I got the telephone call at approximately 8:15PM.

My father had passed away.

I had just seen him earlier in the day, in his assisted living residence, on hospice care. He had a full time care aide with him, and his facility had their folks coming in to see him frequently - more frequently than they were obliged to, he was (as I was told by more than one of them) popular with the staff.

I had left him around noon. My brother had brought his wife and youngest son over to say goodbye the day before. His partner had been with him from seven PM to around 7:45; it's pretty clear he had been waiting to see her before letting go. He hadn't been able to communicate well, due to pneumonia complications and general debilitation, but his eyes when he looked at us were clear and his hand squeezes strong in response to questions or affection.

The last great gift my father gave me was the decision. I have been looking after him and his affairs for a few years, and his doctors had

In the movie “The Postman Always Rings Twice”, Lana Turner stands with her hands on her hips and snarls at John Garfield: I used to think the reason I fell for you was because you were smart. Now I find out that you are smart, she says. It’s a really great line in a really great film. I mention it here apropos of nothing. Or everything maybe. I get those two mixed up all the time.

***

"Everything is

Or, suna setchin, 砂雪隠 (snow-hide).

A feature of some Japanese tea gardens, located near the inner waiting bower, symbolic of a host's regard for his guests…no, that’s not quite the right idea…

In  order to explain  this rightly, you have to remember that every detail of a tea garden serves some purpose. There is a distinction between the inner and outer gardens (and perhaps one or more additional zones), in that worldly cares are, perhaps, still present,  in this