I was in the Sierras a few months ago with my wife's family and our two young daughters when my mother called to tell me her brother died. My uncle had been battling cancer for many years, but to receive the news at that time and place was particularly surreal, as I had stepped out of the cabin to take the call - and walking toward the lake I realized that I was standing in the exact location of when I had last seen him, by some coincidence, two years prior.

A strange transition from the grief and the cold to the warm faces gathered in the space of the cozy cabin. Morning light and coffee and crossword puzzles, my three year old poking at scrambled eggs and her little sister scrambling about. More sad and sweet transitions and juxtapositions followed that week and month. One of my older brothers started a text thread with all the siblings after hearing from mom (I am one of seven) and it was profound to see how quickly each one chimed in, compelled to attest to how warm and wonderful, how uniquely positive and joyful Joe was, despite everything he endured. I still return to that thread occasionally, to read those candid mini eulogies. And I can still access the clear timbre of his voice and his laugh, and my internal voice still echoes the simple, succinct sentiment of all my siblings when we reconnected at the memorial celebration. One after the other: "He was the best". Another face, another smile and more head-shaking acceptance: "Joe was just the best". And another and another: "He was the best..."

This is not a sad note, truly. I'm just reflecting on transitions, juxtapositions this morning, I suppose. This time and space between holidays and happenings. Hearts transitioning, negotiating celebrations with the news cycle and state of the world, and hearts enduring, shifting. Some lighting candles and rededicating to ideals. Others keeping traditions, recipes, memories and voices alive. Hearts out there remaining open to connection and to wonder. And to recurring, defiant, joys - ever present, despite everything. Still finding reasons to raise glasses.


Tonight at OAKLAND YARD: Thursday Night Flights from 5-9pm. Austrian Whites (3 dry, mineral-driven Gruner Veltliners) and Italian Reds (Barbera, Nebbiolo, Montepulciano D'Abruzzo). Flights $12 from 5-9 and wines by the glass until close.

SATURDAY: Wines of Loire Valley. We'll be pouring a favorite Muscadet, a natural Sauvignon Blanc, and two different, dynamic expressions of Cabernet Franc. Four wines, Flights $15 from 2-6pm and wines by the glass all day until close (9pm).

All the best,

Daniel