To summarize, the impact of the grandfather's death on the granddaughter was such that she overdosed and died. And in a separate incident, Clay, whose age, occupation, marital status, and virtually everything else about him except that his family didn't like him we don't know, also died. And the whereabouts of his body is also a mystery, at least to the author of this bleak tale. He might have been cremated. The fee for this service might be as low as $700 dollars, or it might even be waived entirely. Good to know.

And on a lighter note, yesterday the Republican majority in the US House of Representatives passed a bill that will, if approved by the Senate and signed into law by Hair Gropenfuhrer, strip healthcare from millions of poor Americans, give another big tax break to the wealthiest people in the country, add trillions of dollars to the national debt, and possibly cause a global financial meltdown.

The economic peril we face is very real, and very, very nasty. The uncertainty and chaos Trump has caused in the markets with his on-again, off-again tariffs is causing a slowdown in economic growth. Meanwhile, the national debt is so big already that the interest is more than we spend on defense (our biggest single expenditure). If our interest payments go above the growth of the economy, then there are several things that can happen. We could tighten our belts and go through an extended period of severe austerity. Or we could print money, thereby devaluing the dollar and wiping out any savings we might have. Or we could default on our debt, simply tell holders of US Treasury Bonds to pound sand. All of these options are very bad. Millions of people would die. It would make the 2008 financial crisis look like a walk in the park. That's what the economists are forecasting, if this "big, beautiful bill," as His Felonious Malignancy affectionately refers to it, ever becomes law.

What the hell, the richest man on Earth just snatched food aid away from millions of starving children. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

"One or a dozen deaths? it's a tragedy. A million deaths? That's a statistic."

I'm quoting Craig S., an old college chum, one of the guys with whom I climbed a bunch of mountains back in the late 70s and early 80s.

On one of our climbing trips, we were on our way to Mount Saint Helens (this is before the volcano blew its top), when we came as close to death as you can come and yet walk away unscathed.

We were in my truck. I was sandwiched in between my climbing buddies, Craig and Brian. Craig was driving. We were all excited to be on the road, heading to another adventure. We almost didn't make it.

The two-lane road we were on cut a slot through through the forests of south/central Washington. The trees that zipped by on either side of us formed an impenetrable palisade; no visibility beyond a few yards into the thicket of evergreens.

There are good reasons why you're supposed to stop at stop signs. Especially ones at blind intersections, where you can't see around the corner, can't see what's coming. Stopping at the appointed place makes it much less likely that you do what we did. One minute we were all alone on a country road, chatting, telling jokes, and singing songs. And in a flash we were on a different road. And there was a big, 4-wheel-drive pickup truck barreling towards us in our lane. The driver of that truck couldn't swerve out of our lane, because he was in the process of passing an even bigger truck, one that hauls freshly-cut, 50-foot logs to a mill somewhere down stream, also barreling towards us.

If we had blown past that stop sign a second or two later, we would have plowed into either the logging truck or the pickup truck, or both. As it was, there was just enough time for the two drivers of those vehicles to react. The logging truck edged a little to his right; the pickup edged a little to his left, and we three happy idiots passed between them, like Moses parting the seas.

A few months before, another group had invited me to join them on a bid to summit the same mountain. I didn't like the look of the weather forecast, so I declined. In spite of the iffy weather outlook, the group went up the mountain. Climbing up the southeast side, they couldn't see what was coming at them from the northwest. They were almost to the top when they were suddenly hit with gale-force winds and whiteout conditions. Even though all were equipped with crampons and ice axes, several climbers were blown off their feet. One slid over 1500 feet down the mountain, passing over a rock pile that luckily didn't kill him but left him in a wheelchair for months.

This is the kind of stuff that happens when you don't pay attention to the forecasting.

Have a nice weekend everyone!

How sad! Hope all is well.