Henry the Raven

A pair of Ravens were first sighted at the Science Center at Wellesley College, in Massachusetts, in October of 2013, the following spring, they built a nest and had two viable eggs. Since then, they’ve returned every year, with bigger and bigger families, this year they have six eggs in the nest – all via webcam!

Today, I logon and see a black and white image, which is unusual and then my heart breaks:

RIP Henry.


Reading is Fundamental

tumblr_inline_ni8bqhj1aZ1rs4oa3I love to read.

I love to read while I’m waiting in line.

I love to read while eating.

I’d read in the tub, if I took baths.

I even read while I’m reading; cross-referencing of course.

It’s a habit from being an only child.

My birth name was chosen from the book by Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind. The Breeder liked how it looked in print.

I was eleven when I went to the Berkeley Public Library on Shattuck Avenue to borrow it, only to be told that it was “Too big of a book for such a little girl.”

I rode my bike home fuming.

I’d show that librarian… It was my first spite-read, when I was given a copy to borrow, by a nice neighbor.

We didn’t have a TV when I lived in Berkeley, this was the full-blown hippie-era.

The Breeder had a box of comic books that we would read over and over again.

Her comic books. Donald Duck. Scrooge McDuck. Little Lulu. Zap!,  Womenz Comix. The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers.

I loved Fat Freddy’s Cat.

In Hippie-school, Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Madeleine L’Engle were passed around, as well-worn paperbacks with yellow pages and bent covers.

I read Alive! and Chariots of the Gods then. I had The Encyclopedia of  Cats practically memorized.

Friday night dinners-out, I didn’t like to sit around the adults when they would have their coffee (and talk and talk and talk and talk).

I’d happily go wait in the car and read. I spent many after-dinners in the backseat of the car with Judy Blume, Nancy Drew, and Little House books.

When my dad lived in Hawaii, I read the paperback Helter Skelter, my first foray into true crime!

Funny that, I realize when by reading Dave McGowan’s Programmed to Kill, and Operation Gladio by Paul K. Williams, early serial murders and 80’s Euro-terrorism both were constructs of the same evil, the C.I.A., which now has it’s own section in my library.

One thing about moving so much in my life, are the books that have been lost along the way.

I loaned my copy of Ba-ra-kei: Ordeal by Roses to Harry Dean Stanton, and never received it back.

Never loan books out.


Eberesuto dai kakko


The Man Who Skied Down Everest is a documentary about Yuichiro Miura, a Japanese alpinist who skied down Mt. Everest in 1970.  I re-watched this last night, as my mountaineering obsession continues. Mr. Miura has even successfully climbed Mt. Everest in 2013 at the age of 80!

I loved to see how unspoiled, clean and barren Mt. Everest was in 1970.

There weren’t ladders over the Khumbu Ice Fall, they had used logs!




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