Kilroy Is Here

As predicted, book writing is superseding Blog post writing and the days are proceeding apace with little drama. Sit down and write. Sit down and play piano. Take a walk or bike ride. Cook. Watch next evening-episode of This Is Us on TV. I could mention the weather (mostly overcast and too chilly for my taste), the things in bloom (cherry trees and wisteria), the Warrior’s basketball games (yeah!) and such. And I guess I just did. But as they say, not much to write home about. Especially when I’m in my home!

 

I did get out into my marvelous city to the opening of a new park, Sunset Dunes, made possible by the closing (to cars) of the Great Highway at Ocean Beach. I went to the Ruth Asawa exhibit at MOMA and felt proud to claim this hard-working, innovative and community-minded San Franciscan artist. I explored a neighborhood around Jackson Square that is attracting some attention as a hip, small- building hotspot and discovered a charming alley (1 Jackson Square) and a compelling mural inside of a law office that has stood up to the national disaster. I took a Thai xylophone lesson with my old colleague Sofia at a nearby Thai Temple that I never knew was there. 

And there’s more. I went to an Oberlin Dance Collective Concert, a group that has been churning out extraordinary dance choreographies for just about the whole 50 years I've been in San Franciso— and here was yet another memorable performance. I had a delightful dinner with daughter Talia and boyfriend Matt on our way to The Moth Grand Slam and have to say that I was a bit disappointed and thought that our stories (see Feb. 26 blogpost) were better. And speaking of dinner, I’ve loved the recipes from The Burma Superstar Cookbook I gifted to my wife at Christmas, with both of us cooking some pretty good versions of Tea Leaf Salad, Fiery Tofu, Garlic Chile Shrimp and more. 

And speaking of my wife, she just completed a little project of reading all her journals from 1970 to today, filling me in as she went along about what she was remembering. That inspired me to have the Men’s Group bring old journals to our next meeting (today) and read a select entry or so. It was a small group (just five), but most had some kind of record of events in their former lives and shared a vignette with the group. 

 

I’ve kept a handwritten journal since my first trip to Europe in 1973 and have continued it, even while also keeping this parallel Blog public journal since 2011. What is the point of it all? Besides noticing the various threads that run through all of life’s stages—and there are many— the act of writing and reflecting brings some shape and meaning to the apparently random sequence of events. It occasionally captures a place or time in poetic eloquence or reveals a facet of our particular character worth noticing or gives voice to our fears and anxieties, our hopes and joys, in ways that help us both bear up and savor them. 

 

But mostly, like this little entry, it’s just a way of saying “Kilroy was here.” I was present. This happened. I felt this. 

And it mattered.