New Year's 2013

New Year's bells are beginning to ring around the world as I write my New Year's resolutions, once again. So many things in 2012 had us feeling dismayed,  devastated, and hopeless from "forces"greater than ourselves which, after the trauma settles, can bring insight that life is precious indeed, and that many things are beyond our control in this world that we want to be hopeful about, but also must  maintain a sense of the reality, that anything can occur to change our life as we know it, and expect it to be. So, can we move forward today with hope for a good new year? I suppose that this is a question that each of us must answer for him/herself....knowing that just as things can go awry, so too can they surprise and delight. I am hoping for more of the latter. I really do not have much on my resolution list this year. I was disappointed with last year's resolution to feed the winter birds, and after great effort to do so, had the squirrels get to the feeders first. Ugh! For this coming year, I do want to "get on board" to perform (at least) 26 acts of kindness in memory of those who died in Connecticut. This was a suggestion by Ann Curry; formally of the TODAY SHOW (why in the world did they ever let her go???) which I saw on T.V. Generally, I am hoping for more kindness in the world all around, and of course, it must begin with each of us. Once again, poetry speaks to me and I recently came across a poem by James Kavanaugh that reflects my emotions and mood at this time when, yes, time passes and options disappear and love means more.

As time passes and options disappear
Love means more, and sunsets
I want to stroll across green hills
More than to climb mountains
Lately I listen more to the stars
Wise and patient in their silent staring
What is an hour or a year?
What is a week or a lifetime?
What is time?
When love means more,
And sunsets.
Wishing all who read this BLOG many many moments of kindness, peace, love and joy.

Newtown, Connecticut Tragedy

Today is December 18, 2012, and I certainly, like the rest of the world, did not anticipate that I would be grieving for the community of Newtown, Connecticut. Actually, I do not even want to write this BLOG, but my heart says that I must in order, in my very small way, honor those brave people who now must go on with their lives, forever changed. I want them to know that I grieve with them even though I cannot begin to feel the depth of hurt they must feel for the losses they have experienced. "As if the soul's fullness didn't sometimes overflow into the emptiest of metaphors for,no one, EVER, can give the exact measure of his needs, his apprehensions, or his sorrows; and human speech is like a cracked cauldron on which we bang out tunes that make bears dance, when we want to move the stars to pity." (Flaubert)  I am also thinking of the ancient words of Seneca (4 B.C-A.D.65) who said, in a letter to Lucilius, "Sometimes even to live is an act of courage." It will take great courage to continue to live, and go on in this community, and the families there will need our thoughts and prayers for a very long time. As many of you know, I have a great love of poetry, and sometimes, poetry speaks the words we ourselves cannot say; they often convey a feeling we have within us that wants to express itself, and today, I reread John Donne's poem, "No Man is an Island," and it helped me with what I am feeling. For this reason, I wish to share it here.

NO MAN IS AN ISLAND  by John Donne (1572-1631) London, England

No man is an island,
Entire of itself
Each is a piece of the continent
A part of the main
If a clod be washed away by the sea
Europe is the less
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend were.
Each man's death diminishes me
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

Today, the world, and the people who inhabit it, are surly diminished by the terrible tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut.
 

IS THERE A SANTA CLAUS???

Every year at this time, my husband carries up from the basement, the very large and heavy box of my Christmas book collection. These books are treasures that I read and look at each Christmas season, and something that brings me great joy. I, of course, have my favorites, and this morning I was reading The New Yorker Christmas book collection, and laughing again at all the Christmas cartoons through the years. I have the usual; The Night Before Christmas and The Grinch (an actual autographed edition) and various editions of A Christmas Story, but my absolute favorite of all time is the little gem of the story of Virgina who wrote to the New York Sun Times because she was beginning (at age eight) to have doubts about the reality of Santa Claus. She wrote to the Sun Times because her father told her that, "if you see it in the Times, it's so." Virginia says in her letter, "Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?" I am guessing that most of you are familiar with this famous letter to the New York Sun Times, sent by Virgina, but each Christmas, when I reread it, I grasp a little more of the meaning so I want to share here, the answer that The Sun Times wrote to Virgina. I absolutely love it!

" Virginia, your little friends are wrong (who were telling her there was no Santa.) They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical  age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas, how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in Fairies! You might get your Papa to hire men to watch in chimneys on Christmas evening to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see Fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance can push aside the curtain and view and picture the supernatural beauty and glory beyond. Is it real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world, there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus? Thank God, he lives and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virgina, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

And, I hasten to add that Helen Keller had this very same "take" on the world when she said, "The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart."

So there you are; I believe in Santa Claus and all the other "things" in life that bring me great joy and an everlasting sense of wonder.

 

Thanksgiving, 2012

                                   Wild turkeys, September, Evergreen Park, (near my house)

I do not have to do much, after getting out of bed, to have lots to be thankful for....Just getting out of a warm comfortable bed after a good night's sleep is enough, but then I wander into the kitchen, put on the coffee, and turn up the heat on this chilly morning. Electricity....oh yea! And then I go out to the driveway to pick up the newspaper to read about the many conflicts around the world, and again, count my many blessings. Just to be able to look out my back window and see beautiful green grass, pine trees, and the last colors of fall in the trees is a gift that I seldom think about. But when I compare it with the war-torn areas that children have to look at (bombed-out building and rubble), and the fear in their hearts everyday....I am overwhelmed with thanksgiving. I used to tell my girls that, at the end of the day, if they could not think of anything to be thankful for, be thankful that you are not a headline on the front page of the newspaper. Enough said!
When I was growing up, Thanksgiving in our house was a dress-up affair. Even as adults, we came together, the men in suits and ties, women in skirts and dresses and children in their best outfits. Thanksgiving was special then, and honored as an important day to come together with family, share a meal , and give thanks. It also included board games for the kids, naps for the adults and football for the men. How the times have changed! Today, you can hurry through dinner in a very short time after spending hours preparing, so that you can get to the mall to begin your Christmas shopping. At first, I was horrified by this idea, but then I had to rethink. Many, many families today do not have the kind of  "ideal" Thanksgiving that I had growing up, and still enjoy today; going out to the Barclay farm where Mike remembers going to his grandparents as a kid, and enjoying good family time together. Today, with fragmented families, struggling economies and worries that make you weary, many families are grateful for the distraction of going to shop and get a bargain. It is an event, and something to do that might be fun. I lament that the special traditions that make this day special are losing their importance, but I understand it. I grew up in the 50ies when marriage was solid, kids were welcome, churches were attended, and family was valued more than anything. It was a way of life that we may not see again. Just this morning I read in our newspaper that "non-traditional" families are more prevalent than the families of not so long ago. There are blessings to be had in those families as much as any but they just might choose to celebrate those blessings differently. So, let us all be thankful in our own way this Thanksgiving for the many blessings that we  share in this democratic, free and safe country of ours. Those things alone are worth bowing our heads in the greatest appreciation of all. Happy Thanksgiving !

This has been a very heavy week for many in the U.S. The east coast was slammed with Hurricane Sandy, and half the country is disappointed (and angry)with the outcome of the national election. Overall, the country is in a funk with so much concern with our future and which way the country is going. Most immediately, the financial cliff is hanging over every one's head. With all of this negative "stuff" swirling around my head, I try to find something positive to focus on, and so I go to my little book, "Fourteen Thousand Things to be Happy About," and brouse the pages for things that jump out at me as treasures or moments of joy in my life; things to be happy about ...most of them free! I chose things that are seasonal right now, and there are plenty!

  

 

 

* Putting out a winter bird feeder and watching the birds fly in and out.

* Taking back roads to see the colors.

*Wrapping up in warm blanket in front of the fireplace.

* Holiday table linens, and decorations.

* Hot tea afternoons.

* A good pot of delicious chili.

* Country stores.

* Brisk chill of October morning.

* Seeing deer in the timber.

* Piled leaves (to jump in) that I did not rake.

* Giving thanks

*The last summer tomatoes baked with breadcrumbs.

* Thinking about pumpkin pie and pecan pies.

*Orange sunsets over the empty fields (beautiful one just last night)

* Hot chocolate on a cold day.

* Apples and apple cider, and apple pie.

* Canadian geese flying south.

* Family traditions.

* Earth tones.

* A trip to Chicago to see the lights and store windows.

* Home-made soups in big kettle on the stove.

* The first snow....

* Fresh-made cranberry sauce.

These are just a few of my favorites and I am sure that all of you have others that you treasure as well. How very blessed we are to live in a country where we are free to enjoy them all.

 

 

 

Here comes Halloween again, and this is the closest picture I had that somewhat resembled a pumpkin....As a kid, this was one of my favorite holiday, just behind Christmas, I think. I think what made it so special was: taking on a different persona, getting to stay out after dark (often on a school night), and getting ALL that candy. What could be better? And as I said in a previous BLOG, I was attired in a home-made costume created by my artistic mother who could also sew, certainly a lost art today! What is staggering for me to find out is that Halloween is the second biggest spending event in this country (Christmas is the biggest) and Americans spend over six billion dollars on events, costumes and candy! Eek! To think it started way back  when a Celtic festival was enacted to feed and ward off the dead who, they believed, came back this one night as ghosts. They dressed in disguise (costumes) to hide from these ghosts, and provided them with treats. This holiday also became, in the Catholic Church, All Hallow's Eve, and the next day is recognized as All Saints Day. The Jack-o-lantern also has its history steeped in Irish tradition where the peop[e first carved large turnips and potatoes to signify the end of harvest. Most important today, pumpkins are used and can also be eaten (pumpkin seeds are delicious roasted in the oven) providing a good source of Vitamin A and D. So, enjoy the day and evening and don't let anything scare you; life is scary enough!

Grandchild Ninja Ben

 

Grandchild "Cheerless Leader" Sara

 

Autuum, 2012

I can't believe how long it has been since I last posted something on my BLOG! My computer gave out sometime in early September, and after spending 2 hours on the phone with our Provider with no results, I gave up. It sat dormant for quite awhile with me trying to see if it worked now and then, and thru some miracle, it just started working again! I don't hesitate, once again ,to say what a mystery computer are to me! It is all magic as far as I know!  And speaking of "magic," today I drove out into the country to enjoy the Fall foliage, and what a show! Fall is such a magnificent time of the year with all the amazing colors.....one of the earth's greatest gifts, I think. Fall is also the time of year when I get a little nostalgic about all the things I love about this time of year. And here are some of my favorites. What are yours?

I love to watch the Canadian geese in their V formations, honking across the sky..heading south, I suppose. I love the earth tones of Fall; the snap of Fall in the air and the crunch and wrestle of the leaves as you go walking through the woods. Home-made soups, apple pies and hot cider are favorites! I love to see the crops of corn and soybeans out here in the country turn their different colors until it is finally time to harvest. I love finding bird nests in the trees after all the leaves have fallen. I love apple orchards, home-coming parades (we live in a town with two major universities) and football games.

"Sleeping in" on a cool crisp morning with a window open, and seeing a big round harvest moon almost takes my breath away. Awesome sunsets over the empty cornfields are not bad either! Seeing deer in the woods and listening to the leaves fall from the trees is a delight along with a trip down a winding road to buy fresh maple syrup, special tea for the winter, pumpkins and apples at the country stores .I never want this season to end when I finally relent and bring out the hats, gloves and scarves for winter. Bah humbug! And this year, I am disappointed that The Cincinnati Reds will not be playing in the World Series. I was so sure they would. Oh well, maybe next year.  I am sure that we all have special Fall moments that fill up our senses and speak to our souls; what are yours?

BACK TO SCHOOL

Tomorrow is "back to school day" for so many children including my two grand children who are getting ready for a new year. Sara will be going into third grade and Ben will be entering Kindergarten. Big yellow buses will begin to roll through the neighborhoods, and mothers will be frantic to see that their kids have everything they need for the day, and for the year. I cannot help but think back to my own mother who had to get two boys and five girls off to school every day with all the things they needed, and also, dressed in neatly pressed uniforms. Being the organized person that I am, this was always an exciting time for me. I loved going to buy new notebooks, lined papers, new pencils and pens, and to think about how I was going to use these throughout the school year. I loved a clean, crisp sheet of paper to begin, and a way to organized all of my subjects and classes. Perhaps I was a bit of a "geek" in this regard. We did not have backpacks as kids have today, and maybe our backs are better because of that. My most favorite time, in late August each year, was to go with my mother to downtown Shillatoes Department Store in Cincinnati, to purchase my new brown and white saddle shoes (see picture above) that matched our brown uniform skirts and blazers. Our shoes (with white knee-high socks) and uniforms were only sold at Shillatoes and this was a traditional trek with my mother to get everything I needed there. And after we were done, Mother and I would treat ourselves to lunch at the luncheonette in the indoor colonnade, near the Department Store. To this day, this is one of the happiest memories I have with my mother. My most cherished school years were high school at The Summit where we were taught by the enlightened Sisters of Notre Dame De Namur, a French Order, who created a very peaceful, structured and loving place for me to learn. And now as I see kids going off to school today, I wish them an enlightened, happy learning experience this year and for all the years. ahead.   

What Charlotte Said.....

Why am I thinking of  "Charlotte's Web" today? Perhaps it is because, in today's paper, I read that the State Fair is beginning which makes me think of farms and raising animals (which my husband did in 4-H growing up) and particularly of pigs, those cute little pink animals that you want to keep as pets instead of the alternative. And though I do not like spiders, the thought of Wilbur leads me to thoughts of Charlotte, and the wisdom and truth of what she says. For example: ON FRIENDSHIP: "You have been my friend, (to Wilbur) and that in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that." ON BEING YOUNG/YOUNG AT HEART: "Go down through the garden, dig up the radishes! Root up everything! Eat grass! Look for corn! Look for oats! Run all over! Skip and dance, jump and prance! Go down through the orchard and stroll in the woods! The world is a wonderful place when you're young." ON ENCOURAGEMENT: "We must advertise Wilbur's noble qualities; not his testiness." ON PEOPLE'S VULNERABILITY: "People believe almost anything they see in print." ON FREEDOM: "An hour of freedom is worth a barrel of slops." (said by the goose) ON BOREDOM: "When I'm out here (in my pen), there's no place to go but in. When I'm indoors, there's no place to go but out in the yard." ON PATIENCE: "Charlotte was naturally patient. She knew from experience that if she waited long enough, a fly would come to her web." ON LOGIC: "What do you mean, less than nothing? How can something be less than nothing? If nothing is nothing, then nothing has nothing that is less than it is." ON COURAGE: "Take a deep breath! Now climb to the highest place you can get to. Now make an attachment with your spinnerets, hurl yourself into space, and let out a dragline as you go down." (Charlotte explaining how to spin a web.) ON LAZY TIME: "What does sedentary mean? It means I sit still a good part of the time and don't go wandering all over creation. I stay put and wait for what comes. Gives me a chance to think." ON BEING HUMBLE: "Humble? Humble has two meanings. It means 'not proud' and it means 'near the ground.' That's Wilbur all over. He's not proud and he's close to the ground.? ON CREATING SOMETHING: "I don't know what a magnum opus is," (Wilbur) "That's Latin; it means 'great work.' This egg sac is my great work...the finest thing I have ever made." (Charlotte)

* Written with the help and quotes from book, "Charlotte's Web."

Marilyn Monroe & Fashion

A very good friend of mine in New York, George Zano, has co-authored this stunning book about Marilyn Monroe and her influence on fashion. It is a book of shimmering elegance with hundreds of rare photographs of this iconic beauty, and is extremely well written. Even though I do not have a particular interest in Marilyn Monroe, this book is so classy and beautiful that it "knocked my socks off!"  The book takes Marilyn from "girl-next-door" naive, shy brunette to the smart, sexy,  poised model and actress she became in her very short life. The pictures are all here to tell the story! Marilyn arrived on the human stage when I was busy being a typical teenager,and our mothers were still wearing button-up blouses, long skirts and white gloves. Many an American housewife was surely shocked and perhaps a little envious of this brilliant beauty. And, you know they were all looking at what she was wearing! And unbeknown to most of them, she was being outfitted by some of the most famous designers who influenced fashion then and now. This is a book not to be missed for its amazing photographs,and story of a woman who continues to be as"present" today as she was "back then."

Horror in Colorado

It is not possible for this day to go by without commenting on the horror and tragedy that happened Friday night in Aurora, Colorado. What a deranged, senseless, awful thing to have happened there, and my thoughts and prayers go out to all the victims, their families and their friends. I believe that we have become a less civilized country, and instead of evolving to a higher state of being, we are sinking to the lowest, greedy, violent level. Someone has said that man is made in the likeness of the angels, and that we are just below the angels in our presence, but I rather think, these days, that we are just above the apes. Why are we surprised when things like this happen when so much of what is in the media, on video games etc. is all very violent. Recently, my husband and I went to the movies and were subject to five previews of upcoming films, each one more violent than the one before. If we lead a horse to water over and over again, eventually the horse will drink; the same is true of man's exposure to violence. We have become desensitized to the horrors of guns, rifles, assault weapons etc. and the impact of the bullets that actually do kill people. In real life, it is not a reality show; it really happens and changes lives forever. With so much violence to watch everywhere, what does it take for an already deranged person to do exactly what they see in the movies, on T.V., in video games etc. Not much. I am discouraged today about the direction these incidents point to in our society. Is there any hope for a nation without guns to mow down innocent people?

I have not been on my BLOG for quite some time, but I have an excuse. I have just completed a wonderful college music class called, "Blues, Jazz and Rock & Roll," and oh, what a walk down memory lane it was for me. The book we used (above) is called' I Hear America Singing," by David Kastin and if you want to read an overview of how the Blues music led to Jazz and then to Rock & Roll, this is the book to read. We went to the Mississippi Delta first, where the blues is said to have started, with the slaves on cotton plantations singing " a call and response" format that was then imitated time and again in all these genres of music. And after learning about Muddy Waters and others and the involvement of big city blues, we went to New Orleans, the birthplace of Jazz and heard the music of Buddy Bolden, B.B. King, Stevie Vaughn and then on to Chuck Berry, Jelly Roll Mortin  the New Orleans Brass Band, King Oliver and finally Louis Armstrong and Fats Domino. Then came the "swing era" with the bands of Benny Goodman(King of Swing), Glen Miller and Duke Ellington. Billy Holliday made her debut about this time, as well as Ella Fitzgerald. Bebop arrived on the scene with Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie playing a more spontaneous style of Jazz and really "kicked" things up. Soon "cool jazz" arrived with Miles Davis and a more soothing respite from bebop's heated intensity. Other greats at this time in jazz history were Thelonious Munk, John Coltrane and Wynton Marsalis. And then came "Rock & Roll" and the boogie-woogie. This was my teen era of music having started H.S. in 1954 when R&R really took off with songs like Sh-Boom, Rock Around the Clock, and Shake Rattle & Roll...all of which I owned on those single 45s. Here we get the talents of Bill Haley, Joe Turner, Chuck Berry, Johnnie Ray (Cry), Little Richard (Tutti-Fruitti), Carl Perkins (Blue Suede Shoes) Fats Domino, Elvis, Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis (Whole Lot of Shaking Goin On), Everly Brothers (Bye, Bye Love & Little Susie) to name a few. You also had the "Rockabilly" tunes like "That'll Be the Day." And then you had "the day the music died," with the airplane crash, February 3, 1959, which took three of the newest and brightest Rock & Roll stars; Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the "Big Bopper," J. P. Richardson. Motown emerged with small women groups like "the Shirelles" singing Tonight's the Night and Will You Love Me Tomorrow? and The Supremes singing "Stop in the Name of Love," and "Baby Love." Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin were on top at this time and their music has endured over time. The Sound of the Beach Boys surfaced just before the on slot of The Beatles, and Beatlemania in the U.S. They arrived two months after the death of President Kennedy, and brightened a sad nation with their upbeat songs, humor, and showmanship.  Just what the country needed at the time! I was in Africa and missed the whole hoop-la, and when I came back, had never heard of the Beatles! Others around this time surfaced, like The Kingston Trio, and Bob Dylan with his "Blowin in the Wind," and socially conscience lyrics which would soon change. With the Beatles & Bob Dylan came the electric guitar and amped -up music, for better or worse, depending on how you like it. Me, I like the calmer music played on acoustic guitar. My interest in the class began to wane with the arrival of "The Rolling Stones," and their loud, wild, electric guitar music with lyrics about drugs. I could go on and on with the likes of Jimi Hendriux, The Doors and The Who but I think that I will not although our class continued on with these groups. I cannot think of a more interesting (to me) class to have taken this summer! I loved it! 

FLOWERS OF SUMMER

YESTERDAY, (OR IS IT TODAY?) WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER, THE LONGEST DAY OF THE YEAR. I GUESS WE CAN SAY, FROM NOW ON, IT IS ALL DOWN HILL. I TOOK THIS PICTURE THIS MORNING IN OUR BACKYARD GARDEN, AND I DO NOT KNOW WHAT MORE COULD BE SAID ABOUT THE DELIGHT OF SUMMER EXCEPT PERHAPS THIS POEM BY ROBERT LEWIS STEVENSON CALLED:

THE FLOWERS

ALL THE NAMES I KNOW FROM NURSE

GARDENER'S GARTERS, SHEPHERD'S PURSE,

BACHELOR'S BUTTONS, LADY'S SMOCK,

AND THE LADY HOLLYHOCK

FAIRY PLACES, FAIRY THINGS,

FAIRY WOODS WHERE THE WILD BEE WINGS,

TINY TREES FOR TINY DAMES----

THESE MUST ALL BE FAIRY NAMES!

TINY WOODS BELOW THOSE BOUGHS

SHADY FAIRIES WEAVE A HOUSE;

TINY TREE-TOPS, ROSE OR THYME,

WHERE THE BRAVER FAIRIES CLIMB!

FAIR ARE GROWN-UP PEOPLE'S TREES,

BUT THE FAIREST WOODS ARE THESE;

WHERE IF I WERE NOT SO TALL,

I SHOULD LIVE FOR GOOD AND ALL.

AH, YES....WERE I NOT SO TALL, AND WERE THERE NOT SNAKES IN THE GARDEN, I TOO WOULD ENJOY LIVING AMONG THE BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS OF SUMMER!

* CLICK ON PICTURE TO SEE FLOWER DETAIL

SO YOU THINK YOUR LIFE DOESN'T MATTER
If you don't know about "The Writer's Almanac" website, and you love poetry, you will love clicking into this site. I have always known that poetry needs to be read aloud for its full enjoyment and appreciation, and this is what this web-site will bring you; a poem of the day read by Garrison Keeler along with other tidbits of the day. Last week, I was experiencing one of those nasty days when I was thinking that my life was worthless and did not amount to much, or that I made any difference to anyone at all on this stage we call LIFE. And then, as if a mysterious hand led me to this poem, read on The Writer's Almanac, I was able to make a pyridine shift to envision things differently. This poem is sad, but also profound, and I invite you to read it here, and then think about the people in your life that YOU make a difference to......

IT IS NOT THE FACT THAT I WILL DIE THAT I MIND
                                                            Poem by: Jim Moore
but that no one will love as I did
the oak tree out my boyhood window,
the mother who set herself
so stubbornly against life,
the sister with her serious frown
and her wish for someone by her side,
the father with his dreamy gaze
and his left hand idly buried
in the fur of his dog.
And the dog herself,
that mournful look and huge appetite,
her need for absolute stillness
in the presence of a bird.
I know how each of them looks
when sleeping. And I know how it feels
to fall asleep among them.
No one knows that but me,
No one knows how to love the way I do.

And isn't this really the measure of each of us? We each have a few people in our lives for which we make a real difference, one difference being that we know them and love them in a singular, unique way that is not available to anyone else. I think that we all crave someone to be in our life who can be our historian, our notebook, and to know us and love us to the enth degree of honesty, warts and all.

                                                    MIKE BARCLAY, VIETNAM VET
Today is Memorial Day, 2012, and this morning I took a Vet to breakfast...my husband, actually. Mike served in Vietnam in the years 1966-67, and though we have talked about his experience through the years, I decided to do a kind of interview, over our Bob Evens biscuits, to learn some of the facts of Mike's experience. Mike trained for 8-9 weeks at Fort Polk, Louisiana and did advanced training at Fort Eustis, Virginia where he was trained to be a seaman. I think that he was fortunate in this because, even though he could have experienced enemy fire, he never did as a seaman on a supply boat traveling up and down the Mekong  Delta. Mike left home on August 12, 1966 from O'Hara Airport in Chicago where he had driven with his Mom and Dad from Colfax, Illinois (about 2 hours drive) two days in a row because the first airplane transport had no room. I can just imagine what his mom and dad must have been thinking on the ride back home, wishing that he was coming back home to stay. But back they went the second day, and with anxiety and trepidation, he boarded a MATS (Military Air Transportation plane) because all the airlines were on strike at that time. Mike's tells me that his Mom and Dad were just as apprehensive as he was sending their youngest (& only one to go ) off to war. I personally cannot imagine such a difficult thing to do.....and I know that his mother must have been in tears while his dad tried to remain stoic and strong.
Mike flew to San Francisco, Hawaii, the Philippines  and then to Vietnam where he checked in at Camp Pen Hoi, called by the military, Camp LBJ, a very large army base out in the middle of "nowhere" with jungle all around. From here, Mike was given his year's assignment as a "seaman" or "boats- man" on a 14 crew supply boat that traveled up and down the Mekong Delta delivering food and army supplies. And, although the quarters were tight, the crew got along well together and ate  great food from the cook on board, named Roosevelt Little. Guard duty for the boat was 24-7 and Mike stood guard  plenty of nights as well as days, but during Mike's time aboard, the boat was never fired upon. What a blessing!  Mike spent his R&R in Hong Kong; saw the sights and bought himself a new suit and coat.
Forever, I will be grateful that Mike did not see combat in Vietnam  I honor him as a veteran today because Mike went, and no matter what one might think of the merits of the war in Vietnam, Mike went. And, no, he did not have much of a choice as he was drafted, but still,he went.
Today I think about all the men and women who "went" when they were called or even signed up to go, and those who are at war today in the name of the United States. I am grateful for their dedication to our protection.
Mike told me this morning over breakfast that he had a chance to "re- up" for 90 days, and if he had,  he would have been discharged upon his return to the U.S. He then said, "if I had done that, then I would not have met you." This is true as we met in Washington, D.C. after Mike's return when he was stationed at a base outside of D.C. and I was there working for the Peace Corps. It was so sweetly said that, after 42 years of marriage and putting up with me, I think he still thinks he made the right choice.

 

Today I was cleaning out some drawers and came  across a file entitled

"Late Bloomers." And, before I tossed it, I reread about some famous people who did not hit their stride, or realize their true talent until later in life. I think of myself as a late bloomer in that, I always wanted to be a writer, and did not begin to write seriously until well into my fifties. And, I was 67 when I published my first novel, "To See a Sundog." So many of us in life are consumed with responsibilities of jobs, marriages, children, family etc. that, unless we have made our passion or interest a career, we do not have much time for it until later in life. What is gratifying to know is that it is never too late to do what we do  well, and  to do what we love.

 I think about Julia Child who did not serve a French meal until she was 36, and Susan Boyle who debuted with her magnificent voice at the age of 48. So many late bloomers were considered "failures" at an early age, and often did not do well in school. Thomas Edison's teacher told him that he was unable to learn; Albert Einstein had a difficult time learning language and failed his college entrance exam. Winston Churchill failed sixth grade and Isaac Newton's school work was considered poor. Henry Ford was evaluated as "showing no promise." F.W. Woolworth's employers refused to allow him to wait on customers because "he didn't have any sense." Like many of us,  I am prone to discouragement, and tend to give up when I cannot see the value in something. Or, I have second thoughts about the worth of the endeavor, or if it has any meaning. But, then I discovered that if it has meaning to me, it is worth doing, and again, it is never too late. As I write this, I have three different books in the "pipeline," and all are substantially begun. These "late bloomers" encourage me to continue......

I remember a quote from my High School, The Summit, that was nicely framed and easily read each time I walked down the hall  to my  classrooms. It said, "Greatly begin though thou have time but for a line....low aim, not failure is crime." I have never forgotten this, and it continues to inspire the writer in me. If you want to read more about Late Bloomers, go to the BLOG of Debra Eve.

Today I am featuring some of the pages from my Art Journal Books.....I love creating these art books, and use a variety of medians to express ideas, writings, sayings, art and amazing color. I will add a few here for today's entry, and for you to enjoy. I have finished four of these books which will be featured in an art show in Cincinnati in mid September.

MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS

MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER AND ME

Last year in the early weeks of May, I watched, out my window, a Mother Robin build her nest in a tree very close to our house. The nest was so close that I could have reached out and held the nest in my hand if I so desired, which, of course, I wouldn't. I write this simply to tell you how close I felt to this Mother Robin, and how closely I watched, from beginning to end, the hard work she did to build her nest; the patience she demonstrated while sitting on her nest waiting for her babies to break through; the tenacity she showed bringing food back and forth to her young off springs before they could fly; the proficiency with which she dropped food into her babies mouths, and finally the endurance she demonstrated waiting for the last of her four babies to get up the courage to  fly away as she called to them, from a distance, to come and join her. The whole process seemed to me to take about 2 months, and I was a faithful follower.  I am quite taken with nature and the lessons I learn observing nature in all its complexities and manifestations of life, and this was such a special time to observe nature at its best and also, motherhood at its finest.   
Sunday is Mother's Day, and I always think of my mother who did so much for me, and for my six brothers and sisters growing up. If you scroll down to Mother (not mothers) in my menu, you will see the poem I wrote about my mother on this BLOG some years ago. Say whatever you want about mothers, but in my case, she was one of two people in my growing up years that I always knew was on my side no matter what stupid thing I had done. . She saved me more than once! So in memory of my mother, and as a tribute also to my two wonderful daughters who helped me to be the mother I am to them, I share a poem that I wrote some years ago called
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS

There is a strong and delicate thread
That spreads through the heart
Of mothers and daughters
And binds them together, forever

Like bright breasted Robins
 Who sew their nests
For hours and hours, stitch by stitch
A mother and daughter
Tie in time
Intricate moments
That are one of a kind

And just as the Robin and her mate
Bring different things to the nest
Like a twig, a leaf, or a feather
Mothers and daughters bring
A moment, a thought, a secret
To share with each other

And then,
A walk, a talk, a manner
Just their own

And like the bird who depends on its nest
In all kinds of weather
Mothers and daughters depend on each other

In all of nature and mankind
Nothing binds
Like mothers and daughters.

AWESOME DAUGHTER MICHELLE

                                                 FABULOUS DAUGHTER KERRI

HORSES

Today is the Kentucky Derby; the run for the roses....which has some history in my life. My mother rode horses growing up; loved them; went to horse races; read the track sheets like a pro; bet on them and often won. I was always amazed. I am sure that when Mother and Dad moved their family to Cincinnati in 1942, mother was as happy about being  closer to those beautiful southern horse farms in Kentucky as she was about the charm of Cincinnati along the Ohio River. My mother loved horses so much that, for many years, two weeks before the running of the Derby, Mother and Dad took their children out of school to drive to the Keenland Racetrack where the Derby "two year olds" raced before the big event. Cincinnati is so close to Kentucky (just across the Ohio River) that, every year at this time, there are a plethora of parties and celebrations to watch the Derby and sing "My Old Kentucky Home." To this day, my family still calls me from Cincinnati (I am the only sibling of seven not living there) to tell me the name of the horse that has been put into the "pool" to win the prize money should I have the winning horse. Two years ago, my niece's son, then five years old, won the pot after his mom put his name in the "hat." When my sister called  to Chicago to tell him that his horse won, his answer to her was, "I have a horse?" One of the funniest things I had heard ever! Because my mother loved horse so much,she was anxious to have her children learn to ride, which I did at a place in Cincinnati called "Hilltop Farms." I can still experience the feelings of trepidation and fear I had on those horses, and the terror I experienced as my two brothers went galloping forward ahead of me, encouraging my horse to do the same. I don't think that I ever got over my fear, and the last time that I was on a horse was when I was living in Washington, D.C. where I was riding with a friend in Rock Creek Park, and my horse took off hell-bent for the barn. Because I was not in control of the horse, I intentionally slid off sideways (rather like I had learned to do skiing when I was going to fall), and went head-first into a gully. The horse and I had portaged two roadways where cars were going by quickly, and I was afraid that, on one of these roads, while the horse was galloping back home, the horse and I would have the misfortune to meet a car. I think that my rolling off saved my live, perhaps. I did receive a concussion and was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. This was my last ride on a horse. Today, my granddaughter has begun to take riding lessons and loves it so much that she even offered, at age 7, to give up half of her allowance to continue. Her great-grandmother would love to hear that! Her grandmother, on the other hand, wishes her well.

Do you ever have days that feel like this? There was a time when I did not understand modern art very well, but as I live more and more in this somewhat bizarre and troubled world, I think that artists like Pablo Picasso have depicted modern culture quite well. I can identify today with this painting of the Spanish Woman in Blue because today, this is just how I feel....blue, confused, out of form, isolated, as was Picasso when he painted this of Francoise Gilot, and troubled as this lady appears to be. This gal certainly shows a sense of anxiety in her eyes. That one eye is painted yellow instead of black might be hopeful,  but today, that concept would be a stretch for me.  I don't know if that was the intent of the artist, that bad is always balanced with good...one can only dream. For me, this  painting seems to be in flow; in flux without a sense of groundedness which again, I can relate to today.Yes, this painting has meaning for me as I struggle with some life issues that perhaps plague us all. Today I relate to the Spanish Lady in Blue by Pablo Picasso and hope for a better day ahead, perhaps the kind of day that Wordsworth wrote about in his poem, "Daffodils."

Poetry

I actually did not know that last Wednesday, April 25th was national Poetry Day! I love poetry and I love to write poetry so I was disappointed that this day got past me without my knowledge. However, as fate would have it, I had a small Brunch that morning for some friends, one of whom is blind, and I thought it would be fun to read some poetry aloud, which we did. And one of the poems I chose was the poem, "Keep a Poem in your Pocket" by Beatrice Schenk de Regiers which seemed to be the theme for the day. The poem says:

"Keep a poem in your pocket
and a picture in your head
and you'll never feel lonely
at night when you're in bed
********************
The little poem will sing to you
the little picture bring to you
a dozen dreams to dance to you
at night when you're in bed.
***********************
So-----
Keep a poem in your pocket
and a poem in your head
and you'll never feel lonely
at night when you're in bed.

I actually have three favorite poems. One is "Daffodils" (William Wordsworth) which, at one time, I could recite by heart. Another favorite, with a similar theme, is " The Lake Isle of Innisfree" (William Butler Yeats) and when I was in Ireland with my mother, sister and niece...we saw this isle from a distant shore, and my sister, Maureen, recited the entire poem from memory. It must speak to our Irish souls.Both these poems paint a space of wonder and tranquility to behold at the moment but, equally important, to take the image with you to bring joy when you are in places that are not as lovely as these.  A third poem that I love is "Ulysses" (Alfred, Lord Tennyson) especially the last 26 lines that begin, "There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail..... In this poem, Ulysses is saying that, though his life is coming to an end, he has at least one more good sail in him, and he is going to continue on in life doing what he has always loved to do; that age will not deter from living his life to the fullest until he is gone. I like this sentiment. I too wish to live life to the fullest until I can no more, and enjoy doing the things I love to do; one of which is writing poetry. So I will add one of my most recent poems that is neither thoughty (as my Dad would say) nor profound...perhaps just one we can all relate to, and one that was fun to write.

THE CLUTTERED TABLE BY THE DOOR

Oh cluttered table by the door
Keeper of family treasures
And things that suddenly appear
Placed here upon your table top
Car keys
Overdue books
Letters to be sent
Bills to be paid
What else has been laid
Upon your table top?
 What other trinkets
Besides the dust gathering here?
Invitations
Salutations
A letter from a friend (rare)
Rubber bands
Ball point pens
Assorted change
Ah, such a range
Of meaningless clutter
Oh brother!
Just so much stuff
To put away
To get ready for another day....
When other things
Find their way to your table top.

Another Birthday

Today I thought I would talk about birthdays having just celebrated mine over the Easter weekend; actually, Good Friday to be exact. Throughout my life, I have also had my birthday fall on Easter, so I have had to celebrate my day with "the good news" and the Easter Bunny. These days I am fortunate to share it with my eight year old granddaughter, Sara, who now has a birthday one day before mine, so  we celebrate our special day together. As I was thinking about birthdays, I went back in my memory to think about some of those special birthdays that were memorable for me. The first one I remember is my own eighth year birthday, only because I have a picture of all the kids who came, standing in front of our first house in Cincinnati, Ohio. We look like quite a motley group, and I also notice that I invited my childhood arch enemy, standing next to my best friend. Mother insisted on doing that back then to keep the peace which was quite smart of her, actually. The second memorable birthday was when I turned 16 and I could drive. Little did I know that the bloom would soon be off the rose as I then became the chauffeur for all of my younger 4 sisters, and the errand person for my mother. We had an eight passenger station wagon, and I became every one's ride to school, and  the means of travel for my friends who did not yet have "wheels." It was somewhat like having a summer cottage...friends came out of the woodwork! The next year was memorable in that I did not get what I asked for; instead getting a set of golf clubs with lessons at our club which I had little interest in at the time. I even skipped the Saturday morning lessons, instead, picked up my best friend and went out to breakfast. Dad always wondered why I was not a better player after those "lessons." Today, I am so grateful for those golf clubs as I have enjoyed the game  tremendously with my husband and friends all my adult life. Skipping forward some years until my 50th when we had a big shindig with friends and family, and our neighbors put up, in our yard, one of those gigantic commercial signs that read, "We think it is nifty that Gretta is turning 50!" Funny and fun! At 60, I was vacationing in California and, by mail, my daughter sent me a special book where she had compiled e-mails, testimonials and special greetings from all of my family and friends etc. I sat there at the restaurant reading, laughing and crying! What a treasure this book is! Sixty-five was elegantly celebrated  at a beautiful restaurant here with  family and friends in attendance, and then for birthday 70, I returned to Cincinnati where my Summit classmates and I celebrated our birthdays together at the beautiful home of one of our classmates, Florance Connelly Koetters who provided an elegant celebration for all of us. Through all the years I have had, to honor my life, I have tried to remember all those people who came before me, to help make my life what it is today. I love what Warren Buffett refers to as "the ovarian lottery," in which he says that he won the lottery the day that he was born. I also won the lottery!

Enough!

Pictures/ back yard

ENOUGH

Just one tulip bloomed this Spring
But this was enough for me
I need just one perfect example
Of God's miracle, to see
How perfect is the Universe
In all its majesty
Just one bloom
One blade of grass
One single tree
That is enough for me.....       Poem by Gretta Barclay

SPRING GLADNESS

The first buds of March

Appeared this morning, soft green

The air smells of spring

In the back yard tree

The doves have returned to nest

The grass smells of spring.

Everywhere in twos

Creatures of the earth dancing....

The world made new. Spring!

Gretta Barclay/Mo Conlan, March 28, 2003

IRISH HERITAGE

THIS IS MY IRISH GRANDMOTHER FOR WHOM I AM NAMED

Growing up as Margretta Marie O'Conlan, the most celebrated day in my house was St. Patrick's Day. Irish music would begin playing early in March in anticipation of THE GREAT DAY; Mother would begin honing her rendition of "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling," on the piano with all of us singing along, and on the actual day, my sisters and I would go off to school with green ribbons in our hair, and a green carnation (brought home for each of us by Dad) pinned to our school uniform. On the eve of St. Patrick's Day, my father would go off to The Friendly Sons of St. Patrick's Day Dinner dressed in his Irish finery of black tails and black top hat. It was the day for the Irish indeed, and with the O'Conlans and Kinsellas, we claimed a close heritage to the "old sod," proud as an authentic Irish Shamrock. Now, every St. Patrick's Day, I get out the historical rendition of our Irish heritage called "The Cooke Book"  written by my Aunt Leona Garrity. Here I read, give recognition to, and honor  my brave and determined ancestors who came before me, and who are quite responsible for the character and richness of my life today. I never want to forget who came before me to help make me who I am today.
Our family's journey to America began with my great-great grandfather coming to America as a stow-away on a boat after fleeting the British who were about to arrest him for teaching Catholic doctrine along the Irish hedgerows in County Cork.  Eventually the rest of his family made their way to America and settled in upstate New York. For me, the story picks up with the life of my grandmother for whom I was named, and even though I never knew her, I feel as though I know her through the pages of "The Cooke Booke." Surprising to me is the fact that before taking a different path, my grandmother entered the Religious life with The Daughters of Charity expecting to give her whole life over to the service of God. People who knew her, said that Gretta (her name all her life) was sensitive, intelligent and deeply spiritual. But, as fate would have it, Gretta decided that this life was not for her and eventually married my grandfather, Thomas L. Conlan whom I also never knew, nor did I know that they honeymooned on Mackinac Island, a beautiful northern Michigan spot that has been treasured by our family for years. Most important to me,  is reading about the character of my fore bearers who were stanch people of faith, passionate, determined, brave and righteous and had that great sense of Irish humor.  Often times they did things to preserve their faith and way of life that caused them pain and hardship, but was not a reason not to do what they believed in. Coming before me, they have been models in my life and have shown me the way to live my life. Like so many Irish, many of them were witty and wise; story-tellers and writers; passionate people who often would weep with emotion, or sing Irish ballads with gusto. I feel so grateful to have inherited such a lot as these, and am honored to continue the precious traditions and values of the Irish people.