Last night while I was trying to tackle a ponderous pile of paperwork The Board of Directors Here at Spo-Reflections raided Das Spo-Haus and threatened me at mace-point to put out an entry or Helga will have my yarbles for ear-rings. They were not moved to clemency by my explanations I am up to my oxters with work matters and I have nothing to write besides (The Muses being in Cleveland). I am to write something/anything by Friday morning and that’s that. They then left taking with them several bottles of liquor* and a few of the more shiny knickknacks.

It’s Memorial Day weekend, which makes me think of beginnings and ends for it was this weekend when we moved to Arizona in 2005. Someone is working all weekend and won’t be home at all. Rather than do the home alone thing and mope I am going north to  to stay at friend Richard’s B&B. This will be my last time doing so, for he has sold the place. I am saddened at this loss; I’ve been going there regularly for over ten years. It is likely we will never see each other again nor keep in contact after he moves.  It all touches upon the ephemeral of life. Ah well. As Mr. Gilbert says in his poem “The lost hotels of Paris”:

But it’s the having not the keeping that is the treasure.

Ends are also beginnings. This morning among the junk email I saw something I haven’t seen in years. The Writer’s Almanac sent me its daily entry. I used to read this until it stopped what seems an eternity ago when Mr. Keillor got involved in some sort of scandal. I immediately went to the podcasts to see if that too was back. Hot puppies! It was! – and apparently having done so for some months. This morning while driving to work (another horribly overbooked day) it was lovely listening to his familiar voice tell whose birthday it is today in history, followed by a poem. It’s like an old friend you haven’t seen in ages suddenly reappearing and you finding out he’s quite all right and hasn’t really changed.

When I drive to Flagstaff tomorrow for my last time staying with Richard I will listen to the  back entries of The Writers Almanac while contemplating poems about beginnings, endings, and – in some cases – returns. This is good stuff to consider as another year of living in Phoenix commences.




*The joke’s on them as they took the cheap stuff which is kept at eye level in the liquor cabinet. The good stuff was down below.