Started Friday evening with my older son Miles playing bass with his regular band—Bell Engine—at The Gypsy Joynt in Great Barrington. Two terrific sets preceded by his friend Rob doing a one man musical set that showed the breadth of his talent. Left that gig feeling twenty years younger.
Spent Saturday afternoon with an old poet friend—Geoff Young—trading stories and opinions, the kind of stimulating conversation I love, especially with my peers, so to speak (and also got the three latest "chapbooks" of his writing, always a gas but more about them when I've finished reading them).
My younger son and daughter-in-law and grandson arrived back from a week up in Prince Edward Island in Canada, and what a rush to see them all, especially my youngest child who seemed to have grown another few inches in the week he was gone.
Before leaving GB, stopped for my favorite homemade ice cream at SoCo and ran into someone who recognized me as a poet from my L.A. years and the lovely woman he fell in love with there, and introduced me to as his wife, an author herself whose book I will now check out. They both had familiar faces to me as well, maybe just from a moment's passing three thousand miles away. The ways our minds work more fascinating to me since the brain operation over nineteen months ago now than even before it.
The latter part of the reason every day seems like such a blessing even when it's a troubled day, for me or my loved ones. Just the fact we're alive to face trouble seems like something to be happy about. And I am.