Snow Moon

Native Americans have meaningful descriptive ways of naming full moons. The Moon of Popping Trees, for instance was the frigid December of 1890, when nearly 300 Lakota people were massacred by the U.S. Army at Wounded Knee. The “popping” was of frozen branches snapping off from bare trees.

February has been called the Snow Moon because it is the coldest and snowiest. During my student years at the University of Minnesota February could have been named the Moon of People Flying, because those gray days, frigid temperatures, and fear of spot quizzes would occasionally gang up on a sensitive student and they would jump from the old Washington Avenue Bridge into the dark cold water of the Mississippi River.

If the fall itself didn’t do the trick, hypothermia and drowning had power enough to finish the job.

Now I had my down days while in college, but there was never a moment when an impromptu winter swim in Ol’ Man River seemed like a good idea to me. Because I knew with a certainty rarely granted to human beings that I would survive the jump and spend the last several minutes of my life astronomically more uncomfortable than I had ever been and I simply wasn’t having that.

Even when the winter dragged on and my car wouldn’t start (again!) and the pipes froze in my cheap apartment and the entire ancient plaster ceiling in the bedroom fell onto my bed and a 9/11-style mushroom cloud of dirt and asbestos and mouse poop and squirrel chewings going back to 1920 ballooned out through the bedroom door into the living room. Not even then.

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Change, by Big Thief

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From The New Yorker

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I find YouTube to be a great resource, although these days I read a lot of sniping and sneering about it. But how else would we doofuses of the world learn how to take a bathroom drain apart to clean it? Or to properly sharpen a buzz-saw blade? Or jailbreak our iPhones? 

How would I ever have learned how to make scrambled eggs the Hong Kong way? Even though I may never cook them, the point is I know how!

I now have thousands of bits of information and scores of possibly useful skills as arrows in my quiver that I did not have before YouTube came along. But be warned – there is nothing more dangerous than a half-educated man with a cordless drill in his hand.

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There is a mental game that I play, which I find enhances my serenity and may even be keeping me out of jail. It started back when George W. Bush was in office and I was often in high dudgeon over some ungodly thing that he had done. At such times I would often have thoughts unworthy of my gentle nature.

What I would do is imagine that his car broke down on a cold and rain-drenched night and he came to my door shivering and half-drowned asking only to be let in and sheltered for a little while.

In my fantasies I would hear Bush out and then close the door with him on the outside, all the while shouting “Mission Accomplished.”It would have been a small and mean-spirited thing, but brothers and sisters, I was fully prepared to do it.

(In the unlikely event that my heart softened and I opened my door to him, gave him dry clothes and a cup of hot coffee … even though I knew how … I would still not make him those scrambled eggs. Boundaries, my friends, boundaries.)

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Lean On Me, by Bill Withers (live)

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In the above scenario, if it were Mr. Cluck dripping on my doorstep, I would not even go that far. I might simply turn off the porch light and call the police to report a waterlogged trespasser. Might even sic the cat on ‘im.

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From The New Yorker

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Interesting article in the Times of New York on Monday about the company Patagonia, which makes excellent outdoor apparel that I can only afford when it is seriously on sale. I was given a Patagonia fleece pullover fifteen years ago that is cut better, sewn better, is made of better material, has a better zipper, and will probably outlive me. In addition, they have one of the best guarantees out there.

Patagonia will repair all our gear, covered by our Ironclad Guarantee, free-of-charge. Once your repair is complete, we’ll ship your item back to you with the return shipping costs covered by us. Please note, if your garment is not sent in freshly washed, you may incur a laundering fee.

Patagonia advertising blurb

(That last sentence tells me that some unpleasantly fragrant garments must have been shipped to them in the past, and they are guarding the sensibilities of their employees.)

What’s more, the founder of Patagonia, Yvon Chouinard, is a promoter of simple fly fishing (Tenkara), and therefore a man after my own heart. He even wrote a book about it.

But that’s not the story the Times is talking about. That story is what they are doing with their profits, and that is to donate to projects and people that are working to better the environment. Good practice, that.

(BTW, that little jacket Yvon is wearing retails for $399.00. The waders are $699.00. I would have to be a much better fisherman to think that I needed to be outfitted in such raiment. I am much more the $100 angler than the $1000 version.)

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Sweet Memory, by Melody Gardot

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One of the reasons comedians do as well as they do is because we humans are such a silly lot, and often all they have to do is report on our behavior. YouTube’s algorithms served up this gentleman last Monday morning so I could start the day with a couple of smiles, and I share him with you. 

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