July 25: Do You No Good, Breakfast, Old Classmate's Concert

Santiago eats some breakfast . . . 

He knelt down and found the tuna under the stern with the gaff and drew it toward him keeping it clear of the coiled lines. Holding the line with his left shoulder again, and bracing on his left hand and arm, he took the tuna off the gaff hook and put the gaff back in place. He put one knee on the fish and cut strips of dark red meat longitudinally from the back of the head to the tail. They were wedge-shaped strips and he cut them from next to the back bone down to the edge of the belly. When he had cut six strips he spread them out on the wood of the bow, wiped his knife on his trousers, and lifted the carcass of the bonito by the tail and dropped it overboard.

"I don't think I can eat an entire one," he said and drew his knife across one of the strips. He could feel the steady hard pull of the line and his left hand was cramped. It drew up tight on the heavy cord and he looked at it in disgust.

"What kind of a hand is that," he said. "Cramp then if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good."

This morning, I had breakfast with two lovely people.  One of them was the musical guest on the radio show I performed on last night.  The other was her mother, who also happens to be her manager.  As we ate, we talked about all kinds of things, including teaching, the childcare crisis in the country, horror movies, vegan pasties, Walt Disney World, and corporate America.  It was a wonderful time, and I was sad when it ended.  It was also a really good way to kick off a somewhat busy day.

When I got back home from Calumet, Michigan, I unpacked and took about a two-hour nap.  I needed that to recover from a long weekend of writing, rehearsing, and performing.  Then, I drove to the library where I work and hosted an outdoor concert by a popular local musician who also happens to a guy with whom I graduated high school.

My old classmate gave a really good concert.  Lots of covers of popular songs, from Buddy Holly to Joni Mitchell.  The sky was clear and so blue it hurt my eyes, and there was a nice breeze.  People were clapping and laughing and singing along.  As I stood there listening, I couldn't help but say a little prayer of thanks.  For the music and the people and my life.  

Despite my current struggles with blueness, I know how lucky I am to be able to have breakfast with wonderful, interesting people.  To take a nap in the afternoon.  And to listen to an old friend's concert on the steps of a library in the evening.

So many blessings for Saint Marty today.  Amen.