I’ve been taking dexamethasone for my blood cancer, multiple myeloma, since 2007. The synergistic effect of this steroid with myeloma therapies is undisputed. They work, they are inexpensive, and can be taken orally. My cancer continues to wobble without direction, seemingly unable to focus its biology. I attribute much of the myeloma’s poor power of concentration to … More Dancing with Savvy
“While we speak, envious time will have already fled: … ” Horace When my wife and I moved into Hood River last April, a canopy of white blossoms greeted us from a flowering cherry in our yard. Once again, demitasse sized blooms decorate the tree. The petals detach and fall, shards of velvet that land undamaged on the … More Spring Reverie
On the day you arrived, cotton ball clouds floated in a blueberry sky. Occasionally, they gathered and rinsed the town with warm showers. Then, spring breezes dried and swept the streets of Hood River, the city where you were born. March 14th is Pi Day, which commemorates the symmetry of pi, a mathematical constant and an … More Notes to My Granddaughter
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” Lao Tzu Last Saturday, a winter storm approached from eastern Oregon. Clouds clotted the sky and through the night needle-like flakes drifted and covered the roads. At dawn, moisture arrived from the west and stalled against the frigid air. Shoulder to shoulder, the weather wrestled above the … More Winter Into Spring
I arrive at 8 am. Sam works admitting: name, birthdate, reason for being here. The data links me to my doctor’s orders. I receive a barcoded arm band. The infusatorium opens at 8:30. I wait, reading Web/MD magazine. I wonder if I could write for them. “No,” I decide, “I’m irrelevant. I’m no Brokaw or … More The Infusatorium
Yesterday, I walked home from Ground. This coffee shop is located at the bottom of Oak Avenue in Hood River. My wife and I had joined her sister and our nephew for lunch. Three days of shoveling snow following an iconic late to the party winter storm made me hungry for conversation. The others had … More Common Ground
In December of 2002, an uninsured driver caused an accident that left my oldest son, Noah, paralyzed. He was 22. In the immediate aftermath, our grief knew no bounds. We searched for answers. But none existed. Our resolve hardened against the injury’s tyranny. We imagined fictitious recoveries. But these were just pantomimes of wishful thinking. … More Tender Mercies
Soon after the New Year, I walked the perimeter of a sandbar on the Columbia. It juts north from the Oregon shore in Hood River and is called “The Spit.” Kite board enthusiasts know it as the largest sandy launch site in the Mid-Columbia Basin. From March through October, surfers take off from here and … More Down by the Riverside
In early October, morning frosts gave way to blue skies and warm days. Autumn breezes moved among the limbs of maple, oak, and birch trees and their leaves dried and curled and changed color but held their grip on the boughs and refused to fall. Aided by this good weather, the virus I’d picked up … More Meditation for a Friend
The summer has been busy with family visits to Hood River. First, my wife’s youngest sister, Linda, arrived. She and her husband have government jobs overseas. They hope to eventually retire here, close to us. Their latest posting, however, is in Pakistan and a farewell peek at our new home seemed appropriate before departing. Then, … More A Busy Summer
Good Blood, Bad Blood 