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the path back is the path forward

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yours. ours. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

the kohls department store shopping bag reads, “your community is our community.”

you would think that would be a great motto for the “leadership” of the united states government.

yeah. one big happy community. supporting the needs and challenges of each other, working for each other – leaning on how we are all more alike than different, lifting each other up – together. it isn’t a difficult concept.

a good leader – for a community – a tapestry of different people woven together – empowers others, stands in humility and with courageous and ethical vision, leads by example…there are too many virtuous characteristics to list, none of which are embodied by the current leadership of this country.

their community is not our community. and that could not be more clear.

i’m pretty sure that when my grandfather arrived at ellis island, his cautious expectation was that of optimism. he had landed in a place of new promise, a place of new opportunity, a place of new community.

the current administration of the same country my grandfather chose is swiftly undermining every bit of promise, opportunity and community. my grandpa would be horrified.

i’m pretty sure that when my father enlisted in the army air corps to fight in World War II – and was subsequently shot down, missing in action, taken prisoner of war – he did so with democracy in his heart, placing his own life on the line in order to push back against fascism and authoritarianism, to fight for community, for freedom.

the current administration of the same country for which my father sacrificed is swiftly beating back every iota of democracy, of the constitution, shielding itself from checks and balances, blatantly aligning itself with authoritarians of the world, deliberately going rapid-speed down the road of dismantling the very principles for which my dad fought. my father would be horrified.

but as we travel down this road, oligarchs leading the worshiping lemmings over the cliff, it appears that there is no one in the parade paying attention to the demise. the madmen are gleefully creating their own community bubble – dollar bills by the billions the membrane that separates them from the rest of the sea of America’s humanity. the parade of sycophants is too busy saving their own political and financial agenda to concern themselves with their actual constituents. the supporters of this administration are complicit in the cruelty of what they are witnessing, schadenfreude taking over their minds and hearts, cheering from the sidelines, immersed in misinformation and the negligence of refusing to fact-check, the turning of their backs on their very communities.

it’s all vile.

and my grandfather and father are staring from another dimension, wide-eyed and fearful at the demolition of promise and opportunity for all, freedom for all, the obliteration of any ‘yours is ours’ in these un-united states, the dismantling of their own hard-won legacy and the annihilation of the legacy of america.

*****

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

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in the seats of america. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i would rather drive than be driven. relatively easily solvable. i would rather fly than be flown. there is one teensy problem with that one though. i do not have the qualifications to fly a jet airplane. and so, if i wish to travel via jet from one place to another, i have to give it up – control, that is.

for me, it is not so much about control as it is about motion sickness. if my brain – sans bonine/dramamine/large quantities of ginger chews – can see what my intention is as i drive/fly, than i am able to go with the flow, so to speak, and my equilibrium seems to adjust. i never did get a pair of those funky anti-motion-sick glasses, so that is one thing i haven’t tried. but wearing a pair of those – in addition to a mask – onboard an airplane is sure to get me some looks.

i was nervous when my children were little and i had to fly places – away from them – for concerts or shows. giving over control to someone i did not know at the helm required more than a bit of trust for me. i had to consciously work at it once i was a mom, with much prayer and self-talk throughout the flights. ultimately, as time went by and i safely arrived at venues and back home, i learned – slowly – to give over, to trust that the person in the pilot’s seat had all of our best interests at heart. i learned – slowly – to utter a prayer for her or his clearheadedness and expertise, sit back and relax a little.

but now times are different. we just recently flew – pretty much right after a couple aircraft disasters had taken place and many FAA personnel had been fired – introducing more risk – and i found myself wishing we had had the option to drive. trust me, i do know that driving is more dangerous than flying, but – remember – i get to be behind the wheel so it all feels a little different. i managed to keep my calm and fly – several legs – out west and back.

but the idea of control has stuck with me.

because here we are – in the seats of america – with madmen at the helm. here we are – sitting in a democracy being taken apart, being dismantled piece by piece. here we are – citizens of a country in which every check and balance is going unchecked, where oversight is being eliminated, where the core of our republic is being shredded.

this is most definitely a time to be absolutely worried about control. the risk is monumental, the potential loss world and life-changing. this is not a time to trust nor to give over. this is a time to be wary, to not sit back, to not relax. they do not have our best interests at heart.

“there are times when fear is good. it must keep its watchful place at the heart’s controls.” (aeschylus)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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the grey cloud. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

it feels somewhat risky to write this ahead. who knows what will have taken place between when i am writing and the day this blog publishes. it all seems a downward spiral, a tornado of ruin. i shudder to think about next week as i write this today. and the next week. and the next. and the next year. and the next. and the next. and the next.

i feel fortunate – and now, with the perspective of the day, even more fortunate – to have lived – until now – in a country that has functioned as a democracy. my sweet poppo – a POW in WWII – fought against the very peril we are now facing. even with all its failings, with all the grappling for equality, with the what-seems-continual fight for freedoms and rights, we have not been in a place where we are segregating ourselves from the rest of the world, where leaders are distortedly centric, maniacal and extreme, where we had to fear for our future – day by excruciating day – as we watch the dismantling of our very republic.

and now, here we are.

and – once again – i look to all the people who voted for this disaster and ask, “is this what you wanted?”

and, i would add the question, “why?”

it is most difficult for me to comprehend the glee of the moment for those who support all this. it is most difficult for me to grok how people wish so much harm for other people. it is most difficult for me to understand how this storm makes them happy, makes them feel successful, makes them feel even remotely human.

what tornado – what grey cloud of torturous destruction – ever brought any good into the world?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

in-the-questions

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count on dogga. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

sometimes – these days – it is simply his smile that keeps us grounded.

sometimes – these days – it is a belly-belly or a dogga kiss that helps us feel our feet, centered in our home.

sometimes – these days – it is his sensitivity to the tenor of the room that keeps us from getting too loud, too angry, too upset.

a few days ago i had a very hard day. i’m guessing i am not out of the ordinary; i’m guessing this is not unusual – these days.

i felt – particularly after my revelations from my call with my dear old friend from new york – that we were on a tiny island, out of balance.

we – like you, i’m sure – have been through so much in the last few years. and, i guess, because we have been coast-ers (d the west, me the east) – more easily candid, despite whatever others’ reactions are to our tales – woe, included – we have shared about them – with family, with friends, with whomever chooses to read our blogs.

but we have found that sharing our intense feelings can be disconcerting. there is most definitely this thing in this part of the land that dictates what you share. if you don’t wish to tell how you feel, you just simply ignore the question about how you feel. it’s a weird phenomenon. and frustrating. it is hard to be an open book when others don’t crack open their binding.

and so – the other day – outside of the pure constant stream of consciousness d and i share with each other – i was pining for shared deep conversation, for shared grief, for the shared pondering of unanswerable questions, unfathomable challenges. i did not want pity. i wanted two-way sharing, raw human interaction. i wanted to cry and scream – both. i did cry. watching dogga watch me prevented me from screaming.

it feels absolute that we need to be in this chaos together. we need to join together in like-mindedness and push back against the continued takeover of our country. we need to share the gut-wrenching sorrow of losing family and friends to this pervasive illness of extremism. we need to share our worries about our future and the future of our children and our children’s children.

bottom line? we need to talk. because actually talking about it all doesn’t make it worse. it quite possibly helps. you know, the meeting-together, the walking-in-another’s-shoes thing, the heartfelt compassion, the reality check, the let’s-sort-this-together, the we-are-here-for-you. the two-way street.

it makes me absolutely crazy when people act like nothing is happening. i want to beg, “open your eyes! we need to talk about this!”

but – instead – there are a few we share with, a few we trust with our deepest musings, our biggest fears, the trauma we are all enduring, what is really happening in our very own personal lives. the rest – like many – we filter.

and in that very short list of whole-heart-sharers, dogga is one of them. he holds things in confidence and we can always count on him to react emotionally and with – seeming – empathy. like he gets it.

and then he smiles his getting-older smile at us – holding our hearts and reminding us that his unconditional love is unconditional.

time after time he saves the day. even in these days. every single day.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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guttah. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

his name is guttah. he stands right off our deck, just yards away from the back door and the gutter overhead that started to ice-dam in perfect ice-damming conditions which necessitated use of the snow rake that pulled all the snow off the sunroom roof onto the deck and subsequently down onto the patio where it piled up and invited guttah to come to life. and so, there he is.

he looks a little stunned and i’m guessing he is. suddenly, he came out of d’s imagination and into the snow. suddenly, he got eyes of coal and sticks for a nose and mouth and arms and ornamental grass hair. suddenly, he is. pretty existential stuff.

we don’t know where guttah was before this. zooming around the universe in some jet stream, looking for a place to self-actualize, perhaps. we do know that his arrival prompted dogga to sniff and wonder. so that, in turn, has me wondering.

what does guttah see – here in this world of packed snow? what does guttah ponder as he stands there, looking a bit astounded? is he searching for meaning, for balance or healing in what he could see as he zoomed from non-existence into existence? or is he desperately looking for a way back to wherever he came from?

if i were a snowbeing that just arrived from the galaxy of ice crystals and snowflakes, i most certainly would be questioning the intention of bringing me to life. particularly right now.

but after perusing the contemporaneous news of my newfound home, after looking around, grokking all that is happening, i would be certain of the reason.

for i would recognize that my very existence had brought about a bit of giddiness, a little bit of laughter, many smiles, conversation, a fun photo shoot. my existence had made the day of ice-damming, another day of negative-news, the coming polar freeze just a bit easier.

and for that, i would stand in anyone’s yard, off their deck, on their patio or in their grass.

guttah will likely be around for a bit of time. windchills are going to be below zero for a few days, at least.

i have to say, he is a pretty adorable addition to the fam.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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cracked. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

i’m a window-seat-er.

it’s not just because i am prone to motion sickness; it is magical to look out the window at the earth passing below us. and now, the window next to me looked cracked, as tiny droplets skirted across. so much to look at in lieu of staring at a tablet or screen.

i am the geek taking pictures out the window of the plane – as if it was my first time flying.

but i don’t care. i take pictures anyway.

a few days ago i spent over two hours on the phone with an old friend i hadn’t spoken with for – if i’m remembering correctly – over four decades. in that strange way that you can pick up where you left off – despite the fact that there are blanks spanning decades – it felt like we had just danced the night away together, laughing and talking, at one of the discos on long island… just like we did back in the day.

she and i met at college and were instantly friends. i was pretty naive back then, but she had a savvy i could draw from and we had many adventures together.

it was a joy to be on the phone together again – i remember hours tethered to the wall, making plans or discussing crushes. this time i wandered around the house, chatting and trying to picture her now – after so much life had gone by.

and i heard my voice change. suddenly, there it was. the new york accent, back. it doesn’t take much – i am impressionable with others’ voices. the kiddos used to know when i had just talked to my nashville producer – i’d be drawling afterwards. so, long island came roaring back and we interrupted each other with abandon, punctuating our conversation with much laughter.

and there was this. this candor i remember, a not-beating-around-the-bush-ness – a bluntness – an assertiveness – that is visceral for me. i could feel it bubbling up, cracking through my learned midwest reservedness, my keeping-the-peace-ness.

“this used to be me,” i thought.

i – admittedly – have a whole bunch of leftover newyorkness in me. but much of it has been tempered by life in places outside of the northeast. it is pretty much necessary for survival – and for friendships outside of a place left behind, where conversation is more open, more sharing, more – well – raw.

it didn’t take much time to crack through to that place, shifting to this-doesn’t-need-to-be-polite, to this-doesn’t-need-to-be-filtered. i jumped back into a conversation where we – without words – assumed the other was a mature adult, sharing intimate details and what-could-feel-like risky stories with each other, instead of accommodating the other’s comfort level.

it was incredibly refreshing.

when i got off the phone i realized that i missed this. the cracked veneer – the truth of life – minus the filtering, minus the concern about judgment, minus storytelling sans the sordid details, the guts, the ugly as well as the pretty.

i missed the real-real. i missed the interrupting. i missed the accent. i missed the new yorker in me.

i shared snippets of our call with d, laughing at my slowly-shifting-back voice. i felt different.

“i’m no mary poppins,” my girlfriend said on the phone.

aware that i was thinking about how the midwest might feel about admitting one was not at-every-moment ‘too good to be true’, i proudly answered, “nope. neither am i.”

those cracks. the kintsugi. damaged and filled with tears and laughter, hopes and dreams and disappointments. truths and failings and forgiveness and grace.

and always at least one little spot that is not perfect, that is left open – where spirit can enter.

or the new york you left behind.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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nothing like it. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

it is a tough time to travel. at least for me. i feel – well – safer at home these days. tucked into our sweet old house doing our thing.

but we had an opportunity to visit old friends, see new things, experience a different landscape. and we were fortunate enough to be able to take it.

this place we have traveled to – beautiful. another part of this stunning sea to shining sea. we move about airports with thousands of people – all different – with languages and accents and clothing choices and faces all swimming around us. such diversity. we can feel the riches of this melting pot.

and we miss home. where our dogga waits for us and 20 has dinner hot. where our studios and our pillows are. where no make-up and sweats are a default. where we sous-chef and cook side by side in our old kitchen, nourishing not just our bodies but our souls as well.

it doesn’t take new eyes to see it all. but the gentle reminder is always a good thing.

to go and come back.

nothing like it.

“the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” (marcel proust)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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the doormat. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

it’s pretty much a ritual – at the end of fall – to store the front and back rubber doormats away into the garage. both make it more difficult to shovel snow, so, rather than ramming the shovel into the mat while moving snow on the deck – having forgotten it was there – which hurts one’s shoulder – it’s best to put it away. it can also cause problems when there is ice – making it nearly impossible to open the back screen door, which is level with the deck with only a thin rubber mat’s thickness to spare. so, we are usually pretty diligent. there are several things, i’m sure, we all agree on – in preparing for winter. the yard furniture, the clay and ceramic pots, deck decor – it all needs to be stored.

i’m not sure, then, why the back doormat didn’t end up in the garage. somehow in the midst of this fall – miserable in all that fun lighthearted time after the election and such – we forgot. or maybe we just didn’t have the energy to pick up the mats and bring them to the garage. later in november – we were holding out hope for one more beautiful day – we put away the deck rugs, the table and chairs, the decor, the adirondack chairs. but we forgot the mats – at both doors.

so when i opened the back door the other day and stepped out to admire the snow i was surprised to look back at the mat. the snow peeeeeeeled back. it didn’t smush back or get lodged under the screen door – which ceases all door movement and is just slightly annoying when it happens – but it peeled back over itself. in one piece. pretty much unbroken. like peeling back the chocolate icing layer on a hostess cupcake.

we were lucky. there have been times that the snow and ice – because ice damming is a thing – have accumulated over the mat to such a point where the door will not open and you have to exit out the front door. that doesn’t sound like much of a problem until you hear that – for years – there was no way to unlock the front door from the outside as something had gone wrong with the barrel of the old door handle and lock. now that that has been repaired, we are not faced with the can’t-get-in-the-house crisis we had before if the back door is blocked and unable to open.

nevertheless, it was somewhat astounding (remember we are easily amused) to see the snow folded back on itself. and i gave myself a little talking-to about preparation and the perils of the winter.

a few days ago i spent several hours taking screenshots of every single thing on our student loan accounts. because – well – preparation and all. i had come across a recommendation to read a forbes business article about how prudent it would be to capture all this information just in case the department of education was dissolved or imploded or blown up or whatever, which would take out all its websites. it was the practical thing to do – even in the midst of my growling about the predatory nature of d’s student loans which have been nothing shy of criminal. i just couldn’t believe what i was doing and the reason i was doing it. preparation not for winter, not for snow or ice, but for the destruction of the department of education along with every other thing in the constitution.

i don’t honestly know what else we should do to prepare against what’s coming. i am horrified by every single thing we are seeing from this administration. i read a few comments on a meme that was posted by someone in alliance with this destruction of our country. it was – frankly – shocking. the stuff that people have been fed to believe goes beyond any adjective i can think of. it makes me wonder if they have prepared, for the malfeasance of overtaking our government – the one supposed to be of-the-people-by-the-people-for-the-people – and the shattering of our constitution will affect them as well. they too will be caught in the icy snowstorm with their mat out.

the back doormat was a good reminder. in two ways – one, that we might vigilantly stay in one piece – unbroken – and bend with the time (or the back door, whatever, just go with the metaphor) and two, that there are things we might need do in order to avoid being locked out of our own home – this country and its freedoms and rights.

this will be a long winter.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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just a tiny bit. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

we thought we were tired before. we thought we were exhausted. what an absolute understatement now.

and isn’t that the point. to exhaust us, overwhelm us, inundate us, gish gallop-muzzle-velocity us, to put us all in such a state that we are paralyzed with fear under our woke quilts, unable to rise up.

and – to top it all off – to be intensely aware of all the people we know and love who are supporting this hideousness. to have our hearts broken by people breaking our family values, undermining the freedoms of the very people in our very family.

exhausting indeed. IS there a bigger word for that? bone-weary. shattered. fried.

we each need to rest here. to take a few moments and just not talk about IT. to zero into the very center of our own lives. to find things that sustain us, people who sustain us.

because – even in the midst of all the unconscionable – we are still alive. and we need even just the tiniest bit of joy in our breathing – so that we might rise up, stretch our limbs, clear our throats and speak up.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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as if life is normal. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

in the most not-normal times, this quilt has seen us through. two broken wrists, the quilt. the covid pandemic, the quilt. getting fired, the quilt. our babycat dying, the quilt. losing three other positions between us, the quilt. a few other circumstances and initiatives that wouldn’t fall under any gollygee category, the quilt. it has been a mainstay.

and here we are.

and life is not normal.

it is an intense time. and it’s only been a week.

and, anytime i’ve forgotten for a moment or two – or maybe even an hour – it all comes roaring back. and i remember.

and then i remember that people chose this.

chose it.

and now they are acting as if it is all normal – as if they can’t see the band of cruelty that binds all the intention of this administration.

these are not golly-gee little-house-on-the-prairie times.

i viewed someone’s post on social media that stated we should all keep our political opinions to ourselves and post dog pictures instead.

i had…er…mixed feelings about this.

ok, so not really mixed.

this approach feels a tad bit pollyanna to me. a little sloughing-off of reality. perhaps a tiny bit delusional. not that I wouldn’t wish everything would be like that – all sweetness and everyone and everything light of spirit. but it isn’t. life is not normal now.

i would like to point out that lack of sharing honest information is how we got here. because of the lack of truthful information. because of the abundance of misinformation. because of the elitist-extremist-isolationist-bigoted blather that always seemed to be elevated on fox as powerful and all-knowing, the singular news source full of putrid propaganda…that is what brought us here.

so, i respectfully disagree with the post i viewed.

we are a country desperately in need of conversation and communication – and, whether you agree with someone or not, it’s pretty damn pretentious to think we all need to dumb it down – posting only fluff – to the exclusion of the tough stuff – that which is real.

social media is a place for us all to share life, what fun things we are doing, what work we are undertaking, what our children and their children are up to. a happy-go-lucky place to remember birthdays and anniversaries. a place to cheer on your sports team or ask for chiropractic recommendations. a place to brag. you might wish this to be merely a peaceful community with no fraught issues, no debatable topics, no what-the-hell-is-happening posts. but – just as important in this online world as positive chitchat – social media is an opportunity to reach out and ask questions, reach across divides and learn, reach compassionately to others, acknowledge struggle and pain, sort to ways we might all be life-giving. life is the current cruel chaos happening right here right now AND everyone’s dogs, my friend. social media is not a quilt.

when life is relatively normal it may be all well and good to not stir the pot, to post the quintessentially charming things. quite lovely, actually.

but when life – in these united states – is completely out of kilter, and nothing you have posted even nods to the chaos that is ensuing, nothing you have posted even makes mention of your horror at the demolition of this country, nothing you have posted even touches on the cruelty that is happening in our country – which is also your country – it makes me wonder what cave it is into which you have stuck your head.

and then i am rapidly brought back to reality.

there are those of you who wanted this. and so the reason you haven’t said anything about being horrified is because you aren’t.

you wanted all this.

agenda and project intentions about which people are afraid and hurting, clinging to the last of their freedom and rights.

and you wanted this.

people in your families will soon feel the impact of all this, the impact of unconscionable authoritarian, extremist rule.

and you wanted this.

so just know that when you post the gollygee things you are posting as if life is normal and everything is totally ok – i am here knowing you wanted all this and that you are not sorry and that you weren’t willing to be factually informed and you can’t be bothered to even pretend to be compassionate.

when you post on social media as if life is normal, it doesn’t make it normal.

when you post on social media as if life is normal, know that my heart is broken.

because i know you wanted this.

please. get me my quilt.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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