A Time To Love

The old lady laments that she can't have nostalgia with the old man because he doesn't remember anything. The old man says there is nothing worth remembering, that these are the good old days. Maybe he is right. But if you don't remember the past do you ever learn anything? I want to remember this time and enjoy it too. Not everyday is a party, but isn't everyday a time to love?

Our honorary niece, Crystal, married her love high on top of a ski slope on Saturday. We took the chair lift to a sweet tented pavilion set up for the ceremony. Looking down we could see this beautiful, verdant area and because the sky was so clear we could see downtown Minneapolis. The words were simple and simply said, to love each other. Our extended family sat together in a state of bliss. We were loving love and that expression of love by two people we loved. I think we all got a little verklempt when we saw the lovely bride and when she and Mark faced each other and held hands.

I know that time of marriage with S is over. I don't really miss him as much as I miss working towards the goal of a good life together. As I watched Crystal and Mark, I wanted so much to tell them not to let life get them down. Let life bring you together.

This evening I took the old man and old lady to Chez Daniel in Bloomington. They love the rack of lamb, which is cooked to order. We spent a very easy two and a half hours in a nice setting enjoying good food. We did not have to go anywhere and the old lady said it was like being on vacation. I think back to when they first came out here and the agony of eating out with them. Being in a state of peacefulness and love certainly helped to enjoy the meal. I did not get indigestion. Were they any better? Not at all. My father was rude to the wait assistant and my mother took out her teeth and rinsed them in the water glass.

The awareness of love is a gift. Although it is always there, surrounding us and keeping us alive, the recognition of love is precious. And for all the times I forget, right now I am remembering that the time to love is now.

Mother's helper

The old lady called and told me there is something wrong with her TV. She hears a voice at about three in the morning yelling, "Wake up, wake up!" followed by the sound of birds. She said she has heard the birds for a couple of days but last night was the first time she heard the wake up words. I can't find any alarm on her set or on the remote. I called Dynex and spoke to someone with a heavy accent who assured me that any kind of alarm on the set would be a beep. The old lady wears a talking watch and while I was there it announced that it was 10 AM. Since it was late afternoon I knew her watch was wrong.  How she got it fapoopled I don't know. I said I thought the setting for the alarm was off, too, and that she must have selected something other than the usual rooster. She insists it is the TV.

The old man wasn't wearing his dentures and hearing aids. He was taking tiny little shuffling steps, and wasn't using words, just a kind of sign language. He is a mess and I got him talking and when I asked him if he was wearing his teeth he was genuinely amazed to realize he hadn't put them in. The little radio/cd player he takes out to the gazebo is screwed up and I left with a talking watch, the radio and the realization that these people are exceeding all life expectancies at 95 and 96. I thought last summer was the last time the old man would go in the lake but he surprised us and was able to float around with Erica  twice this summer. I can't imagine, even if he makes it another year, that he will be able to go in the lake again.

This evening was the last Wednesday concert for the summer at Wolfe Lake Park. The Sounds of Simon is a very talented Simon and Garfunkel tribute band. Once again I am in awe of the poetry and songwriting skills of Paul Simon and grateful to be living in a lovely area. I thank again the people who have made it possible to be here and also there for my parents when they need me.

How not to impress me

Be careful what you wish for!  I mentioned that I would like to meet a man who isn't shy and is an interesting conversationalist. I said I was tired of carrying the conversation. Well! I forgot to say make sure he lets you talk too and is not a windbag. Everyday is another learning experience. The lesson? None of us is as interesting as we think we are. Hence the short entry.

Pride and Papa

There is an old saying that pride goeth before a fall. I think it doesn't have to be before a fall; it can be before a step down. When I first lost my job, I was confident I would have a new one before the unemployment ran out. I was not going to take a job that paid less than what I was making. That did not happen. Here is another way of looking at it. Using "goeth" for goes, pride must leave before one can take a step down. One must get rid of pride before anything can happen. Five years later pride is gone, I am open. I am at a point financially that I became willing to look at jobs that I otherwise would not consider.

Today I took a drug test to prove that I am safe to hand out samples at Costco. (In fact I had to take three because I didn't give them enough the first two times. Not much pride in sitting in a waiting room for hours nursing cups of water.) I am excited to have a job. I hope I am good at it and don't lose my cool with the customers. As soon as they get back the criminal background check, I'll start my training. (Veggie chips? Right over here sir.)

Yesterday I had to take the old man to the dermatologist where they carved away a little more of his skin, this time on his arm. While we were in the car I told him about the job and the criminal check. I joked that those ten years at Leavenworth will look bad on my record. Then I asked him if he ever was in jail and he answered, "Sure." I asked what for and he told me because he had nowhere to stay. He was thirteen or fourteen. How many times? He thought maybe eight times. Then I asked him what happened, where did he go after jail? Did he find a place to stay? He went back to the streets and found a grate. My heart broke for that poor scared child. I never knew that.

He had a mother and a father, grandparents and cousins and no one to take him in. He wasn't a bad child, a thief or a criminal, just unwanted and overlooked. He is deeply flawed, and in his mind he did his best to keep his family together after my mother died. He provided a home and a step mother. He was a madman it is true. It was only when he was 90 and started taking antidepressants that he became a fairly decent person and still he can be awful.

The Dalai Lama talks all the time about compassion. It is only by imagining ourselves in another persons place that we can try to understand and have that compassion. When we were kids we'd ask the old man where he went to college and he would respond, "The school of hard knocks." He has kept most of his early life a secret, let out in dribs and drabs as he ages. It was hard to have any compassion for him before I knew the story of the orphan asylum. We only knew what we could see, and what we saw was violence and anger. Yet there would be glimpses of a loving heart at times. I've had compassion for the man who lost his wife and had three children to raise and compassion for the father who lost his twenty-one year old son. But I had no compassion for the way he was because I didn't understand how he got that way. Having that compassion makes it hard to stay mad at the stuff he says and does.

The medical intuitive Carolyn Myss says that there are entities we meet before birth with whom we make a sacred contract to achieve a goal in this life. I thought for quite a while that maybe the old man was here for me to learn forgiveness, but maybe I am here to help him end his life feeling safe and secure. (Either way, I still want to end it with him this incarnation.)

A Wake Up Call

I usually wake up quite early, feed the kitten and myself and go back to bed for a few hours. (Sounds tough, I know.) This morning I woke up for the second time on my knees by the bed holding my head. I had no idea how I got there or why I was seeing stars. It felt like I had smashed my head on a car door. The only thing I can figure out is that I must have fallen out of bed and hit the corner of the night table on my way down. I got a package of frozen food and put it on the lump and kept it there until my forehead was numb. The cold pack was probably a good move because what could have been a huge ugly bruise is only a slightly discolored lump and can be covered with hair.

I am calling this my wake up call to remind me to get up and enjoy the day I have been given and this precious life. I can sleep when I'm dead. I am also going to sleep more centrally in the middle of the bed.

Addendum: 8 AM, up, dressed, bed made, good breakfast, cat fed, litter box cleaned. No going back to bed today.

How I am doing

Since we only have this moment, I mean this one, not the one that just passed, no, no, this one... well you get the idea, I am doing fine, this moment. Beautiful breakfast of tuna salad made with wasabe mayonnaise and dill weed on caraway rye and very garlicky marinated cucumber salad. If people have pancakes for dinner, why not lunch for breakfast? It makes sense to me. (Sometimes I love being a grown-up.) I have had a lot of ups and downs these past two weeks, but since I only have this fleeting now, I choose to let those experiences go and focus on the positive now.

I am in a 16 week diabetes research study where I have to record all my numbers and now in the fifth week  I am adjusting insulin to the data I submitted. It is a study for a new computer program that will advise dosages on a personal scale that goes according to blood glucose. It is hard to explain.

Furry little Piper is doing well. His abscess is gone and I don't think I have to give him any more antibiotic. He is full of beans and into everything. He is not an abandoned baby anymore but a cute and cuddly six week old growing every day. There has never been an ugly kitten, but gosh, he is so cute. If he hadn't fallen in my lap this way, I would have adopted an older cat. I forgot how much energy kittens take! He needs lots of playtime and has wrestled my arm and hand into submission. He gives little bites, but does not break skin. The one good thing about having neuropathy in my feet is he can chew toes and it doesn't hurt. He enjoys the computer, watching fingers fly and laying his head on the warm laptop. Sometimes he sleeps in a position that looks just like the tiger in Calvin and Hobbes. I had the opportunity to drive cross country with my daughter but what would I do with the kitten? Hmm, a complication I hadn't thought about. As my father would say, "Caught like a rat in a trap!" More like caught like a pet owner with a new pet.

I've applied for an $11. an hour part time job. I sure hope I am not overqualified. Why did I attach my resume? Knucklehead. I have also been in my pool almost every day this summer and have actually lost two whole pounds in the last month. Instead of looking at it as just a fraction of how much more I need to lose, I am looking at it as two pounds I didn't gain. There is perspective for you, clear thinking and positive outlook. Wouldn't you hire me?

The phone just rang! She will interview me on Tuesday at 1:30. Be still my heart!

When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping again

First off, Baby Piper is doing just fine. The vet was able to drain his abscess and formulate a tick medicine for his weight. I've washed all the bedding again though I look awful with scabby bites all over my body. They wouldn't be so bad if I didn't scratch, so of course I scratch all the time. Time for Benadryl or it's generic equal and off to Walgreens.

Then to the Unique Thrift Store for some bargains. I love the Unique. You can find what you are looking for and other things not even on the radar. I didn't buy the dolls from the 50th anniversary of It's A Beautiful Life, or another glass bowl or stuffed dog. But I did get what I went there for, a Diaper Genie! I don't have an infant nor do I provide daycare, but I am cleaning out a catbox daily. This gets rid of the paper bag and the mess and smell. $3.95 well spent. I also got a standing lamp and shade, a like-new cat carrier and (drum roll please) a genuine Louis Vuitton handbag shaped like a bowling bag.

It is over $1,400.00 new, $500 used on eBay and mine for $5.95. It has a tiny tear on the lower piping and shows use on the inside, but I am jazzed.  Will I keep it or give it away? If this is something your heart has been crying for, let me know. I truly believe that possessions find their owners.

Lay down with kittens, wake up with fleas

The vet combed the kitten and couldn't see any fleas. She warned me they might be in the egg stage. I have a feeling they are not eggs any longer. I still can't see them, but something has me all bitten up! Quick search on Google tells me Piper is too young to use chemicals on and that I will be washing every bit of bedding AGAIN. The treatment is to bathe him with Dawn dishwashing detergent. Thank goodness he is tiny and my sink is deep. I think I can do it by myself. 

We were lucky that our daughters never caught lice. Dumb luck since elementary schools are the place even the cleanest of kids get them. There was a time when my nephews and niece got lice and kept getting re-infested. Their mother had to wash all the bedding and all their clothes time and time again. What a job! 

Right now he is running across the top of the couch and ducking down under the pillows in the corners. He is as cute as cute can be, fleas and all. 

Dear Readers, if you have hints on how to deal with this pesky problem on a tiny kitty and a carpeted apartment, please let me know. Thanks! 

Piper!

Yesterday my friend gave a home to a kitten that was found in a drainage pipe. Today it occurred to her that there might be be another kitten abandoned. I am now the owner of a little boy kitten. He is all of 3/4 of a pound and only four weeks old. He likes being held and has a squeaky little voice and a very quiet purr.

I don't know why people just throw animals out of car windows. Don't they know they can take them to the Humane Society, a no kill shelter? (Why do people put newborns in the garbage when any fire station or hospital will take the infant?)

My friend named her little girl Nefertiti. I looked at Egyptian names but thought since he was found in a pipe, he should be Piper. He has eaten a little sliced turkey, lapped at a little formula, and pooped in his sleeping box.  Hopefully tomorrow he will use the litter box.

Thank you

To my daughters, thank you for making me a mother. It was the best job on earth and I am privileged to have watched you grow into wonderful women and the most decent of human beings.
To my son-in-law and his son, thanks for making me a mother-in-law and instant granny!
To my nieces and nephews, thank you for making me an auntie, and now a grauntie. It is wonderful to be a part of your life, be you near or far.
To my generous in-laws, thank you for helping me achieve independent living. My debt is immeasurable.
To my almost ex, thank you for going through much of life's adventure with me and not smothering me in my noisy thrashing sleep! Thanks for staying a friend.
To my sister, always there, and there always, thank you.

To the men and women sounding the sirens, thank you for being available to help those in crisis.
To the municipalities that provide clean water available twenty-four hours a day at the touch of a faucet, thanks.
To the growers, pickers, drivers and retailers in the supply chain of food, thank you for making life delicious.
To the hallway cleaners at the condo, thanks for all your efforts to keep my home beautiful.

To the teachers who taught me with passion, thank you.
To the taxpayers who funded my education, thank you. I will always remember the next generation.
To bosses who showed me respect, thank you and you have my respect.
To bosses who did not lead well, thank you for showing me what not to do.
To the administrators and aides who work with our seniors to keep them healthy and in their own homes, thanks.

To my old man, who makes demands, rarely says thank you, and doesn't appreciate what is done for him, thank you for being my father.  Contrary to your example I have become a giving person who is learning patience and forgiveness. When your actions annoy me I have the opportunity to assess my reactions and see the direction I want to grow. Being with you and learning more about your life has made me more compassionate. It has shown me that each minute brings a choice, to be miserable and make life miserable for those around us, or live in light.

Call me Sunbeam.

Thinking about kindness and compassion

On a daily basis, I try to be kind. I try to see the other's point of view (if I can look beyond my own). But how about compassion? A few examples; a dithery kind of nosey old lady came to my door to invite me to something happening in the building. I stood in the doorway and gave her the information. I did not invite her in, as I would most anyone. Was I unkind or just practical knowing it would be hard to get her to leave? A man from an online site contacted me that he was going to be in the area fairly regularly because he had a mother who lived here. It turns out that he is married and she does not know he contacts other women. Would I even meet him for a friendly lunch? No. I do not want to be part of another woman's unhappiness. Is it unkind not to make a new lunch pal? The practical part of me says, "Take care of you. Don't waste your time with people who are not of interest to you." But the part that looks over my shoulder says I could  have been kinder. I play a non-monetary betting game on line and often let the person with the fewest points win. Talk about random acts of kindness! It would be impossible to be any more random.

Several years ago I was lucky enough to see the Dalai Lama in person when he came to Minnesota. One story he told was of his friend, a monk who spent 20 years in a Chinese prison. When asked about the hardest part he said it was keeping his compassion for the Chinese. I knew I was quite far from that high place.

I was one of the biggest anti-Bush people around. I could not watch him speak or look at his face. One year my nephews gave me a life size George W cutout for Christmas. I screamed and threw it on the floor after opening it. Then I jumped on the effigy. Too bad no one caught it on tape; that would have won the prize. Much to my surprise, at the Obama inauguration I felt real compassion for him as outgoing president and human being. No one wanted to shake his hand. He looked so sad and lost. He truly didn't understand that his game was over and no one wanted to play with him anymore. As his helicopter flew away, I felt a weight come off my shoulders. It would take years to fix the country he and his friends broke. But I did feel compassion for that sad man. I admit it will take more years, if ever, for me to forgive Rove, Cheney and that pack of thieves. Heck, I am still angry at the damage done by Reagan.

It is all bound up together, kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. I am not sure I can have one without the others. It is Monday, a good day for working on all three.

ADDENDUM:
A man made a date with me last week for lunch today. He stood me up, no call, text, or email until this afternoon when he sent me a fb message saying he had been in a meeting he could not get out of. OK, I told him all the alternatives he could have done and that he left me looking like a fool. I showed no compassion, kindness, or forgiveness. I am not really mad, but I wanted him to feel bad... I have such a far distance to go to be the person I want to be.

ADDENDUM 2:
I accepted a nice apology.

Missing our mothers

Today on fb I reconnected with a friend from back in the day. It has to be well over 40 years since we had seen each other. We both lost our mothers at a young age. She wrote, "I was so young when she died, and have spent a good deal of time learning who I am based on that single event (and how it changed me)."


Oh my goodness. I was six and I remember only good things about my mother (and one time that she got mad at me for breaking a lamp) and the aspirations she had for me. She got me my first library card at four years old and I still read voraciously. I can still see the sun making the children's room at Grand Army Plaza golden. I learned to ride a bike because I remember my mother showing me a picture of college girls riding through the autumn leaves and telling me I would do that. None of that came to pass and when my father was most out of control I would often wonder how different my life would have been had she still lived.

My father is a man who cannot handle change, based on his own horrific upbringing and my mother kept him in check. He was left with and 11, 6 and 2 yr old. He remarried a woman ill prepared to cope with all of it about a year after my mother died.

When my eldest was six I went for grief counseling and the therapist told me it was natural for me to feel anger at the one who died. But I didn't because I knew deep in my soul that she NEVER wanted to leave me, never, never, never. I have had a rocky life with the old man and in 2005, I moved him and my stepmother from Bayview to assisted living in a suburb of Minneapolis. The crisis commuting was too much.

She is 96 and he is 95, married over 50 years; I have no doubt that I did the right thing even though they have taken five years of my life. Their declining years are peaceful, especially since the old man is on an anti-depressant. How I wish we could have got him on something years ago. What a change for the nicer, although he can still be a pain in the ass.

We will always miss our mothers. The old lady still misses her mother who died in 1969. I went to the cemetery back in 1996 and just howled with grief when I saw her headstone and quite alarmed my 19 year old daughter. The best I can do to honor her memory is live a good life, or a life of goodness. I have been so lucky to have had a wonderful mother-in-law and even though I am not married to her son any longer, she still considers me her daughter. 

I look forward to a long life as a mother. I am learning to keep my mouth closed and treat my daughters as the strong women they are who don't need my advice. They just need my love and acceptance, which they have in bushels.

The worst that could happen

When I was a young girl shopping with my step mother in NY I thought the worst that could happen was getting separated and lost among the crowds of shoppers. As a young mother I thought it might be going to jail. These things never happened. As a woman in my late fifties I found myself saying that the worst had happened and I lived through it, no fear. I lost my marriage and job and found myself saddled with demanding old parents and no income. But these are not the worst that could happen. Oh, no, not by a very long measure.

I live in a beautiful little place in a nice neighborhood. My children are healthy, I have some friends. The refrigerator is filled with good things to eat. Hennepin County has a fabulous library system and a program that keeps old people in their homes and healthy. I just took a shower in water that is piped to my condo, both cold and hot. My health is fine and If I am not happy, it is because I am focusing on a few blades of crabgrass in an otherwise verdant lawn.

In parts of this world women are stoned to death for adultery. Villagers walk miles to get water from suspect sources. Children go to sleep and wake up hungry as their parents are helpless to feed them. A huge population of children in Africa have lost their parents to AIDS and the lucky ones have a grandmother to raise them. Displaced people are roaming the earth looking for a safe shelter that they can call home. Brides are being burnt in India, yes, there is a whole long list to make one sad. In North Minneapolis a day doesn't seem to go by without a shooting incident of some kind. Call me Debby Downer if you must.

I truly do not know the answers for all the problems in this world. I know though that I must acknowledge the suffering. I can't say that a young woman cast out of her village for having a fistula is not my problem and since there is not much I can do about it I don't need to know about it. It seems to me that by appreciating my life, by seeing how very blessed I am, an energy is given me. By gaining perspective, I gain in compassion and understanding.  The Dalai Lama talks so much about compassion because it is only through that compassion we put ourselves in a mindset where we can work for the betterment of all. Today, I am striving for compassion and I hope I achieve some. Why not? What is the worst that can happen?

A conversation for the birds

Up very early, before the sun listening to the birds. I swear it sounds like conversation.
"Chirp?"
"Go back to bed, sun isn't up."
"Chirp, chirp?"
"It is Sunday, let me sleep a little longer."
"Chirp... chirp.... CHIRP!"
"We'll eat soon."
"Chirp?"
"I don't know... where do YOU want to go?"
"ChIrp's?"
"We can go to McDonalds anytime, let's go someplace different."
"Chirp?"
"The bistro with the outside tables. Bound to be french fries on the sidewalk."
"Chirp, chirp, chirp chirp ChIrp's!!!"
"If you want McDonalds so badly, ask your father to take you."

I think they have gone to forage because the chirps have really subsided and the earlier discussions are over with just a few early morning greetings here and there. I really love this time of morning. Wishing all a wonderful day, and remember to eat breakfast. It can be the best meal of the day, worms aside.

One of a kind

At a senior assisted living apartment building, people come and go. Mostly they go to the hospital and then rehab. Sometimes they come back.  I saw a friend of my parents last week when I took my father to the gerontologist. She was in great spirits and looking forward to coming back. She visited the building on  Friday and my mother remarked how happy she was to see her. You don't need to know her health problems, suffice it to say they were severe.

Shirley died this morning. My mother is devastated. We are in agreement that we're glad she did not have to suffer very much and that she got to see her friends before she died. Then my mother gave the greatest eulogy a person could have. She said, "Shirley was one of a kind. She was tolerant with a good word for everybody. She was a friend to all. She was kind to all. I am going to miss her."

Goodbye dear lady, may we all be as graciously remembered.

A day at the beach, and after

I brought my thousand year old parents to the beach to enjoy the warm weather on Saturday. It was a bit of work because I had to go back to the old house, find the floats and chairs and then set up at the beach before I picked them up. The old man, 95, had his jams and a sun-safe shirt on. He also wore sandals and a sun-safe hat. The old lady, 96, wore white shorts and a little top, sandals and a straw hat. She sat in the shade while Erica and I took the old man out on the lake. It takes two to get him on the float and four to get him off and on his feet up on the beach. Since Eri was on another float and both were on a long rope tied to the buoy, I got to play on flotation noodles with my nine year old grandson. John sat with Bubby up on the chairs.  Afterward we all went to the Soho Cafe and ate NY style pizza.

Later, talking to John at the condo pool, I said that I never expected them to live this long. I truly thought last summer would be the last time my old man would be on the lake. He really is much weaker this year, and I don't see myself bringing him to the beach without assistance like before. I brought him to the doctor earlier this week when he was running a fever and John asked why I keep on taking care of him when I profess I can't wait for him to die. Now that I started taking care of him I just can't stop and say he is on his own. I took on a job and have to finish it. Some people have told me I have done more than anyone could expect. That is probably true but it isn't over until they are gone. I've been told I will miss them when they are gone. We shall see.

I have never been a good sleeper but after my hours at the lake and pool I slept almost nine hours, got up for awhile and went back to sleep for another three hours! I was thrilled when Pete and Les invited me out for dinner. It's fun to drive down Nicollet Avenue, commonly called "Eat Street" and chose from the  myriad of ethnic dining choices. We went to the Noodle Bowl, a newer Vietnamese restaurant that Laurel and I found last week where we had wonderful Pho'. Today we enjoyed three distinct tastes; curried chicken, seafood stir fry and an incredible beef chow fun. We didn't order anything spicy but that beef nearly blew my head off. Pete said it reminded him of Singapore and it was the best thing he had in a long time.

Later today a friend is coming over with his pasta maker and we are going to spend the day making noodles and sauce. In between we will run out to the pool and relax. Later we might go to the movies. Isn't life different than we think it will be? All the worry and plans, hopes, expectations and sometimes disappointments works out to something different. The family get together turns into three different days, some time with family, some with a friend, and some just all alone. And rather than the usual picnic/barbeque food I get to enjoy pizza, amazing Asian and later, home made pasta. If I can remember that each day is an opportunity to be amazed with wonder at life, what a wonderful life it can be.

As my friend Michael ends his email, blessed be.

An Unusual Fourth of July

Independence Day is another name for July 4th. I started thinking about freedom and independence and what it means to me. 

Janis Joplin sang: 

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose
Freedom ain't worth nothing but it's free." 

Recently Martina McBride recorded a song about a woman who gets her revenge on an abusive husband:

 "Let freedom ring, let the white dove sing let the whole world know that

Today is a day of reckoning let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong 

Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay, it’s independence day".

Well! I guess if I had to choose (and I don't) I would roll Janis' way. I never really looked for freedom. I liked having encumbrances and responsibilities. I liked having people depend on me. These days I feel rudderless, without an anchor, and I don't really like it. 

For me, July 4th is right up there with Thanksgiving as an important family holiday. Our dear friends who usually host the get-together at their lake home are unable to this year due to an accident. Our host and hostess go out of their way to make it a special day for us. I wish I could take away our hostesses pain and make it a special day for her. So far I will be alone. I know there will be people here at the condo hosting their families by the pool. Maybe one or both of my girls will come by. I would like to see my son-in-law and grandson. Maybe I will be invited somewhere. (Hint?)

I have also been thinking about my responsibility as an American. The founding of this country as a democracy was an experiment never seen before. On paper it was wonderful. What a goal, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Of course it was more wonderful for land owning white men than it was for their wives or slaves, servants, or native peoples as the case might be. As those founders died off their words lived on. So many people have come here looking for a better life, either financially, politically or spiritually and many have found what they are looking for. We are a people who pursue happiness. Drive by the parks this weekend and see the families being happy together. (Hey, who forgot the ice?) It is the national pastime and each of us as free to pursue it in the manner we please.

On paper it still is a pretty wonderful thing and over the years we have tried to foist it on peoples around the world who haven't the historical context to apply it in their cultures. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't and sometimes corruption takes place instead. I want America to be the good neighbor, setting by example a standard  for the world to emulate. I want the words on the paper to be ones we actually live by. One sad thing for me was finding out that what I thought was altruism was just capitalism. Another is knowing that we talk about freedom of speech, but in truth, pointing out the Emperor isn't wearing clothes can get me into trouble. I have never believed in "my country right or wrong." Nor do I believe our way is the only one that God approves of or that God blesses America more than any other nation.

Our time here on Earth is finite. Our lives are but a grain of sand in the vastness of the universe. Our form of government can't even be measured in the wheel of time, two hundred plus years is too small to notice. This Independence Day I say, "God bless the whole world, no exceptions." 

Be well and heal soon dear Clara. 

Parties or Petunias?

Friday afternoon I needed to stop at Costco Pharmacy for one item and one item only. It was exceptionally crowded and I had to park way over by Home Depot. On the way in I saw a woman come out with a gorgeous garden pot of succulent plants. 

I strolled the samples while waiting for my order and did some judicious shopping, a two-pack of tiny watermelons, Healthy Choice fudgesicles, and found myself looking at the garden pots, again. I just wanted to see if I could find another pot of succulents. Geraniums, petunias, and combinations of both for only $9.99. No I did not need another pot of each. Too bad about the succulents, though. They would have wintered over beautifully. And then I saw back on the shelf a Gerbera daisy! It was in a pot with my favorite wax begonias and ivy. I grabbed it and put in the cart. My daughter told me I had to stop buying flowers, but oh, I wanted these. Back went the rotisserie chicken, and back went the pita chips; there, I justified the flowers.

I used to live on a hill with tons of room to plant whatever I wanted. I started out so ambitiously with raspberry canes and dahlias. I planted tulips and wild flowers. The chipmunks ate everything planted. I never saw the fruit or flowers. Every petunia got leggy and ugly. I had some luck with hanging begonias and roses grown in pots. I was so proud of those roses! Over the years I planted five rose bushes each year and treated them like fragrant annuals. I would joke that I didn't deserve a large yard; I was the type of gardener who should live in a condo with a little patio.

This spring S brought over my large planters and several small pots. I bought starter and seeds and planted morning glories and sweet peas in the small pots. I am training them to go up a wrought iron fence. Five new rose bushes, and a few $.86 geraniums in small pots and I was proudly done. Then a tomato plant that is actually producing little tomatoes, and a couple of huge pots on sale and a hibiscus that was practically free. Whereas on .65 acres I confined myself to a few roses, here on my patio I have twenty-one pots and I love each and every one. Stop me before I plant again.

I am living on a very tight income these days. This has been a weekend of parties that I could have attended. I really wanted to see some out of town people at one of them. But when I figured the price of admission to the club, parking, the cost of refreshment I realized I would rather spend my discretionary dollars on flowers.  When I had to weigh the cost of the party against the pot of flowers, I chose the one that would give pleasure all summer long.

Making my daughters sick

Wow, that is a dramatic title!

My girls are all grown up and each has food sensitivity issues and I have unintentionally been making them sick. One has cut out all dairy and gluten because the consequences outweigh the pleasure. No buttery cupcake is worth the headache that inevitably follows. My other daughter is learning to live without a gall bladder and I keep making her sick with ice cream or melted cheese.

My great-niece is showing food sensitivities and her mother is aware of what will and will not make her break out. No one thinks it is a fad or all in the baby's brain. Unfortunately grown-ups are not given that level of respect. They are labeled food faddists. I am reminded of a character in the book Vision of Light by Judith Merkle Riley. Margaret is accused of false piety when she keeps Lent all year and never eats meat. She explains that she is not pious or putting herself above the priests; she just gets stomach aches when she eats anything that ever had eyes.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T and M-M-O-B (mind my own business) are the buzzwords for today. Respect the choices people make and trust what they are doing is right for themselves and mind my own business. Mother needs to be mindful not to judge and to keep sorbet in the freezer. I don't know whether I can give up a lifetime of offering food but I can lovingly offer food without gluten or dairy or hard to digest fats. Anyone want a cherry? How about some grapes? I have a potato...

What if?

After seeing the newest Robin Hood film with Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett, I am left with some questions. Aside from the obvious such as how much is historically accurate, why isn't Maid Marian wearing a wimple, and how did they film some of the scenes, how different would the world be if the people who started war actually led the troops on the field of battle?

In the olden days a leader was often a warrior and chieftain, up to and including kings and other "nobles". If you wanted your clansmen and countrymen to fight you had to be up there with them. Of course in those days most fiefdoms were smaller than the nations we have today. King Richard, also known as Lionhart, died in battle. His rotten younger brother also went to war (and then reneged on his contracts.)

In latter centuries, leaders have lead from war rooms, keeping track of battles on many fronts. I can't imagine FDR leading from a wheelchair or Winston Churchill on a horse. Recent histories have revealed the private lives of these leaders. Although they worked hard and worried about their troops, they also drank champagne while those troops slept in foxholes and ate c-rations.

What if George W led the attack in Iraq rather than show up for a staged photo-op declaring "Mission accomplished"? What if he went himself to the mountains of Afghanistan to root out Osama Ben Laden? What if Saddam Hussein and Osama Ben Laden led not by orders, but by example? Would the world today be a safer place?

There are young men and women all over the world, on both sides of every altercation and philosophy willing to put their lives on the line for their country and their beliefs. I do not think a king or president's life is more valuable than that of a misguided suicide bomber or a career Marine. I do think that before anyone asks them to make the sacrifices that they do, they should be willing to put their life on the line, too.  If not, then make peace.