A brief sidenote

I think I'll just have to say it, as there are rather few ways to whitewash it or soften the edges. We had a close call last week. We were returning to Libby from Kalispell last Monday night, exactly one week ago, when we hit a patch of black ice, lost control, and flipped the truck. Down a hill, and into a creek.

We are all fine. We all walked away, even the dogs in the back. Though I'm still not quite sure how. Once the tow truck arrived and dragged the truck out of the creek, we even drove it away. And back home to Portland yesterday and today. Again, not sure how. The Montana State trooper was amazed.

As I understand it, once you've been through a near-death experience you're supposed to realize that life is short and you're then supposed to make a number of changes, preferably radical, which involve living life much more fully and zestfully. Perhaps that stage will come, but I'm quite not there yet. I'm still grappling with the terror and the enormity of it, frankly. The rest of the week was tinged with a sense of menace, and the world seems just a little darker and less comfortable.

Perhaps the most noteworthy effect of this incident so far is that it has knocked the smart-ass right out of me. Most of you who know me will understand the significance of that development.

And it's a start, anyway.

But life does, as they say, go on. And I do wish to move along, though I'm somehow changed, and it did not seem fair to conceal that from all of you.

And that, as Forrest Gump would say, is all I have to say about that.