Before we left our motel this morning on the Rim, I sent a Telegram message to my friend Heather, telling her that we were on our way to Colorado, and giving her the dates we would be in Estes Park. I had already told her the dates a couple months back, so she knew we were coming. She said they would be up in their cabin in Glen Haven, which is nearby, and we arranged the day we would stop by to see them.
She and her husband are two of the last people from old circle of friends with whom I talk. Heather is a special category lately, because of her longstanding brave and outspoken activism against mandatory vaccinations. This has earned her the contempt of the rest of our old friends, and makes it difficult for her husband, who is still in contact with our old friends, and who has to act as a go between.
Randy, her husband, is an awesome guy, who has done as much with his life as I have done little. He has designed and built skyscrapers. He has his own architectural firm. He has a family. I'm humored that he still cares to consider me a friend. He must like me. The smallness of my life makes me of no use to most of my other friends.
It will good to see them. In my Telegram message to Heather, I told her that the medical tyranny had arrived, that we had always knew would arrive. Lately it seems as if the entire country is foaming and frothing, at the edge of flying apart. Everything seems to be building to some kind of climax.
When I see Heather, maybe I'll make a joke by asking "so you've got the vaccine, right?" She will patiently appreciate my humor. It's a serious time. So much at stake.
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