And Then, Depression Set In

We've had a solid week of crap weather here at Grouch Manor, which is normally not conducive to fun & frolic. Weather like this, as any of you older folks know only too well, also lights up every point in the body that you've abused over the years.

It also gives you time to think. Having spent 13 months in Islamabad, Pakistan during my youth, I got to know the place pretty well and made a couple of friends there. One in particular was Mohammad Chefias Khan - who I called Cheffy. When you went north from Islamabad you were in the Margala hills - these are the foothills of the Himalayas.

Murree Hill Station was the first town you came to. It was a little place mostly dedicated to tourism but very pleasant. Cheffy lived in the third village north of Murree, which I was privileged to visit several times. No shops - hell, no streets. The housing was scattered on both sides of a small valley and I loved the quiet and the joyous welcome that was extended each time I went.

Abbottabad wasn't too far further north from there - a magical place with some of the best views I've ever experienced.

I say 'was' because, while I hope Cheffy, his family, his villagers and the rest survived the earthquake unscathed, I don't hold out much hope. The terrain and the flimsy building methods are against them.

I have no way of contacting Cheffy and I doubt he'd have a computer - back then his village didn't even have electricity - but if by some miracle he or a friend see this, my hopes and prayers - to my God and yours - are with all of you.