Author: Steve

It was a nice house for us.  Big yard but we didn’t have to mow the lawn.  We had a Japanese gardener.  His name was Kaz.  Dark skin.  His hands looked tight and smooth, like dark leather.  That’s what I remember about him most, his hands.

As a single-digit boy, I used to follow Kaz around and talk to him.  I remember him being pleasant enough, but he didn’t say much.  Never volunteered anything.  Answered questions but never asked them.  I guess he wouldn’t make a lot of conversation with an 8 or 9 year-old boy though.

The time I’m remembering was less than 10 years after World War II, and now it occurs to me to wonder if being a Japanese gardener is what Kaz aspired to.  Had he always been a Japanese gardener or is there a chance he got stuck into a stereotype.  Did he used to do something else before the war and that option was no longer available to him, and he quietly filled the role that was still accessible.  So many stories and possibilities of other people’s lives that we’ll never know.

This is how we spend our day; waiting at the front window for her return.

The ultimate test to see if the sleeping bags have been successfully decontaminated would be to sleep in one, right?  So here it is, ready for a good night’s sleep, on top of our bed at home last night.

And today the results are in.  Success!  The sleeping bag wasn’t annoying at all.  Very comfortable.  A little warm for inside the house, but comfortable again.

Judy doesn’t have to be subjected to this part of our drama.  She’s off visiting family in Southern California.  Barbara and Susie.  Vista and Riverside.

…drinking my three 18-ounce bottles of water every day.

But Judy’s kidney doctor says to divide your pounds of bodyweight in half and drink that much in ounces.  Bummer.  I’m only drinking 54 ounces of water, and my target is 80.  80!  That’s more than a half-gallon!.  I could do that once, no problem, but two and a half quarts of water, that’s an awful lot of water to get down every single day!

Henry the waterdog.