The cottonwoods dwarf the elms

The cottonwoods dwarf the elms on Summit, I note this morning while walking the dog and passing an elm marked for removal–orange paint ring and two-digit number of it’s what–diameter or radius? not sure. For a chainsaw, they’d need to know the radius. But, seeing the dead elm marked for removal on Summit Avenue amongst the cottonwoods made me realize that there were elms, not just cottonwoods. Odd, since I fancy myself a bit of a dead elm spotter. And comparing that very mature and large elm, size and diginity of an elephant, an urban forest elephant, with the the much larger cottonwood gave me renewed regard for the cottonwood.

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I felt like a commodity

Thought while waiting for my oatmeal at the counter at Nina’s coffee shop. I think that was the primary reason that I stopped coming here when the new owner started. She made changes and made decision that, it seemed to me when I talked to her about them, she presented in a patronizing way as being in my best interest. Though she is an owner. I felt like a commodity. I am a commodity, always, though I don’t realize it always. Like now; the feeling has worn away, and I am lured back here with oatmeal and wifi.

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Thomas’ birthday celebration – December 6

December 6, 2005, would have been Thomas’ fortieth birthday. If you are interested in gathering to remember him and celebrate his life, please join us on Tuesday, December 6, 2005. We are planning to meet at Fabulous Ferns from about 7p – 10p. Please spread the word to anyone you know who may be interested in being there.
Please bring photos and think about special memories you want to share. AND if you have a suggestion for organizing or compiling people’s memories/stories, please let me know. Thank you.
Dorothy Jordan
home: 612-721-7211
cell: 612-280-2427
Fabulous Ferns
400 Selby Ave (at Arundel St)

DVD of the Memorial Service

Thomas’ memorial service on September 10, 2005, was recorded by the generous Robert Haarman. The DVD was professionally replicated. I have a couple of spare copies and can also have more made. If you are interested in having a DVD for yourself or would like to borrow a copy to view it, please let me know.
Dorothy Jordan
home: 612-721-7211
cell: 612-280-2427

Mars 3-D

At Panera across the street from the physical therapist. Leaving at 11:00 for the Hansmeyer family Christmas, unless we see a report of the weather being bad–rainy, sleety, snowy–tonight.
Last night, Dorothea and I had a nice time–childlessly–going to a movie at the Science Museum, out to eat and a beer at Great Waters brew pub, and a nice walk. We had some of Thomas’s herb. First time in a very long time for either of us. Oh, and after the walk, we watched the Chinese movie “Smile.”

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“Slow motion-nuclear explosion”

(To quoting myself)–my thought as a walked out of the YWCA this morning, and the most prominent thing in view is the plume of the power plant smokestack. Orange and pink and gold and all sorts of colors against the sunrise.
The plumes of stuff from all the smokestacks–power plants, paper mills, refineries, chemical plants–have, I imagine, the cumulative effect of a nuclear explosion.
Last night, Dorothea was upstairs talking on the phone to Beauty while Madeline and I made dinner and Liam was in a huff. When Dorothea finally came down–we were ready to eat–she said that she had bad news. Beauty had written a thank you note to Jack and Pauline, and Pauline had written her back saying she has lung cancer. It has been about two weeks since she found out.

Eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month

Nina’s. I am on my laptop, on Linux, on wireless, writing with OpenOffice. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. The browser page came up instantly—so that is even better than Windows. Well, the “old” Windows, anyway, which required that you find and connect to a new network. That’s what I was doing yesterday—trying to get Linux wireless working on a partition on my laptop. The flavor of Linux was Suse. There are a lot of things that I like about Suse, but I couldn’t get wireless working. So I went to the Kubuntu CD that I’d burned probably last spring. Voilà.

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Panera Bread — Maplewood

After physical therapy, am across White Bear Avenue at the Panera. I saw the “doctor” for the third time–that not fair, the quotes; he is an MD. This was my tenth visit, and I started on the rotary machine. I am feeling stronger, and I am less afraid of my back going out, but I do still get numbness and tingling in my feet.
Last night, I took my laptop to classs at St. Thomas again, and still wasn’t able to get on the network. Got the password thing worked out, but then they scanned my computer, and it wasn’t up to stuff. So I have been installing patches since during class last night. I fact, it was updating in the trunk of the Honda as I was at my appointment. And I came to Panera primarily because I knew that I desperately needed a power outlet. But now, I am XP Service Pace 2–been holding off since last April–and now the thing wants to reboot again. So adieu.

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IN MEMORY OF THOMAS –a poem written by Tom Jaax for Rose Hansmeyer

The dawn saw her
sailing a southerly course.
Soft morning light
reflected on her face
gazing out over
the water.
Waves lifted the boat
steadied by a wind
in the sails.
An easy motion
to lose your thoughts.
She watched the light
of the sunrise play
on top of the water.
Her eyes taking in
every shape and color
Short gusts of wind
shimmered the light
on the little waves,
giving way to a softer
rounder yellow on older
Her breathing
uneasy now
ushered in a sigh.
As if the sails
lost their wind.
A tear readies
its fall to the water
as a dragonfly lands
on the lifeline wire.
She just received
news of her brother’s
Both her and the
dragonfly swayed
with the wind and waves.
They travelled on
She knows now
his memories will sail
on with her.
She will call on
his smile and laugh,
when the wind blows too strong….
She will remember
his love of people
as she steps ashore
in new lands….
The sound of the hull
through the water
is his long yessss
to his respect for the earth…
She will say goodnight
in the quiet anchorages
as the gentle oval waves
close her eyes….
She watched the
dragonfly take off
in a southerly direction
tacking back and forth,
as if leading the way.