December, 1998
I am somewhat astonished that I have continued these MUSINGS for nine years. 1998 has been a better year, medically, than 1997. An August check-up showed no re-occurrence of cancer; [I] feel o.k., low energy.
If I have filled in some gaps in knowledge of the family and about relatives, that makes the effort worthwhile. More than that, I am amply rewarded if I have encouraged anyone in the family or among my close friends to follow the trail of their own ideas: that is, what are the implications? What may be the result or unintended consequences? Who has benefited or will benefit? What can I believe? What must I do?
One of the paragraphs I mull over from time to time is the conclusion of Albert Camus’ essay, “The Artist And His Time,” where he wrote (not degenderized):
“Great ideas, it has been said, come into the world as gently as doves. Perhaps then, if we listen attentively, we shall hear, amid the uproar of empires and nations, a faint flutter of wings, the gentle stirring of life and hope. Some say that this hope lies in a nation; others in a man. I believe rather that it is awakened, revived, nourished by millions of solitary individuals whose deeds and works every day negate frontiers and the crudest implications of history. As a result, there shines forth fleetingly the ever threatened truth that each and every man, on the foundations of his own sufferings and joys, builds for all.”
That is a message for whatever religious tradition you celebrate at the Winter Solstice. Bless you all!!!
Grandfather W
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