lizard love

This is my second week home in Tucson after a full year mostly away.

The yard is full of flowers, full of life and lizards. The whiptails are friendly, as always, and can be hand-fed. But the best news is that one of Orangelina’s handsome sons, Euell, is in command of the Lurk. He consents to be fed dried worms while he suns himself on the edge of the brick, just as she did, and he is intensely curious about my doings, craning his neck to see what I’m watering, to watch me swim, see who I’m talking to. Most lizards just go about their business, so it’s nice to have another curious one.

This was pretty little Orangelina in her last summer, 2015. Euell will have golden eye patches instead of orange, and his belly is a bright green and blue. He’s still shy of the camera. Orangelina loved to pose.

The birds are having a ball in the gentle spring weather. A young towhee flew into the house earlier, and had to be hand-carried out, shivering from fear. Perhaps it will remember me, that I was gentle. I hope so.

As I work on the books I watch the Gila woodpeckers, finches and hummingbirds careen between the aloe flowers, the honeysuckle, and the jasmine. The flowers of the Carolina jessamine have turned from yellow to white, and the blossoms from the palo verde and citrus trees are almost all on the ground, making an ethereal carpet. Maybe this year the orange and grapefruit trees will keep their fruit. They’re old trees, and take hardships to heart. We haven’t had a really good run of grapefruit or tangerines since the deep freeze of 2011.

There are cardinals, seemingly endless supplies of finches, goldfinches, mockingbirds, doves, towhees, brown thrashers and hummers. I see palo verde beetle holes, but so far none of the ladies have turned up at the pool. Perhaps the young Cooper’s hawks will appear, I always forget when they fledge, but they do it from a tree just down the street.

Beautiful colours in the garden

The house is seeing more activity than just me working in a corner –  my friend Eric was here for weeks, taking out the decade-old violet carpet. He’s refinishing the floors, taking them back to their original deep red, softly polished concrete. He plays chess too, and amazingly we each played first board for same high school, although almost a decade apart. We had the same chess coach, the same fierce geometry and English teachers. What are the odds?

Check out the old floors, I love polished concrete, it’s so cool in summer.

Screen Shot 2017-05-03 at 2.45.15 PM.png

The stripping-down process here started as an exercise in getting the house ready to sell, but it turned into something deeper as the months went by; layer after layer went out, and I gave away most of my furniture and more than half of my Things. The more open things become, the better I feel. I still don’t know if I’ll need to sell it, but for now, I’m treating as if I plan to keep it forever, which feels nice.

It’s difficult to answer questions about my future, even when it’s next week, or even when it’s me asking.


Also, I feel I should say, I’ve fallen in love again. It’s a dicey thing, the discussing of a new love after the end of a long and cherished marriage, but this love is so elemental for me that it as time winds on, it’s more of a sin of omission to leave it out than one of bad taste to declare it.

It’s been a year now. Love found me almost as soon as my heart was free. Out of respect, it didn’t seem kind to talk about it earlier, but I have wanted to say that I feel as fierce and as strong as I did when I was ten years old, loved and safe, I run like the wind. I feel unquenchable, unstoppable, and my dreams have wing. We work and play games all of the time; science, architecture, tennis, backgammon, chess, Scrabble, we laugh, we keep moving, working, talking, dreaming. There are notebooks and notebooks full of ideas, he has teams he’s built that are as wide and as deep as my own, brilliant people, carefully curated, loved, encouraged.

Like I can see the difference in one lizard in a sea of lizards, he can see me, shining out, curious, noticing, something radically different in a sea of people going about their business, and I can see him.

I thought I’d be living in Boston by now, but there is still so much to do. So much to do. So, I’m just doing one thing after the next thing, and keeping an open mind and heart, and soon my work will be done and then I’ll be moving forward.

For now, head down, working, giving things away, trying to get as small as I’ve ever been.

unwinding into summer

I’ve come back to Tucson for a few months to finish up the edits of the new CGB books, and to see to the Tucson house, the lizards, to spend time with the cat Miss Fish, who lives here in a paradise of vines and birds and huge soaring skies.

I’d still love to keep this place, and I hope I can work it out. I’ll find out soon.

Either way, I took advantage of my time away from town and took out all of the furniture and had the floors taken back to the original red concrete, which I should have done ten years ago. It’s almost finished now, and it’s really something to see the house as it was built; simple, open, clean, so many windows.  I’ll photograph it when it’s finished, cleaned up.

I admit that I’m looking ahead to gentler days in the later summer, days when I have a little extra space and time, days when I know just a little more about the yet-unspooled part of my timeline.

It may seem as if I’ve dropped off of the face of the Earth, but I’m here, working, as I have been for 6 years now, staring straight at triangles and hypars and at the challenges of people working together in imperfect systems, finding their way on a living, shifting fabric of society and planet.

I’ve come to realize that most things are a fuckshow if you look too closely, but then if you look even closer, you can see that everything is beautiful too. Intensely, achingly beautiful, chaos and order, edges and energy. No matter at what level I examine this work, the patterns, the answers, the math, they all cross over.

I hope that I’m able to communicate that beauty and connection through whatever constraints apply at any given time; it’s my only goal.

So much connection, but so also much noise right now too.

The palo verde tree and all of the aloes are blooming now, and all of the world is tiny flowers.

crazy beautiful cooper

onward and upward

Greetings to you, from the leeward side of January.

I was in Boston for a day last weekend, looking at apartments and spaces for the UnLAB, and I took this shot from the window of a room on the 22nd floor of the Sheraton in Back Bay.


This is where I’m headed as soon as the CGB books go to press, except I’ll actually be viewing from a 4th floor walkup (!) in Beacon Hill, a bit to the right and forward. As usual, MIT54 (the tall building in the MIT skyline and the target for our first WindLAB) dominates the view, visible even from my dining room window below (extreme left of the skyline).


I don’t know how long I’ll perch there… it’s difficult to predict how lightly I can live vs. how lightly I would ideally like to live. I’m not quite ready to give up my books or my paintings yet, for example, or my odd collection of ball gowns, and I very much want to live with Miss Fish, who may or may not wish to roam the world. I’ll have to consult with her on the matter.

Miss Fish in my pink bedroom

I like walkups. My friend Peri had a 6th floor version in NoHo and all of the climbing was divine for the figure and kept me from bringing up too many castaway items from the street. The only really shocking thing for me here is using the Longfellow instead of the Harvard Bridge to cross the river.

I think I’ve shied away from the LF ever since I got drunk on sake with Jack Wisdom and found myself beneath it, admiring a wall of trophies. I could see that it was a powerful vortex in space-time; anything could happen on or near the LF.  The Harvard Bridge is just a bridge.

Bridge Trophies

Under the Longfellowbottom photo Ryan Anas, the day Bri signed off of the USS Constitution.

I must admit that living at the foot of the LF is a ninjaperfect way to be walking distance from both Harvard and MIT; it’s just a few stops on the ever-handy Red Line, and of course just a hop or a walk across the bridge from MIT/Kendall. Also, it’s where our friend Ron lives, and before I knew he existed, and that we could collaborate with him, I never thought too much about living around Beacon.

Ron isn’t in this photo, but he may as well be, because this moment aloft on 54 with Peter and Steve Imrich from the Cambridge 7 architectural firm was deeply material, as was the morning we went up with Erik and Marty Demaine, and Peter had us all in a circle, affirming our dedication to taking that roof by storm. “Are you in!?”, he said to each of us in turn, in his 1000 watt Peter way, “ARE YOU IN!?”

On the Roof wih Architects

It was an easy question for me, as I’ve known for decades that the building was in my future. I remember when MIT recruited Rick Binzel away from the Planetary Science Institute shortly after I was hired in 1987. He went off to work in this very same building, the one we all called the Needle Of Science; it’s so tall and narrow that people feel isolated, and sometimes depressed inside. I’ve long wanted to help.

I’ve only taken the Boston apartment for a month to begin, but it (and many other apartments as well in this world) are available for longer, and I am curious to know myself where my next real landing place will be. I decided to sell the Tucson house, as it’s clear that my work and my mind are taking me elsewhere. I don’t like hoarding space, and I can’t afford to maintain it if it isn’t my home. We’ll ALL be there the first week in February (come over if you are in town the 2-5!) and then I’ll be saying goodbye.

Cooper Pool May 2013

It’s been a beautiful place to live, an entire urban acre of peace and warmth and sunshine and gentle growth. And the accumulation of way too much awesome STUFF.

workshop table, Cooper House, oct 2010

Palm trees in the sunset, cooper hood, jan 2011

Since I wrote last, I’ve really been all over. We’re moving straight ahead, doing All of the Things, working on the startup of the UnLAB, the furthering of the MIT site projects, and as ever now, the inescapable study of hypars, which are even more prevalent than sights of MIT54.

I’ve interacted meaningfully with a vermillion flycatcher, a female kestrel, a raven, a Navy carrier pilot who flew Vikings, I’ve seen an eagle land in a pine tree, sat down with hedge fund investors in Manhattan, played tennis in Tucson and LA, listened to bartenders and vice presidents. Bartenders know everything.


Danger of Travel on Hypars

It strikes me from watching everything around me that there are a lot of points ready to flip. If you knew what you were looking at here, you could just make a little twisting or untwisting motion on the origami hypar, and it would go “sproing”, flip back into the other way of being, and the deer might look like a deer again.

But, whether it could actually still be a healthy deer… hmm.

We are definitely going to new places with all of the crazy here in the USA, and some of our pieces aren’t going to be the same deer after it’s over. In a way, I feel like it’s my job to think about that now, before things go sproing, I must look for the hidden twists, useful and not useful, and get ourselves sorted out. That way we can move like pole vaulters and not like bugs heading for a windshield.

Because you know, yesterday, the new government froze all of the Federacy agency websites, forbade staff from using social media, and locked out the press. Naturally, science went rogue, BECAUSE FACTS, and because we are the media, and it’s time to do our job. If you’d like to keep up with the plight of these people inside the agencies as we ride our greased rocket to God knows, you can follow them now on their rogue social media accounts.

on Twitter:
@rogueUSedgov@AltRockyNPS@CERN. And many others.

And please plan to join us when Scientists March On Washington, because frankly, we’re not gonna take it. The date of the march will be announced on Monday, and you can sign up for email updates at the link. I expect to see a lot of pink hats back in DC!

Lee,Chang W. -  from camera serial numberPhoto NYT

And remember, if you are Tucson-bound next week, come and find us at the house. Stop by in the evenings of Feb 3, 4, or 5 and come and see what we have to give, share a glass of wine. Leave a comment if you want an email with the address.  I’m going to sell my Miata, too, because I don’t want a car in the city. We can take a farewell ride around the neighborhood, wave at the midnight rabbits. Many changes, but I have a full heart.

And Obamacare. For now.

Kate on her car postcard


a whole new world

It’s a whole new world this January, at least in my reality.

I’m still stunned at the results of the election. As I enter 2017 with actually nothing (including health insurance, amazingly) and I watch the Republican Congress debate how best to dismantle the Affordable Care Act and eliminate basic reproductive care and rights for women, I think about what it means to be a woman, an independent human being, someone who works with their hands and their words for a living.

Kate on the Brooklyn Bridgea picture taken last year by Carter Emmart, when we walked
over the Brooklyn Bridge

As a married woman, for 35 years I heard words like “I’m sorry, you aren’t the primary/principal/person with a penis” whenever I tried to call about the internet bill, the bank account, or the mortgage on the house. There seemed to be no awareness in the databases of America that two people could actually be equal, each empowered to act. I find the situation no better as a recently divorced person; even holding my documents that prove that I own a quarter of a TIAA account gives me no more power to speak to TIAA about that account than when I was a married person who legally owned half of it. It’s amazing, but there it is. When they are ready to speak to me, they will. It might be January, it might be March. There is nothing I can do.

I find all of this very tedious; I cannot make headway in my own situation but must actually, truly wait for others to sort it out for me in their spare time. Should I be so fortunate as to survive the delays intact (I’d better not get hit in a crosswalk by an uninsured driver) I will NEVER marry again. It’s sad but true that no symbol of love is worth a woman losing the right to administer her own daily life. And it’s frankly shocking to see that in 2017 women are losing rights instead of gaining equality, to see a bully, a pig, a racist, a misogynist in charge of our country. It’s dangerous, it’s embarrassing.

This is all discouraging, but there isn’t any point in giving in. And, I should say (especially because I have had some very loving emails and a lot of concern for my well-being after divorce) that I am happy. And I am at peace, and I am full of love, and our kids (who are all 19 or older) are fine. I have love in my life (in all ways) and I simply refuse to acknowledge anything else. Administrative problems will work themselves out, and my resolution to run my own life will solve a large part of my future.

Kate and Kim in the Gehrywith Kim Van Antwerp, one of my beloved CGB co-authors, at MIT

If anything, I’m just more determined than ever to make every moment count. I’m not going to let my work, my life or my actions be driven by the agendas of others; in one way that is a very selfish thing to say, and I apologize, but in another it’s the only thing that makes sense. My children are grown, my parents passed away in the ’90s, and I’m not responsible for the care or feeding of anyone except two cats. So instead of worrying about what other people think I should do, or trying to turn their lives to match mine, or my own to match theirs, I’ve got the luxury at this point in my life of choosing to focus on only doing real work that helps all people. Making real things. Thinking about real problems. I just want to be real, do real work, to put everything I have forward.

What do I mean by real? It’s almost easier to give examples of what isn’t real. Stock trading, global currency manipulation. Racial supremacy. Nationalism, war, hate. None of those things have the slightest coherence, each of them is entirely, 100% made up. Not one thing there has the slightest reality. They may represent real things -stocks, for example, are a measure of corporate health, currency is a measure of a nation. Each are a way to gin up wealth or poverty, but neither are actually real, they are ideas that we’ve all (mysteriously, I think) agreed to fund. Currency is not coherent in the way that a tree is, or a friendship, or the measure of distance from Mars to Venus.

Great Party DoriotsDoriot’s house seems very real to me; this was a gathering last summer after I gave a talk on the Contemporary Geometric Beadwork project at the Mingei Museum.

One could say (and many do) that nothing is real; I subscribe to this idea only partly. The actual physical things in our world are very real to us. The water, the air, the food chain, the kisses of our children are intensely important, intensely real to us. Money, fear, the propaganda of war, these have no existential coherence.

Working on clean water, helping solve cancer, making fusion or wind power, making a seed bank on the Moon, or creating modular radar, understanding data storage in crystal structures, making books on beadwork, figuring out how to use a matter beam, or a surface that can morph, well, those are all real things I can focus on, so I will.

Sagdeev voting aloneRoald Sagdeev, a friend and fusion energy pioneer, voting his conscience in the
Soviet parliament before the fall of the Soviet Union (the vote was to condemn democracy, whatever that concept actually means.) Stand up to bullies!

Join me, won’t you? Turn away from what isn’t real, and just look at what is. This will be a very powerful response to what is happening. Keep an eye on your people, your friends, reach out to other people you admire. Women, get together. Strong women, find each other, and take hands, unite. We’ve simply got to stick together. There isn’t anything else.

with love, and deep in work,
your friend, Kate

these birds, this woman

Love and greetings once again from the big desert. Joshua Trees, soaring mountains, winds that carry the breath of the creatures and plants in Earth’s biome, and layers and layers of sky surround me, swirling. I am quite near Vasquez Rocks, scene of frequent hilarity.


My dead are in mind and in use as much as my living right now; E.B. White, Edward Teller, Carl Sagan, Buckminster Fuller, our grandmothers, our mothers, my friend Alice Olson, my uncle John Freeman. The ancient-named gods of the winds, the sun, the sky, Dali, Henry Miller, Fitzgerald, Gaudi, Saarinen, Roald Dahl, Ray Bradbury.

More are added every day; 2016 has been cruel beyond cruel; Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen, Steven Hill, Robert Vaughn, Morley Safer, Merle Haggard, Abe Vigoda, and as if that weren’t enough, Gene Wilder and Alan Rickman. And Trump elected? Are we dreaming, we ask. I console myself that Dick van Dyke remains, as of today.


Each time I walk by the ground squirrels outside where I’m living, or stop for looks back and forth with the robins or ravens in the trees, I think, these birds, this woman, this moment. I smile at them when I pass, sometimes I stop if it is sunny and I make small noises of friendship. They run, or do not run, sometimes they make noises back. I cannot tell one robin from another, but some ravens stand out to me as individuals.

We really ought to be able to translate the rudiments of raven language. So many sounds, so many clicks, so much intention and long-range communication. Such blackness and shininess and smartness. I want to talk to them.


raven photo © Minette Layne via

I’ve started playing tennis, I may have mentioned this. In my own way, I’ve been a secret athlete, but other than chess (chess team in high school, represent!) I’ve never really done an organized sport by the rules. I love badminton, but without a net, and with lots and lots of fierce spiking of birds. I like Scrabble, but I like to play upside down and backwards, blanks go wild when they hit the board, 12 tiles, under 30 points a turn you’re drool. For the last four months, though, I’ve played tennis almost every day, and I’ve played hard. And what do you know? I’m a beast! I mean that in the best possible way. It suits me. So I feel strong and healthy.

Also, thrillingly, the work that I began at MIT almost two years ago is coming to fruition in ways beyond any that I could have imagined. Not only are we bringing wind and solar power to the campus, and contributing to the renovation of MIT54, but we are also bringing a lab of world-class scientists, engineers, artists, designers, programmers and business people to tackle the real work of solving problems. We’re all weary of the make-work of administration and corporate and academic and funding constraints and reports and conditions and supervision and forms and consultants and metrics and and. We just want to do work, only work, and in the most enjoyable, deep, meaningful ways possible.

So – we are making our own lab. It’s called the UnLAB, and we’re starting in Boston, this spring. Watch this space for news! Our plans are ambitious and hopeful, but with the lineup we’ve got, it’s hard to go wrong. We look like this:


Finally, exciting beyond belief: after starting over twice (so much beautiful information has come in so many floods this year) I am nearing completion of the final Contemporary Geometric Beadwork books. With something like 6500 $50-$75 investors in our project, it’s a lot of communication, and it will be a beautiful relief to hand over the finished work, and watch it flower in the hands of the people.

More soon…

and maybe a little Willy Wonka?

come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination
take a look and you’ll see into your imagination
there is no life I know to compare with pure imagination
living there you’ll be free
if you truly wish to be

People I love

Hello, people I love. Here is a little Miss Fish to cosmically kiss.

Miss Fish, sun, happy.
Last night was very difficult.

It was a dark night of the soul for everyone who cares about kindness, fairness, about the example we set for our children, about the future of our planet, the value of the dollar, the value of intelligence, about the rights of women and minorities. The boorish pigs of the world feel vindicated, and people we know and love are going to have serious problems with health insurance, deportation, and the damage to their retirement accounts. We must care for each other as best as we can. What can we do?

We can be strong and kind, and help further good work and good people. I can create places of refuge and sanctuary where work can continue on the things that will really and truly turn our ship: for me, the top two are clean power and clean water.

I’m deeply hurt by the votes of the American people. It’s hard to forgive such ugliness. But I’m the same person today that I was yesterday, and I’m ready and willing to help lead the way to a genuinely different game and story- one that’s global, not political or national, and one that isn’t driven by the exploitation of the planet, people or animals.

So right now, let’s identify what can be sheltered from the coming storm, and get busy protecting it as best as we can. There is a great deal that I can do, actually; I’m fortunate to have already been moving in these directions, including setting up mechanisms to do work outside of the systems.

Breathe, and keep your love moving: this bad time will indeed bring hard changes, but change is a lever open to all. Perhaps this time if we keep our heads, we (the people of the world, not the voters of America) can make a different story arc out of the same old setup.


I love you, and nothing can change that, and you must do the best you can with the hand you are dealt. Me, I am going to get directly back to work, trying to make things better. I’m here for you if you need me.

cranes memorial MIT


It’s been an unusual year for me so far, with many changes. It’s strange, I know, that I haven’t written or spoken since January (or technically since June) but there have been circumstances. If you haven’t heard from me, rest assured, almost no one has.

Even now, it feels risky and personal to speak. I don’t want to. But I also don’t want to make a habit of silence; this time has closed my voice, drawn me inward.

photo Ryan Anas kate mckinnon lying in the MIT chapel

So much has happened. It all really started up, this new strand of my life, when in fall of 2014, four of us (and two cats) went to live in Boston for a half-year’s academic sabbatical at MIT. It was everything that I always thought it would be to live as a family in that alive, happening place, and to be surrounded by people walking, thinking and doing. It was especially sweet for me after 24 years of the family being based in St. Louis, a place that was only ever meant to be temporary. Even Bill never meant or wanted to stay. It just … happened.

At a personal level, my work was so sparked by the experience of being at MIT and in Boston that it leapt off of the table and whinnied. I was in a cosmic and happening place, I met new collaborators everywhere I went, and man, did I go everywhere. Each of us in the family reflected our surroundings, and it was lovely, lively.

After the five months of the fall semester, the time was up. I wanted to stay. We could have done it, but there were circumstances, as ever; Liam was finishing high school in summer of 2015, Evan would finish in summer of ’16. Bill and I said, “we can move when Evan fledges”. This didn’t get us back to living as a family in a happening place, but the future was something we could move toward as two human beings in the third phase of life.

We went back to our rhythm of two houses, intersecting lives, monthly visits. Evan turned 18. I got lonelier. I contemplated, as I had for 24, then 25 years, the ideas of acceptance, the practice of waiting for the Future. The Future, as it turns out, does not actually exist. I’ve had some time to think that over.

Liam, Evan and Bill McKinnon, Christmas 2012

We have only the moments of the present, strung together like jewels.

If I was waiting, I spent my time well, I think- I worked on my books, I kept my projects hopping, I went back to MIT three times, and I even taught at the January 2016 term, which was a dream come true. I found my own academic home there, I found that I could stay if I wanted to. I felt welcome, valuable, valued in a place that was one of the best in the world. I felt at home.

It really all seemed divine. The timing was perfect; the kids were grown, Bill was of retirement age (but still had lots of juice and a towering stack of chewy Pluto, Europa and other work that he could do anywhere). And so in January I asked him to get ready to move to Boston. Oddly, against all expectation, he refused to leave St. Louis, then or possibly ever.

Leaving my marriage was a really difficult thing to do, especially over something we actually agreed on. How surreal is that? Quite recently, in an equally strange circumstance, he accepted a visiting position at JPL in Pasadena. He can work on All Of The Things, he can teach at CalTech. It’s marvelous, but the timing is hard for us to understand. In a way, we felt (and still feel) played by the play, as if we were performing the process of a kind of separation we were incapable of making without a prop.

I haven’t known how speak of what happened to our marriage without seeming to place the responsibility on Bill for reneging on the deal to move; this isn’t right, because that’s not how I feel, it’s not real. What happened was mysterious, and my desire to be moving in the world was just as much in play as his refusal to move, as was the feel of water moving, inevitability. Just as when we met.

I am convinced, as is Bill, that we played/were played by the Fates. I don’t think about destiny, but I do believe in work, and I think and trust that we have work to do that we could not have done if we had remained bound in that system, in that place. For me, it has already started in a flow that cannot be stopped; ideas stream out of me, they move into a fertile bed of minds in physics, in engineering, in the world of art, we are a sussuration of bees; we are creating work individually and together that we hope will stand over time. Soon, maybe, the wind-fall I’ve been dreaming will stand in the Cambridge skyline. I think so.

I say to Bill, when we ache together over what is lost (and we do) our separation may be as holy as our union. With Bri by our side, stalwart elf, we brought the two boys into the world, we lived a deep luck and love, and we have our family forever in our hearts. My love has no end, it wraps through time in all directions, love begins and ends and never ends in a hot flow through my heart and mind, I feel as close to the center of the Universe as I can stand and survive. I meditate every morning, and when I do, I run film of every person that I love, and I fill those images with as much joy as they can hold, like filling cups until they flow over.

And yes, love is everything, but I’ve had to come to a real grip with the idea that loving someone unconditionally doesn’t mean that you spend the human time-string of your life waiting for them to take actions. The neutral mind, the path of acceptance, these are beautiful ideas, but in practice neutral behavior contributes little more to the Universe than the existence of a tree, or a field of flowers. In fact, the tree does it better. Much better.

Anyway: sometimes the only way a person who is stuck can even take an action is if another person calls game. I understand being a forcing function, but in this context I am surprised to be the spanner in the works.

Bill and Evan in the Pear Tent

I’ve struggled somewhat this year professionally as the Contemporary Geometric Beadwork work (which I expected to publish in spring) exploded into arenas that I am still working academically (mathematically, in engineering and in physics) to understand; I am nearly a year behind my publication schedule, yet this is as I always have been and probably always will be. This is my life, this is who I am, this is consistent. I have to be thorough, I need to do my work in the way I do my work.

I take deep breaths, I visualize the whole set of books (I am working on three at once, because I am mad) finished, sparkling, correct. I see them riding out, as they always do, bound and clean and beautiful and into hands, minds.

I’m regretful that I disappeared for so long, but I didn’t know (and I still don’t know) what to say. I’ve really felt (regarding my personal life) that I should wait to speak until the dust settled and until each of us in our family had a chance to breathe and process the changes. And so here we are, here I am.

Moving forward.

Kate and Bill at John Waters in Boston 2014

Bill and Bri in the early morning

442 Bill and Evan web

Bill and Kate at Ricardo Cat
Bill McKinnon with tiny fall leaves and the Aqua Building

So much love under the bridge, and more yet to come.

boys walking me to steamy train

Bri and Kate under the Longfellow Bridge photo by Kyle Cassidy

“I wish you joyous and mysterious eruptions
of profound gratification and gratitude.
I wish you fluid insights and revelations that lead
to cathartic integrations on a regular basis.
I wish you the ripening of lucky trends you’ve worked hard to earn,
resulting in the kind of healing that allows your generosity to flow.
I wish you captivating yet relaxing adventures
that enable you to weave together diverse threads of your experience,
inspiring you to feel at home in the world.”

Rob Breszny