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Elise Sigal holds Erica Sigal 1959
Photo by Marlowe Sigal
(c) The Estate of Marlowe A. Sigal
 

My father was a hell of a photographer.

I found this photo among my father's things yesterday. Ever since I rescued it from a pile of papers, I have not been able to stop staring at it.

For one thing, I personally think it is a great photograph. The lighting, the depth of field that puts the main subject in focus with the rest of the image fading away. The pose of my mother looking away while my sister stares at the viewer. The texture of the image. I think it is a beautiful photo and it gives me a certain pride that my father created it.

It also blows my mind that it has lain hidden for 61 years. I had never seen it before. My sister says she's never seen it. My mother vaguely recalls seeing it a long time ago.

And then there are the personal aspects. The woman in the photo is my mother too. That is approximately what she looked like when I was born 3 years later. And, of course, I never knew the infant in the picture. She was a toddler by the time I came along.

I am also deeply struck by the passage of time. Sixty years is forever. The photo might as well be from the 16th century, or 10,000 years ago on the Anatolian plain, or from a period before the evolution of homo-sapiens. I wasn't even born when my father took this photo. Who are these people? My mother and sister are still alive, but the people in this image are long, long gone.

And then there is my sister's face. I don't mean any insult, but you can see the chimpanzee in her face. And those eyes - huge black pupils. The way her tiny hand grabs my mothers sleeve, and the look on her face, make me think that she knows that this is not going to be easy. I see an uncertainty as to whether or not she wants to face what's coming; whether or not she believes that she will make it through it all.

Preamble:

I have a rather productive fig tree that I planted about 10 years ago. It is a ‘Janice Seedless White Kadota’, a fig that is green outside and green to red-brown inside when ripe. The seeds are very small, so, in comparison to other figs, when you eat them you don’t really get that popping-seed sensation. The flavor is delicious but mild and very sweet. They are not very “figgy” compared to most other figs, particularly those one finds in products like fig-newtons, or commercial fig jam. They almost taste more like light brown sugar than figs. 

This year, as many times in the past, I made fig jam with candied ginger. Always yummy, always a crowd pleaser. But the tree was being super productive and I didn’t want more fig with ginger, so I tried a recipe for fig jam sweetened with honey. That was good, but not as great as it sounded. 

The season stayed surprisingly warm, causing figs to continue to ripen for a long time. I went to my spice drawer to see if there was anything that grabbed me to go along with figs besides ginger. I’d take a bite of fig, then a bite of herb or spice, to see what worked. Anise was a winner.

Looking through my library (including Fig Heaven by Marie Simmons, which contains surprisingly few jam recipes), and searching online, I found no recipes for fig with anise, though I did find one for fig with fennel and vanilla. I went back to the spice drawer to taste my figs combined with fennel seeds again. I felt (as I had on my first trial) that the fennel overpowered the fig. I suspect that this might have a lot to do with the fact that my figs are very mild. I am guessing that a more strongly flavored ‘mission’, ‘blackjack’, ‘turkey’ or other such fig might stand up to fennel where 'kadota' does not. Or it might be that I simply like anise more than fennel. In addition to the fennel flavor, the recipe had some oddities, for example, the author likes her jam with a consistency closer to sauce. Who knows why.

So, I used that recipe as just a broad guideline, combining it with my prior jam making experience to create my own recipe for fig jam with anise and vanilla. Wow! It was an out-of-the-park home run. I’ve taken to just eating it straight from the jar. Yuuuuuhhhhm! The only person that I have given a jar to is my mother. I’m keeping the rest for myself.

Here then is my recipe, with a variety of notes.

[PLEASE NOTE: I consider this to be a recipe in progress. I only had a chance to make it twice before the fig season ended. Though each time it was outstanding, I would not call it “tested.” Next year when fig season rolls around again, I will definitely make more. In the meantime, I present it here because it was so damned good, and to hopefully get feedback and suggestions from you. Regardless, as with any (non-pastry) recipe, it should be considered a framework or a guideline, not a strict set of ingredients and steps. Adjust for yourself depending on your own tastes and conditions.] 


The Recipe: Fig Jam with Anise and Vanilla

Yield 6 cups

Ingredients:

3 pounds of kadota figs (macerated in 1lb sugar – see below *)
1/2 additional lbs sugar (May still be a bit too sweet for some tastes *) 
2 pinches salt
2 Tbs lemon juice
1 rounded teaspoon anise seeds
1-2 tsp lemon zest
2.5 tsp vanilla extract (see note **)

 

Notes:

* I harvest my figs as they ripen, which can take several days for 3lbs. As I harvest, each day, I cut the stem end off & any bruised parts, cut the figs into quarters, and add them to a large container (I use a 4qt “Cambro”) covered in sugar with a bit of lemon. This then goes in the fridge to wait until I have enough figs and time. I keep note of the quantity of fig and sugar as I add more and more. The sugar and lemon help preserve the fig, and the maceration makes it release liquid (which you use), making it cook more quickly and thus producing a better taste.

When adding sugar before cooking, only add enough to bring the weight of sugar up to ½ the weight of fruit (after cleaning). Even this might be a bit too sweet for some people, or, if using a less sweet fig, you might want more. Adjust to taste.

** The original recipe called for using 1 to 2 vanilla pods, which is what I did for the first batch. Unfortunately, the vanilla seeds made the jam unattractive – full of black specks. For the second batch I used vanilla extract instead. The result was more attractive, less expensive, slightly easier to make, and no less delicious.

 

Method:

Stem and cut up figs. Macerate with sugar & lemon juice in the refrigerator for up to 10 days.

Put several spoons on a plate in the freezer for testing setting of the jam. I have found the thermometer method unreliable.

Prepare jars for sterile canning using whichever method you prefer, or for freezer jam, etc.

Cook the ingredients (except the vanilla extract), preferably in a jam pot, testing for set using spoons from freezer.

When almost set, stir in vanilla extract.

When set, ladle into hot jars and process. 

Over recent years I have found myself thinking more and more about death. The death of my dog Kero, my heart attack, my father’s death, simply getting older, and now COVID-19, have each made death more of a reality for me. But, having become an atheist, death has become harder and harder for me to get my head around.

I was never particularly religious, though I was born Jewish. In mainstream Judaism there isn’t really an afterlife, but in my modern American cultural meme-set there was always a sense of something after life. There was going to be something; heaven and hell, reincarnation, Valhalla, filling pyramids with earthly items to use in the afterlife, building terracotta armies, becoming one with the cosmic consciousness, or just wandering the earth, haunting graveyards and old houses. There was a presumption that there would be something.

It is no surprise that humans have created so many ideas about what comes after this life because, no matter how absurd an afterlife we invent, it is conceivable, whereas nothingness, there being nothing after this existence, is inconceivable.

Part of the atheist package, as I understand it, is that there is absolutely nothing after death. After you die you are, well… dead. The consciousness doesn’t go anywhere, it simply ceases. The ever-quotable Mark Twain apparently said, “I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.” Similarly, another clever atheist (Richard Dawkins? Sam Harris?) said, “I’ve never concerned myself with what happened before I was born, why should I concern myself with what happens after I die.” They may well have believed that, and considering Occam’s Razor, it is undoubtedly true. Nonetheless, I feel compelled to try to “understand” that impending nothingness, whatever that might mean.

I had always expected that when I died there would be some awareness that it had happened. I’d have some realization of it. I’d have some feeling about it. Maybe I would think, “Ahhhhh, the pain is finally over.” Or maybe, “oh no, I haven’t finished yet.” Or perhaps, “damn, I wanted to see what was going to happen with the project/election/playoffs.” Mainstream American culture has taught me this. But if there is nothing, then there is no awareness of having died, there is no awareness of having lived, there is no awareness.

I have a subconscious expectation that if I die right now, I will somehow learn how future events turn out, and I will be pleased, or disappointed, or thrilled, or horrified. I also assume that I will know how I am remembered. But the atheists, of which I am now one, say that this is not the case. If I were to die while writing this sentence, I would never know it. Furthermore, you would never read it, which is unfortunate since we each could have enjoyed the irony.

How do I think about this? How do I think about not thinking? How do I think about not having the capacity to think? How do I think about there being no “I” with which to think? I’m trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.

Last night I went to bed a bit early. I briefly woke up a little after midnight and looked at the clock. I lay there for a short time, thinking about the amazing dreams I had just had - so vivid and strange - then fell back to sleep. Then I woke up needing to pee. I thought, “Good lord, I just woke up a second ago, why didn’t I go pee then?” But when I looked at the clock, I saw that it read 4:00am. Four hours had passed during which I functionally didn’t exist. I was neither conscious, nor dreaming. “I” wasn’t, as far as I was concerned. If an asteroid had landed on my house at 2:00am, killing me instantly, I wouldn’t have known. As far as I was concerned, I would have effectively died when I fell asleep a little after midnight. Yet I can’t even say that, because I wouldn’t have been “concerned”. “As far as I was concerned” has no meaning in that context. I would’ve gone to bed, had some amazing dreams and then ceased to exist.

For Jews, we live on only in the way that we are remembered. Needless to say, most of us would like to be remembered well. But if I don’t exist, why should I care how I am remembered? There will not be a “me” to care. Trying to discuss how I will be remembered after I am actually dead is meaningless. While I am alive, I am concerned about how I will be remembered after I die. But after the event, nothing.

There are those who have suggested that if there is no reward in the afterlife, and we realize that after death we won’t care how we were thought of, then there is no reason to be a good person. That is nonsense. I firmly believe that almost no one thinks about their reward when performing most good acts, nor their punishment when acting badly. I do good acts because, like most of us, I have empathy. When I see someone sad, in pain, suffering, or afraid, I feel badly for them and I want to help ease that condition. When I see someone that is happy, joyous, or simply serene, I feel good for them. I am happy that they are happy. This is automatic. The act is its own reward. I am certainly not thinking about anything that will accrue to me in the afterlife. No one is keeping score. I’m a good person because I’m a person, not because I need to rack up points to get into heaven.

But it is still strange to think that Charles Darwin, Jack the Ripper, Adolf Hitler, and Mother Teresa are all the same after death. None of them are aware of their good or bad acts. None of them are aware of their contribution to knowledge, or to kindness, or to evil. None of them are aware. It is nonsensical to talk about whether or not they are aware. They just... aren’t. Having your name on a building, or a city or state, plant, animal, geographic feature, or a star or galaxy, means something to those you’ve left behind, and might have thrilled you if you were alive, but is completely meaningless, completely nothingness, once you are dead.

Similarly, whenever conversation turns to the “big bang” theory, people always ask what came before. There has to be something before. It is not possible that there was nothing. Right? What does it mean for there to be no time, no space, nothing? How could the “big bang” possibly have come from… nothing? There must have been something, because nothing cannot be conceived of. It is, again, inconceivable. That there was nothing before the big bang is inconceivable.

Even if there is nothing, there has to be something to contain the nothing. After all, if there is an empty glass, there is still a glass. Yet, there it is. The atheist is forced to accept this. There was nothing before I was born, and there will be nothing after I die. Impossible to contemplate or conceive, yet true.

And so I go round and around, and around once more, arriving at… nothing. For my entire life, except during those periods when I was unconscious, I have been self-aware. I have been in possession of thought. I have been aware of the world around me. How can I possibly think about nonexistence? I can’t even use the word “think” to think about not thinking.

What is the death of an atheist?

 

Molly Sez Header

I am launching another blog (not a replacement for this one, an additional blog.)  Molly Sez - Wit and wisdom from my puppy.


I talk to my dog all the time. A lot of her responses are hysterical. Others are profound. Some are both.


Updated every time there is something noteworthy.


I hope you will enjoy it!


If you grow zucchini, then around this time of year you’ve probably hit the zucchini tipping point. You’ve made zucchini pancakes, zucchini bread, zucchini with rosemary, zucchini this and zucchini that. You’ve put zucchini in soups, sandwiches, and everything else, with the possible exception of ice cream. You’ve also undoubtedly given zucchini to everyone you know, and now they politely demure when you offer them more. I had a box in front of my house for the Amazon delivery people to take zucchini when they came to my door, but, after a while it wasn’t getting taken anymore, so I stopped. Yesterday I harvested 17lbs, and I live alone. One zucchini plant is pretty much enough for two or more households, so, what do you do with the rest?


My quest for things to do with zucchini brought me to the idea of a zucchini terrine. I did the usual online searches, but a good many recipes on offer were more like casseroles or frittatas. Not bad, but not what I had in mind. So, I considered the options and made my own terrine mixing and matching the elements I liked. Fortunately, I had plenty of zucchini to experiment with, because the initial results were “OK”, but not great.


For that first try, I sliced zucchini about ¼” thick on a mandolin. I found sliced zucchini pretty for presentation, but the layers of slices tended to split apart, turning into a less attractive result on the plate. Moving on, I switched to grated zucchini which worked better. 

Zucchini is a mild flavor, so the terrine overall wasn’t compelling. I wanted more flavors and textures – hence, more vegetables – I chose carrots and mushrooms, largely because that is what I had. Also, I wanted some sourness, but I didn’t want lemon flavor, and I didn’t want to deal with possibly curdling the cream and egg, so I reached out to sumac, a spice from the middle east. Not only did it give me the sour element I wanted, but its red color added a meaty appearance to this vegetable dish. This color, combined with the umami and mouth feel of mushrooms, made the terrine more satisfying overall.

What follows is the recipe for the terrine that I have developed. However, it would be more accurate to say that it is a framework for creating such a terrine. At the end of the day, it is really just a vegetable terrine, which is a basic French cuisine construct that can be built from any vegetables you like, or whatever is fresh and available to you at the time. Further, a terrine is fundamentally a casserole cooked in a particular shape of dish in a bain Marie. This is really an example of what a zucchini terrine could be, not what it has to be. Use your imagination, and let us know what you’ve come up with.

Ingredients:
  • 2lbs Zucchini, shredded on a box grater
  • 1 Medium onion – medium dice
  • 4 Cloves garlic
  • 7oz Carrots, shredded
  • 10oz Button mushrooms, sliced
  • Optional, substitute other vegetables such as spinach, chard, etc.
  • 2-3 Tbs Finely minced basil and parsley, or whatever herbs you enjoy.
  • Extra virgin olive oil (EVOO)
  • 4 Eggs
  • ¼ Cup Cream
  • 2oz Parmesan (the real stuff – not from a jar! Yuck!)
  • 2 Tbs Sumac
  • ¼ tsp cayenne
  • Salt & Black pepper
  • Butter to coat inside of terrine
[Side note: I started out using white pepper because I didn’t want to see flecks in the custard of the terrine. But, I find that white pepper can impart a funky smell, which was out of place with the mild scent of zucchini, so I went to black pepper. It tastes and smells better, and the flecks really don’t show if ground finely.]

Method:

Preheat oven to 350F.

Shred the zucchini on a box grater. Put it in a colander with salt. Allow it to sit ½ hour or more to release moisture. Squeeze out excess by hand if necessary.

Separately, shred, slice, or chop other veggies. Keep separate if you want to create a terrine with layers. If using mushrooms, sauté in a couple tablespoons of water, not oil, until dry. This will par cook the mushrooms and cause them to release water without making them greasy (See the America’s Test Kitchen video, What’s Eating Dan – why you cant overcook mushrooms.) 

Sweat onion and garlic in EVOO over low heat until softened. Add zucchini and cook till the water is cooked off. Add sumac and cayenne. Add pepper [we add it now so it will disappear into the veggies, as noted.] Allow to cool. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.

Par cook carrots, or optional vegetables (you can use the same pan.) 

For gods sake, use real Parmesan

Whisk together the eggs, add cream and Parmesan plus salt and whatever chopped herbs you are using.

Butter a 32cm terrine (I use Le Cruset, sized in metric measurements.) Put in a layer of zucchini/onion mixture, then some custard, then veggies, then custard, etc., making layers as desired, till terrine is full (leaving some headroom.) Cover.

Cook in the oven in a bain Marie, approx. 1 hour, or until a knife or skewer poked into the center comes out clean. 

Uncover and allow your terrine to cool on a pastry rack. If you want to hurry this up, after it is partially cooled, you can put it in the fridge.

To unmold, run a pastry knife around the edge of the terrine to help release. Serve cold. It is lovely with sour cream on top.


Isolation from the COVID-19 pandemic has lead me to read a number of books I hadn't previously made time for. Recently, Giacomo Castelvetro's, The Fruit, Herbs, and Vegetables of Italy (originally published in 1614, translated by Gillian Riley in 1989, with a forward by Jane Grigson) came to the top of the stack.

What a fun book. Castelvetro was an upper-class Italian who traveled throughout Europe, then, after returning home, had to leave again to escape the inquisition. He ended up in England as something of a courtier.

There he wrote this book to explain to English nobility that they ate too much meat and were missing out on the joys of fruits and vegetables.

The book is part naturalist, horticulturalist, gastronomic, and nostalgic. Arranged by season, he describes the fruits, vegetables, and herbs that were grown and eaten in various parts of Italy (especially those near his home province.) No item is described comprehensively. For some he describes the taste and how much people enjoy it - often with supposed medicinal values. Other entries provide instruction on growing the ingredient. Many provide preparation techniques (not precisely recipes). Some items contain comparisons of different varieties. For many items, the message is pure homesickness, lamenting that the beloved item is not available to him in England.

It really is a delightful journey. It reads as though Castelvetro showed up in a presentation hall somewhere with a carousel of slides and just started talking. One really hears his voice as he brings up a new image and tells us about it. You can imagine him conversing with his patron, Lucy, Countess of Bedford, describing chestnuts, "Next we have sweet chestnuts, which are so beneficial to mankind, but which you do not have here... we roast [them] in a perforated dish over the fire and leave them for a while under hot ashes... when roses are in bloom our ladies take quantities of these dried chestnuts and mix them with rose petals in coffers and baskets, where the chestnuts soon become soft and very fragrant." (pg. 126) Then click, the slide carousel advances, and we move on to sorb-apples.

This book is not for everyone. But, if you like this type of history, it is a beautiful example, very readable and genuine.


As I sit here today, looking at a world rocked by the COVID-19 crisis and thinking about the vast sums of money needed to address it, I find myself wondering what it would’ve been like had we had even one trillion dollars to spend on something a few years ago.

What might the world be like now, if four or five years ago we had had $1 trillion to spend on the global climate change crisis? What would have happened if we had $1 trillion for the educational crisis in America? If a trillion dollars had been put towards ending America’s homelessness crisis, what could we have achieved? What about the hunger crisis? Could a trillion dollars have solved with that? America faces, and has faced for many years now, a crisis of structural inequality, income inequality, wealth inequality, and inequality of opportunities. I am betting that if $1 trillion had been used to solve America’s inequality crisis, we could probably have gone a long way towards addressing it. What about $1 trillion to help solve the healthcare crisis? A trillion dollars to build hospitals, buyout insurance companies, and solve any and all other problems associated with a single-payer health care system. Looking globally, America could’ve taken $1 trillion to completely eliminate the world’s refugee problems. Pick the disease or illness of your choice; now imagine $1 trillion focused on solving it. Malaria? Cancer? Infectious diseases? I don’t know, maybe $1 trillion could’ve bought solutions to all three.

Four or five years ago we “did not have” $1 trillion to spend on any of these crises. But crises they were, and crises they continue to be. [Note: Yes, I understand that the government neither has nor doesn’t have any given amount of money. We are not on the gold standard – we don’t have to get more gold in order to print more money. Budgetary deficits of the federal government are not the same thing as household borrowing. The federal government doesn't need to get money from somewhere, it just creates it out of thin air (really!) The act of printing money, or not printing money, effects the money supply. That, plus the velocity of money, impacts inflation or deflation. Four or five years ago the government could have printed a trillion dollars to use on anything it (we) wanted. The decision whether or not to create money was dictated by monetary policy, not by the need to address specific issues.]

The pandemic crisis has been a body slam to America and the world. Yes, America had to spend several trillion dollars keeping the economy together, with trillions more yet to come. We had to provide safety nets for people losing their jobs, facing the loss of a home, and so forth, as well as businesses going under and the resultant collapse of the economy. The pandemic had to be dealt with right now, period. It couldn’t wait. The trillions had to be spent, and they had to be spent right now. But why did we have to wait for a crisis that hits us in the face to spend money on serious problems? 

Meanwhile, all the crises listed above, and more, are slowly destroying our lives. These crises slowly impoverish hungry people, homeless people, people who cannot get an education, and people who are held back in life due to our crisis of structural inequality. Healthcare in this country is a crisis. But clearly we’re not going to fix it until people are lying dead in the streets for want of medical care. Most of the world has known for ages that climate change is a crisis. Yet Americans are barely waking up to the ways that climate change is ruining our way of life and actively killing people, now, not some time in the dim future. How obvious must it be that climate change is a crisis that has to be addressed right now, before people in America are willing to spend the trillions of dollars needed to address it, just as we are spending trillions to manage the effects of COVID-19.

These slow crises lack immediacy, so they are ignored. But they cant be ignored by the people they are killing. If we can spend trillions on our response to the COVID pandemic, then we can spend serious money tackling our other crises too.


Here's my problem living with sheltering in place.

[Yes, I know that I am writing this from my place of extraordinarily privileged. I should be, and I am, deeply grateful that I have a bicycle, a car, leisure time, and health. That I have enough disposable income to be able enjoy the recreational opportunities of Alameda, California, should they be available. I have the luxury of riding a bicycle for recreation and exercise, not because it is my sole means of transportation, nor because it is necessary for my work. I am deeply grateful for these privileges that I enjoy. But still, after months of relative solitude, this is how shelter-in-place is affecting me.]

The other day I went to Alameda (California) to ride my bike. I drove there alone. Even if I had gone with someone, we would have taken separate cars so as not to be in an enclosed space together. I rode alone. Even if I had ridden with someone, cycling is mostly a solo experience much of the time anyway, and I wouldn't have wanted either of us huffing and puffing on each other if we were communicating.

Under normal circumstances I might have brought a book, perhaps to sit in a cafe afterwards, people watching and having a latte. But no. I suppose I could have sat at an outdoor table, if one were available, and watched people go by, wearing masks, making no contact. Or, I could have sat on the beach - alone, making no contact - except of course that the beach in Alameda is usually windy, and yesterday unusually high winds are expected. Though I saw that there were plenty of people on the beach, for me that is no fun. I suppose I could have picked up some groceries or mailed some letters - woo hoo!

So, I went to Alameda, rode, and then came home.

Alone.

And that is my problem with shelter-in-place.

I woke up this morning really, really, truly anxious about the arrival of winter. What is going to happen to people during a winter with a raging COVID-19 epidemic? 

What happens to restaurants that are barely holding on right now, when weather makes outdoor dining basically impossible? What happens to all sorts of shops, grocery stores, etc., that expect lines of people to stand outside and wait before coming in one at a time? It’s one thing to keep people lined up on the sidewalk in good weather – in the middle of a winter storm is quite another. And let us not forget the lines outside of unemployment offices.

What happens when travel to pleasant, warm places is difficult, or even banned due to travel restrictions? What happens when you can’t have a socially distanced visit outside in the yard with family, friends, or neighbors, because it’s raining, cold, snowing, or whatever flavor of "shitty" your climate brings in winter? We will all be even more isolated.

I don’t know what brought skiing to mind (I can’t ski any more due to health issues), but I wonder if ski areas can survive with socially distanced skiing. One person per lift? Lift lines with people 6' apart? Lift lines that snake for a mile, not just an annoyingly long 50'? Not that skiing is so terribly important to the world, but having the ski industry wiped out kills a whole domino of support industries and jobs.

More importantly, what businesses haven’t I thought of that can’t survive a socially distanced fall/winter/spring, and the businesses that rely on those businesses, and the people that rely on the jobs they provide?

What is it like to wear a mask when its freezing cold and your breath condenses on it?

What the fuck is this winter going to be like?

[PS: Yes, I am aware that the examples of dining out, travel, and skiing are largely the concerns of the wealthy. I am just as concerned, or more so, about the emotional and financial impact on those less fortunate. These are just my personal thoughts on how COVID may affect me. Furthermore, while "trickle-down" economics doesn’t work, the web effects of wiping out any given industry impacts us all.]
Kero, Co-Pilot, October 2004

When I drive with Molly, she pretty much stays in the back. If we’re headed to the dog park, sometimes she gets so excited that she will try to climb into the front seat, but that’s pretty much it.

Kero used to stick her head over the seat back for me to pet her at red lights. She liked to lick my ears, which were at just the right height while I was seated in the car. She’d go crazy licking the ears of passengers. Anyone in the passenger seat got a serious mopping. She loved everyone, and showed her affection with generous kisses. I used to say that she would “French” on the first date.

My dad hated that. While we were driving, Kero would lean over and try to lick his ears. He’d bat her away like a mosquito, exclaiming, “fuyh!”

Kero died 5 years ago today. My dad passed about 2.5 years ago.

I have Molly to keep me company, but COVID isolation is getting very heavy.

The passenger seat feels very empty.