25 August

The Week That Still Is

by Jon Katz
That Week That Still Is
That Week That Still Is

In my tumultuous, unpredictable and sometimes erratic life, I’m not certain I’ve had many, if any, weeks quite like this one. And it is by no means over.

First, Maria decided to go to Calcutta to teach the victims of sex trafficking how to make potholders and she raised thousands of dollars in a couple of days to do it.  Then, after months of haggling and waggling, my publisher express keen interest in my next book proposal and started the process of buying it.

In between, we rescued two more Romney wool sheep in a wild brawl on a hillside in involving Red, some goats, a big horse, a ram and three ewes.

And tomorrow, it appears my daughter will give birth to her first child, my granddaughter.

I admit my head is spinning, I am off-center, distracted and more than a bit disoriented. If ever a week promises to change my life, it is this week.

I am mostly reeling from it, and it all appears to be good, even great.

Several people have asked me if I am affected this week by memories of the two children list to a then little-known genetic disease about thirty years ago. I imaging there are echoes and triggers from that, my flashbacks to being in the hospital in Baltimore are not kind.

But no, I don’t feel fearful or panicked about the birth of Emma’s child, she has been monitored throughout and is in good hands. She will be fine, and my granddaughter will be fine. I am essentially optimistic in nature. As a reporter I learned that bad news finds you quickly. There has been none.

I expect to go to New York City in a few days to meet this new person in my life. Another new chapter. Even by the rather lively standards of my life with Maria, this is an unusual week.

Maria is thrilled about her trip to India, so am I. I am happy to have these beautiful new sheep. I am very excited to get to work soon on my new book “The Lessons Of Bedlam Farm.” I guess Maria is right, I don’t appear to be over quite yet.

And yes, there is the Portrait Show. Tonight, in between text messages from my daughter – I don’t think she uses the landline phone any more for any reason – Maria and I began assembling the frames, mattes and photographs for my portrait show, which goes up in two weeks (the reception is from 2 to 4, Sunday, September 18 at the Round House Cafe, 1 Washington Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, the public is invited.)

I don’t really want anything else to happen this week, except for Emma to have a healthy kid as easily as possible.

I can’t keep track of all the important, even momentous things that are happening in our lives, they are hopping up and down in my head like popcorn out of the cooker.

Last night I was up till 4 a.m. watching old British mysteries on Hulu. I hope I sleep tonight. Oh yes this afternoon, I went to see my diabetes medical specialist, he said I looked great, didn’t need to come back for six months.

He said I could eat sweet corn every day, just not too much. I am dozing off, I am so tired, but I wanted to put this photo up of some of the flowers in our hanging basket. There is a lot of nasty stuff flying through the air around us all now.

What is my role? To bring color and light to world and explain it to you. To offer a safe place, and despite my occasional grumblings, a respite from the rancor and ugliness of the outside world.

I am ever grateful to have so much good and exciting news to report, and glad to be able to share it with you.

Hang on.

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