February | 2020 | reverse threading

February 17, 2020
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

“we should be wide awake.” [merely-a-thought monday]

i sleepily rub the dreams from my eyes. coffee helps. and the snowy world outside comes into focus. no longer immersed in the land of nod, all things rush back: the casts, the worries, work task lists, bills to pay, the world around us. before i peruse the news and the weather, though, i mind’s-eye blow my children a kiss and wish them good days, i hug the dog and the cat lying by my side, i thank sweet d for the coffee with the ernie straw. it all starts. the day has begun.

this past week has been extraordinary in so many ways; more on that another time. i’m buoyed by a hopeful spirit, by connecting with people, by sheer love and the sureness-of-foot taking one step at a time, moving forward; the tide is predictable – it ebbs; it flows. i am wide awake now, thinking.

“we should be wide awake.” yes. for all things. we should have our eyes open. we should monitor our response to the positive, the negative. we should be mindful. just as worry pervades our time, so does hope. we need lead with kindness. we need remember we are sharing this good earth with a hard-to-fathom 7.6 billion or so other souls. we can’t avoid the reality that the narrative we each individually choose must be deliberately and painstakingly vetted with the truth, with awareness, with sensitivity, with fairness. not sleepily, not uninterested-in-all-but-the-reactionary-anger-dramatics, not without due diligence. we must guard against the bandwagon of lackadaisical; we must avoid the geared-down rhetoric of hatred. we are human beings and we have a responsibility.

just as certain as the tide, it is predictable that the two factions in any division will aggressively forward their agendas. it is up to each of us to stay informed, to discern, to ask questions, to speak up, to make intelligent, educated choices based on civility, impartiality and honesty, equality, democracy and freedom. no matter the venue, no matter the place of division.

to be wide awake.

woke: increasingly used as a byword for social awareness.

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

February 14, 2020
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treading water. watershed. [k.s. friday]

i don’t feel as much in-a-boat as i feel that i am relentlessly treading water. but there was no handy treading-water bitmoji and i remember the exact moment that this bitmoji showed up on my snapchat mapping…in the middle of a lot of treading.

treading, treading. guessing at why what-is-happening is happening – in wide concentric circles around us, tightly close to us.

i can only guess, as i type this with these two now-familiar broken wrists, that this is a watershed time.

and today, both valentine’s day and d’s birthday, i want to express gratitude for this man who is standing in the water with me – waves crashing over us, undertow threatening to pull us down, riptide ever present – and holding my fiberglass-cast-encased hand. the person who is equally as perplexed at this time, who takes turns with me being alternatively flabbergasted, philosophical and soberingly pragmatic.

he continues to zip my jacket, buckle my seatbelt, paste my toothbrush, carry my music, pepper-mill my breakfast and dinner, put the ernie straw in my coffee. he has learned the fine points of where-on-the-head to place hair conditioner, how best to tie plastic bags on my arms, what stool will work best at the piano, which wine glass i can pick up at the end of a day. he has watched me learn how to hold mascara with two hands and pull up girl jeans by the belt loops. he has been treading water with me as we look to the horizon.

maybe this watershed is the thing that elicits change. at the end of 2019 i could feel it coming. and i can now, with all authority and certainty, say that the change is not that i will, smack dab in the middle of middle-age, become a professional snowboarder. nope. but there may truly be things out there i just didn’t see or consider. perhaps the things that are vexing us, stunning us, deeply disappointing us, are just the things that will propel us. ah, if that just didn’t feel so pollyanna-ish.

this life is bigger than anyone can ever live it. that includes us. treading water in the watershed might be a time that forces dynamic change. like everyone, i wish i had some prescient inkling of what’s-out-there, what-will-happen.

my perceived lack of control is maybe a misperception. maybe that which has taken away control is conversely granting control, granting the creativity that comes with grabbing onto flotsam and jetsam in a sea that seems to be swirling. maybe the grasping-at-straws is grasping-at-ernie, a touchstone that seems flimsy and unimportant, but which actually is grounding, rooting, and gives voice to more solid footing, less wave-action, more direction-choosing.

the watershed is here. moment by moment we stare at it. we roll our eyes, we yell at the angst-y details, we shake our heads in confusion, we stop and stand still and, yet hyperventilating from treading, we wonder. we try to breathe, to center, to be in the eye of the storm.

holding hand-cast, we look forward and we guess that this ain’t the last watershed on the horizon.

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

WATERSHED from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

February 13, 2020
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“as surely as the moon affects the tides.” [d.r. thursday]

new mother – a morsel

“when we choose to be parents, we accept another human being as part of ourselves, and a large part of our emotional selves will stay with that person as long as we live. from that time on there will be another person on this earth whose orbit around us will affect us as surely as the moon affects the tides, and affect us in some ways more deeply than anyone else can. our children are extensions of ourselves.” (mr. fred rogers)

i simply cannot think of a more succinct way to say this but for the words of mr. rogers.

forever changed, i am sensitive to every little thing my even-as-grown-ups-children are experiencing, celebrating, enduring, adventuring, loving, suffering, yearning for, achieving. i feel their joy as my joy, their sadness as my sadness.

parenthood, a profound honor, in all its diamond-facets is no small feat. the vexing complexities, the moments of sheer joy, the heart-wrenching worry, the holding-on-letting-go-ness, the unconditional love. all of it.

like the moon, their tide surely affects my tide. and i would have it no other way.

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read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

NEW MOTHER ©️ 2017 david robinson

February 12, 2020
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the summit. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

not being a real true climber, i’m not sure if the above statement is really true. what about the “hit. climb. hit. climb.” of ice-picking your way up? what about crampons? what about ropes and aluminum ladders perched against the icy pitch?

i do, however, know this quote has good intentions.

we are hikers. trekkers. i/we have never used a rope or crampons or ladders or ice picks to get from point a to point b. and watching a mountainload of everest and k2 videos, documentaries and movies hardly makes us experts in the area of climbing. we are not even novices.

but, in terms of the metaphor of this quote, i can relate.

surely, climbing a mountain with nothing to grip onto would be nearly impossible. all organic. all analog. i’m sure alex honnold would agree that if there is nothing at all to hold, with either his hand or his foot, that would make free-climbing such a face a feat of the imagination. there has to be something. some overlap. some crevice. some tiny blip of rock. something.

so. enter the rough. or, in the case of the metaphoric quote, rough times. how would we ever get to the top without them? would we actually recognize the top? would we appreciate the top? would we scale the uphill were it smooth? could we?

or did some smart-ass mountaineer quote this just to mess with us?

clearly, the men and women who have climbed everest with all its personality traits, its twists and turns, its icefalls and crevasses, its sharp ridges and its deep snow have dealt with all of it. they have not turned away as it was too smooth. they have not turned away as it was too rough. they have persisted.

and maybe that there is the point. despite the rough, the smooth, the easy, the hard, the oxygenated, the death zone, the chilling cold, the sun heating the seracs, the avalanches, the perilous altitudinal affects, the glorious summit stands ready.

the mountaintop. it’s there for anyone who just keeps on going. through it all.

and isn’t that all of us?

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

February 11, 2020
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doorknobs and doors. [two artists tuesday]

it doesn’t matter that they aren’t now attached to doors. a display of doorknobs, all lined up at an antique shoppe, beg you to wonder what doors they opened. what old house was it that had all its doorknobs changed? are the doors still there? these knobs removed; knobs that likely welcomed sticky toddler fingers, trembling arthritic hands, dutifully, solidly a part of history. what new hardware has replaced these knobs that had countless hands turning, opening, passing through?

the joy of having an old house is just that – the history of what has gone before you. how many times was this closet door opened? how many people passed through the front door? how many times did someone come home and walk in, close the back door and sigh?

we cannot think of doorknobs without thinking of doors. we have 22 doors in our old house, a few less than when we bought it, and not counting cabinetry. we have extra doors in the basement. beautiful solid six panel doors, some sporting their knobs, some knob-naked.

i think about the rooms of this home that they all have led to, these doors, the conversations that took place in those rooms. the babies, the plans, the family elders. the hugs and cherished moments, the arguments, the worry, the celebrations, each room a time capsule of lives lived in this very place. doors in, doors out. how much did a hand hesitate to open or close the door?

the metaphor is obvious – doorknobs and doors. the old and wise adage – “when one door closes, another opens.” the words sometimes seem like hollow reassurance. and i look up the adage and realize that there is more to this and is quoted by alexander graham bell, “when one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.”

the patina of the knobs shows wear. hands, hands, grasping and turning, opening. each door an invitation to the next moment, whatever that moment might be. choosing a door, choosing to walk in. standing. waiting. hesitating. we often wonder about the doors. maybe paralyzed with indecision, with grief, with confusion, we often pine after a door. we are often blind.

those doorknobs. if only they could speak. the stories they could tell, the lessons we could learn.

read DAVID’S THOUGHTS this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

February 10, 2020
by kerrisherwood11 4 Comments

“indecency keeps getting rewarded.” [merely-a-thought monday]

it’s bewildering.

“indecency keeps getting rewarded.”

recently i heard someone say that she was glad her parents weren’t here to see what is happening. i would have to agree. my sweet momma and my poppo would be appalled by today’s incessant and prevailing lack of decency. it’s embarrassing and mind-numbing to witness. this is not just a simple lack of kindness for others; these are displays of a complete lack of regard for the sanctity of human life, the privilege of living together on this good earth.

i am relieved that my children are grown so that i don’t have to explain to them the ugliness that is pervasive, accepted, even overtly encouraged. name-calling, lying, undermining, blatant cruelness aimed at others; egregious acts aimed at those less fortunate, elitist prejudices and judgements loaded into automatic weapons spewing vitriol at others, vindictiveness toward people who have a different opinion, who stand up for something different, who live different lives, who are courageous and whose bravery shows up in truth-telling.

we find that this is not just poisoning the outer limits – the circles we don’t belong to, the social or financial ladder-rung we have not reached, the country we belong to but the government by which we are not employed.

no. this sinister lack of decency has reached its slimy tentacles into our communities, our work, our friends, our families, our homes. people, who we would not expect, displaying reactionary anger – jousting their epee of mean-spirited words at the unsuspecting, stepping over the boundaries of democratic principles, over the clearly-now-elusive stopgaps of doing-what’s-right, over the limit of how-i-would-want-you-to-talk-to-me-is-how-i-will-talk-to-you or how-i-would-want-you-to-treat-me-is-how-i-will-treat-you. there is no conversation. there is righteous indignation, cavalier disrespect, face-down-i’m-not-listening-to-you body language. there is anger. there is hate.

and, instead of being struck down by an army of goodness, a wealth of kindness, even a modicum of fairness, this indecency has become normalized and it seems rewarded. whether outwardly applauding or quietly complicit, the indecency is forwarded on. and the tentacles of this corrosive nastiness, unchecked, reach both inward and outward into the concentric circles surrounding each of us; the incivility is a contagion and it wins.

it’s more than bewildering. it sickens me.

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

February 7, 2020
by kerrisherwood11 7 Comments

two broken wrists. [k.s. friday]

day 4

it broke more than both my wrists, that snowboarding fall last monday.

it broke my ability to do many things for myself. it fractured my independence.

it exploded my previous gratitude of those around me, loving and caring for me. it expanded a dependence on others, particularly david.

it broke through my vulnerability threshold. it made me acknowledge my modesty and encouraged me to try to stand tall in my new temporary disability.

it broke what i knew about others around me. it both surprised me in all the best ways and surprised me in all the worst.

it broke my assumption that all things – all my relationships – all my work – would stay the same. it shattered any sense of security.

it further broke my trust in our country’s healthcare coverage. it pointedly drove home that point.

it broke through any calm-in-the-storm-around-us i had found. it exacerbated a profound sense of worry.

it broke my muse. it scared me, really scared me, and it made me wonder if i would play again, write again, perform again.

day 5. my quiet piano welcomed me into the studio. i stood in front of it. determined. and i played. nine fingers, not ten. not the hand-span of all other days, but never mind.

day 12. eleven days after breaking them i still wake up, after night’s elusive sleep, surprised to see my wrists, well, more accurately, my cast and hard splint.

i think, “here we go,” and i set out to see what’s beyond two broken wrists.

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

February 6, 2020
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they get along. [d.r. thursday]

dogdog and babycat have an interesting relationship. seemingly-by-dog/cat-definition partisan, they cross the aisle everyday to beg together when they are looking for a morsel from our breakfast, stand together when looking for dinner, lay together on the rug when conked out at the end of the day. they have figured it out and i know that they love each other, despite their differences and the personalities they have as well as the traits we have assigned them by speaking for them judging by the looks on their faces.

dogga stares out the front door window and wonders. the cat not so much; he stares but doesn’t seem to really wonder. but they share the front-door-rug and we provide the conversation and thoughts. we have many one panel cartoons of the two of them at the door.

the thing i would point to, in all of the cartoons we have drawn about these two supposed-foes, is that they get along. they respect each other’s toys, food bowls, spaces on the bed. they may think a rude thought here or there, but they don’t voice it aloud. they don’t name-call or lie to each other. with the exception of babycat’s black chair, they don’t destroy things, they don’t shred the garbage, spewing that which is trash all about. they take turns at their shared water bowl. they are empathic creatures, loving and tuned in to things around them and the real state of affairs in the house. they are quietly candid and honest, albeit b-cat a tad bit sarcastic. they are loyal to the bigger picture, their home. they accept each other. without exception, without pretense, without anger or contentiousness. they embrace living together, right here, right now.

i wish that were true for people.

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

February 5, 2020
by kerrisherwood11 2 Comments

the ernie straw. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

the ernie straw. this straw has lived in the kitchen drawer for decades. it served the sesame-street-zeal of My Girl and My Boy when they were little-little and has made various appearances back in the sunlit-world from time to time since then.

this summer when The Girl was here house-sitting i came home and into the kitchen to find her using it to sip her pre-workout drink. she laughingly told me, “it’s a good straw!” i can’t tell you how happy i was that ernie was still in the drawer when she went searching for the perfect sipping-utensil.

in the last week, ernie has become my constant companion. positioned carefully in my coffee hydroflask or perched in my water glass or teetering out of a wine glass, ernie and i have done beverage-life together.

they say necessity is the mother of invention and, particularly, this past week with two broken wrists, i would have to agree. stuck closer to the right side of my brain as a creative thinker (although admittedly there is quite a bit of ny-style-left-side there as well) i have had to sort out how to do things, let’s say, in-a-different-way.

i can proudly say that i can put on my socks, eat my own meal with a fork or a spoon, cut a steak (with the steak knife lodged into my RH cast), put on a little eyeliner and mascara with my LH steadying my right hand (not easy, but some things are just necessary), and type. last night i squeezed (!) the toothpaste out of the tube and surprised d with his toothbrush pre-pasted. in bigger news, i have played my piano four days in a row. i have 9 fingers to use right now; my right thumb is immobilized. but there are a lot of notes you can play with nine fingers, especially at the right angle and taking your time.

ernie and i are trying to keep a good attitude. his curlycue-ness is pretty cute and his smile engaging. he keeps me from feeling too sad, too limited. he reminds me that the constraints i feel right now are exercising my creative juju (he’s a ridiculous optimist). and he, most importantly, ties me to all the years backward, where he, yes, an inanimate object, has been a part of my life and the life of my children.

i couldn’t be more grateful to have found this life-gossamer-thread in our kitchen drawer last monday, the day i was injured. once again, something profound and something simple – and both remind me of what’s important.

i sent My Girl a photo of ernie in my coffee vessel. she quickly replied, “it’s a good straw!” yes.

thank you, our ernie straw.

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

February 4, 2020
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converge. [two artists tuesday]

“i shall pass this way but once. any good that i can do, any kindness i can show to any human being, let me do it now, let me not defer nor neglect, for i shall not pass this way again.” (etienne de grellet)

this saying is tucked into my wallet. it hangs in our kitchen. it was my sweet momma’s favorite and she lived by it like a mantra. she did not procrastinate kindness until it was convenient; she lived it.

we pass the deer tracks at bristol woods. often we are first after the deer. i wonder what they are like as they pass each other, as their paths converge and diverge.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Monthly Archives: February 2020

treading water. watershed. [k.s. friday]

“as surely as the moon affects the tides.” [d.r. thursday]

the summit. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

doorknobs and doors. [two artists tuesday]

“indecency keeps getting rewarded.” [merely-a-thought monday]

two broken wrists. [k.s. friday]

they get along. [d.r. thursday]

the ernie straw. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

converge. [two artists tuesday]

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