On the way to my Errand I stopped at a library to pick up the latest L.A. Weekly where they are kept in a stack. Next to them was one for the "Jewish Journal"; the cover article concerned the film "Bully" and why it should be shown in schools. While I would certainly not compare much needed rain with bullying, the hazy day outside didn't seem to directly portend a goodly front which is supposed to reach us tomorrow but the clouds almost seemed to be doing a group taunt given the certain forecast.

There were cirrus and then some leftover eddy clouds like cotton pulled from a jar of pills. So which were going to move in, and at whatever speed, to deliver the punch? Today was the year anniversary of Dad's passing. The evening and the next day delivered precipitation then, and this morning's sky was close enough. But for the visit to his grave the sun was well out, the clouds and some haze not making a real case for, "It's coming this particular way, all right."

My radio was on local NPR affiliate KCRW playing eclectic music. Here was not the general fare for our proclaimed cutting edge station: The Beatles; "And I Love Her". As I parked and shut Blue Bossa down the line "My love for you will never die" sprang on me like the sunshine I didn't think we'd have.

Out in the cemetery there was a burial service going on. Yes, this "business" goes on as long as anyone lives and . . . one paragraph ends, another begins.

I paid respects to Dad; hey, the avenue adjoining their former cul-de-sac finally was paved. He'd wondered why it wasn't done while others in the neighborhood were. And I finally got another car! No, not a new one and, funny, it was "someone else's problem." But the problems were ironed out when this used car was set up by a mechanic.

Dad was a faithful mechanic for Flying Tiger Airlines, and I had one of their hats on. I should have put it in the picture I took of the stone but considering where this was---again, come on.

Back in the car KCRW was playing another unexpected song for them: "California Soul". Not the Fifth Dimension's version, so things are somewhat restored in elite NPR-land.

Soul.

We're afraid of the dark and I can't say I see the evidence for this. Like the storm far beyond the horizon, sometimes light, light for we mundanely name the source, still travels around the corners in puzzling ways.

Looking toward the nearby Sylmar Pass the sky was blue and the visibility very good. When Dad took us on many day trips this was the direction taken.