After yet another additon to her Frequent Flyer account, Claire woke up in Cambridge, Mass., this morning and soon was snuggled in bed with Darlene for their usual soft start of the day. We are on the third floor of my parents’ home. This visit will include the annual turkey trek to Ocean Park, Maine, along with several meetings on behalf of AGNI, the nation’s best magazine of contemporary literature. My mother left a new bag of Starbucks whole bean House Blend in the kitchen up here, along with a package of Thomas’ English muffins and a wooden bowl of fresh tangerines and Macintosh apples.
Denver days and life in Cambridge now begin to alternate more comfortably. Darlene found the dog pen and Claire’s food she had left in our special closet on the third floor. It’s a crisp, clear November New England day in the neighborhood. The mantra for the day which arose during my morning meditation time: Go slow and be a happy chump.
Encarta defines chump as “unwise person or dupe.” Where I usually burn my hand on the stove during visits with my family is overestimating my grasp on reality and seeking ways to show off how well I am living my life compared with the twisted attempts of everyone else except the Dali Lama. A happy chump would not make this mistake. He would be glad to be here, or anywhere, looking for chances to become a little wiser.