WTF

I would like to talk about the kale-onion-portabello-wild caught catfish-baby greens-tabouli-organic brown rice-lemon sauce dinner that we enjoyed tonite with glasses of fish eye pinot grigio ( 2/$10), beside the tranquil lake reflecting Stone Mountain, with the sound of the Mallards and the Cardinals echoing through the pine trees.  I would like to mention that at some point in the dinner, my husband thanked me.  And that since Sunday's time change, the evenings seem to go on and on in this daylight saving time illusion of time stretching.

However, I am caught with the spectre of the suffering of the Japanese people.  My heart feels broken. I read those Washington's politicians' quotes, before it is even settled over there, saying that this tragedy doesn't in any way impact the drive to build more nuclear power plants in the US... of GE saying that there is no problem with the design of the reactors that are blowing up...like, why aren't they all committing hari kari about now?  There were prominent engineers, who became anti-nuke,  resign their jobs due to the lack of safety of these exact same reactors.

I would like to point out that there is a family of three large box turtles that sun themselves just below our trailer, on a log  that sticks out into the lake like a ramp.  And the rain that continued all night long and then gradually receded mid morning.  And the fog that obscured the mountain most of the day creating a blanket of white sky behind the lake and the pine trees.

But my heart is pining the great sadness, the waves of grief that keep pounding on the shores of my being.  I try to resist the thoughts of in-credulousness that the people who know better than anyone the effects of nuclear poison and destruction, would chose nuclear power to maintain their power requirements.  Really?  No wind or sea or solar power possibilities?

Okay.  Shut up.  It must be that obnoxious American tendency to look for blame rather than to just feel the feelings that are so much harder to live with.

Years ago, when I lived on the southern coast of Oregon, I had a friend named Kyoko Kanazawa.  Her husband, Hiroshi, worked for Daishowa Paper Company who shipped products out of our port, back to Japan.  When their second child, a daughter, was born, Kyoko asked me to be the American "godmother" and give her child an American middle name.  This child,  therefore, was named, Riiko Emelie Kanazawa.  Somewhere in this world, she is there.  Perhaps she and her family are in Japan now.  I imagine she has children of her own now.  That would make Kyoko a grandmother, like me. I think about them from time to time.  We lost touch years ago.

I am wondering where they are tonight.