Great-grandfather helps Katherine look at the babies in a nest at the old rock house:

.  .  .  While the dew is still on the roses.

My freshman year in college, I was introduced to the philosophy of critical thinking, something I had never considered before.  I just grew up thinking (actually, not doing much thinking) that I should believe everything authority figures told me and not ask questions and do as I was told.

In my freshman English class, we read an anthology of critical essays.  One presented a contrast of sentiment and sentimentality.  A totally new concept for me, but one that influenced me greatly for a number of years.  Just as it took me many years to recover from doing as I was told, I am still in recovery on this business of sentimentality.  In fact, in my dotage, I am re-embracing it and trying to accept about myself, that I affirm certain aspects of it.

I am extremely sentimental about my redwood trees and some of my roses.

This one in particular.  “Bewitched.”  I first loved it in George Koernig’s garden.  Then, when I planted my first rose garden, under George’s patient tutelage, I included this variety.  George taught me everything I know about tending roses and always referred to me as a “fellow rosarian.”  When I planted my roses at 1880, it was a bit difficult to find this old rose, but I was persistent.  Each year when I prune my roses, I spend the time remembering all sorts of things about George.

I, and most people in my age group, are tossing out stuff.  Most say they are doing it so their kids won’t have to go through things when they die.  I am not doing it for that reason.  I seriously hope that my daughters will just have a dumpster delivered for what I haven’t managed to discard and hire someone to throw it out.

There will be a few things.  

This is a cartouche:  Elizabeth and Jean.

This is Mother’s sewing machine.

This is the Maggie Bee.

This is peeker man.

Recently The New Yorker moved it’s headquarters from Times Square downtown to the World Trade Center.  Nick Paumgarten wrote a short piece about all the stuff he had to toss out and concluded with, “The thing that’s worth keeping is the thing you do next.”

That’s a sentiment I can embrace, but the next thing I do is often to scan photographs before I toss them out. You can’t scan a lock of hair and you can’t throw it out.  Does that make me a sentimental old fool?  I embrace that!

This is what is says:

On your right, I bet Scalia could explain it.  Or, to your left,  Ginsberg.  Or any high school government teacher.  Or let me at ’em.

Last week, an angry neighbor in my hometown shot the man next door, once in the chest; once in the back.  Dead.  Had previously shot his dog and his llama.  He was out on bail in 24 hours and back next door.

This weekend, some motorcycle clubs got annoyed with each at a bar.  Apparently, a good number of them, exercising their 2nd Amendment Rights, started shooting up the place and nine people died.   I can’t think what this has to do with a well regulated militia.  Or a well regulated anything for that matter.

A few blocks away from 1880 is our state capitol.  Always a large group out front there exercising their 1st Amendment Rights about something or other.

Recently, there’s been a bill before our legislature designed to keep firearms out of the hands of criminals and the criminally insane, so a good number of people have been over there in camo, carrying big guns and signs reading,  “Don’t let Obama take your guns away.”

I really wanted to chat with them about this and ask, “Are you a criminal?  Are you insane? Are you part of a well regulated militia? When the President was in Oregon last week, did he knock on your front door and abscond with your arsenal?” But I was just out walking Roxie through the beautiful capitol mall and really did not feel comfortable engaging with angry men toting big guns.   I did snap a lot of pictures with my phone. Trust me, these folks are not interested in sports-a-field. There’s nothing sporting about an assault weapon.

 I must agree, however, with the concept of background checks on politicians.

Me with my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother