Yet another reunion

Lots of rain this weekend, and some tornado warnings. I attended another Zoom meeting with my high school classmates. This time we listened to a guest lecture by our English teacher, Mr. Quiring, who talked about biblical allusions in literature, with examples from poems by G.K. Chesterton, Wilfred Owen, Luci Shaw, and (especially) Harry Smart; we focused on a poem of Smart’s called “The Hen and Her Chicks.” I took up the theme of the nurturing male caregiver and said that I had been reading Horton Hatches the Egg to Samuel.

Mr. Quiring called in from Nebraska. The rest of us called in from these places:

British Columbia (2)

California

The Denver airport (but this person lives in Montana)

Indiana

Papua New Guinea

Queensland

Quito

Texas

Washington State

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Samuel loves to play with our fancy TV remote, and, occasionally, he subscribes us to this or that streaming channel without our permission. Tonight he subscribed us to BritBox. No problem: we watch lots of British TV. A few months ago, however, he subscribed us to MOTV (My Outdoor TV). I tried to watch one of the shows – it was about the hunting of wild hogs, with bow and arrow – but couldn’t get into it. Samuel liked it, though.

Then, on Father’s Day, we went to a large gathering with Karin’s dad’s family. Karin’s male cousins were standing around in the yard putting their bows together, and Samuel went over and stood with them. It was a little precious.

Quarantining, pt. 3

I’m glad to report that vol. 1 of the Strangers and Brothers omnibus has been delivered. So now I have the set.

In vol. 1’s preface, C.P. Snow says that this is the series’s definitive edition: the order of the books and some of the language have been corrected. I’m pleased about this and about the lovely typesetting done in Monotype Ehrhardt.

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I must read at least six more books this month to meet my yearly quota. I’m finishing the short books I’ve already begun, like H.G. Wells’s Invisible Man.

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Infection-wise, Karin & I remain symptomless.

Samuel is much better, though he’s taken to squawking most of the day, like a pterodactyl. He hates to drink his medicine.

His urine is uninfected, the doctor says. Now we await the result of his COVID-19 test.

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A masked man delivered a pizza to our house. He noticed the t-shirt I was wearing.

“Did you go to ——— High School?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “But I did work there some years ago. And it’s where my wife attended.”

“I went there,” he told me. “Class of 1990.”

“Well, then, you’re ten years older than I am.”

“You’re thirty-eight?”

“That’s right. I wouldn’t have guessed you were so old.”

“Thank you!” he said.

“Well, you are wearing a mask.”

In this lonely time, I think people just want other people to talk to.

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One of our extroverted former pastors is using Zoom to set up 45-minute video conferences so that his friends can talk to him. Today, Karin & I had a conference with him to show him our new son.

I reminded him that he said he’d take me out for coffee once I completed the Ph.D.

Several other people have made similar promises. It gives me a perverse pleasure to remind them during this quarantining time. (Right now, of course, my claims are unenforceable.)