I fell and broke my ankle. I’m wearing a boot. Dr. Ford said to walk as little as possible. I spend my days sitting, either reading, playing guitar, or when the Giants are playing, combining the latter with watching TV.

We’ve rented a folding wheelchair. Every day Jadyne and I are planning “trips.” (Not to be confused with the trip that caused my ankle to break). It’s $85 for one month. I intend to get $3 a day worth out of it.

I”m going to use this space in my blog to keep track of my days, what I do, see, and what I learn. The metamorphosis, I hope, will be more than just stronger abs.

April 15th. Oakland Hospital. Jadyne was the photographer.

Dr. Ford said I had to sleep in this thing. I can. Teeny used to say, “Don’t burn daylight.” Metaphorically, I will look for it wherever I can find it.

April 16th. Saturday. Twenty-four hours later. We went to Johnson Hospital supplies in the morning and picked up the wheelchair. The store is in Emeryville.

So is Guitar Center. I revisited my childhood, buying a Fender Stratocaster, that on the surface looks just like the one I bought from Howard Early’s Music Store in Kennedy Heights in 1961. It may look like that, but it isn’t. We also bought a two-neck guitar stand. You can never have too many guitars.

So that took a good part of Saturday. In the afternoon Jadyne wheeled me to Isla’s soccer game, and I managed to squeeze off a few shots of the little striker, as the Spurs unhappily faced a stronger and bigger team.

I would have made this smaller if I knew how.

Isla always wears a mask. I think it keeps her warm.

Sunday, April 17th. Back to the Guitar Center to trade in the single neck guitar stand for a double. Lunch at Minnie Bell’s in the Public Market, then a ride around Emeryville in the wheelchair. Home to watch the Giants defeat the Cleveland Guardians 8-1, then off to Delhi Diner. Jennifer had taken both Susanto and Isla to Palisades Ski Area (formerly known as Squaw Valley) for the day, then returned in time to celebrate Easter with the Indians. Krishna, the hostess of Delhi Diner, is a legitimate Indian, even if the Cleveland Guardians (formerly known as the Cleveland Indians) aren’t.

Monday, April 18th. Ab crunches in the morning, then a trip to R.E.I. for rubber tips for my hiking poles, giving me more stability when walking. A pound of fresh salmon for dinner, then a wheelchair ride down San Pablo Avenue where we met this gentleman.

“Can I take your photo? I asked. “Yes,” he replied, peeking out from beneath the plastic tarp. I give money to people who need it, but I didn’t want him to think that I was buying his permission to take his photo. Since he agreed first, it was easy for me to say, “I want you to have this,” as I handed him the bill. “Are you sure"?, he responded, “Can you afford this?” I thought about the irony of it all, that he was lying between the sidewalk and the street under a blue tarp, and seeing me in a wheelchair, what it was in him that moved him to ask. We turned around, went back to R.E.I. climbed in the car, and headed back to a warm house, a new guitar, Loch Duarte salmon, a glass of Chardonnay, a loving wife, you know, everyday stuff like that.

April 19th, Tuesday. .3” of rain last night. More expected Thursday. And that should wrap up the “rainy season” which wasn’t rainy at all. All of this leads into the “fire season”, which we’ll enter with fingers crossed. No Princess Summerfall Winterspring in California. Only “Rainy”and “Fire.”

This morning we did the doughnut run. Every Tuesday we pick up 70 lbs. of day old donuts and distribute them to three places—the men’s shelter in Berkeley, the student store at UCB, and the line of RV’s parked alongside Costco.

Jadyne, after picking up 70 lbs. of donuts

Jadyne, the chauffeur, and my limo.
We got our $3 a day worth, walking along the Bay Trail north of Cesar Chavez Park on a cool, cloudy day.

April 20th, Wednesday. There are worse places to convalesce. Spring on Rugby Avenue.

Japanese maple. I think it’s carnivorous. By 2023 it will be in our bedroom. In the back are redwoods, including two rare deciduous dawn redwoods, The closer tree is a cedar.

Down the path. Japanese maples in front and at back. Hellebores and flamingos to the bottom left. Behind the fence is a creek that divides Contra Costa County from Alameda County, or Kensington from Berkeley.

Backyard from the deck. The landscapers predicted that we would spend a lot time on the chaise lounges in front of the fountain. Maybe once in fourteen years.

Vegetable garden. Tomatoes, lettuce, pole bean, squash, basil, strawberries.

23rd st, Richmond. “Little Mexico”. This gentleman sells Tejuino. A cup of tejuino with shaved ice in it. Tejuíno is a cold beverage made from fermented corn and popularly consumed in the Mexican states of Jalisco and Chihuahua.

The taco trucks are a permanent fixture, hosting tables, chairs, umbrellas, and of course, music.

April 21, Thursday. Woke up to .3” of rain, perhaps the last of the season. Afternoon walk down 4th Street in Berkeley, a tony shopping area not longer than a block and a half. Met Rick Auerbach, a photographer who has leased space to sell his framed images.

Rick shoots mostly landscapes with a 35mm camera, has them printed at Bay Color Labs on aluminum, then hangs them in this space. We chatted for about twenty minutes, the usual boring stuff that photographers talk about.

Some said the land where the parking lot is now should be purchased by the city and turned into a park to honor the history and culture of the Ohlone. The property at 1900 Fourth is a city landmark, dating back to 2000, within the potential boundaries of the West Berkeley shellmound. The exact location of the shellmound is unknown and has been a matter of much debate. It’s slated for a mixed-use development, which when it’s completed, will surely require Michala Downs, the owner of the pink Porsche to move her car. Her name was plastered on several door panels, so Jadyne went to Facebook and discovered that she is quite the fashionista.

Oh, that I had waited until she returned to her pink Porsche Cayenne. To quote G. B. Shaw, “Youth is the most precious thing in life; it is too bad it has to be wasted on young folks.”

April 22, Friday. Watched MTG under cross-examination. She is hoping to keep her name on the ballot. Supporters of the 14th Amendment want to remove it. They will be right, but they will lose.

Errands this morning, first to the Apple Store, for the geniuses to reset my phone. Waited with a happy customer there, too. A Rivian pickup truck was parked out front, the first of what I suspect will be many.

Rivian. Starts at around 70k. Good luck in getting one.

I’m 25% of the way to my next appointment, an x-ray that will reveal how much I’ve healed. In a best case scenario the boot will be gone. I’ve been in a good state of mind, accepting that this is what is, that negative thoughts and impatience will produce negative results. A lot of reading, time on the guitar, and more hummingbirds to focus on.

April 23rd, Saturday. A ninety mile trip to watch Kennedy, my eight year old grandson, a member of the Tin Cups, play baseball.

An RBI with a mighty blast to right field, as the catcher winces in disappointment.

His six-year old teammate has struck out. He will remain name and numberless.

Broken humerus and fibula. Both adorned with plumerias. Two broken bones.

April 24th, Sunday. Another day with kid sports. An 8:15 am game of “footie” with twelve year old grandson, Susanto.

A happy couple along the path.
The tree grabber thingy.
At the end of the road leading to the Marina. The threesome in front of us were holding on to their hats while a local Marina denizen looks for whatever food they might be willing to give him.

My new Fender Stratocaster had a buzzing in the top strings. John Livingston, the Guitar C Center technician, also thought that the tenth fret might be a little too high, so I was able to exchange it for another. Thanks to the EXPERT Elvis, pictured on the left.

April 25th, Monday. Sports are over. The Tin Caps fought to a tie on Saturday; the Spurs won on Sunday.

Jadyne took me to the Berkeley Marina on a one mile plus walk (ride) in a transport wheelchair (plastic wheels) on a path that circumnavigates the Marina hills in a roaring wind off the Bay. We were both cold, but she was energized by the efforts she made just keeping the wheelchair upright.

Before we started we watched a crew cutting down dead trees by the Marina in a way that would make arborists jealous. While one man cut through the base of the tree, another directed a robot controlled arm to grab the entire tree, lift it, then drop it in a pile in the parking lot.

April 26th, Tuesday.

A Costco run. How could life be any better? I’m going to make a point of using this sucker after my boot is off!

Rosie the Riveter is an allegorical cultural icon of World War II, representing the women who worked in factories and shipyards during World War II, many of whom produced munitions and war supplies.[1][2] These women sometimes took entirely new jobs replacing the male workers who joined the military. Rosie the Riveter is used as a symbol of American feminism and women's economic advantage.[3] Wikipedia

The four Richmond Kaiser Shipyards built 747 ships during World War II, a rate never equaled. Compared to the average ship built elsewhere, Richmond ships were completed in two-thirds the time and at a quarter of the cost. The Liberty ship SS Robert E. Peary was assembled in less than five days as a part of a competition among shipyards.

The monument itself stretches the length of a typical ship. In the sidewalk are engravings indicating the progress of the war itself. At the stern is the statement below.

“You must tell your children, putting all modesty aside, without women there would be no Spring in 1945”

April 27th, Wednesday

bún thịt nướng at Houng Tra. When I was a boy a Frisch’s Big Boy hamburger, french fries, and a Coke was the greatest meal I could ever imagine. Now, it’s Bun. You can look up the recipe, but really, nothing beats bun.

So my day began at lunch. We followed it up with a trip to replace the ratty Patagonia fleece that I’m wearing right now, then to Tokyo Fish Market for more Loch Duarte salmon.

The epicenter of wonderful fish in Berkeley.

April 28th, Thursday. Two weeks. After a $525 morning plumbing miscue, I piled into the wheelchair and Jadyne pushed me down Shattuck Avenue through central Berkeley. As is the nature of adventures, “unexpected” becomes the word of choice. Here, for your pleasure is my encounter with “Ralph Luuren.”

I’m trying to jump out of my wheelchair. I asked her to sit on my lap, but she was afraid she’d break it. My leg. Or the wheelchair.

And here she is again. "You worked for Tesla?” we asked. “I’m between jobs right now,” Ralph answered, “I’m now at Target.”

**The Street Spirit**. We bought a copy. The headline reads, “Housing is a Human Right.”

April 29th, Friday. Morning two and a half mile trek on a recently completed extension of the Bay Trail. A trek for Jadyne, that is, and a ride for me.

Jadyne removes the wheelchair from the trunk and brings it over for the Infirm.

This kind lady saw how Jadyne was struggling on the incline. She turned around and helped push me.

The maximum water temperature of SF Bay is 53.7 degrees in April.

Golden Gate Bridge with an unusual foreground.

Lunch with Ted.

When we first moved to Kensington I went to a local community meeting that Ted chaired. “How do you get on the committee?” I asked him. “Come to the next meeting,” he replied, “and you’ll be a member.” That was my last meeting.

A year or two later we saw each other an an orientation for the Writers Workshop, an organization whose members volunteer in schools and work with students struggling with their writing. For several years we both worked in Albany Middle School, helping eighth graders. Ted stayed with the program during Covid. I couldn’t imagine trying to help via Zoom, so I withdrew and began working at the Men’s Shelter in downtown Berkeley.

At the time Ted was working for AmNav, a tugboat company. He secured contracts with the huge Japanese and Chinese shipping companies who brought over goods from overseas, docking in the East Bay. We took several rides on the tugs, and it provided me with limitless photographic opportunities, including the America’s Cup Race, the Blue Angels, and the fireworks celebrating the anniversary of the building of the Golden Gate Bridge.

More than that. We’ve been friends for years. He visited me in the hospital when I had hip replacement surgery; it was our turn when he and his wife Caroline lost their daughter. Ted got a new hip a month or so ago; I broke my ankle. We are two old men, lusting after young women, neither of us able to walk without difficulty, sharing stories over a bowl of egg flower soup at Little Hong Kong, a luncheon date we make every Friday because neither one of us can do much else.

Finished off the day with a Rugby Avenue party,

When we moved to Rugby Avenue there were only two or three kids. Now they outnumber us fogies.

Inez, who lives behind us, the only adult (among five) in her house who isn’t sick.

April 30th, Saturday. My brother Bill’s 79th birthday. I’ve reached the halfway point between the breaking of the ankle and the next x-ray. It’s healing. I’m still patient. Wednesday on the Mickey Mouse Club: “Today is the day that is filled with surprises. You never know what’s going to happen.” And so it was to be..

Loved watching Isla play soccer. She’s gained so much in both confidence in herself and skill as a player.

Just finished a burger at Al’s. “I feel funny in my arms,” I said to Jadyne, and I’m not sure if I can lift them.” I felt hot, flushed, pale, sweaty. Al called 9-1-1, and I was off to Kaiser’s Oakland Hospital. Ten blood tests. All good. Heart perfect. No explanation from the doctor. I made it just in time to Gilman to see Susanto’s soccer game at 3:45.

“You never know what’s going to happen.”

Room C-6. My friend and neighbor Chris Anderson, who years ago introduced me to the term “new normal,” now calls it “check engine light.” We checked it. It’s off now.

The diagnosis? I was treated for Near Syncope. “No worrisome findings on esxamination/evaluation that would suggest heart attack or acute cardiac condition. Fainting syncope) is a temporary loss of consciousness (passing out). It happens when blood flow to the brain is reduc e. Near-fainting is like fainting, but you don’t fully pass out. OInstead, uyou feel like you are going to pass out, but don’t actually lose consciousness.”

May 1, 2022. A Sunday stroll (ride) through Berkeley, then over the pedestrian bridge from west to east, where I met Carrie, this gracious lady who, after consenting to let me take her photo, asked for my card. I actually carry one. Only one.

Over the bridge we met the unvaccinated, hanging signs advocating that children don’t need it either. I stopped to talk, or rather to listen to one of them. I thanked them. We moved on

Last on the list was this one man drummer and sax player. Love Berkeley diversity.

May 2, 2022. Monday. Morning on the Bay Trail.

Got a Honda? This is how it came from Japan to you. These car carriers arrive daily in Richmond. The cars are driven to waiting train cars, then shipped hither and yon, wherever that is.

Tom and Cindy. Cindy had knee replacement three days after I fell. They live in a beautiful Victorian home in Petaluma with the most magnificent yellow roses that line their front sidewalk.

Lunch with Henry and Kathleen. We’ve known both of them for forty years or more. Like Cindy, Henry had knee replacement surgery, which morphed into much more than that. In fact, recovering from his knee surgery was the least of the issues. A list of subsequent misfortunes would exhaust the space that Squarespace has allotted me for my blog.

I first met Henry when I began my career as a photographer. He framed art. He was single at the time, and Jadyne and I invited him for dinner. “I can’t,” Henry said, “I have to practice carrier landings off Morro Bay.” Jaw drop. Kathleen was a friend of Teeny’s, a kindergarten teacher. We were unaware that they knew each other, much less that they were engaged to be married. Two old white guys with loving supportive Chinese wives.

May 3, 2022. Spent a half hour in Richmond at the dog park. This was the product of twenty minutes in a wheelchair and the new friends we made, all without leashes, all excited to explore freely in a mostly urban environment.

May 4, Wednesday. Taking my brother Jack along 23rd Street in Richmond, our second venture into the businesses largely owned and supported by the immense Latino population in the Bay Area.

Hunting for a murderer, taco trucks, a wheel from a 1970 Thunderbird, a hair salon, lottery buyers hoping for bonus money, brooms, markets, restaurants, and mannequins. Then errands around town, another day.

May 5 and May 6. Thursday and Friday. A walk/push around the Berkeley Marina. First on the list are the Berkeley Marina ground squirrels.

From a 2001 article.
**Rodents Romeos /** **Berkeley Marina's fecund ground squirrels have a date with the birth-control man**
Needless to say. the birth-control man was stood up. Twenty-one years later, They’re everywhere.

Another of the Marina regulars. A red-wing blackbird. They have their own area.

May 7, Saturday. A cold walk along the Bay beginning at Chevy’s in Emeryville.

When Jadyne wheeled me too close to him and his four siblings, his mother took exception to my presence. Got away just in time.

The Red Baron, one of the remaining sculptures that formerly graced the Emeryville shoreline.

Night heron, waiting for Chevy’s Tex-Mex to open.

May 8, Sunday. Mother’s Day. “Mother” is outside digging up grasses that were planted fourteen years ago and have given up the ghost. We’re expecting a visit from Jason this afternoon, but it’s an unusually cool May morning. Even a shower or two could show up.

In reading about my boot I saw this article.

Ankle Fractures

Ankle Fractures Can Be Death Sentences For Seniors

I had to read that!. Second reading discussed compound ankle fractures generated from low impact activities, not mine. 27% of those who suffered that kind of fracture died within two months. Beating the odds, just like Rich Strike, the horse that won the Kentucky Derby at 80-1 odds.

Enough of that. Off to Oakland’s Jack London Square, where the trains come down the middle of the street.

Jack London Square, the main port for the container ships that sail from China and Japan. The white structures in the back unload the containers.

The Potomac. FDR’s presidential yacht. While relaxing on board, the president fished, read detective stories, and worked on his stamp collection. On Sundays, a sea plane would often land alongside the ship to deliver newspapers, mail and anything requiring the president's signature.

As we left this young man wished Jadyne a Happy Mother’s Day. He was calling his mother to wish her the same in New Orleans.

May 9, 10th. Monday Tuesday. Mostly “walks” along the Bay, downtown Berkeley. On Monday we bought a new wheelchair in Novato that was advertised on Craigslist. It has bigger wheels and is designed for the outside. My next x-ray is in five days. Hoping to rid myself of the dreaded boot. Meanwhile, we’ve seen our share of Berkeley and Emeryville.

Silhouetted driver doing what everyone else is doing all the time.

Golden Gate Fields. A $250,000 race was held here last weekend. It’s fenced in. No photographers allowed.

Abstract. Construction on a pedestrian freeway overpass.

May 11, 2022. Wednesday. Visit to Annie’s Annuals today for succulents to replace dead grasses in the back yard.

A belated Mother’s Day dinner at the Dead Fish. It isn’t often that the original five are together. Treasured time.

May 15, Sunday. I ran out of gas. Greg and Sean, Jadyne’s brother and sister-in-law arrived for a week’s visit, having driven a thousand miles from No Name. Colorado, their first visit since Greg’s near fatal illness two years ago.

On Friday I went to Kaiser for the x-ray that will be interpreted to me tomorrow when I see Dr. Ford, thirty-two days after my mishap. It’s a beautiful sunny May Sunday morning, and Sean and Jadyne are out for a three mile walk/hike, and I’m sitting at my computer, trying—and I’m not succeeding—not to feel bad, knowing that the boot will be staying on for some time to come.

Musician at the Pirate Barbecue in Point Molate. Had a wonderful dinner with Sean and Greg.

May 16th and 17th, Monday and Tuesday. No amazing photos, but some very good news. Saw DPM Dr. Ford, who examined my x-rays and was pleased in the healing that had taken place over the previous 32 days. He added, “no need to sleep with it anymore”, and “in two weeks you can take it off and begin walking.” It will be months before I’m healed, but next Friday, May 27th, I’ll be boot free and can begin reclaiming the old me.

We’ve been entertaining company for the past week, Sean and Greg, who I photographed in Emeryville last night, after having consumed ten dim sum dishes.

Greg is ten years younger than Jadyne. Sean is two or three years older than Greg. They were married twenty-eight years ago. No two people love each other more than they do.

Graffiti and painted fences along the greenway.

May 18th, Wednesday. Jadyne is building her strength, wheeling me along the bay on these beautiful, warm, and sunny spring days.

We are not alone. He drives a semi-truck. And that’s his *right foot!*

May 19th, 20th. Thursday, Friday. The big doin’ on Thursday was a trip to Kaiser for the second booster shot, a decision based on the rising numbers of the current outbreak. No walk today, no photos, no nothing.

Friday was a different story. A Costco run. We bought flowers. Our friends John and Mary discovered that their middle child, Erica, has stage four cancer. She’s forty-two. She began feeling bad in March, checked into the hospital in April, has had two chemotherapy sessions. A third was scheduled for today. Almost thirty-four years ago we lost Teeny. John and Mary drove to Santa Rosa to provide comfort. That’s what we do.

Erica’s dog. She knows something’s not right..

May 21, Saturday. Another trip to Sacramento. Kennedy’s last baseball game.

The end is near. No new wheelchair trips these last two days. Jadyne’s arm is still sore from booster #2. The CDC, in light of the latest Covid outbreak, has now strongly recommended the second booster. I’m fine, that is, except for a careless finger cut last night.

I spend more of the day bootless, doing ab crunches with the boots off, stretching my ankle and rotating it to strengthen it. It’s a Saturday. By Thursday I’m planning on removing it altogether, returning to the Shelter for breakfast, and beginning a walking program that will eventually return me to the physical shape I was in before April 15th.

In the last five weeks the Russians have continued their relentless attacks against Ukraine, the Supreme Court’s leaked opinion has revealed its intention to overturn Roe vs. Wade, the wife of a Supreme Court justice is a traitor, Madison Cawthorn’ ws fired, the Jan 6th Committee has set dates for its hearings in June which promise to be “agonizing and riveting.” Jamie Raskin, a prominent Democrat on the committee had this to say: “This was a coup organized by the president against the vice-president and against the Congress in order to overturn the 2020 presidential election.

Roger Angell died, Sean and Greg visited for a week, Jack, for three days, the garden flourishes, I read several books, including Maximum Harm, the story of the Boston Marathon bombers.

It’s grandchild sports day. Kennedy’s last game with the Tin Caps, and Susanto’s effort in soccer. It’s what we do.

The coach, the catcher, the son, the grandson.

Susanto’s last game, too….until tomorrow, maybe.

May 22, Sunday. Beautiful morning. A wheelchair along the bay.

Sunday afternoon. Susanto’s piano recital. I met his teacher today. He was wonderful with all the kids.

Susanto’s piano teacher with a very young student.

We heard Eloise play the sax. We didn’t stay for the piano.

And with the Padres’ sweep of the Giants, the last game 10-1 and Susanto’s piano recital coming to an end, this wheelchair boy is signing off on Sunday.

May 23rd, Monday. After showering this morning I put the dreaded boot back on. Yes, I know I can take it off for good on Thursday, but it’s still an albatross. I discovered that yesterday when I walked up the hill to Susanto’s recital. Up is hard. But thoughts have turned away from the boot. Larry Johnson has begun new chemotherapy treatments; the Kemps are still dealing with a daughter with stage four cancer. Whatever comes my way comes.

An afternoon stroll though downtown Berkeley

Not Paul Butterfield, but hey, he'‘s doing what he can.

People passing by my wheelchair.

May 24, Tuesday, It was another doughnut delivery day, this time to Richmond and Oakland. Along a several blocks long homeless encampment in Oakland signs read, “100% Affordable Housing.”

An afternoon stroll along the bay trail by the Emeryville Marina. A place to paint.

Would the cranes have made a more photogenic background

Worse places to ride a bike and set up a hammock.

Little footnote. I have dreamt twice of being in a wheelchair, once with a broken ankle. Our real lives include our dreams.

May 25th, Wednesday. No celebration in taking the boot off. Nineteen children and three adults were shot to death in Texas yesterday. The title of this little post is “Metamorphosis”, which implies change. Nothing is changing in America.

Good luck with that “thoughts and prayers” bullshit.

Herein lies the problem. Shit-for-brains congressmen, senators, governors , and other elected officials have put those of us who value lives on notice. We’re the problem. We choose life over guns. How un-American.

Governor Abbot’s press conference today. Solemnity and caring were the mots de jour, and “mental health:, (or course). Beto O-Rourke interrupted and protested the press conference, claiming that the responsibility for the childrens’ deaths is on Abbot. Beto was vilified by the “speakers”, but I suspect that non gun-loving Americans are firmly in his corner. The speakers? Blah blah blah.

This is the new America.

May 26, Thursday. The end of this blog entry. The boot is off.

42 days later. Yes, I still have toenail fungus

My first day being somewhat useful. I returned to the Dorothy Day Center and helped prepare breakfast for the homeless.

When I started this blog entry I wanted to measure the changes that I anticipated might take place in the six weeks of my convalescence.

I have a greater appreciation for the challenges that face the disabled, especially those in wheelchairs.
I hated being so dependent on others, especially Jadyne, who pushed me everywhere in my wheelchair and who did all the housework.
I hated not driving.
I lamented the loss of some of the meaning in my day, the absence of volunteer activities especially.
I sorely missed walking.
I have gained weight, eating as much as I did before my accident, though without the exercise.
“I’ve been hard to live with, haven’t I” I asked Jadyne. “Yes,” she answered quickly. Maybe that’s not such a change.
My abs are stronger.

But as far as real changes go, here’s one that’s missing. From The Onion…

‘No Way To Prevent This,’ Says Only Nation Where This Regularly Happens

Yesterday 9:00AM

Alerts

UVALDE, TX—In the hours following a violent rampage in Texas in which a lone attacker killed at least 21 individuals and injured several others, citizens living in the only country where this kind of mass killing routinely occurs reportedly concluded Tuesday that there was no way to prevent the massacre from taking place. “This was a terrible tragedy, but sometimes these things just happen and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop them,” said Idaho resident Kathy Miller, echoing sentiments expressed by tens of millions of individuals who reside in a nation where over half of the world’s deadliest mass shootings have occurred in the past 50 years and whose citizens are 20 times more likely to die of gun violence than those of other developed nations. “It’s a shame, but what can we do? There really wasn’t anything that was going to keep this individual from snapping and killing a lot of people if that’s what they really wanted.” At press time, residents of the only economically advanced nation in the world where roughly two mass shootings have occurred every month for the past eight years were referring to themselves and their situation as “helpless.”

Saturday, June 11th. Eight weeks and a day. I’ve been averaging 10,000 steps a day, gaining my endurance back, working in the yard. Eight weeks ago I knew that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and as days turned into weeks the light grew brighter. For two friends, though, Larry Johnson and Henry Crigler, the light may or may not be there. They’re faced with the uncertainty of knowing whether their physical issues are metastasizing.