Braced for the tide from Washington about to sweep over us, here on Plymouth Road in Baltimore we are sustaining as much of a humane life as we can manage.
Serene in retirement, I get up every morning to make the strong coffee, feed the cat, growl at The Baltimore Sun, read The Baltimore Banner, and catch up on news and personal contacts on social media. A few domestic tasks with making the bed, taking out the trash, unloading the dishwasher, etc.
After a couple of weeks of bronchitis, Kathleen and I are resuming daily walks, gradually extending the distances. Yesterday down the hill at Herring Run, we saw a blue heron splashing around in the creek, and the day before that a couple of ducks. The sunlight and relatively mild temperatures have been encouraging; we'll see how our resolve holds up when it gets colder.
Yesterday I engaged the people of Keil Tree Experts to do some long-delayed work on the property, topping the star magnolias that were growing into the roof and removing some diseased and dead trees. They were reasonable, professional, and efficient, and it buoyed me to see the property in better shape.
Today I finished re-reading D.B. Hardeman and Donald C. Bacon's excellent Rayburn: A Biography. It reminded me that the coalition of conservative Republicans and conservative Southern Democrats (who subsequently morphed into conservative Southern Republicans) that arose in the mid-1930s has been the principal obstacle to progressive national legislation ever since. Always worth opposing.
Today at the Hamilton branch of the Pratt Library I picked up Ben Yagoda's history of The New Yorker, About Town, and a Bruno Chief of Police mystery, one of the recommendations from a commentator on yesterday's post on detective stories.
A couple of days ago I posted a set of links to my blog posts on editing. It's not all I know about the obscure craft, but it's a chunk, and I offer it to you free, to assist in your own editing or self-editing, or to use in classes if you happen to teach editing and find the material useful. Do with it what you will.
The Banner engages me for occasional freelance copy editing, so I keep my hand in.
It's also time to take the checkbook out of the desk drawer and make the annual contributions to the ACLU, Planned Parenthood, and a set of Baltimore charities (including the Pratt and The Banner). I stopped contributing to most non-local operations after concluding that the flood of fundraising appeals they churn throughout the year was costing them more than I was paying them.
Off this afternoon to our afternoon drinking group at Zen West cantina at Belvedere Square. Often presided over by Fred Rasmussen, The Sun's genial obituary writer, it's an eclectic group, including members from newspaper work, social work, nursing, library science, information technology, children's books, sex therapy (yes), funeral direction (yes), law (can't keep the lawyers out), and other fields. The days and hours are Tuesday-Saturday, 3:00 to 4:30 or so; not everyone shows up every day, but Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday tend to draw the most participation. We kept together as a tight group taking precautions through the pandemic, relying on our little social network. Not everyone drinks, the conversation is always genial, and guests are welcome.
Church tomorrow: Memorial Episcopal in Bolton Hill, where we have been members for thirty-six years. Another sustaining community.
