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My Mother went into labor as her and my Dad were watching Bob Hope's monologue. They thought I would be a boy. They were to name me David. However, they named me after some little girl they met in Texas in 1957. Lost touch as they moved back to New Jersey. Many years later, my Mother then becoming ill. As I was age eleven trying to comfort her, she said, "We should have named you Hope. Because that's what you bring." Kind of a neat story. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00P47XAQK/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i8
Completion of Humanness As we arrive to the completion of the first year without Norman, I had decided long before he'd passed that I would continue to do things certain things he liked yet could no longer do. I decided I would not take a day off of fitness. I would run at least for 500 days in a row. I began that in early 2020. I'd not be concerned with the distance I'd run. It was the very thing I convinced Norman and the thing that mattered to him, from the very first discussion we had August 11th, 1981, was fitness. I loved that he was a College Boy. He loved that I was a Marine. We tickled each other's soul with such admirations. Later fitness continued as an old discussion from 1994 ...getting outside and to run no matter what. I would say to him, "Run 200 meters, then 400 meters. If it doesn't feel good, stop. Turn around and walk back home and know you did your best. That is all you can ask of yourself." I said this, knowing he would get dow
11/23/2021... The Reicher Holiday Letter... Yes, finally I'm on time...LOL. As the late November wind whips and the delayed leaves fall to the ground in our neighborhood, I await the first sign of snow. I stand outside, begin a run, do outside chores, bring in the mail and sniff the air for the smell of snow. Yes, humans can smell snow. Just like a spring rain approaching. It is awaiting to provide a cleansing of the dreams that need to be refreshed or re-routed. It’s all how you look at it. Really. Oh, the word ‘really’. Per a few grammar writing geeks. A good writer is not supposed to use the word, ‘really’. I’ll say it again. Really? There is another word I discovered this year, not supposed to be used in writing by writers. I cannot at this moment remember what word that may be. But I’m sure, it’ll arrive in my mind as I write this Holiday letter to you all. A reading audience. Where to begin this 2021 Reicher Holiday Letter? I’ll start with our smallest resident. T
What is Love? It's not owed. It's sometimes placated to or for or with. It remains quiet in storms, so that a bit of peace cannot be shattered. It may be that the insides of the other are fought against with it's own ego. In Love, true Love, ego is placed aside, because it's about we. It's about us... All of us. Us in all our entirety. We step back, gathering the view of possibilities. It's as if we stand atop a mountain seeing the ridges having no end only to meet the sea of sky. That's Love. The willingness to gather all sorrows, all thoughts, all creation and say, "Wow!" Wow, with glee. At that point, nothing else matters. After a loss of someone whom you loved. As well, if they were part of the essence of your living space, there will be things discovered. More quiet, less grappling with decisions, because perhaps they are all yours now. More doing, because in a full Love relationship you share 'stuff'. Stuff like chores. If yo