My birthday and Father’s Day coinciding. Five children, five grandchildren… Reflecting on the "if only" moments in my life. No regrets, but journeys I made, some of them without exactly knowing why I was making them, leaving a thoroughly advantageous position (teaching in the Writing Program at the Iowa Writers' Workshop, for example) to go, as much on whim as anything else, to spend a year in London... Reading David Grossman’s New Yorker (6/15/09) feature “The Age of Genius, The legend of Bruno Schulz.” A couple paragraphs in particular stand out: "…salmon have always seemed to be the living incarnation of a journey. They are born in freshwater rivers or lakes. They swim there for a while, and then head for salt water. In the sea, they travel in huge schools for thousands of miles, until they sense some inner signal, and the school reverses direction and begins to return home, to the place where its members were hatched. Again the salmon swim thousands of miles. “Along the way, they are preyed upon by other fish, by eagles and bears. In dwindling numbers, they scoot upriver and leap against the current, through waterfalls twenty or thirty feet long, until the few that remain reach the exact spot where they were spawned, and lay their eggs. When the babies hatch, they swim over the dead bodies of their parents. Only a few adult salmon survive to perform the journey a second time. “When I first heard about the life cycle of salmon, I felt that there was something very Jewish about it: that inner signal which suddenly resonates in the consciousness of the fish, bidding them to return to the place where they were born, the place where they were formed as a group. (There may also be something very Jewish in the urge to leave that homeland and wander all over the world—that eternal journey.)” So blog becoming something of a scrapbook, snippets of things I want to remember… blog more handy, more efficient than the hardcopy journals I used to keep. Well, in truth, I still keep 'em.