[8 Oct 2011] On the way to Sabba’s place, I am on Delaware, in and of the world, yet in dire need of its compassion. I move, I live, do I do more than replicate and explicate. It is ad majorem dei gloriam, glory and exultet. The reeds along the San Lorenzo river wait for the breeze to brush against each other. Glory. Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be…. Sabba is in a circle of a dozen people in wheelchairs, listening to Jan who is leading the group through puzzle questions. Which country did Mother Teresa work in? What’s the name for a group of military officers who take power by coup d’état? I walk with Ben who is responsive today and whose hands are relaxed. He extends his arms more easily than Thursday and is able to hold the walker. I ask myself why it is different today. Questions take me away from the world. Is it the time of the day, my being more receptive, or a myriad other reasons? Questions are duplications, unfolding and refolding, how to conjure things to be other than they are. Back to the world. I learn the names: Mina, Herman, John… I forget other names. Hallowed be…. Dorothy thinks Ben is her departed Jack, Lorice sits near Ben. Her brother directed Catholic labor organizations. We speak of Dorothy Day. Your kingdom come. Ben is able to grab and hold the piece of fresh, sticky bread I give him. He gnaws at it. Drink: he slowly puts his fingers around the cup, lifts it, shapes his lips to drink, is able to tilt the glass with some assistance. I help with bits of pasta, turkey, zucchini. Their shape and size preoccupy me as does the dignity of this ninety-year-old man. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. We share the sour dough bought at the market this morning. A piece of the still warm bread, with peanut butter, not only to Sabba but also to the neighbors. Apple sauce and yogurt for dessert, after the pills to help control the tremors. Comment allez-vous Mr. Kleinstein? He repeats. Then: מה שלוםך? It takes a while, but he repeats and perhaps means to continue, בסדר. Special day today: sabbath and Yom Kippur. Give us today our daily bread and forgive us our debts. Our trespasses. Our breaks and heartbreaks. Yom Kippur. אבינו מלכנו חננו ועננו… חטאנו ופשענו ואין בנו מעשין… שלח לנו…

We sing, correction, I sing. Lorice: “You have a nice voice.” This leads to stories of Lent, old liturgical habits, Asperges me, thoughts of the hyssop that was used on the altar of the temple, et mundabor (“and I’ll be made pure”), and on to the paschal vidi aquam egredientem…. with a latere dextro on my mind, or is it my heart ?