Although it's not fashionable to say so right now, I admire and respect immigrants. How can I not? I am one myself. I grew up in Europe and came to live in the United States during my twenties. I have spent the greater part of my life as an immigrant. So I know more than the average person about immigration.

It is commonplace in the United States to hear people complain about drugs, medications, and vaccines. Many people I know do not want to use them, particularly vaccines. This point of view has various rationales: drugs are ineffective, drugs have side effects, natural remedies are better, the drug companies are out to rip us off, etc. While all of these assertions have some truth in them, these people are in danger of throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

Out of the blue came the hoot of an owl.

Sometimes this happens in my back yard. Sometimes in my neighborhood. Sometimes I think it follows me.

It was a very pleasant surprise - three long, slow, low hoots. A pause, then it repeated. A pause again, then it repeated again.

It calls up in me the feeling of the deep woods. Where there are wise animals, knowing old, huge oaks, and the feel of soft, moist dirt underfoot.

The woods are alive with mystery and quiet surprise. At any moment there could appear a deer, a chipmunk, or a giant, black crow.

I remember going into a garden shop and being happily surprised to see a huge parrot in a great cage. It was so unexpected. To see a parrot by itself would be a surprise, but to see it in a place where it usually wasn’t, made it shine even the better.

A similar thing happened when we visited a paper store that sells gift boxes, tissue paper, cake boxes, and so on. In the back, in a fenced in area, was an emu, you know, an ostrich – actually a pair of them. It’s like seeing a dandelion growing in a sidewalk crack.

When I was little, every year a turtle would slowly wander into our yard. She was a big turtle, maybe about 12 inches across her hard, patterned shell. She was various shades of green, and her legs came out to the sides, showing her little claws when she walked. You could also see her little tail poking out of the back of her shell.

It was interesting to see her long, green neck, and how she could pull her head into her shell. She was such an intriguing creature!

For more information about Amla Mehta and her work please visit https://www.amlaspeaks.com

As we age, and most people retire, many people tell me that they have nothing to do, they’re bored, and they have no clue how to spend the day. And then I meet others who are so busy, they’re busier retired than they ever were when they were working.

I read in a book how in Japan, at cherry blossom time, people write little poems, roll them up, and hang them with long ribbons from cherry blossom branches, to honor the trees.

I can imagine all these pink and white blossomed trees everywhere, with sensitive people writing thoughtfully and emotionally, rolling up a little scroll, and tying it with a ribbon, probably red, to a tree branch.

What a kind gesture to the earth.

And then the poem energy fills the air, like prayer flags do in Tibet, and is taken far and wide, as it sways in the wind on the blossom branch.

On my walk, I met a neighbor who told me this story. He had an ulcer, and so his stomach had been hurting him. Some of his friends convinced him to go on a men’s retreat with his church.

He reluctantly went, even more reluctantly because they were serving pizza, which would not agree with his stomach. Near the end of the retreat, he was surprised because the leader said, “Let’s pray for Donald.” So everyone laid their hands on Donald and prayed for him.

Afterwards, there was no longer a burning in his stomach. He was completely cured during those few minutes that day.

I’d like to talk about my faith today. I give full credit to my mother for my faith.

My mother was a divorced Catholic who remarried. Who could no longer receive the sacraments in the Catholic church, but she made sure that we were brought up Catholic. Every week we went to religious education. And every Sunday, she took us to Mass.

And if my older brother, who had been out having a good time, came in late and knocked the phone off of the wall, we went to 7 o’clock Mass, otherwise it was usually 10 o’clock Mass.