I remember when I was still working in the library I used to see people coming in at Christmas time and leisurely ambling through the stacks, choosing books, sitting in the reading areas with magazines or their latest checkouts, completely at ease, not rushing around like the self within me who was racing in circles, counting the minutes when I would be off work so I could rush to some task. I also used to fantasize that when I was retired all that would change! Fantasy indeed.
True I have tons of time now to do everything, but that still doesn't cancel out the logjam of late December activities - the little gifts of acknowledgment, the cards to be thoughtfully written and sent, the bit of baking, the concerts, the luncheon dates. And if you have one big entertaining occasion coming - like we do in going to the mountains, there is still a lots of food buying and the hustle and bustle of packing. When the first Christmas comes that we have nothing big planned and we can just kick back from the first day in December all the way to January 1, will I be bored????
I'd like to give it a shot!
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
braiding rugs and memories
My sister sent me a picture of a braided rug and asked me if I wanted it as none of her children seemed interested in it. It is a rug that my mother braided and sewed together. And while I am in a continuous mode of getting rid of things, gradually, this one I can't pass over!
Rugs are underfoot rather than filling up shelf or closet space, and every time I look down I will see my mother and the creation of that rug. In my mind's eye, I see Mother sitting in the front room of our childhood house in Hinkletown, at night - because seriously, when did Mother ever sit down much during the day in the midst of keeping a household of seven clean and fed?! These scenes float from the era of radio, because we would gather in that room around the radio to listen to our favorite shows - The Great Gildersleeve, Fibber McGee and Molly, Jack Benny, Ozzie and Harriet, Beulah, etc. I can still see her laughing as she listened, hooking the scraps of fabric together into a braid- even in that moment of relaxation being productive.
Do I want the rug? Indeed, because it not only covers a spot in my room but it encompasses sweet moments of childhood, weaving the strands of love to bridge the years.
Rugs are underfoot rather than filling up shelf or closet space, and every time I look down I will see my mother and the creation of that rug. In my mind's eye, I see Mother sitting in the front room of our childhood house in Hinkletown, at night - because seriously, when did Mother ever sit down much during the day in the midst of keeping a household of seven clean and fed?! These scenes float from the era of radio, because we would gather in that room around the radio to listen to our favorite shows - The Great Gildersleeve, Fibber McGee and Molly, Jack Benny, Ozzie and Harriet, Beulah, etc. I can still see her laughing as she listened, hooking the scraps of fabric together into a braid- even in that moment of relaxation being productive.
Do I want the rug? Indeed, because it not only covers a spot in my room but it encompasses sweet moments of childhood, weaving the strands of love to bridge the years.
Monday, December 16, 2019
witnessing
One rare occasion in this rainy/icy/snowy/miserable pre-Christmas season we seem to be having, my husband and I found ourselves together at a mall - that place of all places we both avoid like the plague. We did our purchasing quickly and then indulged in the essence of the mall aroma - a Cinnabon! It was the second taste of my life and because I grew up on much better sticky or cinnamon rolls, this roll wasn't euphoric, but it certainly was sweet and caloric! As we were sharing one, my husband looked at a nearby table and whispered to me "Check out that guy - he's eating an apple!" And sure enough, there he was, munching determinedly on a crisp green apple! As funny as that was, my husband's comment topped it. In sotto voce he murmured, "He's witnessing!"
In my childhood days we were taught to "witness" by living exemplary lives - as largely pertains to the Gospel, but I simply loved the impertinence of this forthright man crunching his apple in the midst of a host of slackers indulging in a heap of sugar and cinnamon! That's surely how the world will right itself!!
In my childhood days we were taught to "witness" by living exemplary lives - as largely pertains to the Gospel, but I simply loved the impertinence of this forthright man crunching his apple in the midst of a host of slackers indulging in a heap of sugar and cinnamon! That's surely how the world will right itself!!
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
mince pie
My brother wrote a note mentioning he had mince pie at a Lancaster County restaurant over Thanksgiving. Mince Pie!
I know from experience lots of people look at me blankly when I utter those words. I thought perhaps the origin was German, but I do believe it came from the Crown! And truly, it does not sound appetizing when described as a pie filled with minced meat, suet, and fruits! But, um, do I get hungry for old-fashioned mince pie from my childhood!
To me, the words conjure up December Sunday evenings, when we had the Weaver relatives over for a staggering Christmas dinner at noon. We spent the afternoon, talking, playing games, maybe getting out to stretch a little depending on the weather, and then early evening, Mother would get out a light spread that usually included warm mince pie with vanilla ice cream. I remember each delicious melting bite!!
So, its not just the pie, but it's my Uncle Mark's hearty, chest-heaving laugh, the noisy scatter of conversation, cousins scampering, warmth, physical fullness, contentment.
And the sheltering umbrella of family.
I know from experience lots of people look at me blankly when I utter those words. I thought perhaps the origin was German, but I do believe it came from the Crown! And truly, it does not sound appetizing when described as a pie filled with minced meat, suet, and fruits! But, um, do I get hungry for old-fashioned mince pie from my childhood!
To me, the words conjure up December Sunday evenings, when we had the Weaver relatives over for a staggering Christmas dinner at noon. We spent the afternoon, talking, playing games, maybe getting out to stretch a little depending on the weather, and then early evening, Mother would get out a light spread that usually included warm mince pie with vanilla ice cream. I remember each delicious melting bite!!
So, its not just the pie, but it's my Uncle Mark's hearty, chest-heaving laugh, the noisy scatter of conversation, cousins scampering, warmth, physical fullness, contentment.
And the sheltering umbrella of family.
Monday, December 9, 2019
walking the straight, narrow and comfortable
Shoes.
Minor item, right? Living in the part of the world that we do, we have worn shoes all our lives. Since retiring I have noticed how my footwear has evolved!
First of all I read an article from our health care provider that seniors should take a look at their wardrobes and essentially rid themselves of any backless shoes. It is statistically documented that a large number of falls result from shoes that allow the foot to slip out on stairs, slopes or inclines of any kind, That was a new thought as I have worn clogs and sandals all my life - but I could see the logic. Now my feet are contained at all times.
The other revelation came with heel size consideration. The other day I went shopping with a slightly elevated boot and I have paid for it with two days of heel soreness. I can see the future years reflect basically sturdy comfortable shoes, period!
Of course since I walk four miles a day the above isn't a revelation completely. But I think it is important to realize that well-constructed footwear is now essential rather than an interesting theory.
And then of course my mind flits back to childhood when those first warm Spring days that begged for bare feet! Mother was ultra-conservative about the timing. My next-door neighbor's mother had no such compunctions so they flung caution to the wind and were enviously trampling through the greening grass and plowed gardens days before we were allowed! What, was there a bare foot law, like not planting peas before May 15??
Who would have thought that rules govern even our footwear?
Minor item, right? Living in the part of the world that we do, we have worn shoes all our lives. Since retiring I have noticed how my footwear has evolved!
First of all I read an article from our health care provider that seniors should take a look at their wardrobes and essentially rid themselves of any backless shoes. It is statistically documented that a large number of falls result from shoes that allow the foot to slip out on stairs, slopes or inclines of any kind, That was a new thought as I have worn clogs and sandals all my life - but I could see the logic. Now my feet are contained at all times.
The other revelation came with heel size consideration. The other day I went shopping with a slightly elevated boot and I have paid for it with two days of heel soreness. I can see the future years reflect basically sturdy comfortable shoes, period!
Of course since I walk four miles a day the above isn't a revelation completely. But I think it is important to realize that well-constructed footwear is now essential rather than an interesting theory.
And then of course my mind flits back to childhood when those first warm Spring days that begged for bare feet! Mother was ultra-conservative about the timing. My next-door neighbor's mother had no such compunctions so they flung caution to the wind and were enviously trampling through the greening grass and plowed gardens days before we were allowed! What, was there a bare foot law, like not planting peas before May 15??
Who would have thought that rules govern even our footwear?
Sunday, December 8, 2019
connected
Recently I have been impressed by an aspect of shopping that I never noticed before. Disclaimer - I rarely shop, but I used to scrounge a lot around Christmas time for unique stocking stuffers and that takes time and a whole lot of energy. This year I was looking for one specific item for my sister and it required interacting with sales personnel. The gamut of sales personnel is a whole story in itself, but not my point right now!! I'm here with a positive note.
Every time I went beyond the neat straight lines of the inquiry, I got rewarded. I even had an extended conversation with a clerk at a most unlikely store about giving and receiving presents - it was astonishing! It was like there was the tiniest trickle of water flowing, and I just pushed aside one little stone and the trickle became a stream - full of sound and light and completely refreshing!
The other thing that jumped out at me, I spoke to other customers who were either wandering aimlessly in large department stores like I was, or looked to be in the know, and all four times that I ventured beyond my personal space I was again rewarded with humor, understanding, comradery! I just was reminded again how buttoned up we are for the most part. I understood completely how important openness was on a public desk at a library for 33 years. Now I think I have to convey the concept to wherever my steps take me in each day.
I think the world hungers for connection.
Every time I went beyond the neat straight lines of the inquiry, I got rewarded. I even had an extended conversation with a clerk at a most unlikely store about giving and receiving presents - it was astonishing! It was like there was the tiniest trickle of water flowing, and I just pushed aside one little stone and the trickle became a stream - full of sound and light and completely refreshing!
The other thing that jumped out at me, I spoke to other customers who were either wandering aimlessly in large department stores like I was, or looked to be in the know, and all four times that I ventured beyond my personal space I was again rewarded with humor, understanding, comradery! I just was reminded again how buttoned up we are for the most part. I understood completely how important openness was on a public desk at a library for 33 years. Now I think I have to convey the concept to wherever my steps take me in each day.
I think the world hungers for connection.
Saturday, December 7, 2019
o tannenbaum
Yesterday the Christmas tree went up in our household.
Each year, I glance at the work it entails and think, do I want to do it? And each year - so far - I remember the endless hours of the lovely glow of it all through the day and night until bedtime and push myself to make the effort.
As I unpack the ornaments, one by one, I unpack my memories. The history of some elude me, but mostly they all have a past that is precious - ones the kids made in school, others from family, friends, colleagues - or ones that I bought myself, like Emily. Several years ago I happened to spot "Emily" in a Target bin and fell in love with her old-fashioned goodness. She's Anne of Green Gables, Pippi Longstocking, Understood Betsy all rolled up in one! And now she smiles from my tree each year.
The ornaments are not only bridges to friends but to places where we lived - one from a hardware store in Kansas, some from the Conran's somewhere here in Northern VA, others from New York City, Tangier Island, on and on. They are like a little hello across the years, a small road map.
Perhaps I love the process so much because it's purely mine, not something handed down from my childhood as we seldom had a Christmas tree - lots of presents, candles glowing in the windows, the smell of baking cookies, music, but trees weren't a big part.
I remember our first year in Newfoundland when we were boarding with a sea captain's family. Our bedroom was small but we hiked into the woods out back and brought back a tiny tree and set it on our trunk. One of the family's teenage sons commented, "My dears, that is a some naked tree!" And so it was, but it was the beginning of our own tradition.
And that, in a word, is the beauty.
Each year, I glance at the work it entails and think, do I want to do it? And each year - so far - I remember the endless hours of the lovely glow of it all through the day and night until bedtime and push myself to make the effort.
As I unpack the ornaments, one by one, I unpack my memories. The history of some elude me, but mostly they all have a past that is precious - ones the kids made in school, others from family, friends, colleagues - or ones that I bought myself, like Emily. Several years ago I happened to spot "Emily" in a Target bin and fell in love with her old-fashioned goodness. She's Anne of Green Gables, Pippi Longstocking, Understood Betsy all rolled up in one! And now she smiles from my tree each year.
The ornaments are not only bridges to friends but to places where we lived - one from a hardware store in Kansas, some from the Conran's somewhere here in Northern VA, others from New York City, Tangier Island, on and on. They are like a little hello across the years, a small road map.
Perhaps I love the process so much because it's purely mine, not something handed down from my childhood as we seldom had a Christmas tree - lots of presents, candles glowing in the windows, the smell of baking cookies, music, but trees weren't a big part.
I remember our first year in Newfoundland when we were boarding with a sea captain's family. Our bedroom was small but we hiked into the woods out back and brought back a tiny tree and set it on our trunk. One of the family's teenage sons commented, "My dears, that is a some naked tree!" And so it was, but it was the beginning of our own tradition.
And that, in a word, is the beauty.
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
through the arch
A former library colleague and I were discussing our retirement from the library and I asked her if she missed it. She looked at me with an almost sheepish grin and said, "Not really!" And I grinned back. Not really.
To me it's almost astonishing to utter those words! I waited so long to retire thinking I would be devastated not to see my" people" anymore. I had dozens and dozens of people whose lives I had followed for more than 20 years - through births, deaths, marriages, divorces, promotions, firings, joys, sorrows - the gamut of life. I loved them. I still do but now they are a memory population and they are doing just fine. I often take them down from the shelf and think about them, but now its almost like thinking about characters in a book. I cherish them still for all the enrichment they provided me through the years, but now that phase of our friendship is over. And its just fine.
As Tennyson said so many years before me, but surely he was thinking of me (:)) "All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move."
A toast to untraveled worlds!
To me it's almost astonishing to utter those words! I waited so long to retire thinking I would be devastated not to see my" people" anymore. I had dozens and dozens of people whose lives I had followed for more than 20 years - through births, deaths, marriages, divorces, promotions, firings, joys, sorrows - the gamut of life. I loved them. I still do but now they are a memory population and they are doing just fine. I often take them down from the shelf and think about them, but now its almost like thinking about characters in a book. I cherish them still for all the enrichment they provided me through the years, but now that phase of our friendship is over. And its just fine.
As Tennyson said so many years before me, but surely he was thinking of me (:)) "All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move."
A toast to untraveled worlds!
Sunday, December 1, 2019
passing days
It was dripping when I started my walk this afternoon, but as if the rain gods kept tightening the faucet as I went along, the rain lessened and finally my umbrella came down for good. When I came through the door after four miles, my cheeks felt rosy cold - the first feel of winter! The rest of me was all bundled away, but the cheeks are the yardstick! And why shouldn't they feel cool - it's December!
And December is another mystery! HOW could it be December? I'm really trying hard to relax against the flood of time, but I do truly find how it slips through my fingers like water. disconcerting. I just look around, and it's gone!
The final glory tonight was a Face Book entry that pointed out we will be starting another DECADE in a few weeks! Now, that really got my attention! This is truly wild horses pounding across the plains!
Nevertheless instead of bracing my feet against the floorboards, I will try to welcome each new day and not be calculating their accumulative heft! Early New Year resolution!
And everyone knows how well those things work out.
And December is another mystery! HOW could it be December? I'm really trying hard to relax against the flood of time, but I do truly find how it slips through my fingers like water. disconcerting. I just look around, and it's gone!
The final glory tonight was a Face Book entry that pointed out we will be starting another DECADE in a few weeks! Now, that really got my attention! This is truly wild horses pounding across the plains!
Nevertheless instead of bracing my feet against the floorboards, I will try to welcome each new day and not be calculating their accumulative heft! Early New Year resolution!
And everyone knows how well those things work out.
Saturday, November 30, 2019
Keckling and aging
Early in my formation of a book club at the library, a woman of forty some years came one time and then confided in a friend that she couldn't join that group because the women were too old!! I was rather stunned as the majority were around my age! But the more I thought of it - and certainly it was her choice - what a potential treasure trove she was kicking to the curb! I realized further, I have always loved hanging around elderly people - at whatever age I was - because the years they represented awed me. And what a lot there was to learn from them! Even it was just not to be as cranky as they turned out to be!!
As my years increase, I would give worlds to be able to sit by my parents/aunts/uncles/grandparents' sides and ask hundreds of questions. The lost history saddens me. I suppose every generation feels this way, but now I want to know context! Why did they cook, think, dress, work, talk the way they did. This all came sharply to me when I was discussing with my husband why I always make "keckling" (cooked soy beans) for Thanksgiving. Mother did. Why? Soy beans don't seem like a Lancaster County staple! So did Grandma Weaver make them? Or was there some foreign influence that came to bear on Mother?! Such a minor detail, but I have such an ocean of longing to know more about the nitty-gritty of our bones.
And the mysterious keckling rocked the meal, as always!
As my years increase, I would give worlds to be able to sit by my parents/aunts/uncles/grandparents' sides and ask hundreds of questions. The lost history saddens me. I suppose every generation feels this way, but now I want to know context! Why did they cook, think, dress, work, talk the way they did. This all came sharply to me when I was discussing with my husband why I always make "keckling" (cooked soy beans) for Thanksgiving. Mother did. Why? Soy beans don't seem like a Lancaster County staple! So did Grandma Weaver make them? Or was there some foreign influence that came to bear on Mother?! Such a minor detail, but I have such an ocean of longing to know more about the nitty-gritty of our bones.
And the mysterious keckling rocked the meal, as always!
Monday, November 25, 2019
It was a dark and scary night
My bosom childhood friend wrote me on my November birthday, reminiscing about fall days during school days. One Halloween my brother and I decided to have a party for our small circle of neighborhood friends. We went all out with spiderwebs gracing the cellar door entry to the basement (in those days they might have been real!), pumpkins carved and lit with sputtering candles and ghostly figures and goblins lurking in the shadows. Halloween was such a shivery departure from every other dark night - the possibility of lurking figures in costumes everywhere was so deliciously scary.
And then there was the flinging of shelled corn on peoples' front porches. The frightening staccato noise probably scared us more than the comfortable people inside the lighted rooms! My mother drew the line at soaping windows on houses or cars, and reluctantly granted the corn as it could be swept away easily and eaten by God's creatures!
Why do we like to be scared, within certain boundaries and circumstances. I can still feel my heart pounding on those dark nights. We must have known instinctively there was a lovely circle of safety surrounding us.
Ah, how life has changed.
Tuesday, June 18, 2019
upon this rock
In another conversation with a group of women at lunch the other day, a friend said, :"I was always envious of big families who seemed to like each other. We hated each other."
I was stunned - both by her meaning and her honesty.
And I wanted to wrap each of my siblings close. We are all different, certainly. Our lives have taken many paths. We don't get together as a group that frequently. But it takes my breath away to think of the bond we have being broken. I take for granted the large, lovely, enveloping blanket of our love for each other and can't imagine life without it.
Those of us who were given strong foundations to build our lives upon should never for a second take our eyes off that priceless gift.
And equally should be filled with admiration for those who did their own building from scratch.
I was stunned - both by her meaning and her honesty.
And I wanted to wrap each of my siblings close. We are all different, certainly. Our lives have taken many paths. We don't get together as a group that frequently. But it takes my breath away to think of the bond we have being broken. I take for granted the large, lovely, enveloping blanket of our love for each other and can't imagine life without it.
Those of us who were given strong foundations to build our lives upon should never for a second take our eyes off that priceless gift.
And equally should be filled with admiration for those who did their own building from scratch.
too many to count
On Father's Day I was with a small group of friends and I asked what their favorite memories were of their fathers - time spent together. And truly, they were hard-pressed to answer. No one asked me - perhaps sensing I would be talking for the next chunk of time, because - where to begin!
Be it the times he played tennis with me when he came home for lunch in the heat of the day because no one else wanted to play with a beginner, or the times we drove to the West Coast seeing the beauty of the National Parks and ordinary America along the way, or our trips to the Chesapeake Bay for weeks at a time, or the after dinner badminton games, or the miniature golfs games when he got as wound up as we kids at a hole-in-one or a good putt, or the countless games of Scrabble, Authors, Dominoes, Rook, etc., or the summer nights we would stop catching fireflies and jump into the car for an ice cream run to the Cloister Dairies, trips to see the then woeful Phillies and on and on. But most of all was the quiet glory of his never-failing presence. Molded by a workable faith, he was always there, thoughtful, quiet, gracious, kind.
Protector in chief.
Be it the times he played tennis with me when he came home for lunch in the heat of the day because no one else wanted to play with a beginner, or the times we drove to the West Coast seeing the beauty of the National Parks and ordinary America along the way, or our trips to the Chesapeake Bay for weeks at a time, or the after dinner badminton games, or the miniature golfs games when he got as wound up as we kids at a hole-in-one or a good putt, or the countless games of Scrabble, Authors, Dominoes, Rook, etc., or the summer nights we would stop catching fireflies and jump into the car for an ice cream run to the Cloister Dairies, trips to see the then woeful Phillies and on and on. But most of all was the quiet glory of his never-failing presence. Molded by a workable faith, he was always there, thoughtful, quiet, gracious, kind.
Protector in chief.
Monday, May 6, 2019
mke a little music
We had one little break from the rain this past Saturday and I immediately headed for the Farmers Market down at the Plaza. What an inoculation against the weekend's miserable weather!
Not only was the market in full swing, but in the midst of the mingling neighbors and friends, was a delightful Bluegrass group. The strains of their music woven into the babble of conversation and laughter chased away the dreary morning. And the visions of spring onions, tomatoes, humus, ice cream, asparagus, croissants, flowers, honey, herbs, Cuban sandwiches, barbeque, freshly baked breads, peppers, apples, strawberries - the sights, the smells, the sounds of community was all so uplifting. Beyond the market, craft stands of all kinds bloomed and still beyond that, the lake and the outdoor cafes that edged it, dotted with people hoping to foil the rain by the sheer force of presence!
It all was a reminder to get out and enjoy every minute, regardless of the weather. There is so much joy to be harvested in simply shared moments - in the sun and yes, even in the stormy weather!
Not only was the market in full swing, but in the midst of the mingling neighbors and friends, was a delightful Bluegrass group. The strains of their music woven into the babble of conversation and laughter chased away the dreary morning. And the visions of spring onions, tomatoes, humus, ice cream, asparagus, croissants, flowers, honey, herbs, Cuban sandwiches, barbeque, freshly baked breads, peppers, apples, strawberries - the sights, the smells, the sounds of community was all so uplifting. Beyond the market, craft stands of all kinds bloomed and still beyond that, the lake and the outdoor cafes that edged it, dotted with people hoping to foil the rain by the sheer force of presence!
It all was a reminder to get out and enjoy every minute, regardless of the weather. There is so much joy to be harvested in simply shared moments - in the sun and yes, even in the stormy weather!
Monday, April 22, 2019
springtime ectasy
Yesterday my path from the springtime fields of Pennsylvania to the Catoctin Mountain region was sublime! The fresh greens laced with the redbuds and Bartlett pear blossoms were breathtaking. Each year continues to enthrall - it never grows old! In fact, as I grow older, maybe it's because I have extra time to look and enjoy, but springtime seems increasingly splendid. I guess it's a metaphor for new love or new anything. The brilliant fever pitch of any new experience can't last, but settles into a more manageable steadiness.
But for right now, I'm dancing with delight!
But for right now, I'm dancing with delight!
Wednesday, April 17, 2019
a limited commodity
A close friend of mine is facing the death of her life-long partner. Though he had been in ill health for a long time, it was manageable until the last month. Still the family thought he would rally as he had done so many times before. This time his time seems to be running out.
It shouldn't be shocking but it is. The bare reality of it. I try to imagine being in her shoes and I really can't. But his passing will change her life completely.
Benchmarks.
I guess it is a dawning reality that when you reach this age, the stakes suddenly get high. The reserves that came to the rescue before are now more meager.
Still the lesson that seems to be settling within me with the April morning rays is - you have the day, make the most of it.
It shouldn't be shocking but it is. The bare reality of it. I try to imagine being in her shoes and I really can't. But his passing will change her life completely.
Benchmarks.
I guess it is a dawning reality that when you reach this age, the stakes suddenly get high. The reserves that came to the rescue before are now more meager.
Still the lesson that seems to be settling within me with the April morning rays is - you have the day, make the most of it.
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Trivia
I know many people do crossword puzzles every morning. I think we secretly pride ourselves that we are striking a blow against mental sluggishness! Whether or not that is true, I do think it's a kind of mental pushups that does strengthen the anti-aging muscles! And I am amazed each morning as I discover some new word/fact.
The last two days the facts are these - (and don't think I remember them much longer than two days!):
1) fennec - a small African fox! To me, it's amazing that in 75 years of living I never stumbled over that word. But in truth there are probably thousands of animals I've never heard of!
2) Samuel Morse - before he became inventor of the telegraph he was an established portrait painter - a really good one!
These things delight me!
Again, such a cheap date!
The last two days the facts are these - (and don't think I remember them much longer than two days!):
1) fennec - a small African fox! To me, it's amazing that in 75 years of living I never stumbled over that word. But in truth there are probably thousands of animals I've never heard of!
2) Samuel Morse - before he became inventor of the telegraph he was an established portrait painter - a really good one!
These things delight me!
Again, such a cheap date!
Saturday, April 13, 2019
daffodils
Maybe we only did this one time when I was a child, but it was so extraordinary that it shines through the years!
The mother of my best friend could not possibly have been more different from my mother - and I adored both of them. But Mary was fun-loving, spontaneous, completely non-traditional in the way she conducted her life. The only cross to her life - and it was a big one - was that she was the preacher's wife and indeed that did cramp her style at every turn!
But one spring she gathered all of us kids in the car and headed for the nearby farmland of a friend. There was a wooded plot on the land that had been allowed to grow wild and consequently the underbrush teemed with thorny briars, making passage difficult and at places, impossible. But the prize was that throughout the briars, scattered like jewels for a few weeks of the year, were wild daffodils. They were double yellow cups, whites, ruffled edges, plain petals, orange/yellow/white centers - variants like I have never seen since. And we donned snow-pants, old heavy coats, boots and plowed through the briars to pick them. We ended up with buckets of breathtaking beauty!
I do remember the briars. They scratched our hands and even cheeks as branches sprung back.
But no amount of years will dim the memory of the scent and sight of those daffodils and I have to clone Wordsworth's thoughts:
"For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude
And they my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils."
The mother of my best friend could not possibly have been more different from my mother - and I adored both of them. But Mary was fun-loving, spontaneous, completely non-traditional in the way she conducted her life. The only cross to her life - and it was a big one - was that she was the preacher's wife and indeed that did cramp her style at every turn!
But one spring she gathered all of us kids in the car and headed for the nearby farmland of a friend. There was a wooded plot on the land that had been allowed to grow wild and consequently the underbrush teemed with thorny briars, making passage difficult and at places, impossible. But the prize was that throughout the briars, scattered like jewels for a few weeks of the year, were wild daffodils. They were double yellow cups, whites, ruffled edges, plain petals, orange/yellow/white centers - variants like I have never seen since. And we donned snow-pants, old heavy coats, boots and plowed through the briars to pick them. We ended up with buckets of breathtaking beauty!
I do remember the briars. They scratched our hands and even cheeks as branches sprung back.
But no amount of years will dim the memory of the scent and sight of those daffodils and I have to clone Wordsworth's thoughts:
"For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude
And they my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils."
Springtime fling
I am astonished at how quickly the color in my springtime is fading! Is that a metaphor for life? One quick lovely burst and then fade to green! Mind you, I'm grateful for the multi-colored greens after the browns of winter, but I do wish the spectacular pinks, purples, yellows, violets, reds could extend their visit just a bit longer! My magical walks ratchet down a notch each day and I suck in my breath in disappointment! I should know by now that ecstasy is fleeting!
But thank goodness for ecstasy, period, for how else would we measure the ordinary?
But thank goodness for ecstasy, period, for how else would we measure the ordinary?
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
Against all odds
Listening to an old John Pryne album over breakfast -
"In spite of ourselves,
We're sitting on a rainbow
Against all odds,
Honey, we're the big door prize!"
My retirement thoughts exactly!
Against all odds.
Beyond the heat
I heard a report this morning about a section of Malibu that was scorched by wildfires last fall and all that was left was blackened stumps of trees. Now, it is ablaze with wildflowers! And the greenest green the natives have ever seen, reminiscent of Ireland's rolling hills.
There is something so heartening about that - out of the fire, gold.
The heat of political turmoil, personal tragedy, illness, gun violence, racial unrest sometimes seems to leave only charred spiky ruins.
I cling to those wildflowers.
There is something so heartening about that - out of the fire, gold.
The heat of political turmoil, personal tragedy, illness, gun violence, racial unrest sometimes seems to leave only charred spiky ruins.
I cling to those wildflowers.
Monday, March 18, 2019
I wanna hold your hand
There was an article in this morning's paper about a therapist who helps couples decide whether or not they should have children!
I really thought I had seen everything.
Mind you, anything that makes couples more thoughtful about having children, in good conscience I have to be for, because I think people are generally mindless about parenting. They have children because the mother-in-law wants a grandchild, the father-in-law wants a name-bearer, other people are doing it, because it's the expected thing, because they want to dress up a little girl or teach a son to play catch!
Actually I think a modest percentage of our population should have children!
It's not that children aren't exquisite entities, but because it's an endeavor undertaken like no other. From that moment of birth to the day you or they die, children are your passionate delight and worry - 24/7 for the rest of your life! And so few people think beyond that inexorably adorable blanketed bundle the nurse places in your newly crooked arms.
But if it takes therapy for that kind of realism to set in, so be it. However, whatever happened to two people being able to communicate with each other on a decision as intimately personal as this one?
Maybe there should have been more therapy before those two people became involved!
I really thought I had seen everything.
Mind you, anything that makes couples more thoughtful about having children, in good conscience I have to be for, because I think people are generally mindless about parenting. They have children because the mother-in-law wants a grandchild, the father-in-law wants a name-bearer, other people are doing it, because it's the expected thing, because they want to dress up a little girl or teach a son to play catch!
Actually I think a modest percentage of our population should have children!
It's not that children aren't exquisite entities, but because it's an endeavor undertaken like no other. From that moment of birth to the day you or they die, children are your passionate delight and worry - 24/7 for the rest of your life! And so few people think beyond that inexorably adorable blanketed bundle the nurse places in your newly crooked arms.
But if it takes therapy for that kind of realism to set in, so be it. However, whatever happened to two people being able to communicate with each other on a decision as intimately personal as this one?
Maybe there should have been more therapy before those two people became involved!
Wednesday, March 13, 2019
living codes
This college admissions scandal has take away my breath.
While repugnant, I somewhat understand students cheating on tests, etc., because they are still young and especially susceptible to pressures from the world at large. But from these accounts the parents are the instigators! This is so utterly disheartening - is the whole world going mad?!
If a parent stoops to this type of tactic at the college-admissions level, think how generally murky the moral code must be in that household!
And once again, the words of my mother come floating back to me on the heels of some perceived personal wrong - "and what had you done?" There was always that nudge of accountability.
What percentage of the world is trying to see what he/she can get away with?
Maybe I really don't want to know.
While repugnant, I somewhat understand students cheating on tests, etc., because they are still young and especially susceptible to pressures from the world at large. But from these accounts the parents are the instigators! This is so utterly disheartening - is the whole world going mad?!
If a parent stoops to this type of tactic at the college-admissions level, think how generally murky the moral code must be in that household!
And once again, the words of my mother come floating back to me on the heels of some perceived personal wrong - "and what had you done?" There was always that nudge of accountability.
What percentage of the world is trying to see what he/she can get away with?
Maybe I really don't want to know.
Monday, March 11, 2019
separation
I just saw a picture this morning of brown-skinned girls lining up on the way to be separated from their parents at the border. And I paused to consider.
As a child, when I came eagerly home from school and walked in the doorway to our kitchen, if Mother wasn't there on the very rare occasions and a note was on the table indicating a quick errand, I can still feel the letdown. She wasn't there for me to tell her about the afternoon - I had just seen her for lunch - and it felt really wrong, and lonely.
Now I don't pretend to be comparing my privileged, safe, comfortable lapse of an hour of maternal presence to these children at the border. But I think I can take my sand-grain of missing and magnify it a million times and then maybe get to the doorway of what these children must be feeling. As a child you want the presence of your mother or father in the way that you want food, water and air to breathe.
Of all our sins as a nation, this separation of parent and child sits at the head of the class.
I grieve for them.... and us.
As a child, when I came eagerly home from school and walked in the doorway to our kitchen, if Mother wasn't there on the very rare occasions and a note was on the table indicating a quick errand, I can still feel the letdown. She wasn't there for me to tell her about the afternoon - I had just seen her for lunch - and it felt really wrong, and lonely.
Now I don't pretend to be comparing my privileged, safe, comfortable lapse of an hour of maternal presence to these children at the border. But I think I can take my sand-grain of missing and magnify it a million times and then maybe get to the doorway of what these children must be feeling. As a child you want the presence of your mother or father in the way that you want food, water and air to breathe.
Of all our sins as a nation, this separation of parent and child sits at the head of the class.
I grieve for them.... and us.
Monday, March 4, 2019
rude awakening
Once,
Jim Jones
sang a siren song
in the jungle
serving Kool-Aid
as a chaser.
We shook
collective heads
in horror
wondering,
why?
Now,
grimly,
we are
beginning
to
understand,
how.
Saturday, March 2, 2019
deep breath
"now is the winter of our discontent"....
I know Shakespeare had quite a different scenario in mind, but discontent and winter both seem to shine in the month of March!
We want Spring!
We have teaser days - crocus are blooming and the sun dances over the lake. Next day, cold sleeting rain or snow itself. Thus, discontent!
It is March that teaches patience - which we need in every pore of our bodies and souls, particularly our political souls!
I've seen the snowdrops and the edging of yellow green on bushes.
I will be content.
I know Shakespeare had quite a different scenario in mind, but discontent and winter both seem to shine in the month of March!
We want Spring!
We have teaser days - crocus are blooming and the sun dances over the lake. Next day, cold sleeting rain or snow itself. Thus, discontent!
It is March that teaches patience - which we need in every pore of our bodies and souls, particularly our political souls!
I've seen the snowdrops and the edging of yellow green on bushes.
I will be content.
Friday, March 1, 2019
when johnnie comes marching home
Part two of PTSD observations in the past day -
On the national news an American Vietnam War veteran was being interviewed in Hanoi and he expressed how at the end of his tour of duty he hoped never to see the country again. But now, all these decades later, he has been back many times engaged in charitable works of different sorts. When asked about his PTSD he said that he suffers all the time, but far less when he is in Vietnam because here he feels like in a small way he is giving back to a country we wronged in so many ways.
Ah, yes. And the unholy beat of war goes on and on. And the carnage on the field is just the beginning.
On the national news an American Vietnam War veteran was being interviewed in Hanoi and he expressed how at the end of his tour of duty he hoped never to see the country again. But now, all these decades later, he has been back many times engaged in charitable works of different sorts. When asked about his PTSD he said that he suffers all the time, but far less when he is in Vietnam because here he feels like in a small way he is giving back to a country we wronged in so many ways.
Ah, yes. And the unholy beat of war goes on and on. And the carnage on the field is just the beginning.
still waters run deep
I was listening to an Iraqi war veteran describe how raising sheep has helped to keep her PTSD at bay, She had watched the herdsmen in Iraq in the midst of all the horrendous carnage with amazed curiosity. After she returned home with severe injuries she was drowning in flashbacks until she struck out on the sheep farming path. Now after 8 years she said that when she feels herself slipping toward the dark edge, she moves among her flock and their gentle steadiness brings her back.
How beautifully new are the words of the Psalmist - "he leadeth me beside the still water, he restoreth my soul"
How beautifully new are the words of the Psalmist - "he leadeth me beside the still water, he restoreth my soul"
Saturday, February 23, 2019
Batter up
I was changing the batteries on my beat up old radio - yes, you heard that right, radio! - and when I flipped the switch with the new ones in place, here came the mellow voice of the Nats play-by-play announcer, Charlie Slowes! I was astonished - it's still February and we still have traces of snow! It was such a welcome surprise! Yes of course I knew they were in Spring Training but I didn't know any of the games were carried on radio! Now that's the best news I've had today!
Baseball.... the boon and torment of my days. I vow not to get involved and just like that - on a Saturday night in February my radio is following me around! There's so much to love about the game and so much that is frustrating! You get involved, they tank, you stomp off for days, they revive, you think - well, maybe, and then they tank again. Wait until next year.... suckers.
I vowed at the end of last year's abysmal finish that I would be more judicious - and one change of batteries, and the dial being set just right, and pow, I'm in the game! and the season hasn't even begun!
I somehow think baseball always take me back to Dad and childhood summer evenings on the porch, fresh-mown grass, fireflies, late night chocolate-marshmallow ice cream.... and peace.
By all means, Play Ball!
Baseball.... the boon and torment of my days. I vow not to get involved and just like that - on a Saturday night in February my radio is following me around! There's so much to love about the game and so much that is frustrating! You get involved, they tank, you stomp off for days, they revive, you think - well, maybe, and then they tank again. Wait until next year.... suckers.
I vowed at the end of last year's abysmal finish that I would be more judicious - and one change of batteries, and the dial being set just right, and pow, I'm in the game! and the season hasn't even begun!
I somehow think baseball always take me back to Dad and childhood summer evenings on the porch, fresh-mown grass, fireflies, late night chocolate-marshmallow ice cream.... and peace.
By all means, Play Ball!
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
snow day
First snow of the season that I was able to walk in! I was lingering over my breakfast when I suddenly remembered the forecasters had said it was going to change to sleet and I sprang into action!! It was truly glorious! Every branch, twig, leaves bore its load of white! Patterns jumped out at me on every side - it was like everything had come alive in another dimension.
And the cathedral silence sank deep within me.
I came to a lovely untrampled white stretch and was truly tempted into snow angelhood, but the thought of wet clothes stopped me! I suddenly realized that most of the time in days gone by when I practiced the art I was wearing a snowsuit or snow pants of some sort - and longed to be transported into that freedom of expression - properly clad!
But still I tramped on, swallowing wintery air and silence.
So to all, whether you watch from behind a heated window, or move noiselessly through the drifted ridges of white outside, enjoy this day's offering of transformative stillness.
And the cathedral silence sank deep within me.
I came to a lovely untrampled white stretch and was truly tempted into snow angelhood, but the thought of wet clothes stopped me! I suddenly realized that most of the time in days gone by when I practiced the art I was wearing a snowsuit or snow pants of some sort - and longed to be transported into that freedom of expression - properly clad!
But still I tramped on, swallowing wintery air and silence.
So to all, whether you watch from behind a heated window, or move noiselessly through the drifted ridges of white outside, enjoy this day's offering of transformative stillness.
Monday, February 18, 2019
jig-saw puzzles
Puzzles, as in jig-saw.
Today I was amazed when my adult son said he and his wife started putting puzzles together! The practice was such an integral part of my childhood but not a part of our current family's history.
The occasion for puzzles in my childhood home was usually a snowstorm! When the flakes started falling, Dad would come home from work and it was time to set up a puzzle. We had a whole big box of them in the attic so the pieces were always icy when we began to lay them out on the kitchen table. Then we would each claim our side, top or bottom and set to work. I was never heavily invested and more often than not came rushing in at the finish line rather than slogging through the early going. Still, I remember with joy.
And there is never a family reunion that doesn't have a puzzle set up in some corner and truth be told, when you haven't seen people for a long while and are unfamiliar with the face of their daily lives, putting a puzzle together is the perfect bridge over awkward conversation.
My son said at first he had to school himself not to think it was a tremendous waste of time - but no!! It's the perfect tool to slow the mind and relax the soul, while sharpening all kinds of skills concerning shape, texture, color recognition.
And in my later years' familiarity with retirement institutions I always smile to see the inevitable puzzle set up in some corner and always a few residents in thoughtful contemplation.
Puzzles, the quietly satisfying, joyfully tedious process of searching for that piece with a bit of green, two hooks, and a slightly rounded top - the spying, the hopeful transporting to the empty space and voila!! A perfect fit!
How much of your day turns out like that??!
Today I was amazed when my adult son said he and his wife started putting puzzles together! The practice was such an integral part of my childhood but not a part of our current family's history.
The occasion for puzzles in my childhood home was usually a snowstorm! When the flakes started falling, Dad would come home from work and it was time to set up a puzzle. We had a whole big box of them in the attic so the pieces were always icy when we began to lay them out on the kitchen table. Then we would each claim our side, top or bottom and set to work. I was never heavily invested and more often than not came rushing in at the finish line rather than slogging through the early going. Still, I remember with joy.
And there is never a family reunion that doesn't have a puzzle set up in some corner and truth be told, when you haven't seen people for a long while and are unfamiliar with the face of their daily lives, putting a puzzle together is the perfect bridge over awkward conversation.
My son said at first he had to school himself not to think it was a tremendous waste of time - but no!! It's the perfect tool to slow the mind and relax the soul, while sharpening all kinds of skills concerning shape, texture, color recognition.
And in my later years' familiarity with retirement institutions I always smile to see the inevitable puzzle set up in some corner and always a few residents in thoughtful contemplation.
Puzzles, the quietly satisfying, joyfully tedious process of searching for that piece with a bit of green, two hooks, and a slightly rounded top - the spying, the hopeful transporting to the empty space and voila!! A perfect fit!
How much of your day turns out like that??!
Friday, February 15, 2019
Framework
And as a brief postscript to yesterday's comments on Valentine's Day I found this quotation from Harper Lee unbelievably in my morning reading -
Scout had just heard that Dill was not coming for the summer and she mused to herself -
"With him life was routine, without him, life was unbearable."
...which became my Valentine of yesterday!
So often, when it comes to romance, people put the emphasis on magic, fireworks, flashy manifestations of one kind or another, when really what you want most is routine, someone to depend upon, a steady background for whatever else is going on.
Framework.
Scout had just heard that Dill was not coming for the summer and she mused to herself -
"With him life was routine, without him, life was unbearable."
...which became my Valentine of yesterday!
So often, when it comes to romance, people put the emphasis on magic, fireworks, flashy manifestations of one kind or another, when really what you want most is routine, someone to depend upon, a steady background for whatever else is going on.
Framework.
Thursday, February 14, 2019
recognize the moment
I stepped outside on the front stoop to retrieve the paper and swallowed glorious sunshine! What a difference that yellow orb makes on the day! I could scarcely wait to get started on the day's journey.
But now, breakfast, Washington Post, morning mail later, the skies are all cloudy! Adages swirl:
- don't get your hopes up,
- seize the day,
- don't count your chickens before they're hatched
- many a slip twixt lip and cup.
Well, I won't be foiled and my four miles shall begin shortly!
But first, Valentine's Day. People write that this is one of the most difficult days of the year for many people. Why?... because the cotton candy dream just turns out to be a handful of sticky sugar!
Marriages fail, relationships rupture, children rebel, neighbors fight, governments dissolve before our very eyes, churches corrupt - disillusionment on very hand/
But wouldn't it be wonderful if folks could just embrace love wherever the merest trace of it exists.
And give thanks.
And spread those cards, flowers and chocolates over the other 364 days!
-
But now, breakfast, Washington Post, morning mail later, the skies are all cloudy! Adages swirl:
- don't get your hopes up,
- seize the day,
- don't count your chickens before they're hatched
- many a slip twixt lip and cup.
Well, I won't be foiled and my four miles shall begin shortly!
But first, Valentine's Day. People write that this is one of the most difficult days of the year for many people. Why?... because the cotton candy dream just turns out to be a handful of sticky sugar!
Marriages fail, relationships rupture, children rebel, neighbors fight, governments dissolve before our very eyes, churches corrupt - disillusionment on very hand/
But wouldn't it be wonderful if folks could just embrace love wherever the merest trace of it exists.
And give thanks.
And spread those cards, flowers and chocolates over the other 364 days!
-
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
the other guy
Many years ago on a dark and stormy night, an elderly, slightly "elevated" woman slammed head-on into my car on the brow of a steep hill. In the midst of the rain, shattered glass and steel, bleeding nose, wind and moans of my injured son, the police officer murmured to me that the lady claimed "Satan was chasing her and threw a tree at her."
So there.
From that moment on, I learned that life isn't predictable. And, while always a careful driver, I have become almost paranoid in anticipation of the other guy's moves. But I read in a police article the other day that awareness, head swiveling constantly is your best hope of survival.
And sometimes on a dark and stormy night that isn't enough.
I recovered from the above incident with a great scoop of Grace - as did my son. But unless you have been in an accident that wasn't your fault I don't think you can internalize the undying feeling of vulnerability that rides shotgun every single time that seatbelt clicks into place.
So there.
From that moment on, I learned that life isn't predictable. And, while always a careful driver, I have become almost paranoid in anticipation of the other guy's moves. But I read in a police article the other day that awareness, head swiveling constantly is your best hope of survival.
And sometimes on a dark and stormy night that isn't enough.
I recovered from the above incident with a great scoop of Grace - as did my son. But unless you have been in an accident that wasn't your fault I don't think you can internalize the undying feeling of vulnerability that rides shotgun every single time that seatbelt clicks into place.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
many a slip
I heard that a friend slipped on black ice yesterday, fell and broke two bones above her wrist - ouch!! No matter how supple you feel your body is, that black ice phenomenon is the most feared concept at this age! Did we not have black ice as children??! I think I remember sliding on our driveway at home - with shoes - and I think we even tried ice skates at one time as it was completely glazed over. Oh, the abandonment!
If I have to determine whether or not I indeed am aging, the fear of falling is certainly a valid barometer! As kids we fell constantly! Even from trees! Yet I don't think I ever broke a bone to this day apart from ribs and nose fractures in a car accident in my forties. But that record exists because of much grace on Fate's part! Many is the time the results could have been wildly different.
So I guess the lesson is, act your age, proceed with caution, don't take unnecessary risks - but, hey, keep living!!
If I have to determine whether or not I indeed am aging, the fear of falling is certainly a valid barometer! As kids we fell constantly! Even from trees! Yet I don't think I ever broke a bone to this day apart from ribs and nose fractures in a car accident in my forties. But that record exists because of much grace on Fate's part! Many is the time the results could have been wildly different.
So I guess the lesson is, act your age, proceed with caution, don't take unnecessary risks - but, hey, keep living!!
Monday, February 11, 2019
potpie
My mother was not a fancy cook. She cooked plain fare beautifully. All the standard Pennsylvania Dutch dishes she prepared to a turn, but they usually didn't require great finesse. Except one. Potpie.
Don't mistake potpie for the crusted vegetable pie that is pawned off under that moniker! Real, honest potpie is made from flour, egg, salt and milk. The trick is rolling out the dough to a perfect moist, but unsticking thinness, cutting it into squares and dropping it into the gently simmering chicken, beef, ham broth and cooking it lightly until done. I have made all kinds of pastries, but I have yet to conquer this seemingly simple art. I just downloaded a tutorial from the internet which in itself made me giggle, thinking of my heritage and Mother expertly rolling out the dough on our kitchen table with nary an electronic gadget even in her imagination.
I may still get lumpy misshapen globs of dough despite my efforts, but the deliciously tender morsels of potpie simmered in rich broth will drive me ever onward to the eventual end game of cultural culinary delight!
Don't mistake potpie for the crusted vegetable pie that is pawned off under that moniker! Real, honest potpie is made from flour, egg, salt and milk. The trick is rolling out the dough to a perfect moist, but unsticking thinness, cutting it into squares and dropping it into the gently simmering chicken, beef, ham broth and cooking it lightly until done. I have made all kinds of pastries, but I have yet to conquer this seemingly simple art. I just downloaded a tutorial from the internet which in itself made me giggle, thinking of my heritage and Mother expertly rolling out the dough on our kitchen table with nary an electronic gadget even in her imagination.
I may still get lumpy misshapen globs of dough despite my efforts, but the deliciously tender morsels of potpie simmered in rich broth will drive me ever onward to the eventual end game of cultural culinary delight!
Saturday, February 9, 2019
RIP
It is 37 years ago today that my beloved father died of a fatal heart attack after shoveling wet, February snow. He had scarcely been sick a day of his life so to say the event was shocking is numbing in its inadequacy.
He was the bedrock of my life. He was always there, literally and figuratively - one of those rare present fathers of the 50's and 60's. Owning his own roofing business in a nearby town even brought him home for the noonday meal. He was there for fun, laughter, tears, disagreements, noise, games, decisions, vacations, church, swimming, boating, family gatherings, guidance.
He was there.
And when he died, I realized that for all of my life my mother always thought he was the greatest.
There is no greater heritage.
He was the bedrock of my life. He was always there, literally and figuratively - one of those rare present fathers of the 50's and 60's. Owning his own roofing business in a nearby town even brought him home for the noonday meal. He was there for fun, laughter, tears, disagreements, noise, games, decisions, vacations, church, swimming, boating, family gatherings, guidance.
He was there.
And when he died, I realized that for all of my life my mother always thought he was the greatest.
There is no greater heritage.
Friday, February 8, 2019
sticking the landing
Sometimes we have to make hard, hard choices.
We had a most difficult family decision to make to move from SD to northern VA in the midst of a blizzard, tearing up tender, hopeful roots of about six months to get to a happier workplace. It was excruciatingly difficult psychologically and literally as we got snowed in along the way. But from that bladed beginning we landed in our current home and have been here ever since - some forty years later. Who knew?!
Often times there isn't a rainbow at the end of storms, but it is somehow gratifying to look back and note that sometimes those first shaky, terrifying steps of faith, find terra firma to land upon.
We had a most difficult family decision to make to move from SD to northern VA in the midst of a blizzard, tearing up tender, hopeful roots of about six months to get to a happier workplace. It was excruciatingly difficult psychologically and literally as we got snowed in along the way. But from that bladed beginning we landed in our current home and have been here ever since - some forty years later. Who knew?!
Often times there isn't a rainbow at the end of storms, but it is somehow gratifying to look back and note that sometimes those first shaky, terrifying steps of faith, find terra firma to land upon.
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
queen for a day
While writing the previous post, the refrain ran through my head "would you like to be queen for a day?" And suddenly I was back in my home kitchen, hearing Jack Bailey's voice booming out the question over our little kitchen radio! That radio brought the world to the feet of our bucolic little village! My mother listened all day long as she toiled to keep a family of seven, clothed, fed, loved. I never liked the show much as it seemed giddy to me! Why would you want one day of excess - why not seek a lifetime?!
Economics were a bit distant to me in the late 40's, but, yeah, the wisdom still holds!
Economics were a bit distant to me in the late 40's, but, yeah, the wisdom still holds!
today
There's a great line from Rumi -
"Jars of springwater are not
Enough. Take us down to the river."
Who knows what he was talking about in the 13thcentury, but for me on this day it means springtime! Yesterday as I walked, each lakeside bench I came to mile after mile, I sat and felt the glow of the February sun on my face and longed for real Spring instead of Spring for a day! There are times when a jar is enough but right now, I want the whole river!
But, snow is in the forecast for next week.
Carpe diem!
"Jars of springwater are not
Enough. Take us down to the river."
Who knows what he was talking about in the 13thcentury, but for me on this day it means springtime! Yesterday as I walked, each lakeside bench I came to mile after mile, I sat and felt the glow of the February sun on my face and longed for real Spring instead of Spring for a day! There are times when a jar is enough but right now, I want the whole river!
But, snow is in the forecast for next week.
Carpe diem!
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
tell me a story
Stories make the world go round.
Take a sermon, for instance. It could be ever so well thought out, with salient points and reverent intent. The congregation will nod wisely, thoughtfully, and go home and basically forget. Add a story to that composed oration, and the people now have a basket to carry the eggs of truth. And they will either make an immediate delicious omelet or they will hatch into further life.
Be it Bible stories, fairytales, myths, folklore, novels, neighborhood gossip, family sagas - stories are where we hang out hats.
Some people tell the same ones over and over, gleefully proffering each polished detail as if Eden-new, and don't make the mistake of trying to head them off at the pass! They won't be "headed" once in gear!
Think how many times you said to a friend for instance, "I hear there is a lot of flu going around" and the friend replies with enthusiasm, "I know - I just heard that Uncle Jake was fine in the morning, and by noon, my dear...." And the story is off and running. You are likely to have more flu conversations because of poor Uncle Jake!
The older I get, the more I prize the stories of my family, immediate and extended. To laugh, cry, sigh over past events is to step more surely into the light of this day.
Take a sermon, for instance. It could be ever so well thought out, with salient points and reverent intent. The congregation will nod wisely, thoughtfully, and go home and basically forget. Add a story to that composed oration, and the people now have a basket to carry the eggs of truth. And they will either make an immediate delicious omelet or they will hatch into further life.
Be it Bible stories, fairytales, myths, folklore, novels, neighborhood gossip, family sagas - stories are where we hang out hats.
Some people tell the same ones over and over, gleefully proffering each polished detail as if Eden-new, and don't make the mistake of trying to head them off at the pass! They won't be "headed" once in gear!
Think how many times you said to a friend for instance, "I hear there is a lot of flu going around" and the friend replies with enthusiasm, "I know - I just heard that Uncle Jake was fine in the morning, and by noon, my dear...." And the story is off and running. You are likely to have more flu conversations because of poor Uncle Jake!
The older I get, the more I prize the stories of my family, immediate and extended. To laugh, cry, sigh over past events is to step more surely into the light of this day.
Sunday, February 3, 2019
take a look
For what it's worth - my parents wouldn't have approved a black face costume in the 1940's!! I'm not saying they were the most enlightened people on the face of the earth, but we were cautioned not to use the n-word EVER, and though we never really had contact with people of color that much, we were taught respect for people in general.
Having said that, I must add a caveat that as a very young child I glibly recited the "eeny, meeny, miny moe" rhyme for counting off teams but I never associated the n-word with a person - I just thought it was like a nonsense word like all the others. As I grew I realized the meaning and was completely horrified.
So I guess it is clear that as a nation we need to take off our blinders, and realize while we profess tolerance on one level, there may be other aspects of our thinking/experience that are truly, though probably mindlessly, offensive.
Probably a whole lot of us shouldn't be picking of those first stones.
Having said that, I must add a caveat that as a very young child I glibly recited the "eeny, meeny, miny moe" rhyme for counting off teams but I never associated the n-word with a person - I just thought it was like a nonsense word like all the others. As I grew I realized the meaning and was completely horrified.
So I guess it is clear that as a nation we need to take off our blinders, and realize while we profess tolerance on one level, there may be other aspects of our thinking/experience that are truly, though probably mindlessly, offensive.
Probably a whole lot of us shouldn't be picking of those first stones.
Saturday, February 2, 2019
on the run
I was reminded, rather dramatically yesterday that I am no longer a youth!!
I was out walking - certainly not attempting my usual four miles, but I did want to get both some exercise and fresh air - as well as enjoy the beauty of the falling snow scenes. But I was judiciously careful of every step as the new snow masked the earlier ice. To say I was largely creeping would accurately describe my progress. I had a lovely time though.
However, later in the afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table reading and just happened to look out the window and saw two school-age boys chasing each other - weaving in and out between cars, on the sidewalks, on the street, running at top speed!! I simply stared.
When did I get this old????
I was out walking - certainly not attempting my usual four miles, but I did want to get both some exercise and fresh air - as well as enjoy the beauty of the falling snow scenes. But I was judiciously careful of every step as the new snow masked the earlier ice. To say I was largely creeping would accurately describe my progress. I had a lovely time though.
However, later in the afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table reading and just happened to look out the window and saw two school-age boys chasing each other - weaving in and out between cars, on the sidewalks, on the street, running at top speed!! I simply stared.
When did I get this old????
Friday, February 1, 2019
my mother's son
I am currently reading a book called My Mother's Son by David Hirshberg - a novel depicting a post WWII childhood in Boston. It's a fascinating time-capsule as well as a poignant coming-of-age. I was struck anew with how explosive the 1950's were. I guess it would be more accurate to say the explosion came in the 1960's but the stirrings were surely in the '50's. And it is so fascinating to read about this era in big cities when there were still distinctive ethnic neighborhoods with their cultural idiosyncrasies. The lovely stew of European heritages -Irish, Jewish, Italian, German, etc. - flared with food, language, traditions, morals. Often sharp edges were on display and at odds, but ultimately they were tolerant of each other as everyone sought a safe place to stand upon. The racial slurs flew fast and furiously, but didn't consume. They still played ball, gambled, gossiped, danced, worked, celebrated, died together.
Where has it all gone wrong?
Now each difference seems so often to be viewed with suspicion, distrust, and downright fear. With all our inventions and advancement, have we lost something very basic along the way.
Oh, the humanity!
Where has it all gone wrong?
Now each difference seems so often to be viewed with suspicion, distrust, and downright fear. With all our inventions and advancement, have we lost something very basic along the way.
Oh, the humanity!
Thursday, January 31, 2019
I have only just a minute
One month of 2019 is essentially in the books!
How can that be? I could go into a full tilt panic to realize Christmas is just 11 months away!! It's fascinating to me to look back over the years and see how my concept of time has changed. I guess the lens is especially clear with the advent of retirement - and the savoring of every sweet unscheduled moment. 33 years of happy service, but oh the stark contrast of open calendars now! So to me it should naturally follow that I can slow time down appreciably.
Wrong.
It's not that I feel busy, but despite the fact of little external structure, daily self-imposed routines shepherd the moments along just as surely as a work schedule. True, they can be hijacked at a moment's notice because you are your own supervisor, but I think one would have to be in a world without people or purpose of any sort to truly rein in the moments.
The days are like incidents way, way back in my memory when we attempted to cross a brook or stream. We jumped to the first stone, wobbled and looked for the next safe landing, and the next and the next until we reached the other side. We rarely retreated, but were drawn on by the precarious position of being midstream.
And before you can say "bob's your uncle" the day is done!
I dare not mourn one single moment passing too quickly as long as I have a happy heart, healthy body and comforts of the hearth.
Bring on life however fleeting! - and frigid at the moment!
How can that be? I could go into a full tilt panic to realize Christmas is just 11 months away!! It's fascinating to me to look back over the years and see how my concept of time has changed. I guess the lens is especially clear with the advent of retirement - and the savoring of every sweet unscheduled moment. 33 years of happy service, but oh the stark contrast of open calendars now! So to me it should naturally follow that I can slow time down appreciably.
Wrong.
It's not that I feel busy, but despite the fact of little external structure, daily self-imposed routines shepherd the moments along just as surely as a work schedule. True, they can be hijacked at a moment's notice because you are your own supervisor, but I think one would have to be in a world without people or purpose of any sort to truly rein in the moments.
The days are like incidents way, way back in my memory when we attempted to cross a brook or stream. We jumped to the first stone, wobbled and looked for the next safe landing, and the next and the next until we reached the other side. We rarely retreated, but were drawn on by the precarious position of being midstream.
And before you can say "bob's your uncle" the day is done!
I dare not mourn one single moment passing too quickly as long as I have a happy heart, healthy body and comforts of the hearth.
Bring on life however fleeting! - and frigid at the moment!
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
Little grains of sand
When I taught Literature to Grades 8-11 in a small fishing village in Newfoundland many years ago, it would have been hard for me to envision where those intent faces staring back at me might end up in the years to come! When we arrived at our village in the mid-60's the rest of the world was just beginning to encroach through the magic of electricity - and thus TV, of course. Before that most of their entertainment was home-grown: now the world came calling.
I had the usual curve of bright students at the top, normal achievers, and under-achievers. One girl in Grade 9 had a particular sparkle in her eyes. She had us to dinner at her house in a nearby village and I believe we had lobster, pulled from her father's trap that morning. I sensed in that family a curiosity about the world.
Several months ago - now fifty plus years later - I discovered that girl is now the author of at least eight books, president of some worldwide motivational organization, and according to Facebook a world traveler!! I am flabbergasted! When we connected through FB she quipped that were it not for encouragement from people like me she still would be gutting fish in NFLD!
Well God bless the fish-gutters and the world travelers both - we need each of them! But it just illustrates the point that teachers never, ever know what type of soil may receive those randomly flung seeds of knowledge! And how far those who sat and listened might travel beyond their guides!
I had the usual curve of bright students at the top, normal achievers, and under-achievers. One girl in Grade 9 had a particular sparkle in her eyes. She had us to dinner at her house in a nearby village and I believe we had lobster, pulled from her father's trap that morning. I sensed in that family a curiosity about the world.
Several months ago - now fifty plus years later - I discovered that girl is now the author of at least eight books, president of some worldwide motivational organization, and according to Facebook a world traveler!! I am flabbergasted! When we connected through FB she quipped that were it not for encouragement from people like me she still would be gutting fish in NFLD!
Well God bless the fish-gutters and the world travelers both - we need each of them! But it just illustrates the point that teachers never, ever know what type of soil may receive those randomly flung seeds of knowledge! And how far those who sat and listened might travel beyond their guides!
Monday, January 28, 2019
Poison ivy and bare feet
I am struck each time I get together with any of my sibs and we start reminiscing, how much it seems like we are talking about some imaginary family! It just feels so removed from the person I am now. And how delightful the story! In viewing anything from a distance you fail to see the warts and imagine only smooth, seamless surfaces. Of course there was many a skinned knee along the way!
But reading an account of my father - whom I adore in long-range, short-range, any range you pick - of how he picked up my brother and lifted him over a stone threshold because there was poison ivy growing there and my brother was bare-footed, brought such a rush of new love for him through my veins.
There is generalized love and then there is the straight to the heart love of a father who lifts one above the poison ivy of life.
But reading an account of my father - whom I adore in long-range, short-range, any range you pick - of how he picked up my brother and lifted him over a stone threshold because there was poison ivy growing there and my brother was bare-footed, brought such a rush of new love for him through my veins.
There is generalized love and then there is the straight to the heart love of a father who lifts one above the poison ivy of life.
Friday, January 25, 2019
no problem
Oh the blessed relief of a doctor's pronouncement that a skin discoloration you had agonized about for weeks, was just fine! A plague on that age-old conundrum of worrying without verification. Do we really think things are going to "go away" on their own? Well, in truth, some things do, but I have to constantly preach to myself, if that little ailment is just hanging around, bite the bullet and get it tended to - be it teeth, skin, aches, pains, palpitations! I can talk myself out of them all! But finally there comes a day!
And in light of the times that unexpected real horrors pop up out of nowhere, give thanks for the strawmen that we created who are destroyed with a kindly smile.
And in light of the times that unexpected real horrors pop up out of nowhere, give thanks for the strawmen that we created who are destroyed with a kindly smile.
Wednesday, January 23, 2019
ammendment
My friend
once
drew
harsh,
red,
sand lines
about
abortion,
homosexuality,
transgender issues.
divorce,
etc.
Until
death
came
knocking,
on her family door.
Now
her aching heart
is
ajar.
Black
and
white
merged gray,
because
Life is
too winged
for
never.
once
drew
harsh,
red,
sand lines
about
abortion,
homosexuality,
transgender issues.
divorce,
etc.
Until
death
came
knocking,
on her family door.
Now
her aching heart
is
ajar.
Black
and
white
merged gray,
because
Life is
too winged
for
never.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
the light of mine
The good lord knows I love candles!
Candles automatically mellow my mind. I love the flicker of drafts, I love the smoke, I love the waxy puddles, but most of all I love the sense of light. A flick of a match and you have created light! What was previously ambient light from electrical fixtures or sunlight is now an intensified flame of warmth - physical and spiritual.
We have always burned lots of candles in our homes wherever we are, and not just at holidays, but the day by days. Candles bring that inexpressible softening to a dinner table, bedroom, bathroom, easy chair table. Dancing life in the midst of systems.
In this present world where the systems seem so muddled and despair so imminent, I will light my candle. I won't change the world, but my heart will sing a small song.
And who knows, more people might join in the chorus!
Candles automatically mellow my mind. I love the flicker of drafts, I love the smoke, I love the waxy puddles, but most of all I love the sense of light. A flick of a match and you have created light! What was previously ambient light from electrical fixtures or sunlight is now an intensified flame of warmth - physical and spiritual.
We have always burned lots of candles in our homes wherever we are, and not just at holidays, but the day by days. Candles bring that inexpressible softening to a dinner table, bedroom, bathroom, easy chair table. Dancing life in the midst of systems.
In this present world where the systems seem so muddled and despair so imminent, I will light my candle. I won't change the world, but my heart will sing a small song.
And who knows, more people might join in the chorus!
Monday, January 21, 2019
blow the man down!
This is a day for the "fisherman's horn" to blow!
I think I've written before about the transom on the front door of my childhood home that had some crack in it - or at least a space for the wind to elbow in on a really blustery day and set off a racket! In some ways it reminded me of an eerie foghorn at sea. It certainly got our attention as kids! I can't remember the first time it blew of course, but I do know that no matter how old I got in that house and heard the blow, my imagination soared! In my current house I hung a windchime outside my bedroom window ages ago and while it is getting a tinkling workout these days, it is but a weak emulation of the transom of old.
Wind is a magical thing! As I age - though I love it still - to me wind is the most feared of all the elements. True, snow/rain/sleet/fog can cause as lot of havoc depended on your location at the time. But if you are home, safe and sound, and all those elements fall upon you, it's not a crisis. Whereas, the constant roar of the wind these past two days is truly ominous, inside and out.
Man proposes - but the powerful, prowl of wind disposes.
I think I've written before about the transom on the front door of my childhood home that had some crack in it - or at least a space for the wind to elbow in on a really blustery day and set off a racket! In some ways it reminded me of an eerie foghorn at sea. It certainly got our attention as kids! I can't remember the first time it blew of course, but I do know that no matter how old I got in that house and heard the blow, my imagination soared! In my current house I hung a windchime outside my bedroom window ages ago and while it is getting a tinkling workout these days, it is but a weak emulation of the transom of old.
Wind is a magical thing! As I age - though I love it still - to me wind is the most feared of all the elements. True, snow/rain/sleet/fog can cause as lot of havoc depended on your location at the time. But if you are home, safe and sound, and all those elements fall upon you, it's not a crisis. Whereas, the constant roar of the wind these past two days is truly ominous, inside and out.
Man proposes - but the powerful, prowl of wind disposes.
Friday, January 18, 2019
a toast to Mary Oliver
With much sadness I read of her passing and will now hoard and treasure even more the words that fell from her bountiful mind.
Just one small sample which I adore -
"Whoever you are, no matter
how lonely,
the world offers itself to your
imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese,
harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing
your place
in the family of things."
Rest in peace, dear heart.
Bonus across and down
My crossword contained a term "troy ounce" this morning and once again I was scrambling for a definition! I discovered that it was a pharmaceutical measure- who knew! My thoughts turned to how each profession has its unique vocabulary and when reared within those walls, the terms are bread and butter - to an outsider, complete bafflement.
But for that matter - my morning crossword took me to Senegal, Eritrea, Cozumel, Oneonta as well. And I relearned info about Lenya Lotte, Alan Alda, and Ajax! You can well ask, will I retain it all and probably the answer is no! But for the moment my sleep-sated mind was flushed with new words, places, ideas, and images.
What a fabulous way to begin the day!
But for that matter - my morning crossword took me to Senegal, Eritrea, Cozumel, Oneonta as well. And I relearned info about Lenya Lotte, Alan Alda, and Ajax! You can well ask, will I retain it all and probably the answer is no! But for the moment my sleep-sated mind was flushed with new words, places, ideas, and images.
What a fabulous way to begin the day!
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
the queen's undies
I was watching the PBS special on Queen Victoria as the curators attempted to recreate her wedding dress by studying royal underwear of the time and following the lines. To me, that was a snapshot of how the monarchy is a thing of the past!
Just to think of someone trying to recreate anything from today's underwear is such a giant leap beyond reality as to be incomprehensible! In Victoria's day, the undergarments followed the lines of the outerwear precisely. Just so, the form of the government followed step by step to the lowest levels of the kingdom. Such order, such precision! Mind you, at the bottom of the hierarchy, they were lucky to have a job - or underwear!!
To me, the pomp and circumstance of Great Britain while lovely to behold and fascinating to break down to the most minute detail, in reality has very little relevance to today's world. Witness the chaos of Teresa May's world!
On the other hand, I'm not dismissing grandeur! Right now, I would love to lift my eyes to anything about our current tawdry government to anything grand.
Just to think of someone trying to recreate anything from today's underwear is such a giant leap beyond reality as to be incomprehensible! In Victoria's day, the undergarments followed the lines of the outerwear precisely. Just so, the form of the government followed step by step to the lowest levels of the kingdom. Such order, such precision! Mind you, at the bottom of the hierarchy, they were lucky to have a job - or underwear!!
To me, the pomp and circumstance of Great Britain while lovely to behold and fascinating to break down to the most minute detail, in reality has very little relevance to today's world. Witness the chaos of Teresa May's world!
On the other hand, I'm not dismissing grandeur! Right now, I would love to lift my eyes to anything about our current tawdry government to anything grand.
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
different times, different strokes
How did we survive childhood without any of today's protection?
We didn't bathe daily (in a tub). We didn't floss our teeth. We didn't use sunblock. We didn't wear sunglasses. We didn't take vitamins. We didn't take pills on a daily basis of any kind, except for my mother's eternal fix for everything was, "take an aspirin"! We didn't use seatbelts. We didn't wear helmets when biking, knee pads or protective gear of any kind in contact sports. We skated in skirts!
We ate fatty things non-stop, rich desserts, sugary pickled salads and relishes, and fried foods and gravy won the day! We snacked on chips, pretzels and crackers with abandon. Meat and potatoes were our mainstay diet. Everything was laced with liberal infusions of salt and sugar.
But on the balance sheet we had fresh air, fresh vegetables, good water, doctor/dentist appointments as needed. We had endless hours of play with family and community. We awoke safe and happy and content.
And yes, of course we had our share of childhood illnesses - mumps, measles, chicken pox - I had whooping cough at five months! Plus throw in colds and flus aplenty. But basically we were healthy and very few broken bones among the 5 of us children my entire childhood.
Yet, we couldn't begin to replicate that life-style now! I would be horrified at every turn!
How did I arrive at this place -literally and culturally?!
We didn't bathe daily (in a tub). We didn't floss our teeth. We didn't use sunblock. We didn't wear sunglasses. We didn't take vitamins. We didn't take pills on a daily basis of any kind, except for my mother's eternal fix for everything was, "take an aspirin"! We didn't use seatbelts. We didn't wear helmets when biking, knee pads or protective gear of any kind in contact sports. We skated in skirts!
We ate fatty things non-stop, rich desserts, sugary pickled salads and relishes, and fried foods and gravy won the day! We snacked on chips, pretzels and crackers with abandon. Meat and potatoes were our mainstay diet. Everything was laced with liberal infusions of salt and sugar.
But on the balance sheet we had fresh air, fresh vegetables, good water, doctor/dentist appointments as needed. We had endless hours of play with family and community. We awoke safe and happy and content.
And yes, of course we had our share of childhood illnesses - mumps, measles, chicken pox - I had whooping cough at five months! Plus throw in colds and flus aplenty. But basically we were healthy and very few broken bones among the 5 of us children my entire childhood.
Yet, we couldn't begin to replicate that life-style now! I would be horrified at every turn!
How did I arrive at this place -literally and culturally?!
Monday, January 14, 2019
Snow!
Finally a snowstorm that wasn't embroidered with work anxiety! This is the first time since retirement and it was a lovely change of pace. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! And it did! Last night looking out on the falling snow shining through the porch lights I marveled again at the magic of snowfall.
What is it about snow that is so joyful to me? I have had horrible driving experiences in snow and ice that make me shudder to remember... but that's not what springs to mind. I recall the sledding, the snow angels, the forts, the snowball battles, the mittens, the cold-reddened cheeks, the drift scaling - the outgoing fun.
But more than that I remember the drawing-in-and together aspect of the snow. As a child it meant gathering for jigsaw puzzles and games and special taste treats. The softening cloud of white outside meant cuddling inside after the play, and relaxing in the safety and comfort of home.
Snow slows the world.
The welcome mat is out!
Finally a snowstorm that wasn't embroidered with work anxiety! This is the first time since retirement and it was a lovely change of pace. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! And it did! Last night looking out on the falling snow shining through the porch lights I marveled again at the magic of snowfall.
What is it about snow that is so joyful to me? I have had horrible driving experiences in snow and ice that make me shudder to remember... but that's not what springs to mind. I recall the sledding, the snow angels, the forts, the snowball battles, the mittens, the cold-reddened cheeks, the drift scaling - the outgoing fun.
But more than that I remember the drawing-in-and together aspect of the snow. As a child it meant gathering for jigsaw puzzles and games and special taste treats. The softening cloud of white outside meant cuddling inside after the play, and relaxing in the safety and comfort of home.
Snow slows the world.
The welcome mat is out!
Wednesday, January 9, 2019
weather wave
Last night about the time the President was on the air, and I was deep into a TCM offering in complete avoidance of our current unbearable politics, Nature offered a declaration of its own. Above the seclusion of my headphones I heard a roar. First I thought, plane, and as it continued I realized it was wind and rushed down to the front door to watch. In the darkness, my street bent to the wind and then the pound of rain, making all other thoughts halt! The fury of it for a few minutes stopped my breath. I saw two neighbors, late dog-walking, scrambling for home, completely soaked. I watched until it eased.
Back to my chair, and the escape of theater I realized again how utterly defenseless we are against natural forces. We think we have such control until we catch a glimpse of how fragile our grip really is.
We can prepare for and clean up after, but the storms will come and go despite our best efforts. I guess it makes sense to relax and ride the wave. Once I was on a raft, fairly far out in the ocean and caught a big wave just right and sailed all the way to the beach and to the foot of the lifeguard's stand!
Best possible Life outcome!
Back to my chair, and the escape of theater I realized again how utterly defenseless we are against natural forces. We think we have such control until we catch a glimpse of how fragile our grip really is.
We can prepare for and clean up after, but the storms will come and go despite our best efforts. I guess it makes sense to relax and ride the wave. Once I was on a raft, fairly far out in the ocean and caught a big wave just right and sailed all the way to the beach and to the foot of the lifeguard's stand!
Best possible Life outcome!
Tuesday, January 8, 2019
the mail
Growing up, we got our physical mail delivered, six days a week, in a gray metal box with a red flag, that was staked into the ground across a busy two-lane highway. It was always high adventure to brave the traffic and slip over to find whatever daily treasures may come our way, mind you as a child the treasures were few and far between!
I do remember at some point in my "writing career", let's say age 10, I began sending entries to "Life in These United States" - a section in Reader's Digest that featured humorous true happenings that readers sent in and got paid $50 for each entry printed. From that vantage in life I thought I had a lot to offer RD!! So I would faithfully write up the hilarious incidents - and I do mean "write" so imagine the tip-off to the editors! And after I would send them, the wait for the mail began - because obviously I had already spent the fifty bucks! Sadly, I waited in vain.
But, in addition to bills and advertisements, the gray mailbox provided lifelines to parents lonely for their college children, love letters for adolescent teens, birthday greetings all up and down the age spectrum as well as invitations to weddings, parties, Stanley products demonstrations, graduations - the whole of life funneled through that narrow metal box.
Such a small, once-a-day passage compared to the avalanche of communication that now spews out in our palms wherever we are, every second of our 24/7 existence!
I do remember at some point in my "writing career", let's say age 10, I began sending entries to "Life in These United States" - a section in Reader's Digest that featured humorous true happenings that readers sent in and got paid $50 for each entry printed. From that vantage in life I thought I had a lot to offer RD!! So I would faithfully write up the hilarious incidents - and I do mean "write" so imagine the tip-off to the editors! And after I would send them, the wait for the mail began - because obviously I had already spent the fifty bucks! Sadly, I waited in vain.
But, in addition to bills and advertisements, the gray mailbox provided lifelines to parents lonely for their college children, love letters for adolescent teens, birthday greetings all up and down the age spectrum as well as invitations to weddings, parties, Stanley products demonstrations, graduations - the whole of life funneled through that narrow metal box.
Such a small, once-a-day passage compared to the avalanche of communication that now spews out in our palms wherever we are, every second of our 24/7 existence!
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