Every year about this time, every charity in the known universe comes out online and in snail mail with matching deals for my consideration. In fact, there’s a tsunami of donation opportunities that will drive most Americans into bankruptcy if they give $20 here and $20 there to everyone begging for their help. How much extra money do any of us have for all the good causes asking for help?
In general, I try to support KIVA, Tibet, and the National Parks. This puts me on a list of people who would have to be rich to respond to all the projects that need funding. I support the International Campaign for Tibet because I believe that China’s illegal occupation of Tibet and its ongoing policy of erasing Tibetan culture and religion is one of the most noxious atrocities on the planet.
I support Kiva because they fund individuals with loans that are designed to help people survive on their own through small businesses and education. And I support the National Parks because Congress doesn’t provide the funds required. Things come up like Ukaine’s need for help and the help required in Gaza. Then, too, there are local causes that also need financial support.
But how much can we give, those of us living primarily on Social Security and the sales from a few books on Amazon? Not enough. And yet, there’s constant pressure to give more. In some ways, I resent this, and in some ways, I understand this. What about you? Do you have trouble keeping up with this yearly onslaught of requests?
–Malcolm

Some analysts say that Ukraine will ultimately cede the eastern regions of Luhansk and Donetsk to avoid a protracted war, more lost lives, and continued destruction throughout the rest of the country. While I can understand why this result could happen, I hope it doesn’t. It would not only be a loss for Ukraine but a black mark for the rest of the world that could have done more.
Yard Mowing: One thing is certain. When we mow the yard on Saturday, we’re going to be stiff and sore on Sunday. Much of what we’re mowing is old fields rather than a yard. That means when we sit on our riding mowers for a couple of hours, we’re subjecting ourselves to a bone-jarring ride. The picture shows the fields on one side of the house, stretching eastward past the original smokehouse.
Call the Midwife: We’ve been watching this 1950s/60s PBS drama since it first aired in 2012. The writing and acting are compelling, and it’s interesting seeing how medicine and midwives existed somewhat differently than they did during the same time period in the States. At the outset, the program was based on former midwife Jennifer Worth’s memoir of working in East London.
Thomas-Jacob Publishing Anthology. I hope those of you who would like to read this free book in a PDF, MOBI, or EPUB file have been able to download it from the publisher’s site
Cats! Our cats sleep in the bedroom at night. When we turn off the TV late in the evening, they hover around the bedroom door waiting to be let in. Katy sleeps on the bed. Robbie curls up in a box with a towel. They’re kicked out in the morning as soon as one or both of them starts committing infractions. As you can see, I’ve used clip art here rather than any real pictures of the crimes. We’re too sleepy to take pictures at 4:30 a.m.
According to Radio Free Europe, “Russian officials have accused Ukraine of mounting a helicopter attack early on April 1 on the fuel depot located near Belgorod, not far from Russia’s border with Ukraine.” My first thought was, “Stop Whining. You’ve destroyed Ukraine and now you feel put upon when they strike back?” While conceding the depot was a viable target, Ukraine says they didn’t do it. Oh really. Well then, kudos to whoever did do it.
Spring means watching the yard get shaggy and then trying to figure out what it’s going to take to get the riding mowers running after a winter of just sitting there. One finally cranked up after we put the trickle charger on the battery for a while. Apparently, the other one will need a new battery inasmuch as the charger message said BATTERY SHOT TO HELL.
I’m looking forward to reading The Librarian of Auschwitz, next up on my nightstand. Written by Antonio Iturbe, the novel is based on the true story of Dita Kraus. Here’s the publisher’s description: “As a young girl, Dita is imprisoned by the Nazis at Auschwitz. Taken from her home in Prague in 1939, Dita does her best to adjust to the constant terror of her new reality. But even amidst horror, human strength and ingenuity persevere. When Jewish leader Fredy Hirsch entrusts Dita with eight precious volumes the prisoners have managed to sneak into the camp, She embraces the responsibility―and so becomes the librarian of Auschwitz.”
Meanwhile, author Luis Alberto Urrea announced on his Facebook page a soon-to-be-released book of poetry. I like his work a lot, so I’ll be looking forward to Piedra as soon as it becomes available on Amazon and other online sellers. While I’m waiting, perhaps I should re-read my favorite from him The Hummingbird’s Daughter, a historical novel.


While our drip coffee makers last about 12-18 months, our microwave has lasted at least ten years. Now it’s shutting itself off whenever we cook something on high for 10-15 minutes. So, we ordered a new Hamilton Beach and have it ready to go as soon as our trusty Sharp bites the dust. The appliances my parents bought during, or just after, WWII lasted longer than my parents. I wish today’s products were just as durable.

There isn’t a huge amount available in English, but if you can wait until March 29, Deep Vellum will be publishing Andrey Kurkov’s Grey Bees, written in 2018, in a new translation by Boris Dralyuk. Set in the “Grey Zone,” the no-man’s-land between Ukrainian soldiers and pro-Russian separatists in the Donbas region, it tells the story of beekeeper Sergey Sergeyich, who finds himself one of the last two inhabitants of his forsaken village. Our review says, “Kurkov transforms the abstractions of geopolitics into an intensely human account of compassion and persistence.”
Ми погано спимо. Образи з щоденних новин про смерть і руйнування в Україні переслідують наші мрії. Деякі з нас мріють, що ми бачимо жах на власні очі, тому що саме так ми повинні бачити його – а не на телебаченні, як ніби ваша боротьба – це фільм.