Post meatloaf

Have you noticed how some personal history lies unnoticed until it goes off like a stink bomb, fouling the present as it did the past? ###

Last night’s meatloaf is a neat foil packet in the fridge. Women will chuckle to know how long it took me to make bread crumbs in the blender, and chop onions and bell pepper for the loaf. We had a good feast.

While Sandy finished up meal prep, I played a Catholic hymn on the piano I hadn’t played since my days at Richmond Hill retreat center. “Be not afraid! I go before you always!”

This morning I had two sinks full of dishes, and a loaf pan full of grease. That’s all that’s left on the counter now, a small cup with grease in it. Dawn brand and elbow grease helped Brother Lawrence and me clean the loaf pan.

These days most big jobs get divided into segments, separated by rest periods.

I listened to a CD of John Rutter’s celestial English anthems. They take me to glory. One, used in a Volvo commercial, stopped me dead in my tracks. It was years before I identified it, in a concert at Bruton Parrish, Williamsburg, where Billy Kruschwitz sang with the Second Bapist choir at a Christmas season festivity.

This stream of consciousness is ended.