Leaning back in my father’s chair, typing on a Bluetooth keyboard, the iPad in a landscape position, my mother reviewing my sister’s handwritten notes from visits with medical personnel in hospital, rehab and at the VAMC, deciphering the need to set up a heal-the-vet (no, I mean Health-e-Vet) online account, I wonder about the [conscious] thoughts, if any, flowing through my father’s body.

After all, he’s not the sound mind and body man he was this time last year.

We can thank the vast wonders of the universe — the interplay of sets and nonsets of states of energy — for that.

Meanwhile, the scenic suburban setting out the dining room window calls attention to itself and its property definitions divided by manufactured/commercialised/grown chainlink, PVC, wood and shrub fencelines.

Toward what are we setting goals and attaining them?

I thank many of you and your ready participation in our globally-connected society, creating the opportunity for me to be here wondering about the longterm costs to, and benefits for, our health of y/our ready participation in all that we do.

We can see poisoned water or burning rivers and say, “A-ha! Factory pollution and sub/urban waste!”

But what about what we cannot see? What is the what we don’t know how to ask for?

The luxury of being here, watching an American eastern robin bob through mown grass for insects to eat is hard to fathom today. My father’s ability to comprehend why the image in front of him changes — a red-and-black blob [bird] bouncing across green [grass] in many [tree] shades of an [sunlit] afternoon — is harder to imagine. Being mute makes it so.

Birds don’t have health clinics or physical therapy rooms.

Fortunately, we do.

Instead of pondering further, I personally thank some of you [again] — Jennifer, Mary, Sue, Tina, Ethan, Michael, Benjamin, Amanda, Dr. Little, Barbara, Heather, Robin, Heidi, Dr. Province, Dr. May, Dept. of VA, Heather, Leigh Ann, Kristine…