It rained all day. I went to Watertown this morning for my Uncle Ed's burial service at Ridgelawn cemetary, where my mother is also buried. Funny, I had trouble finding it.
Later there was a gathering at the Verona restaurant.

In the afternoon I went to work on the house. I put in two windows and worked stripping paint from the columns on the porch. I stopped by my friend Rick's house just before going home. He is almost done with his book.

Now I am at Angela's house. Her daughter's friend is sleeping over. I am playing on the computer.

Rainy Sunday

I have just finished listening to the story of the Mutiny on the Bounty written by Caroline Alexander. It is a book worth reading or listening to on tape as I did. The film starring Marlon Brando was the first movie I ever saw, my dad took me to see it in the sixties at the theater on the Cambridge-Watertown line. I still remember the scenes of keel-hauling, whippings, and the tyrannically cruel Captain Bligh. In this book Bligh, while not a hero, is not altogether bad, not nearly as old as in the movie, he just seeme to be a little poor at interpersonal relations and had not been given sufficient support to his authority. In the end, they burn the ship as they did in the movie. The book tells a fascinating story, revealing the complexities of the case and its mysteries. It follows in particular the story of Peter Hayward, who was sixteen at the time of the mutiny, who did not go to Pitcairn but lived on Tahiti with a tahitian wife until discovered and arrested by the royal navy. He was returned to England in chains, tried and convicted to death, but then pardoned by the King and went on to a long career in the navy, as did Bligh. Several others tried with him were hanged. The mutineers who went to Pitcairn left many descendants but all but one disappeared, or were killed by the tahitians that they took with them.

4/16/01
We leave Logan airport at 9 AM, the plane heads out over Boston Harbor. We can see all the harbor islands below, the sky is clear, Duxbury bay and the thin edge of Provincetown are visible in the distance, most of the experiences of my life are encompassed by the view from this airplane window as it turns to the north and we pass over Lynn and Nahant beaches where my mother used to take us when we were kids, then we pass up the coast along Plum Island and right over Rowley where my mother spent here last days in the nursing home. We turn back to the west and Hampton beach is visible to the north where our family vacationed every year. We fly to Cleveland and then on to Phoenix. I try to read my Chinese Bible. We arrive in San Luis in the evening.

I seem to have recovered my blog from sparclinux, although I've lost my picture of the madhatter.

I had a strange dream Friday night . I woke up from the sound of a large fly buzzing around my head. Still more asleep than awake, I turned on the light to try to kill it. The clock read 2:45 am. I could not see the fly although I looked and listened. Giving up I went back to sleep with the sound still over my head. The next morning P called with the news that S had woken at 2:40 that night screaming and throwing up, then C woke up covered in hives and P herself began to experience the symptoms of a urinary tract infection. She was up all night. I thought of the story of Job, and of Beelzebub, the lord of the flies.

We framed the Roof on the job we're doing, again very hot to work.
P and the kids are down at the beach waiting for me.