Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.
Dark humor was on my mind this morning, in part because it was earlier than yesterday yet far brighter than in the predawn yesterday. Of course, it was perfectly clear this morning.
Yesterday, I was doing an interview with Chuck Aron for his running and fundraising in the Bank of America Chicago Marathon.
He runs to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Association in memory of his brother-in-law. As we were talking, he said he lost his taste for jokes on Alzheimer’s, even though he understands the nature of dark humor.
I am not sure what I think on that. Still not sure, even after getting back from a Ramble and having mulled it over.
In part, I think dark humor can help us deal with horrific subjects. But I also think it can blunt the edge of the experience, devalue the toughness of a situation.
We have very little humor, more like none, on 9-11. Would dark humor make our understanding of 9-11 better or simply blunt the brutality of the day?
I really have no answer on that one.
Some things are impenetrable.
A rabbit bolted from the edge of the bus barn as we neared downtown. That makes a couple rabbits again in the last few days
Six Canada geese, then four more, flew over from the lake to the west and landed on the north old clay pit.
As we came off the extended ramble, another 15 geese, then three more landed on the north pit.
At least three dozen geese swam on the north old clay pit, most of them near the southern shore. They did not seem too upset or scared when I stepped close for a photo.
I think either the molt migration is here or geese are stacking up to take advantage of the corn and bean harvest.
Only one fresh hedge apple down on the east side of the south pit. I picked it up to take home for my wife.
Somebody has been working on the trees downed in the storm on Thursday on the old rail, now a trail, above the south pit. We were able to get through. Only one tree forced a detour through the underbrush.
Some things are impenetrable.
I was able to train Storm to jump over the downed trees, rather than going under. For that, I will refrain from calling him by his earned nickname for a while at least.
He is Storm.
Back downtown, three geese came honking loudly over.
A block from home, a pair of gray squirrels hopped around until Storm flushed them up the decorative fruit trees. One of those squirrels in turn flushed a lone mourning dove.
Six more geese flew quietly over our house as we neared home, a fly over.
