Note by Gérard Mclean on Substack: "My neighbor died in December. Today, I’m watching as his widow dismantles his fire pit and will seed the ring in the lawn later today. Eventually, there will be no sign of it ever existing except as two essays, one on Medium and this one on a Substack, each of which will itself …"

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My neighbor died in December. Today, I’m watching as his widow dismantles his fire pit and will seed the ring in the lawn later today. Eventually, there will be no sign of it ever existing except as two essays, one on Medium and this one on a Substack, each of which will itself eventually fall into disrepair.

And I’m just feeling as sorts of things. That fire pit was his everything.

I think about things that are important to me, things I feel I can’t live without, things that others find a hassle — perhaps even stupid — and wonder why they are important to me.

They just are.

Maybe if I write another 100,000 or a million words about them, I will discover why. Maybe it’s not all that important to uncover why and accept they just are. Not everything is an origin story, not everything needs an explanation.

Birds don’t wonder why they sing; they just do.

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I brought that other story over. gerardmclean.substack.com/p/bbq-at-the-…

Tarnished Pennies

BBQ at the Hendersons

As we gathered, Mr. Henderson stoked the fire to a roaring blaze.

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