Elephant linocut by Ieuan Edwards

Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind (Lionel Hampton)

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. 
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First up this week: Evitable …
Fatalism. That's the only reason I can imagine for using the word inevitable and not the word evitable. Even if you haven’t encountered evitable, I expect you can divine its meaning. If inevitable means "unavoidable" then the non-negated version of the root means "avoidable." Evitable is hopeful. Inevitable is fatalistic. If you believe fatalism is a bad thing, you're not alone. Cultures and belief systems beyond my own accept fatalism as natural determinism. But if you hope, as I do, that your future is not yet firmly determined, and that you have some agency in any determining, evitability is your friend. Use it to avoid anxiety, depression, and stuckness. Hook your skyline to the potential self-improvement.

Second up this week, Elephant …
I like elephants. We've decorated our home with many elephant figures and images. My personalized automobile license is LFENT, which a few people actually read as "elephant." It dates back decades to when I drove a blue Honda Element (I miss that car: the Blue Elephant). Elephants are social. They are emotional and intelligent. I like the idea of an elephantine memory. Their deliberate and plodding pace encourages me to calm down. But then there's the fatalistic flaw, not in the elephant but in our thinking. "Going to see the elephant" was a popular phrase in America's 19th century. I associate it with those heading out to seek their fortunes in the 1849 California Gold Rush. Those seeking to see the elephant began their journeys excited and hopeful. But the phrase's meaning shifted. Too often the elephant wasn't seen, or not in a positive light. Disappointment and disenchantment made "going to see the elephant" fatalistic. I don't believe that to be inevitable. I choose evitablity and high hopes and look forward to seeing my next trunked pachyderm.

Third up this week, Eastlick …
An internet search reveals Eastlick place names, but few streets (Molt MT anyone?). I live on one of these rare roads. I don't know who or what inspired this local name. While simply spelled, even when clearly pronounced, most people read and hear "east lake." Which is not where I live. No lake near me. Probably the surname of a long-forgotten family. There aren't many homes on our street. There are a lot of young families. The children of these families are almost all young girls, who play in gangs on our safe street. There's no traffic to speak of on the short road. Nor on the cul-de-sac off Eastlick (still Eastlick Street) of The Brownhouse. Last Saturday, we held a block party in front of The Brownhouse (our home). It was a lovely few hours of community, with many kids at play.

A mystery series I'm now addicted to …
The Pot Thief mysteries, by J. Michael Orenduff.
Not the green-growing consumable kind. The collectible New Mexico pottery kind. For someone who reads a lot of mysteries, and reads a lot about mysteries, it was a comeuppance to stumble upon this series. I was reading a round-up review of new mysteries. The writer mentioned that her husband was "perfectly happy working his way through the Pot Thief books." I tracked some down and have been enjoying them. New Mexico setting, borderline criminality, humor, dialogue, short chapters. Win for DAH! The titles annoy me, however. Like the book pictured: The Pot Thief Who Studied Georgia O’Keeffe. All the books in the series are titled that way, as if the Pot Thief (Hubie Schuze) were somehow researching people. He's not. There's some connection in each book to the person being "studied" but that connection isn't often vital to the tale being told. Oh, well. I do enjoy them.

And a bit more … 

"The Romance", by Shel Silverstein

Said the pelican to the elephant,
"I think we should marry, I do.
'Cause there’s no name that rhymes with me,
And no one else rhymes with you."

Said the elephant to the pelican,
"There’s sense to what you’ve said,
For rhyming’s as good a reason as any
For any two to wed."

And so the elephant wed the pelican,
And they dined upon lemons and limes,
And now they have a baby pelicant,
And everybody rhymes.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's "Sometimes"

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.