The Silent Witness

Thanksgiving 2018. Time to laze around a bit.

Started the morning with a great pot of coffee and a 5 disc (Please, Please Me, Let it Be Naked, Rubber Soul,  Revolver, and Past Masters Vol. 2), Beatles mix. Sorry. You cannot do better than the Beatles. I agree with Chuck Klosterman: Best song-writers, best vocalists, all the best songs. Perfect marriage of creativity and commerce. Of course, their range is greater than your's, so there are a handful of songs you tend to skip, usually one on nearly every album (think: Maxwell's Silver Hammer, Mr. Moonlight, Honey Pie, Taste of Honey, Yellow Submarine),  mainly the schmaltzy, goofy, music-hall type songs, but still, if you want to put a smile on your face in the a.m. Do a Beatles mix! Exuberant!

Turned on the TV, with sound off, and watched big rubber characters floating down the streets of New York in the frigid temps. That's entertainment!

Lots of conversations yesterday. Lots of worrying about getting into conversations. It turns out all was fine. The most important thing: The Hugs. The Hand-holding.  Yes, forget words, forget the worries, forget the long and winding history, and the deeply, profoundly uncertain future. No use talking.

Everything was contained in the hugs... the holding of hands... the deep, physical, silent witness...