Tuesday, April 21, 2020


(Bet you didn't know what that word meant.)

My favorite of 20 first cousins was named Mejol. It was a name my Aunt Georgie found in a novel about native Americans.

She is 5 or 6 years older than me and since my parents didn't know they'd have me, being older, they brought Mejol into their lives.

I remember her going on vacations with us and always being around.

She lives in the Baltimore area so I sometimes see her when I go see Josh and Cathy and the girls.

Her two children live there two with their spouses and her two grand-sons.

I'm sure I've told you this before, but when I was 14, she locked me in her room with a copy of Catcher in the Rye and a Bob Dylan album on her record player. It changed my life.

So I call her....more and more during this virus thing, because I love her and she grounds me.

Talking with Mejol makes me sane. (My spell check underlines her name and always will.)

We've shared so much over all these years.

Besides Bern and our children, there is no one I feel closer to than Mejol. (sorry spellcheck..)

The calls aren't profound, but they are comforting, centering, grounding.

Thank you cousin Mejol.

You mean more to me that you will ever imagine.


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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.