FIRST NORTHER

 Let it be recorded that on September 10, 2020, with approximately 192,000 American dead from COVID-19, a cool breeze arrived on the border, the season's first norther. The temperature dropped from a high of 90 to a high of 75. It would be the most notable event of the day. Who could hope for more? We felt for a moment that we had returned to the land of eternal spring. Summer isn't over. In fact, it doesn't officially come to an end for ten days and those of us who have resided on the border for years know from brutal experiences that hot weather will extend into October.

Nevertheless, summer has been dropped to the canvas by autumn's first right. Those of us at ringside are applauding our impending change in fortunes. Will we be applauding on November 3rd when Biden defeats Trump or will be sweating blood as summer rises to its feet and beats the shit out of us with Trump raising his hands triumphantly and trumpeting, "I am the Greatest! I am the Greatest!"

It's important not to lose one's mind over the future. We must lose our mind in the moment. I sit on a lawn chair on the patio and peer over the backyard's freshly mowed lawn. I strum my guitar and breathe deeply. I think of those intubated patients struggling to inhale against all odds. Blackbirds and white wing doves flit from tree to tree. If I had a bb-gun, I would practice my aim. I have no particular love for birds although I would never shoot a hummingbird. I wouldn't be successful for starters. They are too small and quick.

I am alone. I'm used to being alone. I wish I loved being alone. It would make life easier. Relationships seem to be the beginning of the end. The intoxicating highs culminate in abysmal lows. Even among family members, they never seem to conclude well. The person who relishes his solitary existence has conquered the unknown. It's the closest approximation to the Zen mind. I am aware of nothingness, but I haven't learned to live within nothingness. This state of mind goes against our upbringing. We are raised to seek materialistic and physical satisfaction even if they go against our best interests.

Death is the ultimate teacher. The Grim Reaper is our constant companion lurking In the penumbra. This impersonal spirit teaches us the futility of clinging to anything. It's lessons are hardcore and merciless. But it's difficult to argue against a full stomach and a good fuck. I never forget for a second that I am 99.99% animal. We can never escape our appetites and lusts. Therefore, this effort to transcend our instinctual selves is also a futile undertaking.

So on a cool morning as I contemplate my reality, where am I? Who am I? I don't know except that I want to keep living and I see Trump and COVID as major obstacles in that endeavor. But as the leaves of the looming trees rustle over me, I cast these two lethal threats aside. I can't allow the pair to ruin my life 24/7/365. I think of my sons who have departed on their own destinies. I think of the books I want to read, the languages I want to learn, the songs I want to sing, the countries I want to visit and the other pursuits that will ultimately elude my grasp.

Descartes: "I think; therefore, I am." Socrates: "I know that I know nothing." I'm a product of both philosophies. I'm also a product of two parents who believed that I could be anything I wanted. I pray that I haven't disappointed them. As to our inaugural norther, as winter approaches I'm looking forward to donning my leather jacket that I have possessed for two decades and seldom wear more than twice a year. I have never forsaken, even in my worst mental moments, the simple pleasures. They are carrots at the end of the stick that keep me trudging forward.

It's important not to lose one's mind over the future.

We must lose our mind in the moment.

I sit on a lawn chair on the patio

and peer over the backyard's freshly mowed lawn.

The dependable breeze blows from the gulf.

I strum my guitar and breathe deeply.

I think of those intubated patients struggling

to inhale against all odds.

Blackbirds and white wing doves flit from tree to tree.

If I had a bb-gun, I would practice my aim.

I have no particular love for birds

although I would never shoot a hummingbird.

They are sacred.

Plus, they are too small and quick.

I am alone. I'm used to being alone.

I wish I loved being alone. It would make life easier.

Relationships seem to be the beginning of the end.

The intoxicating highs culminate in abysmal lows.

Even among family members,

they never seem to conclude well.

The person who relishes his solitary existence

has conquered the unknown.

It's the closest approximation to the Zen mind.

I am aware of nothingness,

but I haven't learned to live within nothingness.

This state of mind goes against our upbringing.

We are raised to seek

materialistic and physical satisfaction,

even if they go against our best interests.

Death is the ultimate teacher.

The Grim Reaper is our constant companion

lurking in the penumbra.

This impersonal spirit teaches us

the futility of clinging to anything.

It's lessons are extreme and merciless.

But it's difficult to argue

with a full stomach and a good screw.

I never forget for a second that I am 99.99% animal.

We can never escape our appetites and lusts.

Therefore, this effort to transcend our instinctual selves

is a futile undertaking.

In the descending darkness I contemplate my reality,

Where am I? Who am I?

I don't know except that I want to keep living.

I think of my sons who have departed on their own destinies.

I think of the books I want to read,

the languages I want to learn,

the songs I want to sing,

the countries I want to visit

and the other pursuits

ultimately eluding my grasp.

Descartes: "I think; therefore, I am."

Socrates: "I know that I know nothing."

I'm a product of both philosophies.

I'm also a product of two parents

who believed I could be anything I wanted.

I pray that I haven't disappointed them.

I have never forsaken,

even in my worst mental moments,

the simple pleasures.

They are carrots at the end of the stick;

they keep me trudging forward.