Coining it?

Perplexed, I discovered these coins in our kitchen sink. Literally, money down the drain?

My wife was away, so I texted her this pic. Later, she explained, "while cleaning our vehicle, I found the coins in the console, dusty, so I tossed them in the sink and ran water over them."

My (Dad) brain: 

1. Ah, so dirty money? 
2. Like nickel and grime?
3. Perhaps we should have laundered this money?
4. A penny for your "pots" (and pans)?
5. If only we had more than two nickels to scrub together....

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Don't forget.

October 2024, Northern Canada

 Decades ago when we bought our home, I noticed something that made me love it even more: walking up the staircase, we have a window from the main floor to the ceiling. It's like having a skylight visible from the lower floor. As I walk up the stairs, there's a fairly clear view of the sky and occasionally, the northern lights are framed there above me like garments of light. 

As a northern Canadian, I can't imagine a sky without them. Years ago, while traveling in Scotland, locals told us how they longed to visit Canada someday to see the Rocky Mountains and the northern lights. The Scots helped me understand that we Canadians—even though we've literally grown up with them—must avoid taking the northern lights for granted. 

As a young boy (when seatbelts barely existed), I recall lying across the backseat of the family car staring up through the rear window at the northern lights, my Mom driving us home from somewhere. I recall telling her that I thought the northern lights "might be the bottoms of God's curtains?" 

Even as a preoccupied teenager, I remember driving on backroads with my friends, pulling over, all us jumping around like Walt Whitman, "yawping" into the night sky as it shimmied like a woman dancing, her colourful dress twirling in slow-motion. 

And as a parent, I never missed an opportunity to point them out to my children, to teach them to wonder, to awe.  

Our modern world boils over with distractions and strife (there's a sort-of numbing creeping into life), but the northern lights remind us we are alive and more in sync than we realize. Mary Oliver said it better: the northern lights remind us to pay attention, be astonished, and tell others. 

Dear friends, notice, celebrate, share. Don't forget. There's a comraderie in any sky: whether it's a lingering sunset, a shooting star, or a sheer-costumed sky, these experiences mean more collectively. The northern lights are unifying, and today, for me, there's a longing in them too, a longing for those no longer here to share the sky—those good friends who forgot or those whose pain was too overwhelming to remember how we celebrated being alive, together, astonished, our feet on the ground, looking up, clapping, whooping, laughing, loving this one short, extraordinary life. 

Things one should never outgrow:

"Music can change the
world because music can
change people." Bono

making music, even if the best you can do is the washboard-tie aka musical instruments made for people like me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Do you play a musical instrument, or perhaps some sad substitute, albeit with absolute glee? 

(Whatever your response, I hope there's an abundance of music enriching your life.)