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Letter from the Editor

It’s all connected

Toe bone connected to the foot bone     Foot bone connected to the heel bone Heel bone connected to the ankle bone Ankle bone connected to the ­shin bone Shin bone connected to the knee bone Knee bone connected to the thigh bone Thigh bone connected to the hip bone Hip bone connected to the backbone Back bone connected to the shoulder bone Shoulder bone connected to the neck bone

How you cope when rain won’t go away

October ranks high on my list of favorite months — third after June and July. But June and July are not always ideal. When they follow Shakespeare’s caution — Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d — October rises in my estimation. It could climb to second in 2016, when June was splendid but July not so.     So far, the weather gods are not cooperating.     In its early days, October 2016 has brought us rain, rain, rain — and more likely coming.

Farewell, Joe Browder: 1938-2016

“Most of what became our woods in 1981 was a farm family’s pasture 40 years ago. We didn’t have the decades to wait for honey-scented flowers to appear again on their own timetable. We also wanted to be able to smell the wild azaleas of the Smokies and Blue Ridge, of the north Florida river forests and the Carolinas,” Joe Browder wrote in the third issue of New Bay Times, which would become Bay Weekly.

Read this week’s paper with caution; it could lead you astray

Summer did its job on me.         It gave me plenty of time outdoors, much of it on the water, by the water and in the water, which is my favorite form of renewal.

Preserve their legacies and honor their memories

This time of year, you’d rather think of anything but September 11, 2001.

Tell that to the people you meet this week

Everybody’s got a story.         Many of those stories are never told.     Children grow up with no idea of their mothers’ and fathers’ hopes and dreams, struggles and frustrations, hard roads and high times, determination and doubt. This very week, two friends have told me, with regret: “I never knew …”

By our work we make ourselves and our world

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, the poet Chaucer wrote in the century before Columbus bumped into the New World, and I know what he means. Not April, when his folk were longen, but August — the last slice of summer before Labor Day sets the work year rolling again — puts the longen in me.

Precious time is ticking away

This time of year makes you think like that.         If seasons had clocks to tell the passing of their days, we’d read the numbers 8:25 with advancing insight.

I’m inspissated. How about you?

Too hot to move. Too hot to cook. Too hot to exercise (except water aerobics). Too hot to sleep.     Just how hot is it?     Hotter than it’s ever been — relatively speaking.     “July 2016 was absolutely the hottest month since the instrumental records began,” the Baltimore Sun reminds me, sourcing NASA.     July 2002 felt plenty miserable to then Bay Weekly contributor April Falcon Doss. Heat, she reminded us, is relative — and so is our experience of it.

And what our cats see in us

What could she see in him?         I’ve often wondered that about my friends’ husbands. Even more often, about their dogs.     Husbands are more ambiguous. Dogs are absolute.     Love me, love my dog, my grandmother taught me, was the rule of friendship with a dog fancier — which my grandmother was not. Not, love me, love my husband.