reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Monthly Archives: July 2023


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happy endings. [k.s. friday]

i am a fan of happy endings. i would guess that’s something on which we likely agree. i mean, who doesn’t love any sort of happy ending – quiet or gushy – any part of the happy spectrum.

and so, in the past couple of weeks – with people we love close-in struggling with serious issues – i want to linger in the happy ending. perspective has slapped us upside the head a few times over these weeks and, teetering a little on shaky ground, we are holding firmly to happy conclusions.

on days when hikes generate deep pondering or the dinner table yields questions about uncertainty, googling about things we know little, we tend to list to an evening of a little couch-sitting and a movie of choice that will – most definitely – have a happy ending.

this could be a hallmark movie. or it could be my big fat greek wedding, which makes us laugh every single time, dozens of times later. it could be about time or love actually or the proposal. it could be sweet home alabama or ps i love you or the family stone. the fuzzy purple zippy dvd holder is the keeper of our cherished movies and we can pick pretty much anything from it and sink into the couch cushions, sighing.

we don’t feel like we are sticking our heads into the sand. we don’t feel like we are fancying escapism (though who doesn’t?!). we don’t feel like we are pollyanna-ing our way into the lull of sleep. we are painfully aware of the precariousness of it all.

instead, we feel like we are reminding ourselves of the possibility. we are immersing in the potential of goodness. we are restoring that place inside from which we draw strength that we might pass on to others, the place from which we can hold others close, lift them up, ask the universe for grace and their healing.

we are taking a deep breath and seeking the happy ending. remembering that they do exist.

*****

FREEFALLIN’ IN LOVE Šī¸ 2002 kerri sherwood, sisu music productions inc. (Note: this is not jazz, nor does rumblefish own any copyright or publishing rights to this song.)

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like sheets off the line. [d.r. thursday]

i grew fond of clotheslines when we were on washington island. four years ago – almost to this very day – we hung out our first freshly washed laundry. the machine at the littlehouse was one of those washer-dryer combos but it had a few issues with the drying part and we felt it was using too much energy. so we went to mann’s true value hardware and bought clothesline and clothespins and, using the metal poles already sunk in the ground, we strung up our dryer.

it seemed simpler. it was simpler. and time slowed down a little. you can’t rush laundry on a clothesline. the sun and the wind off the lake had to do their job. and we had no control over that. we just waited. every now and then we’d go check the clothes for dryness. and then we’d wait a little longer.

my sweet momma had a clothesline out back – the rotary kind. i wasn’t paying a lot of attention back then, but i did notice the fresh outdoor scent of the sheets when she hung them out.

so when the farm in iowa had a clothesline, both of us had a wistful moment. not to mention the rust made for a plethora of photographs. it’s chip and jojo at their best, or leanne ford, featuring vintage, repurposing the old, framing the rusty, the chipped, the peeling. it’s exquisite stuff. surely this very clothesline t-pole could make an appearance inside were it to be retired from clotheslining.

we have stepped away from washington island. it’s been three years now. covid did a job on performing arts centers everywhere and wiwi’s TPAC was no exception. our co-managing director positions were given to someone local, someone who lived on-island full-time, someone who was already part of the island’s very fabric, lowering overhead costs and fashioning it into what they needed post-pandemic.

to say i don’t miss it would be truly false. though it had some issues in growing, we were dedicated to symbiotically weaving together the organizations on-island and elevating the maturing pac for outsiders as well as insiders. we would initiate change slowly – and some change more quickly – and then wait – just like the clothesline.

and then, the sun and the wind off the lake would let us know how it was going. we’d shift a bit in the stiff breezes and seek shelter of shade in too much glare.

and we knew the clothes and ideas would eventually dry and all would be fresh and sparkling and we could take off the clothespins and bring them in, welcoming them – just like sheets fresh off the line.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

A DAY AT THE BEACH mixed media 38″x52″

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our parents. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

neither one of them knew what it was. clearly, they both lived in a cave before i came along in their lives. but still.

“it’s a butterspreader,” i informed them. for your corn-on-the-cob. you put the butter pat in it, hold down the handle and the curved plastic screen perfectly spreads melty butter on your cob.

they stared at me as if they had just landed on plymouth rock and – supposedly – were the ones who literally discovered new land.

in unison, the choirboys said, “i’ve never seen one of those!”

i laughed. as a non-butter-user, it doesn’t matter to me if i pull the cornbutterspreader out of the drawer, but i knew that it might matter to them – one potential butter-user-depending-on-the-day and one devoted butter-user.

my sweet momma had these kind of snazzy devices. she had the yellow metal-pronged corn thingies to hold corn-on-the-cob as well. long islanders, we were pretty loyal cobcorn eaters in the summer. back then, it was all about the biggest aluminum pot in the house and boiling water. but now, my sweet momma would have loved to see 20 cut off the ends of the cob (including the stringy end), putting the whole thing into the microwave for 4 minutes. as an alternative, we could have placed it on the grill as well – unshucked – but the microwave was a little quicker.

it was a day that kind of celebrated our parents – without our really knowing or planning it.

i carmelized the onions before i added the beer – milwaukee’s best. i knew columbus was watching, laughing with glee as i put the brats in to boil. momma jeanne said they were just like his when we made them in iowa, so we have a stamp of approval. we had beans – because my momma and my poppo never had brats or dogs without having beans. and sauerkraut because, well, 20 was raised by his momma on sauerkraut. (you don’t want to know how often he eats this.) and watermelon…well, every one of our parents loved watermelon. we were our parents – wouldabeen 102, 102 today, 90, 99, still 100 and still 88.

today’s my sweet momma’s birthday. she’s the wouldabeen 102. in the way of grief, the moments sneak up and take me by surprise. suddenly, i am pitched forward into desperately-missing-her from the ever-present missing-her. it doesn’t take much.

it’s the cardinal in the backyard. it’s telling her about the new birdbath. it’s the triumphs i want to share and the failures when i wish for a hug. it’s a cup of tea or morning coffee. it’s early rising or wee-hours-pondering. it’s chicken soup. it’s rye toast. it’s upside-down shampoo bottles. it’s blue eyes. it’s hearing “to thine own self be true”. it’s her “don’t underestimate me”. it’s “i know you can do it”.

and it’s the silly corn butterspreader.

happy happy birthday my sweet momma.

*****

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

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dogdog. [two artists tuesday]

younger and he would have already figured out how to get his pride bandana off. but he’s ten today and he’s slowing down a bit, taking things in stride a little bit more, tolerantly allowing for message-filled bandanas and goofy headbands.

our dogga – today – will pretty much dictate what we do on this noisy holiday. he – like so many other pooches – does not appreciate fireworks and it hurts us to see him confused and so bothered by them. we will likely spend time in the basement or succumb to putting the old air conditioner units in the windows – the first time in three years – and turning them on so there is less outside noise coming inside.

i’m not really sure why everyone has to have their own fireworks in their own yards. there are stunningly beautiful displays on the lakefront – up and down lake michigan. sitting on the rocks or at the park you can see them north and south. nevertheless, a whole bunch of neighbors and people in the ‘hood will insist on their own well before the fourth and well after, and a whole bunch of pets will be frightened.

dogdog at ten is different from our dogdog at two or four or six. these days, his wise eyes help us center, steer us away from disagreement, prevent us from a snarky word here or there. we try not to upset the dog. these days, he gets up a little slower, jumps down a little more tentatively, lets us love on him a little longer. we try not to forget we are aging with him.

it is possible that this – the undeniable love we have for our dogs and the desire we have for them to be happy – is a good reason to have them. the simplest pleasures, the slightest touches, a little bit of attention – lessons in relationship. ingredients for a happy dogga.

it’s our second fourth of july without our babycat. it’s the second fourth tripper has had without his babycat. although disturbed by the noise, they would buddy up. somehow, one would reassure the other, telepathically relaying words of comfort, soothing, “we got this”. we know he really misses b-cat. every morning he goes into the kitchen to lay with him – our angel-cat now – in their early-morning-after-breakfast tradition. he’s kept up the ritual. it tugs at us to see him there, in the exact place they would always nap together.

and so – on this holiday – this very noisy holiday – it is to the needs of our beloved dog we will turn. we’ll skip the hoopla, we’ll skip the bedlam at the lakefront, we’ll skip the jockeying for a spot on the grass in the park, we’ll skip the rocks where people set off crackers, we’ll skip the fireworks display.

because what really matters today is celebrating this aussie-dog’s birthday, his unconditional love and care for us, and what we can do to make his day a better day.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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training wheels. [merely-a-thought monday]

perennial-training-wheels-mode.

i would say this quote – “everyone has their training wheels on” – is one of the best descriptions of life i have heard lately. when jack spoke the words in his pct-thru-hike documentary, i jotted them down.

because nothing is absolute, and nothing is perfected, and no one can stake claim to knowing-all-ness, i see everyone in my mind’s eye on their banana-seat-two-wheelers, training wheels attached, riding around the globe, pedaling fiercely, trying to get somewhere, anywhere, even nowhere.

i am thinking that if we all could acknowledge how little we actually know – i mean reeeally know – and how nothing we think we know is actually certain – i mean reeeally certain – we might all get along a little bit better.

the stubborn stancers, the unbudging discurious, the omniscient narcissists – these are the troublemakers. the universe is – again, in my mind’s eye – guffawing at their misguided haughtiness, the sheer arrogance of fallacious righteousness, delusional at best.

for each and every day, perspective strikes us once again. and we see that we really know very little and we realize that nothing is for sure. so we learn – in these daily lessons – to embrace these little easily-attached helper-wheels. because life is full of unnatural skills and pedaling through can be tough.

somewhere, there is a long line of humankind-humans who are waiting to size up their training wheels so they can add them next to their ten-speeds, their roadbikes, their colorful cruisers, their folding ebikes. they – the canny ones – know they are always in training.

*****

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

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and then, medicare. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

it’s gettin-to-be-that-time.

shocking, isn’t it?

in december i have to chooooose. good grief. already?! the pressure.

we have had the good fortune of friends who have that-timed-it before us. and so, we are relying heavily on their medicare smarts. we even had an in-service up-north with our gang. handouts and everything.

so, when it comes time to actually signing up, we are hoping that it will be with ease.

because the fact-of-the-matter is that medicare – like most government programs – is not streamlined, not easy to understand, nothing less than dense, filled with loopholes and scary ramifications, rules and rules for rules.

and this is supposed to be a happy-happy social good-health-for-all program.

easy-peasy.

uh-huh.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. Šī¸ 2023 kerrianddavid.com

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