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the Monday before the Tuesday

Thanks to friends, who are sending wonderful messages of support re my aunt, including this:
Stop beating yourself up, right now. No matter what M. said, I know you and Mike did all you knew to do to help Do. Nobody can know how to go about helping someone die until she is through it – like finding your way in a maze, you don’t know the route until you’re at the end.  

I know, I agree. But still, we all feel guilty about not doing enough, not being there at the end.

Tomorrow is the bloody American election we’ve been obsessing about for months, thank God, let it be over, let it not be disastrous, let it show us the American people are not gullible, racist morons. Though yesterday, I sat on the Porter plane next to an American who immediately began to pour out his conspiracy theories. 9/11 was a government job – had I ever heard of Building 7? Look it up! he said. It was deliberately brought down by explosives but no one wrote about it because the mainstream media have their own agenda. Kennedy was probably shot by someone hiding inside a manhole on the route. Who? Could be the military industrial complex, because Kennedy was about to pull out of the Vietnam War. Could be Israel; President Johnson later allowed them to get nuclear weapons.

He saw conspiracies everywhere. “Do you ever do research on what you read?” he said, in disbelief.
“No,” I said. “I read the world’s best newspapers, the Guardian, the NYTimes, the Washington Post. They make occasional mistakes, but mostly they’re trustworthy. Where do you get your news, Fox TV?”
“Yes,” he said, “only Fox sometimes doesn’t tell the truth either.”
“Sometimes!!” I barked, wishing to move my seat to somewhere else.

But at the end, he told me he was coming to Toronto to see a holistic doctor – because of course medical science and Big Pharma had nothing to offer – about his condition, which is like M.S. When he stood, I saw that he was quite severely disabled, his limbs ungainly, walking awkwardly leaning on a cane. And, lunatic as he was, I felt sorry for him.

Happy, however, to get away before I heard any more theories. Did look up Building 7. The theory about explosives has been debunked; it was brought down by the fires nearby. The poor guy, to be pathologically suspicious of everything and everyone. Let’s hope tomorrow’s vote shows us the Americans are smarter than that guy.

Home in the dark and wet. Here are some pictures from my trip. Click to enlarge:

Do’s labels on everything.

Her sketches – me at four, though not a good resemblance, I think. Sandra was my best friend.

A watercolour – lovely.

The view from her balcony …

… and the park on my Sunday walk.

Another family artist to cheer us all on a dull Monday before an apocalyptic Tuesday – this is Eli’s latest self-portrait. It’s now my screensaver.

Let us pray.



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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