[Recording on substack...]
I've not been capturing so many "daybreak" reflections in this space lately, having committed awhile back to doing (and holding close) more personal journaling.
I'm sticking with that commitment, reinforced by the recent WAPO story about a centenarian who's been keeping a daily journal without lapse for 90 years! Never mind that most of her entries are pretty banal--where she went, who she spoke with, what she had for dinner etc. Wouldn't it be amazing to have a shelf full of dated personal journals you could pull down at will, full of that kind of ephemera along with the occasional deeper reflection too?
Michael Palin also inspires, in this regard.
But there are still times that do call for a step back and a shared stock-taking, when reflection wants wider expression. This morning is one of those times.
A thunderstorm rolled into middle Tennessee early this morning, stirring our big pup Nell to the anxious heavy panting that loud atmospheric disturbances trigger in her. There was going to be no sleeping through that. So I commenced my usual pre-dawn routine and put the water on to boil a bit earlier than usual.
I recently switched digital journals (which I've been keeping fairly constantly for a few years now) from the Google docs platform to Apple, when I learned of an upgrade to the iPhone Journal app. That's where my daily journaling routine now begins, with (mostly) voice dictation to unpack whatever partial thoughts, feelings, and perceptions happen to be sitting on the surface of awareness as the fresh-dripped coffee pour begins to kick in. (I do measure out that portion of my life in coffee spoons, Mr. Eliot.)
This morning's early digital journal recorded my deep gratitude for family and friends who made my 68th birthday very special yesterday. Good conversation, good memories, good food, good times.
It began with an hour-long group text with far-flung pals whose acquaintance goes back decades to grad school and beyond--nearly half a century, in the case of my buddy from Mizzou. We celebrated our respective 21st birthdays (his the day before mine) as callow undergraduate philosophy neophytes on a snowy night in Columbia Missouri forty-seven years ago last night. We've agreed that we must try to arrange a repeat performance on the semi-centennial of that milestone in 2028, wherever we are.
Then a shared catfish basket and brownie a la mode at a new (to us) lunch venue called The Ridge with my wonderful wife.
Later our generous daughter popped over for a visit. She always brings light and cheer, and frequently the best baked goods in town-her own creation.
Then, a fabulous sushi dinner at Ginza (next door to Parnassus) with the delightful couple we like frequently to meet there.
A simple day, simple pleasures, affectionate memories that surfaced with the storm this morning and made their way first into my digital journal, then the bedside Moleskine, and now (in less personal detail) here. I don't want ever to lose them, those priceless memories. And so I've notched them (as Thoreau and Virginia Woolf and others have said one must) on the stick of externally stored memory.
Pretty good way to start a rainy day in February, way better than scrolling the latest offenses to decency emanating from what used to be the world's most emulated seat of democracy.
(And, note to self: that presidential address to the William James Society in DC is scheduled for a month from today, bright and early. Get it done.)
Could say more. And will. But this will do for now.
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