20 Good Trends in 2011

Perhaps there IS something to sing about as we head into the New Year, 2011! According to statistics, good things are happening in this country even though we cannot always see them. Here is an upbeat list to ponder as we head into the future. We can only hope that we continue on this upward path.

1. We are safer. Crime is down. The number of crimes in the U.S. has continued to decrease since 1989.

2. W use less energy. Since 1989, the average per-person consumption of energy has decreased about nine percent. And, the economy as a whole is becoming more energy efficient, down 53 % to produce a dollar's worth of goods and services.

3.We give more. We are giving more time and money to philanthropic endeavors. Americans gave $3 billion to charities in 2009, and more in 2010.

4.The use of public mass transit grew 38 % from 1995-2008 and is even higher today, thus, conserving fuel.

5.We are living longer and feeling better. People today will live, on average, ten years longer than their parents, and according to "Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences," people over 50, decrease their levels of stress, anxiety and worry.

6.Young people are making smarter decisions about their well-being. High School students are using less drugs and smoking less with greater numbers of teens perceiving these as dangerous to their health.

7. We are connecting and social networking with people more than ever before resulting in an increase in happiness. For example, more and more marriages are the result of the couple meeting via the Internet.

8.We can connect easier, even while flying in an airplane. And while this can be either good or bad, it is a tool that we have available to us almost anywhere we are in the world. An example, in 1964-66, I was in the Peace Corps living in Africa. I was not able to talk with my family for two and a half years, whereas today, volunteers can call up their Mom from almost anywhere.

9. Our bonds are stronger. The rate at which couples are getting divorced continues to fall, from 4.0 per every 1,000 in 2000 to 3.5 in 2008.

10. We are giving things away before we throw them away. For example: the online site: freecycle.org has mushroomed. In our town of Normal, we have a column in The Pantagraph Newspaper called "Good Neighbor" where people give and take what they have.

11. Our forests are growing. The total acreage of forested land in the U.S. has increased during the last 30 years according to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.

12. We breath cleaner air. Since 1990, levels of six common air pollutants have fallen, and in most of the country, concentrations of carbon monoxide, lead and nitrogen dioxide are below federal standards to protect human health and the environment.

13. We drive more carefully with the result of less fatal accidents.

14. We are growing more of our own food and enjoying the benefits. Farmer's Markets are everywhere, and people are realizing the value of buying their produce etc. here, and enjoying fresher tastes. The nation as a whole is realizing the amount of fuel, time and preservation it takes to not buy food locally.

15. Public smoking bans are now in almost every state, and places where this law is in place, there is a significant decline in emergency room visits for heart attacks.

16. We buckle up when driving; at least most of us do with the results being less serious injuries in an accident.

17. Bees are making a come-back with the result of less threat to crops and eventually the health of our food supply. More than 100.000 estimated back-yard beekeepers are fighting back the plight of the disappearing bees. A good friend of mine is one of them!

18. Women are healthier. Breast Cancer is on the decline.

19. We move more, resulting in healthier bodies and the message to do this to fight obesity is everywhere.

20. We understand the power of positive thinking with more upbeat attitudes and less pessimism. We now know more about the mind-body connection and how it affects our health.

THE BEST CHRISTMAS PRESENT OF ALL

It was the coldest of winters that year and Christmas Eve came to the Conlan house with howling winds and snow on the ground. It had been a hectic time for our family without the full attention of our mother who loved holidays and parties, and loved to deck the halls. She had not even sat down at the piano to play Christmas carols with all of us gathered around to sing along. It was a different year, and a very different feeling permeated our household. We had help in the house but it wasn't the same; Mother always showed us how to wrap our presents and tie the bows so that the presents under the tree looked like art. (My mother was an artist.) But this year, Mother was clearly tired, and she looked wane and worried. We had not even gone to the Cincinnati Crone Conservatory to see the live creche where Mary and Joseph sat among live animals and waited for their baby to arrive, which is just what my mother was doing that Christmas Eve. Mother herself was heavy with child carrying our youngest sister Christine Helen to arrive on Christmas morning. Mother wanted to see all of us open our Christmas presents before she went off to the hospital, and I can still see her sitting in our vast hallway in an antique velvet chair, small packed suitcase at her feet, hat and coat on. She was delighting in the sounds of her children's excitement and joy as we, one by one, opened our gifts. I received a shiny black three-speed bike that my two brothers carried up from the basement. I was in awe, totally unaware of the real treasure in the room that Christmas, unknown and unseen by all of us.
After the last gift was unwrapped, Dad carefully walked Mother to the family station wagon in the driveway, and we all waved good-bye as they drove away. We then ripped into our toys and treasures, playing until bedtime which came all too early. And, no bells were rung from our rooftop that night; a tradition every year, and no one set cookies and carrots out for Santa and his reindeer. Santa had already been to our house, but he had not brought the best present of all....our sister, Chris, who came home with Mother a week later form the hospital.

* Art by my sister Maureen Conlan.

Christmas

Well, here we are; Christmas time again! This will be my 70th, and I am sitting here remembering some of the more memorible ones. As a young girl growing up, the year that I turned twelve, my mother was pregnant with my youngest sister (of six siblings) and that Christmas eve, I can still see my mother sitting with her coat and hat on, in our hallway, small suitcase next to her, watching us open our Christmas presents before she went off to the hospital to deliver Christine Helen. That year I received a shinny new black three-speed bike that my dad brought up from the basement, and I thought that was the best Christmas present I had ever received. And it was not until I realized in years to come that the real Christmas present that year was my wonderful sister Chris who continues to be a blessing in all our lives today. That too was the only Christmas that the Conlan kids were allowed to open their gifts on Christmas eve.
As a child growing up, the tradition in our house was to go to bed early and listen for Santa's sleigh bells which one of my parents rang sometime in the night for us to hear. This happened after we had put out cookies, milk for Santa, and carrots for Santa's raindeer. Christmas morning, each of us (seven) took our place on the steps going downstairs according to age, the youngest first, and waited, and waited, and waited for everyone to get up, especially Mom and Dad. Then, as we decended the stairs together, we all sand Jingle Bells. This was our tradition, and I remember it with great fondness. Usually, under the tree, there was one big gift for each of us, and I remember the year that we all got ice skates.
When we moved to Colorado, our family created our own traditions, one of them being to gather with our neighbors on Christmas eve to put together things for our children. One year, we had the biggest snow storm ever on Christmas morning and I remember neighbors up and down the street on skies, sleds, and snow shoes going from porch to porch where Christmas goodies were being offered and served. We had lots of snow, but also that fabulous Colorado sunshine.
What really strikes me about Christmas as I get a little older is that all my favorite memories around Christmas involve the people I most love and cherish. One year I flew home from Colorado and surprised my mom and dad, wearing a big red bow in my hair. This was the Christmas before my dad died, and I am so glad I had that special time with him. Another year, our family flew to New Orleans to be with my sister and her family, each of us wearing a T-Shirt on the plane that, when standing together, spelled "Merry Christmas Meltons, HoHoHo." Everyone on the plane loved it, and we loved being in New Orleans that holiday. This Christmas we will be with our small, but mighty family of seven, and will delight, as we have in past years, watching the "grands," Sara (6) and Ben (3) open their Christmas toys. Ah the delight, the wonder, the belief that "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus." And, if you have not read that book recently, I suggest that when you do, you will, once again, believe in "Santa Claus."

Fall, 2010

I have to say that I love the Fall. And this year, we have had a beautiful one here in central Illinois. I can appreciate it more this year as I compare it to last year when we had rains into December that all too quickly took away the colors of this lovely season. Last year when my husband helped his brothers with the harvest (which he does every year)he came home late at night and was up early, sometimes 4:00 a.m. to get in line to empty the corn or soybeans at the grain elevators. It was a messy harvest to say the least, and the farmers around here said it was the worst in living memory. Amen. They finally finished in early December. This year, the harvest was finished in mid October and the colors are still visible today on the trees and bushes. Today, the weather is still in the 70ies and my husband is on the golf course with his two brothers. This may be the "last" of it, however, which is why I am writing about it. When it is cold, rainy and damp in the months to come, I will want to remember days like this and remind myself that they will come again. (Pictures taken at our Farm.)

Family and a Walk in the Woods

What could be more wonderful than a walk in the woods with your family? Here, my precious family is taking a rest after a crisp Fall walk through nature trails, colorful paths and along a sky-blue tranquill lake. For me, this is truly what makes life worthwhile, and joyful! Family and nature; nature and family. Two really great things life has provided me, and I am so grateful for both! And when the two come together, well then, it is just wonderful. I believe that the universe provides us these moments so that the rest of the time, when we are in the trenches with problems and worry, we can remember these days with the hope that there will be more. It has been true in my life. I must remember this.

Voting

Today, November 2, 2010, I am writing this from the Urbana, Illinois Free Library...a great place I discovered while here visiting my daughter. This is the college town of the University of Illinois with lots of thinking going on....some good; some not so good. And, downstairs today at the library, people are walking in to vote as this is a polling place, and this is the day for that. For the first time in my adult life, I am not casting a ballot. My father, who was quite active in the Democratic Party all his life would surely roll over in his grave if he knew. Around our big Irish family dining room table each night growing up, the topic of conversation would often turn to politics....usually what the Democrats were doing right vs. what the Republicans were doing wrong. I was highly influenced by this on-going dialogue, and usually vote just to the left of center. But not this year. This year I have come to view Politics like I view many other traditional institutions these days, as businesses with big money interests. We used to joke that "the boys with the most toys, win." Today, the party with the most money contributions, wins. I have lost any trust I once had in a process that does not, in my opinion, use values, honesty and reasonableness in what they represent. I don't know what the rally in Washington with John Steward accomplished, but minimally, if it pointed to how far we have come in lacking any fair-play and decency in our dialogue of differences, then it perhaps did some good. We are very far from what I think our forefathers wanted for this country to become great; they knew we had to have moral choices, American values and a way to discuss our differences with civility. When we get back to these kinds of choices, I will go to the polls again.

What is Beauty

Yesterday I attended a beautiful lunch and style show at my daughter's Fashion Boutique where she is a new manager. This Boutique is one of a kind and is called Bella Mia, located in Champaign, Illinois. The show was stunning with lovely models and rich high fashion; so delightful to look at and admire. It brought to mind some thoughts.
My mother used to say, "People will always treat you the way you look and dress...that first impressions are crutial." My mother was quite stylish in her dress and manner but I don't think this was the essence of what she wanted to convey to me. Mother meant that one should always look "put together," (not necessarily fashionable), neat, and dressed in presentable clothes that fit well. She particularly wanted me to make sure that my children looked nice when they went out with clean combed hair, washed faces and clean outfits.
"Your children will benefit from the positive affirmations they get, even from strangers (when babies) when people treat them as well as they look, and she was right....babies and children soak up positive messages like a sponge. The opposite is also true; children instantly sense when negative messages are coming their way. And like it or not, people do react positivly or negatively according to what they see.
The other message I received around the idea of beauty was from my Dad.
"Beauty is only skin deep," he would say..."the rest is up to you."
He would often suggest to his five daughters that women of great beauty in our society were at risk of never being anything else. Women especially have been highly idolized for nothing more than looking fabulous. This is a danger my father would say; the danger of not becoming anything of any worth or consequence. Of course, my father was an intellectual who highly prized education above all else, and was always promoting the value of this. I was blessed by his ferver and determination to give the same love of learning to all of his children. My mother valued this as well but, on ocassion, when the whole family was together, seven children and their offsprings, she would look around the room and say, "Aren't we all just so good looking." I was doubley blessed, I guess.

What Do Workers Have to Do With It?

Today I thought about all the people that are in place to serve me and keep my life going. How often I forget about the chain of laborers that work behind the scenes to make my life easier, and manageable. Take for example, the simple act of going to the grocery store to buy bananas. Where did these bananas come from? Who grew them? Were they paid a living wage (wherever they were) to grow them? And how did they end up in MY grocery store? How were they transported? Airplane, and then truck, train???? How many people were involved in that step? Were they paid enough money for their efforts? And who unboxed them and put them out for display after checking them to see that they were o.k. to sell? Were they paid well enough? And the checkout person, and baggers; how about them? I wonder; if I added up the total cost of getting that one bunch of bananas to me, what would it be? Today, in America, we are challenged with many problems. One of those problems is people who are not getting enough money to live well enough. There are no easy solutions, and everyone these days has a different opinion about what to do. I do not have a solution either. I just want us not to forget that many of these people are the very ones that serve us and help keep our lives going. This is not a new idea, and actually, I thought about it after reading an excerpt from a quite famous author who I now cannot remember (perhaps Yeats) who said,
"The woollen coat, for example, which covers the day-labourer, as course and rough as it may appear, is the product of the joint labour of a multitude of workmen. The shepherd, the sorter of the wool, the wool comber or carder, the dyer, the scribbler, the spinner, the weaver, the fuller, the dresser, with many others must all join different arts in order to complete even this homely production......without the assistance and co-operation of many thousands, the very meanest person in a civilized country could not be provided;, even according to what we very falsely imagine, the easy and simple manner in which he is commonly accommodated.

Chilean Miners Rescue

It is rare indeed when the world comes together to celebrate something extrodinary. I believe that many tears were shed around the globe as the last Chilean miner emerged from the tiny man-made capsule that brought him, the last of 33 miners, 700 meters underground (half mile, I think) for 68 days, to the terra firma of his homeland. There are many heros surrounding this story from the men themselves who kept each other going and shared their meger rations, to the rescuers who NEVER gave up in spite of discouraging results along the way. (It took 17 days to even locate the miners.)
What makes a HERO really? One who is not afraid to do the hard, brave thing, or do the thing that is right? Just the opposite, really. A hero is a person who IS afraid, but does the hard, brave, right thing anyway. I feel that there is such a dirth of heros in our world today. Do you feel the same? Of course, the men and women defending our country every day are heros; they are the reason we live in freedom. But who else? Sadly, I think, most potential heros of today have gone the way of big money or political advantage. Can our country survive without real, genuine heros? I don't think so. Bill Gates, and his wife Melinda are examples, I think, of what one person, persons can heroically do to make the world better. This country needs more heros like them, me included, which makes me ponder here at my desk what I might do in my very small speck of the world to be hero-like. What can I do? Hmmmmm.

Barns Continued

What in life endures, I am not sure, but as I drive down country roads and see the barns that dot the family farms, I know it is these barn weathered becons that do remain, and I am awed by their presence and captivated by their charm. They are as rooted in the earth as the farm families living near with stories to tell of those who tilled the land, and planted well the bread baskets of the world, and then perserved their crops in these barn hollowed lofts. Some stand facing the sun; others see rust colored sunsets as shadows creep up one side and down the other of their warn-weathered sides. They have outlasted the darkest storms, the heaviest winds, pelting snows, and have given refuge and safe harbor within for farm animals to grow: calfs, fouls, young kittens, and for down-and-outs, and for run-away slaves who in darker days had nowhere to go. They are housed hidden among rolling hills or stand hard upon flat, firm landscapes, while colorful paints and peelings catch your eye as you drive by. Some barns have messages to take to heart: "Jesus saves; Repent; chew mail pouch tobacco" in years gone by. How many years has each barn stood, I do not know and their future fate I can only surmise.....the year and date of their demise. But I know this for sure; they will remain and endure long after I am gone.

Barns

So what is it about barns that I love? Well for one thing; I love their history. I love the thought that they house animals, crops and grains which feed the people who make their living from the farms they cultivate and the animals they raise. I love the idea that they are different shapes and sizes, and also different colors, but I love the red painted barns the best. There is something so earth solid about barns; something about barns that say that is all you need to survive...a good sturdy barn. I love the fact that barns housed run-away slaves in their day, perhaps on their way to freedom, and perhaps were the places where one could take shelter from the cold, rain and stormy weather. I have had the opportunity to see many barns from the inside out here on the prairie in central Illinois, and the intricate, solid beams and criss-crossed planks are amazing to see. It is no wonder that barns last so long, as was certainly the intention when men built them. I love the idea of an old fashioned barn raising. What could be more heart warming than a community of farmers coming together to help their neighbor build his barn. Yes, I love barns, and all the history and folk lore that goes with them. I am not a four legged animal, but I think I could be happy living in a barn.

There is something so "green", earthy and satisfying about "putting up" your own tomatoes. I only have to read my February 3ed entry to know how much we love these jars of fresh tomatoes (i.e. sauce) in the middle of winter. There is absolutely nothing like the flavor of fresh grown tomatoes any time of year, but, ah to have it in winter...that is heaven. I learned to do this from Mike's mom who took care of everything on their farm including canning every kind of vegetable and fruit imaginable. Today we are moving back to the basics of eating what farmers grow all around us. We are lucky to live just a stone's throw (or about two miles) from a fresh farmer's market in the country, and we also have a very active farmer's market here in Normal, Illinois. Eating "fresh" has spoiled us. We can now tell the difference. This is one aspect of the "going green" movement that we love. I now have my process of "canning" tomatoes down to a science. It takes a few important kitchen tools, and some very exact steps. First I core the top part of the tomato (just a small cutting out of the tip); second, I drop the tomatoes into boiling hot water for about two minutes, take them out and peel the skin which comes off easily after this short boiling. I shed the skin while holding the tomato under running cold water as it is very hot. I then put these tomatoes into a large container (I use our large roasting pan). I chop up onions and peppers to go with the tomatoes, smash up the tomatoes and then stir in the onions and peppers. Salt a little. All of this goes into a large pot on stove to heat to almost boiling. Then I boil the canning jars with their lids; take them out one at a time and pour in the tomato sauce. I seal them tight. If you have sealed them correctly, you will hear a popping noise after a short amount of time to indicate, the seal is o.k. Now, I know this seems like a lot of work, but I did today's batch this morning, all before 10:00 a.m. But, I once told a friend of mine about this "putting up" of tomatoes and she said she also "put up" tomatoes. She said that she goes to the grocery store, picks out several cans of tomatoes, brings them home, takes them out of the bag, and then "puts them up" into her kitchen cupboard. Both ways are good; one just tastes better.

I am so often thinking about the yin and yang of life; the ups and downs; the joys and the sorrows; the good and the bad, and always come back to the idea that there is a pattern to all that exists in our universe. There are so many wise words around this concept; that when a door closes, a window opens; that one must travel through the darkness to get to the light etc. and it seems to be true, but darn it, I don't always like it. Oh that life could be easier without so many heartaches. Doesn't it just make you so mad at times! And I get a little tired of hearing about all the life lessons I am learning as I struggle along with difficult situations. I want to scream some days that I get it; no more life lessons, and for heavens sake, I am old enough now to have learned most of them. Give me a break. But, I have found, even though life does give us "breaks" now and then, they don't last. Right now, I am in the "valley" with several painful situations which seem to be overwhelming and all consuming. What helps me is to remember this idea of the yin and yang of life, and that someday, perhaps maybe not soon, that window will open and the sun will shine.

I am very excited to tell all of my readers about a Web Site created by several wonderful women writers in Cincinnati, Ohio, including my sister Maureen Conlan, that can be found at http://www.writers-resource-cafe-com/ If you love to write, as I do, this is the place not only to enjoy writing ideas from the many prompts they recommend, but also to find a plethora of ideas about writing in all kinds of media: poems, essays, short stories and novels. They have tips on how to get published; how to enjoy writing more; how to develop characters etc. and just about everything that goes into writing today. Along with all of this wonderful information are examples of writing from these four experts. My sister is also an artist, and you can find some of her beautiful art at the top of some of the writing pieces. You can also submit some of your own writing and create your own Blog page on this site. This is good stuff, for sure, and should be enjoyed and shared by all writers, serious or otherwise, today. A short poem of mine that was picked up on this site with the prompt of "lillies delivered to your door without a signiture" was this:

Lillies at my door
Who are they for?
No name
What a shame
I'm allergic to flowers
They make me sneeze
So, what to do?
In lieu of taking them in
Give them to my neighbor
In twenty-two B
And say they're from me
Oh yeah! I like that idea.

I have some additional entries on this site as well, several other poems and one short story called The Homecoming if you are interested in reading them.

Hank and Henrietta

Today, as I drink my first cup of coffee, out my screen porch, sits our dove, Henrietta in a nest of her own making, feeding her new baby. I was surprised by this. After all, it is August and I thought all new baby birds arrived int he Spring. Apparently not. This is an amazing sight to watch and follow each morning as Henrietta or her mate, Hank, flies off to find food, and then returns to the nest to nourish their offspring. Hank and Henrietta have been with us for fifteen years, arriving the same year we moved into our new house, and returning each year, usually some time in February. Years ago I wrote a poem to celebrate our doves and will share it here.

Hank and Henrietta

One dove sits quietly, patiently

In the Evergreen tree, waiting

Stretching her neck to see her mate

Come swooping down to meet her

They have come back every year, these doves

To our back yard meadow

Since they first set up house in our tree

Feathering and nesting young doves

And then, nudging them from their nest

To fly from here, and find their own place to be.

And though I don't always attend to

nature's curious signs

I cannot help myself this morning

When I see these two love birds

Back again on February 23ed.

They are the same two we now call Hank and Henrietta

Coming back every year

From the very beginning, from the very start

Showing off their love, loyalty and family

And giving me an "aha" moment I can clearly see

That natures models life, and teaches harmony

Paradox of Man

My friend Chris who passed away was a deep thinker, perhaps too deep, but he had an insaciable curiosity about human nature and what motivated man to choose one path over another; what drove "him" to certain things, and what he perceived as the paridoxical nature of man. He clearly saw "the struggle" in choosing those things that led us to our authentic self, and those things that led us away from it. He wondered why it was so hard for man to live a disciplined and committed life, choosing that which was good for him. He pondered things like food, materialism, drugs, alcohol and sex, all potential temtations for misuse and distraction, and the things that can pull man away from real self actualization. Chris was a writer and an artist and a perfectionist. He drove himself passionatly to create beauty and honesty in the world thruough these two artistic venues. But he sometimes got caught up in the other side of his personality which he believed could be distructive. At times, he felt that there was a magnet type pull to this side of human nature that could not be denied; that it was out of man's control to resist.
This is by no means a new observation or a new question, but it is one that continues to plague mankind as it did my friend. Chris was always searching to understand this dicotimy, and though he could not find the answers he was seeking, he did experience the struggle.
Now, for Chris, the struggle is over but for us it continues. In the words of Michael Arlen, "there is one taste in all of us that is unsatisfied. I don't know what that taste is, but I know it is there. Life's best gift, hasn't someone said, is the ability to dream of a better world."
I welcome comment and dialogue about this observation.

A Dear Friend Gone

I have not been blogging lately. I have been grieving the loss of a very close and dear friend who passed away at the very young age of 31. Chris was like a son to my husband and me, and he will be sorely missed by both of us. Chris was such a bright, intelligent, energy-filled star in our lives with his passion for reading (only smart books), writing and art. When I was sick, he brought me flowers. He brought me special books he knew I would like to read. He took me to Chicago to see the Shakespeare Play, Troilus and Cressida that he and I were reading aloud together. He came on Sundays with his New York Times for us to read and talk about, especially the book section. I still cannot fathom that he is gone. I wrote a poem.
CHRIS
A friend of mine has passed away
And the loss is more for me to say
Than for him to lament
What now he does not know
How my heart sits low
With the loss of his smile and grace
Oh how he made me laugh
His presence was too loud
To now be gone
Gone now, gone for good
Lying dormant in the cemetery wood
Sometimes I hear his voice yet
Whispering in my soul
That sound that made him whole
And special just to me
He says he is not really gone
But my deepest sense
Knows our time together is no more
Yes my friend is gone....
No need now for seasonal clothes
Annoying exercise, and eating healthy foods
All that was spent when he went away
And now I hear him say
Take everything, my treasures, all my things
That made me Chris, your friend
And pitch the rest
I have no need for these
******************************************
And as I journey on
In all the days left to me
It will never be the same
I shall never see again
Those things we say together
In quite a similar way
Or enjoy as heartily
LIFE
Without him here
To share with me.
******************************************
I will miss you, dear friend.

Mythology Class

I am having lots of fun this summer taking a Mythology class at the community college where I live and also work. I am revisiting the Iliad and the Odyssey and all the mythical gods that played such important roles in Homer's epic stories. I have also been intrigued by how many of the themes in Greek and Roman mythology are part of our world today. It seems that history repeats itself over and over again and some things remain the same. Even in our religions of today, the themes and stories are similar. The myths are filled with "saviors and sacrifices" and humans who referred to themselves as gods. Even Julius Cesear was made a "god" after he died and his son referred to himself as "the son of God." There are heroes, saviors, demons and devils, clever tricksters and monsters, the righteous and the enemies, sea gods who whip up the oceans (Posiden) and jealous maidens galore. Interesting how well the tellers of old knew human nature so well. All good material for Shakespeare's plays! I am finding this all quite fascinating and even though I studied some of this in school, it is really coming alive to me for the first time. I traveled some of the places talked about in these myths, i.e. Greece, Rome, Delphi, Egypt but never really understood (as I do now) what I was seeing. I sure would get a lot more out of those trips now! Anyway, I am having a fascinating summer reading about the gods of myth, and in doing so, understanding our own culture better.

GARAGE SALE

Does anyone out there, other than me, think that having a Garage Sale is a worthwhile venture? I put this question out to my Facebook friends and, almost to a person, they said NO. Well, I would like to agree, and also disagree. I agree it is so much darn work that dollar for dollar, it is hardly worth it. I don't expect to make a lot of money so that, I guess, is the first thing in my favor. That I have cleaned out my basement, and gone through things I have not laid eyes on in years is a mixed blessing, at best. I could have just kept them in all of their tight, closed up boxes and continued to forget about them until the next move, or wait to have my children sort them all out, but I decided to do it myself with the help of my very willing (I have a gem) husband, and to my surprise, I have found some things that, in the past, I treasured. To find these "treasures" again brings some joy, but only if you have the time to enjoy them. The hard part is that, once discovered again, can I easily let them go?
My husband and I have taken our time with this enterprise which makes it not seem so daunting, but now, both of us are ready to have this abundance of household "taka taka" depart our garage for a new home. Both our cars are moaning that they have been left out in the rain too, too long. So this Friday and Saturday are the dates for many of our things to fly the coop and to be enjoyed by others. As I sat this morning deciding between $1.00 or $2.00 items, I had a bitter/sweet feeling about it all. Many of the things I was marking are a part of our history, and out they will go. I shed a slight tear, but not for long. It is one more layer that my husband and I are shedding as we continue on in life, finding more and more joy, not in things, but in each other, our families and our friends.

MEMORIAL DAY, 2010

MEMORIAL DAY, 2010

When I think of Memorial Day, of course, I think of war, and the sadness war has brought to all man-kind since the beginning of time. I have often thought that we should, by now, be beyond war; that the evolution of man would have placed us just below the angels (as many believe) rather than just above the apes which seems to be the reality. Our ancestors of ape-land are extremely teritorial, protecting to the death, with war-like intensity, their "place" on earth, just as we do the same. I so want to live in a more perfect world, but I think, even though we continue to evolve (and we have made progress), we will not arrive at a place of shared tranquility for a very long, long time (certainly not in my lifetime!). And sadly, it may never happen before we destroy ourselves, each other and all living things. A sad thought indeed! In the meantime, soldiers of every place on earth must die protecting their spot, and we must go on, sadly, remembering our soldiers and their families for their heroic efforts in protecting our spot. As I sat on my porch this morning looking out at my lush, green yard, I thought of all the war-torn places around the world, and wrote this poem.

THOUGHTS IN MID-MAY

I sit quietly on my porch in early morn
the end of the month of May
And look out to the distant field
Where prairie grass is beginning to sway
With the morning breeze

And, I see wildflowers starting to grow
In colors not yet defined
But which will be varied and brilliant
In time

The chickadees, finches and meadow larks
Warble and sing their song
And just below my open window
The purple, fragrant lilacs grow
From their hedges, row upon row

Our birdfeeder is busy too this a.m.
Yellow finches hanging upside down
Eating their morning breakfast down
While robins hop around the yard
In need of fresh worms to pull

Colors of green fill up the trees
Their different shaped leaves
Fluttering and flapping
In the morning breeze

But then I pause
And my thought begin to wander
To war-torn areas around the globe
Where nothing,
Not even a leaf can grow

Where nothing grows among the rubble
But more and more
War-torn trouble

A place where flowers won't bloom
And birds won't sing
And no grasses will grow

And I think of all of those
Who would wish to take my place
To be here in my space
Where flowers and grasses grow
And yellow birds sing

What is it about going to highschool with a class of 24 girls that makes you friends for life? I am guessing that without the distraction of boys in class with you, we had more time to knit true friendships and enjoy each other more fully. I also think that the small class of just 24 girls provided more opportunity to know and appreciate each other as individuals. That we wore uniforms and no jewelry (nuns would not allow this) contibuted to our not competing with each other except in field hocky, basketball and vollyball. We seem to have grown as a kind of family who cares about each other, and we are still a very close, caring group of women today. This past week, many of us were together in Cincinnati to celebrate a birthday of note for all of us, and we enjoyed dining together at the beautiful home of one of our classmates. We blew out the candles together on a lovely birthday cake and sang happy birthday to ourselves afterwards. We have all come a long way individually, but are still a close family of friends. I am so grateful for these wonderful women in my life.

My Mother

Sunday is Mother's Day and I would like to honor my mother with this beautiful orchid I wish I could give to her, and with this poem that I wrote about her. I loved my mom very much, and admired how she kept "it" all together, even when the seas were rough; she never was "at sea," herself, rather she kept our ship afloat, and all of her seven children moving along with good manners, good morals and good times. Here's to you Mom.

MOTHER

I remember my mother

in the basement

In front of the washing machine

with loads of wash

Darks, whites, and in-betweens

For seven children

And one very meticulous husband

Who wanted everything neat and clean

I remember my Mother

behind the ironing board

Pressing Peter Pan blouses

for brown school uniforms

And sewing on lost buttons

My Mother could work miricles

with leftovers

and create a delicious mystery stew

I remember my Mother

behind the wheel of our old station-wagon

Seven kids packed in tight

day or night

Driving us to art museums, skating rinks,

horse-back riding and tennis lessons

We were a captive audience to her plan

To have our fingers

In every piece of pie

in life

And to live large and full

But mostly.......

I remeber my Mother

telling a story

And laughing heartily at her own joke

My Mother loved a party

and reasons to celebrate

She seemed always to be happy

She would often say,

"Life is what you make it

It is really up to you"

Mother is gone now

But her laughter lives in me

I hear her still

Along with the thumping rumble

Of the old station-wagon.

Springtime, 2010

LET ME GO IN SPRINGTIME

Let me go in springtime

When I go

So that the long winter will not

Seem in vain

And I can hear again

The birds chirping one more time

Before I go

And I will want to see

The row of day lilies

That grow each spring

Along the hedge

And smell the lilacs below

My window pane

I will want to greet one more time

Hank and Henrietta, our doves

That come back each year

To nest in our Evergreen tree

And with my last breaths

I will, once again

Wish to enjoy the rabbits and their offspring

Hopping about and eating the new green shoots

From our garden

And see the ducks waddle by in pairs

Male chasing female

On their way to the lake nearby

I will want to hear the geese honk

Once again

Their message of delight

In flight overhead

As the robins jump about the yard

Finding worms in the wet spring earth

And if I am very lucky

A yellow chickadee will alight

Followed by the redbird

That finds our feeder every year

And the sun will warm my soul

Before I go

And I will be happy then.

Springtime birds

Today I want to talk about birds, since there is quite a variety flying around my back yard, and meadow these days. I really love birds, plain and simple! Their beauty and sound just make me feel happy. I know there is a book out with all the sounds to go with the birds, and I would like to own it, but alas, too much for my budget, so I will just have to try and guess which bird is singing, and calling to other birds at any given moment. My favorites these days are the little yellow finches that alight onto our thistle bird feeder when the red winged blackbird gets out of the way. I love their lovely color, and the way they eat upside down on the feeder. The red cardinals are next on my "hit" list, but they are more rare along with the blue birds. Robins, of course, are everywhere and last year I had the joy of watching a robin right out my bathroom window, build its nest branch by branch, sit on the nest forever, it seemed, and then hear the peep, peep, peep of the newborns. I watched as Papa bird and Mama bird took turns flying from the nest to bring back food, and watched as the babies stretched up out of the nest to be fed, mouth to mouth from their parents. And then, sadly, one day they were all gone. I guess this is the way it should be, but darn, I wanted to watch those kids grow up! Isn't nature wonderful? So many of us don't take the time to watch it unfold right before our eyes, but when we do, what an interesting and lovely show it is! Of course I have written several poems about the birds I love and I will share two of them here.

The Chickadee
There is nothing happier for me
Than a chickadee
Alighting on my window pane
And singing his little song
So merrily.......
How much I delight in thee!
And when you fly away from here
There is naught for me to do
But wait til once again you come
To make of my day, a song.....

Red Bird
Every morning, the red bird comes
Stopping briefly
To perch on my backyard deck

I stop
And put down my coffee
Slowly and quietly
Not to disturb
Or cause the flight
Of this fleeting, crimson sight
Which so delights my senses

I feel a sacred moment then
His brilliance planted firmly in my soul
That will last and last
Throughout my day
As I recall this image of delight
Cemented clearly in my heart
Before my red feathered friend
Flies away.....

Thoughts on turning 70

Ah, today I am thinking about numbers.....and all that numbers represent. Sums, dates, amounts, addresses, but very important to most of us: age. Ah but, it's just a number, isn't it? Well, yes, but then again, maybe no. Upon thinking and pondering my recent birthday milestone, I was quick to remind myself and others that, well, it's just a number but maybe it is more than that. It certainly represents the yin and the yang of my life; the before and the after; what has been, and what will be, for me, 70 years lived upon this earth, and an unknown number of years to come. It represents other milestones in my life too, like my high school years at Summit Country Day School; my first real love; my college years at Marquette University in freezing Milwaukee, Wisconsin; my two years as a Peace Corps volunteer in Tanzania, East Africa (quite warm); meeting and dating my one true love, my husband of 40 years, and our marriage in July, 1969; the birth of our two daughters and all the joyful years they brought to our lives; our eight year "party" in Colorado and then our return to the Midwest; and our happy landing in Normal, Illinois amidst the flatland of lovely farms, and the joys of living in a small Midwest town. In and among the areas and locations of my life are all the wonderful people I have met and the lasting friends I have made. I am abundantly blessed in this area of my life along with my Cincinnati family of six brothers and sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews and now, two wonderful grandchildren. So, no....70 is not just a number. It is the representation of a life lived, so far so good. The morning I turned 70, I woke up and said to my husband, "Well, I made it; the rest is gravy." Or as they say in New Orleans, the rest is "lagniappe-a little extra." I feel abundantly blessed, healthy and am continuing to charge ahead. Who could ask for more?? I love what Falstaff says in Shakespeare's play, Henry IV, Part One,
" If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is damned." I want to think of myself among that group.

Springtime At Last

Oh, those special signs of spring!!! How I love them; let me count the ways. A friend of mine once told me that I get so much joy from nature that it must truly be part of my spirituality. I agree. Nothing is more wonderful to me than a walk in the woods or a stroll around our farm, listening to the noises of nature or watching a bird build its nest which a Robin did last spring right outside my bathroom window, where I could watch him create it, twig by twig, stick by stick and branch by branch. What an incredible process to witness. An aside to this; I just saw a cartoon in the New Yorker where the mother bird is saying to Papa Bird as he is placing another piece of straw on the nest, "No, not there; put it over here." Hmmmm, even female birds may have that sense of design and decorating. Oh course, we know they don't; but wait, do we really know that??? Anyway, spring has once again come to the meadow outside my kitchen window and it does put an extra energetic step into my life. In celebration, I would like to share a poem I wrote another year at this same time called, SPRING AT LAST

SPRING AT LAST

Four long winter months have passed
Fourteen frigid weeks
One hundred twenty days
And now,
Out my kitchen window
Too long absent from my eye
Spring has come at last
Showing its face
And taking its spring-time place
In my backyard

No longer need I linger
lazily on my couch
Wrapped in blankets
to silence the chill
Thinking of this season to come
And anticipating its spring-time thrill

Soon I will go outside and lie down
on the tufts of soft green grass
beneath the oaks and sycamores
And see their buds appearing
And look upon a bring blue sky

And beyond my sights
In far distant fields
Where there are still patches
of winter snow
Just now, beginning to go
Spring-time is coming to the meadow too

Wrens and robins begin to sing
Their new season song
And call along
To other waking creatures of the fields
And from tree to tree
I see
A robin, a dove, a chickadee
Alight in the warm brignt sun
Male chasing female
Displaying bright bulging breasts
Enticing the females to their nests
To begin a family
In this heightened season of the senses
A time not to be alone

The rabbits too, shake their tails
And hale a new day dawning
Another season in which to romp
And stomp their rabbit feet

And now, I myself will go
Wherever nature leads my senses
Whirling winds
Animal movements
Woods running wild
Sunsets setting
Wherever cosmic energy leads me

And before it is over
I will wish that I could paint
And put upon a canvas
The colors and the forms
The emotions and the joys
That this season brings

For when melancholy moments
Come again in December
I will want to remember
All that this season has awakened in me
And the memory will serve me well.

Ah, another St. Paddy's Day come and gone. I have so many wonderful memories of this day during my growing up years. We were the Conlan family who had a direct link to the Irish Isle. My father's great grandparents came from Ireland, and like so many immigrants from that country, made their way slowly into the melting pot of America. Being Margretta Marie O'Conlan, (the clan dropped the O' after arriving in America as no Irishman wanted to "stand out." )I had a lot of heritage to celebrate, along with my six brothers and sisters, my closest sister being named Maureen. The Irish had their "troubles" here in America like all immigrants, and worked hard in menial tasks to make a living and establish themselves. How often I fail to think about the sacrifices and courage it took to do what they did, representing the basis for the sacrifices each generation had to make to get me to where I am today. And my father's great grandfather had courage indeed. He was in serious danger for teaching catholic doctrine along the hedgerows in Ireland where children came to learn in a very perilous environment. The British would not allow it, and so night after night, Dad's great grandfather would sneak out from his cottage and meet with those wanting to hear the Catholic word of God. For sure, he was afraid, but he did it anyway. One day, word came to him that he had been found out, and in grave danger. He fled, and hid in a ship going to America promising to bring his family over when he could, which he eventually did. When I was a little girl, wearing the green carnation my dad bought for his daughters each St. Paddy's Day, and the green ribbons I wore in my hair, I had no idea how deep went the roots and emotions of those who touched the lives of those brave immigrants starting over in a new land. Today, I do more than listen to Irish music and eat corn beef and cabbage. Every St. Paddy's Day I now take out the book written about my Conlan Irish heritage, look at all the pictures and faces of those who went before me, and say Thank You.

The Sea

As I sit looking out at the ocean today, thinking about my upcoming 70th birthday, I can't help but think of the poem, Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson. In the last several verses, Ulysses turns to his seafaring crew and says something like this, " We are growing old men, but I think we have one more good sail in us." And then to quote, "I will sail beyond the sunset and the baths of all the western stars until I die." In ending the poem, he says that it is his intention, "to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield." The author is suggesting, I think, that we go on, no matter our age, to continue to fight the good fight until the end. I like this advice and will continue on as long as my body and spirit are able and willing. And as I see a few shells on the beach, I am also reminded of Anne Morrow Lindbergh who wrote, Gifts from the Sea where she, in each individual chapter, meditates on youth and age, love and marriage, peace, solitude and contentment. She uses specific shells as metaphors of life beginning with the channeled whelk as a confining, duty-bound place that she is free from for a short time while at the beach. A respite from the every day obligations in the city where she lives. The moonshell represents solitude for her, a place and time we all crave in our very noisy Then comes the double-sunrise that is two shells joined together as one, but each maintaining its own identity and uniqueness.(marriage?) The oyster bed shell is a metaphor for moving on in life, getting out of our comfort zones to stretch ourselves and perhaps share our unique gifts with the world. In all of this, AML is searching for a simpler life, inner integrity and fuller relationships.
The ocean presents its own feelings of melancholy and solitude for me too, and like Ted Kennedy who always looked to the sea for comfort after each of his life tragedies, I too find a wonder and peacefulness in the sea.

While sketching these penguins, I was thinking about how resilient penguins are. It is the very nature of penguins to "stay the course," even in the midst of great danger and hardship. They instinctively "muster on" in the frozen tundra powering through great physical challenges. Just living on the frozen tundra would be enough of a challenge for me, but they also journey 30-40 miles during mating season, far away from their food source on their little legs. They must wobble precariously on their small wobbly feet or glide on their stomachs paddling with their tiny feet. They slip and slide undeterred to reach the area where they will court, mate (just once), nest, incubate and protect their young. Often, for over 100 days in temperatures as low as -80*F, and without food, the male and female take turns returning to the sea (40 miles away) to obtain food to bring back for their young chick. They make this long, dangerous trip over and over again during this period. While waiting, the other penguins huddle together in a big circle (literally, the circle of life) to stay warm. They take turns with the warmest inside spots. The penguins never waver in this pursuit, no matter how difficult the task. So many lessons I draw from the penguins way of life; too apparent to list here, but something to reflect on.

Valentine's Day

This is what my house looked like on Valentine's Day this year. I was surrounded by those I love the most; my wonderful husband (this rose being one of a dozen he gave me), my two fabulous daughters, my awesome son-in-law and Michelle's significant other, Scott DeWeese, and my two fun, and funny grandchildren. Life is good this year, and what could be better than being surrounded by those you love on Valentine's Day? It was not always the case in my growing up years, and I remember many a lonely Valentine's Day when I did not think that anyone loved me. I can think all the way back to grade school when the magnetic pull between boy and girl begins, and I was in love with so many of the cute boys in my class. Back then, we decorated shoe boxes with red crape paper, ribbons, white doilies and anything else that would suggest love. Usually the rule was that everyone in the class got a valentine from everyone else; no one was to be left out, and I was just foolish enough to actually think that if I happened to get one of those three cent valentines that said "Will you be mine?" it really meant something from that cute boy across the isle. In fact, his mom probably wrote out his valentines for him, and he was clueless as to who got which one. In many ways, Valentine's Day is much like New Year's Eve; it is hard to be without a "love" for either of these occasions, but I had plenty of these. I remember many times being in tears. I guess that this is one reason that today I am so grateful when I look around and see how lovingly rich my life is. And to all the singles out there, I want to say, keep the fires burning and the hope alive. True love will come along when you least expect it. It did for me!