am now thinking to write about the day as it happened, for at the very least, a few years from now, I’ll read this and thus bring the entire day back to mind.

Before the Nutcracker give away

Like Joan Didion, I write to remember. This is my first reason. My second is to give others an overview of what occurred when.

Cold this morning. I check the temperature by putting my hand against the bedroom window. I estimated that it was about 10 F. I was right. Not quite daylight when I headed down to the horse barn. Daylight, sun coming off over the edge of the distant mountains when I headed back up to the house.

Saturday – Pete called the recycling center and was told that there were not many books on hand. So I opted to have him drop me off at the Meeting House. I thought that on Friday that I’d straightened things out. I thought wrong. Lots of boxes of books, here and there, uncategorized.

I worked alone until a street person came in and told me that his fingers were frostbitten and that he needed gloves. I had a hard time summoning up compassion for him. The best of our species would have given him their gloves. I’m not the best of our species – but I’m not the worse. I knew my gloves would be too small for him. So I sent him out of the building, around the corner, and into the basement entrance – this is where the alcoholics are attempting to figure out what steps they are on.

Maybe his walking in that door was fortuitous. I hope so.

Pete and Bill appeared with books that at the last minute had been brought over to the recycling center. They piled them up in the library room, and then Pete and I first distributed books, then met our friends Brian and Judy at one of the local restaurants.

These were the friends that I’d met at the conclusion of my Fairbanks to Valdez bicycle trip. I showed them Wheels on Ice. Judy read what I wrote about them – I’m not sure what she thought. Sometimes she keeps her cards close to her chest.

We departed figuring we’d get together tomorrow and go skiing.

Pete and I then headed home, took care of the animals, then went back to town, so as to attend a remembrance event at the Meeting House. We, the pastor, and her significant other were the only ones there. A good session, important to sit down and think some about what happened at Colorado Springs.

After, did another distribution, then came home and again did animal chores.

A very full day, so full that I did not include all the details.

Next: 326. 11//27/22: So it Goes