Blogging from USC

Dad made it safely to USC Norris today - I'm blogging from the hallways on the second floor where dad is getting implanted with coordinates for the cyber-knife treatment of a tumor scheduled to begin sometime next week.

I think I should share with everyone that dad loves receiving your comments- even just a hello. I share with dad how often this site gets visited- by hundreds of friends, students, family and others. This site connects many of us, and the thoughts and feelings warm dad's heart.

Dad will visit this blog again tonight, as he has every night for the last few months. Please feel free to leave a note, even just to say "hi".

A Moveable Feast

Dad (Greg) and his tribe are at Coleman Keep in Trabuco Canyon, and despite dad not being able to make it to Britta's - our Sunday tradition - Britta's came to us, almost literally. Britta not only prepared the food, but also sent a care package composed of table items to recall our regular Sunday experience - the checkered tablecloth, rosemary sprigs and a handwritten note.

I called in the orders, Motomi picked up this morning's 'moveable feast'. Margie coordinated and we ate! All our loved ones are with us in spirit this morning. Hat's off to Greg Mirken with a nod to Ernest Hemingway for this entry's title.

Colmunication

Several weeks ago I wrote about the "Coleman-ism" of pouring maple syrup into coffee. We were breakfasting, and I thought Greg had picked up the wrong little pitcher, expecting it to be cream. But no, he explained, he wasn't being chemo-brainey, he actually likes maple syrup in his coffee.

Tonight as we all sat eating and drinking (those of us who keep opiates in our cheek pouches had virgin scorpions, the rest of us had real, stinging scorpions) Greg coined a new Coleman-ism: Col-municating. We do it by putting our heads very close together, as in a hug, and speak softly of the most important subjects, like life and death, wisdom and love.
And the greatest of these, I have heard it said, is love.

Music of the Spheres

Tonight I played for the Maestro again. And I played for each one of you who has wanted to play for him, in sickness or in health. It was the music of the spheres; it just came to me through your thoughts and players, and I played in on my harp. It helped him to sleep.

We know that you're thinking of Gregory, because technology allows us to see how many people visit this site. Rest assured that although his fight is getting harder, he's snug in his own little home with his tribe attending to him.