Wisdom is the gift I trust and admire the most:  Wisdom. I live in a retirement community so I get to see a lot of that. In some world leaders, not so much. What comes to mind is despotism, egotism, craziness.

I follow this man on Facebook:

Steven Charleston is an Oklahoma Choctaw.  Like me.  He is an Episcopalian.  Like me.  Unlike me he is a tribal elder and a bishop in the church.  He posts words of wisdom most days and they serve me well.  A recent post:

“Right now I am taking some time for deep reflection. I am sure many of you are doing the same. The loss of an election is not the end of the world, but it is a good time to stop and consider what it means. We will need to make some changes. We will need to realign our efforts. There is a lot to consider. I pray the Spirit will help us right now with wisdom and insight.”

And hope.  I could use some hope.

If  “Day One Big Promises” are kept, people will lose their health care. A miscarrying mother will exsanguinate. Pollution and global warming will be relegated to a back burner. Terrifying dictators will be presidential buddies.  Cronies rather than experts will become advisors. Elon Musk?  RFK Junior? Ukraine will become a Soviet colony. Palestine will cease to exist.  

Remember Palestine? Remember the map of Palestine on the wall in your Sunday School classroom?  Palestine. Not Israel.  Jesus lived and taught in Palestine.  He was a Palestinian.  

Netanyahu terrifies me. Putin terrifies me. Xi Jinping terrifies me.  Kim Jong Un terrifies me. Even now North Korean troops are fighting with the Russians on the Ukrainian border.  

An American president who has no understanding of how and why presidential powers are limited terrifies me. One who has never learned about the reason for the equal balance of powers or the Constitution terrifies me. Wisdom would serve him well, but there is none there. (Why canI not even bring myself to write his name?

Hope is a good thing too, but what can we hope at this point?  Imposing tariffs on imports will not lower grocery bills. Spending billions to deport “illegal” workers to Venezuela will leave farmers and factories without affordable labor.  

This old woman (who is in “his” age group ) believes an optimistic frame of mind is a powerful thing. I can’t seem to get there. I’ll wait for today’s words of wisdom from my tribal elder.

Back in the 90’s, I liked to watch ER. I mean, what’s not to like about George Clooney and Juliana Margulies? Re-runs popped up recently on some obscure channel during my traditional awake time around 3 a.m. “Good,” I thought. “That should lull me right back to sleep.” But no! I don’t remember all that yelling and screaming and sobbing.

I have been in my local hospital ER a few times. It is perfectly quiet and orderly. I have received excellent and timely care there. One of the hospitalists did look a bit like Anthony Edwards. My advice in that regard is, if at all possible, dial 911 and go in an ambulance. The EMT’s will administer first aid and be in contact immediately with the ER reporting your vitals and condition. It’s almost like a concierge service to get you admitted.

And maybe don’t go scrolling on your remote in the middle of the night. Just go straight to Midsomer Murders re-runs.

Here in my classy retirement community, we do not exhibit or wear anything political. However, I did get myself a pair of black Chucks like Kamala wears when not sporting stilettos and a Carhartts jacket like Walz wears 😆.

Make of that what you will. This is the only political statement I hope to make this fall.

Every summer for a number of years, I have driven to Montana. I have taken various routes.  They are all beautiful.  The Columbia River Gorge is breath-taking.  Eastern Idaho is spectacular  as is the Idaho Panhandle. This time, I drove up through western Washington into Montana at the Mulllan Pass.  Not even close to Paradise Valley yet.  Montana is a big state, but I grew up in West Texas, so I know about big.  And fast.  

I have typically hauled a dog or two and a kayak or two.  I learned the hard way one recent year not to blow past a “mandatory water vessel check point.”  

Driving into into Montana, when the officer asked me where I had put my boat in last, I loved saying “The North Santiam.”  And returning to Oregon,”The Yellowstone River.” The officers always seem a little jealous.

I hate to mention how problem-free all my trips have been for fear of tempting evil, but everything went very smoothly  — until the last 150 miles.  And then, all kinds of interesting things began to happen.  For some reason, one of the straps on the kayak came loose and the metal buckle began to fly around and whack the car.  I was in a construction zone, so it was a few minutes before I could find a safe shoulder to get out and put the strap back on.  I am a few inches shorter than I was when I was in my prime, is I now carry a small step ladder to reach up there.  It would have made a cute picture:  Old woman on roadside on step ladder tying down kayak. 

Back on the road, a dash warning light I had never seen before came on “INOIL.”  I had no idea what that meant, so I found another safe shoulder and took out the owner’s manual.  As much as I love my Subaru, my affection does not extend to the manual.  I found that it means that the transmission fluid is hot and I should let the car cool off for a bit.  I had  been idling in construction traffic for a while. Solved that.  I should have just asked Siri!

I thought I could get on to Pray with out gassing up, but I decided to get some in Belgrade.  I’m glad I did!  Once again, traffic was stopped for an hour. I did turn off the ignition so I wouldn’t arouse that warning light again.

Then my Waze app said there was an object blocking my lane up ahead.  There was.  It was a gigantic wishing well that had fallen off a big truck transporting carnival rides.  Crazy!  Eight-hundred miles of no problems.  And then  .  .  .

Nevertheless, I sllid into home base in plenty of time  to greet my two Montana grand-dogs.

And in time for Boo to make a big salad from her garden for our supper and watch the sunset in the Big Sky.

Next day we enjoyed Boo’s beautiful garden.  The growing season there is very short and labor intensive.  Lots of hand watering required but so worth it.

That night, we went to Livingston for the Friday night art and music walk.  Heard some good music and ate at the Mint Bar.  My test meal is always  cheeseburger and fries.  The Mint burger did not disappoint.

On my travels, hunger does not play a part.

We bought a couple of pieces of tres leches cake at our favorite bakery to take home.  I had mine for breakfast the next morning before we headed out to kayak a really fun stretch of the beautiful Yellowstone River. 

That night, I drove the few miles to the Emigrant General Store where you can buy absolutely everything. I bought some ice cream and introduced Boo to moose tracks.

That was dinner while we watched the JD Vance autobiographical movie “Hillbilly Elegy.”  Ick!  We were sad to think that Ron Howard had put his name on what was essentially a creepy grownups’ Hallmark movie.  And that Glenn Close was in it.  She was actually very good.

Sunday I wanted to see Boo’s workplace as the new manager of Yellowstone Park’s native plant nurseries. 

This is her “on-site office”: 

Her actual office is in this building.

This is the part of the park that is actually in Montana, a little closer to her home in Pray.  Still, she puts in ling days, leaving her house at 6 a.m. and getting back home to water the garden and feed her menagerie after 6 p.m. 

We have a thing.  The women in my family love to explore old cemeteries.  So much history there. This one is near Elizabeth’s new workplace. There is a veterans’ section where there is a special place to burn flags respectfully. 

And then  it was my last my last day. I took it easy and shuttled Elizabeth so she and Gypsy could kayak.  We had BBQ, a tradition of ours in Emigrant.

Then it was home again, home again. Jiggity jig.