Zip and Flutter

Savannah went zipping through the family room the other night, drawing our attention away from the show we were watching. Uh oh, there was something in her mouth. One of the downsides of the cat door. It looked like a small mouse, so I rose from the couch and after a short chase she dropped it under the dining table. A gift for us.

It was small, and in the dim light appeared to be dead. I crouched down, reached under the table, and gently grabbed it for disposal – Savannah watching me intently. As I walked toward the back door and got into better light, I opened my hand to inspect her prize. It was a small brown bat.

I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to pick up bats with your bare hands. It was a little larger than a walnut, wings folded neatly. It still looked dead, but then its ears moved, just slightly. Uh oh. I cupped my other hand over top and asked my wife to open the back door, the whole time thinking, “Don’t bite me. Don’t bite me.”

Once out back I opened my hands to set it down. As I did, it calmly jumped up and fluttered off into the night. … Alrighty then.

I looked down at my hands: There were no bites, scratches, blood, or saliva. “Whew,” I sighed to myself, quietly thanking it. I then hoped it would also survive its ordeal – which was much worse than mine – with an exciting tale to tell its friends.

Savannah curled up somewhere to take a nap.

-Russ

(Photo courtesy of Tina.)

A Good and Decent Man

I recently spent the better part of three weeks in New Jersey sorting through the memories of a long, productive life.  My dad passed away in the middle of May, 2021, and I was helping my brother and sister clean out the house for sale. A house he had built in 1956 where he moved us when I was three. The home he passed away in, two months short of his 97^th birthday, where he lived independently, including the eleven years after my mom – the love of his life – passed. It was full of 65 years of everything he cherished. I’ve only now been able to write this post, as dad and I were very close.

The world lost an amazingly good, decent, irreplaceable man that day in May, confirmed for me as I went through all the things he cherished and saved. The outpouring of love and condolences from his many, many friends underscored that sentiment all the more, and I rarely heard anyone speak poorly of him.  He lived a life of principle, from childhood, to his military service at the Battle of the Bulge, to his family, his career as an accountant, his community and church involvement, his battle with cancer, and his ship-modeling during his retirement years. He was always an inspiration to me – my first and last hero. I miss him terribly.

Rest in peace, dad. We love you.

-Russ

As It Was Meant to Be

 I took a long hike in the forest the other day.

It was a bit warm, but still a gorgeous day, and though our forests are normally very peaceful, it was unusually so that afternoon, with only the bugs and critters doing what they do. I love when there are no human sounds, even when I listen hard.

Working my way up a peak, it struck me how I was surrounded by the complete cycle of life. All at the same time, plants were sprouting while trees were dying, birds were hatching while other creatures were losing the battle as food for someone else, and flowers were blooming – being fed by the decay of previous life. As it was meant to be.

And so it has also been within my own circle of family and friends this past month, with babies being born and wonderful souls passing on. A month that has created a strong clash of emotions within me. Thus, I think of the forest.

As it has always been.

Peace.

-Russ