reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

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not going back. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

it all started with a print hanging in our bedroom. it needed to move somewhere else and it needed to be replaced with something different or nothing, blank wall space.

and so I took the print off the wall and brought in the vintage piece i thought might work. we held it up and hung it up. a little bit of change.

i went into my studio and pulled out an old full-of-personality metal tripod work light we had found at an antiques flea market this summer. it was five dollars and it actually worked. i brought it into the living room, wanting to find a spot for it.

i think it was the five-dollar-metal-dome that started the avalanche. still in our buffalo plaids, we set to work.

now, usually when people decorate they go to furniture stores and home good type places looking for pieces, new items to incorporate into their decor. but that’s not budgeted at this time, so we tried using different eyes as we looked at what was in place, what was in the basement stored, how we could change things up, refresh our home.

in the end, we spent the entire day rearranging. many spaces were treated to a littlebittachange – the living room, the dining room, the sunroom, the foyer. we imagined all kinds of things – maybe in the future some of those will happen.

and we laughed to find ourselves at 7pm – still in red buffalo plaid – ready for some leftover homemade soup.

the best part of the day, though, was a realization. at 7, sipping a friday night glass of wine with our tomato soup, we realized that neither of us had thought about or talked about the current political turmoil. it was a relief to be lost in something positive, something productive, something personally gratifying.

i know that as i go into the rooms of our home today it will strike me somewhat differently today than during yesterday’s flurry. i – sometimes – don’t do change well and my threadiness includes my surroundings.

but this time may be different. this time i think i will walk around our home and imagine all the potential of our future here. this time i will again feel the comfort of this old house, no matter what the decor. this time i will be decidedly more open-minded about not changing it all back.

because going forward – in all its shapes and forms – and not going back – holding to hope and possibility needs to override the exorbitant negativity – the absolute control-mongering insanity – so prevalent in our country right now.

we sat in the old wooden glider – moved – surprisingly – from the deck into the living room – and talked about the new perspective it gave us on the room.

“furry pillows will offset the rough-hewn-ness,” i coaxed him. we glanced around the room – at the peeling-paint-chunk-of-concrete in the role of coffee-wine-perch next to the leather recliner, at the portion of desk – with the sawed-off-side next to the radiator – in the role of end-table, at the huge tree branch from the beloved tree out front happy-lit in the middle of the front window and we laughed.

getting lost in our own home – our sanctuary – was just the thing we needed.

and to remember that little bit about control: “let there be an opening into the quiet that lies beneath the chaos, where you find the peace you did not think possible and see what shimmers within the storm.” (john o’donohue)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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the unthinkable black and white. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

if we had looked only at the sky, it would have reinforced the black-and-white-photograph world we felt we were in. the sky was so november. but the photo was in color and, despite feeling differently to our core, the world was in technicolor.

the trail was mostly empty, which was a good thing. we needed to be there – our lack of hiking through interminable covid was taking a toll. exhausted from covid, exhausted from doing nothing, exhausted after doing anything.

and so the sky heightened our feeling – of walking in the black and white of this past week.

by now you know i am horrified by the election, by its results, by the actual people voting for these results. it cannot be clearer to me that there is a dividing line between me and those people who voted against my own family. it is black and white…that clear.

i’d like to go all maya/mlk jr./gandhi, heck, i’d like to go all jesus christ (“love one another; as i have loved you.” john 13:34). i suspect they would be just as horrified. quoting any of them as any kind of justification in or support of this horror story is hypocrisy.

because you have knowingly undermined the safety, security, the rights of my family, of people dear to me – and that’s pretty black and white to me. and i realize i can maybe love you, but not respect you, not want to be around you, not trust you or feel safe with you. your heart is different than i thought i knew. and i can’t pretend i don’t know or that it doesn’t matter. this – this – is becoming black and white to me.

love is a two-way street. turning your back on humanity is not love. the cruelty and immense intentional hardship you intentionally voted in for other people – yes PEOPLE – no better or lesser than you – is not love. hate, misogyny, racism, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia are not love. fascism is not based on love – you have fallen prey to cultish, narrow, extreme, bullying, propaganda-laden thinking that is not – despite the whipped-up and warped misinformed disdain you express at the price of eggs, individual gender identification, compassionate social programs – definitely not – based on love.

i’m pretty sure that many are struggling with this right now. we are all out here, internally trying to figure out the unthinkable – how our families or friends have betrayed basic rights – values – upon which we thought we agreed. it’s unimaginably brutal and painful and hard to wrap our heads around. it is so very, very sad. but it is pretty black and white.

it’s november. i drag my eyes from the november sky – where i was beseeching the universe for answers. and i look beside the trail, where leaves are still turning and the deer wait as we approach.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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yeah. now what? [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

the monday-morning-armchair-quarterbacking is over the top. there is no one excuse for these election results. to be real, there cannot be enough reasons for the despicable – what the majority of voters voted for.

in the aftermath – afforded from even little to no doom-scrolling that highlights the absolute tsunami of finger-pointing, blaming, history-touting, policy-pummeling, we now see that the maga-voters voting for all the maga-sh*t did not quite understand what the maga-candidate’s maga-agenda really meant.

many of them had tuned into fox news where they learned – and clearly believed – things like people were eating other people’s dogs and cats and you could send your child to school and they would arrive home the opposite sex.

despite all the information to the contrary, they didn’t understand tariffs nor did they understand what “authoritarian” meant. they didn’t realize mass deportation meant their relatives.

and, worst of all, they poo-pooed any talk of the abject cruelties of project 2025, jumping on the he-doesn’t-really-mean-that-he-wouldn’t-really-do-that bandwagon.

weren’t they surprised when – post-election – all the maga-cronies paused very few milliseconds and posted what would amount to a naa-naa-nah-naa-naa, stating that it was the actual agenda all along.

adding fuel to the what-the-hell fire, “…catherine rampell and youyou zhou (washington post) showed before the election that voters overwhelmingly preferred harris’s policies to trump’s if they didn’t know which candidate proposed them.” (heather cox richardson – american historian, professor of history – boston college, previously MIT, university of massachusetts amherst )

if you don’t fact-check, if you don’t ask questions, if you don’t care about any potential work in the aisle or if the country’s democracy could be decimated, if you don’t worry your little head about character or details of a candidate’s experience or qualifications or with whom they choose to surround themselves, you have chosen to be a voter voting on whatever your rage is, you have voted to follow the lemmings off the cliff.

amanda marcotte (senior politics writer – salon) opined, “a lot of voters are profoundly ignorant. more so than in the past.” ya think??

so, yeah. now what?

i’m going to clean out my closet, take a hike, hydrate and try to breathe.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING


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we voted for democracy. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the canvasser walked up the driveway toward us. “well, there’s no doubt who you are voting for,” she stated and then continued, lifting up the democratic presidential candidate who had inspired her to hit the sidewalks, to knock on doors and talk to people.

“we already voted,” i smiled and told her, so she could breathe for a moment, replenish her energy and move on to the next house, with the hope that she could make a difference in this unparalleled election, an election of utmost importance to our country and its populace. i thanked her as she smiled wearily, turned and walked on.

yes. it is obvious who we voted for. we have zero need for this choice to be secretive.

we exercised our right – to vote – granted by amendments to the constitution of these united states.

we exercised our civic dedication – our duty – to democracy, voting for the most appropriate candidate to be president of these united states, the candidate who will uphold and protect that very democracy.

we exercised our right to vote to protect those rights, our freedoms, the constitution, its amendments, to protect these united states.

yes. we voted for kamala harris and tim walz. with gratitude for them.

because any other vote is a vote to undermine the privileges of freedom we – every single one of us – have in this country, to undermine the compassionate humanity we all share, to undermine the democracy of america.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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the urgent bottom line. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

there is an urgency right now – like no other.

THIS is urgent…THIS election, THIS decision.

this is not normal, nor is this hyperbole.

it’s tomorrow. one day.

we are truly – like mika brzezinski said – ” counting down to the election of America’s life.”

if there are no alarm bells going off in your head, you have not been paying attention, you have not read the intentions of the maga party, you have sloughed off the reprehensible words of the maga candidate.

if you are not trembling as you think about the outcome of this election, you have not elicited any part of your good conscience, your moral center, the part of you that cares about this country or its inhabitants. you, instead, have bought into hatred and violence. you have abdicated your character, your integrity to the abhorrent character of this maga leader. and, if i knew you before, i don’t know you now.

if you don’t feel like sobbing thinking about the darkness that could come with the maga intentions of the maga candidate, his cronies, project 2025, every single mean-spirited, depraved, cruel, sadistic undermining of rights, freedoms, opportunity, you have closed off your heart. you clearly don’t care what happens to the people of this country – of which you are one.

i am stunned we are here, at this nightmarish moment in the history of the united states. it feels surreal to even try and wrap my head around the unconscionable, ghoulish possibility that we – free americans – could find ourselves in a fascist regime under the authoritarian rule of this unscrupulous maga candidate and his drooling-for-power contemptible sycophants.

and it’s tomorrow.

there is one day left.

vote for your life and the life of america.

vote for democracy.

the absolute bottom line.

because EVERY thing is on the line.

*****

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

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real life. right now. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

when you drive almost 1900 miles around the southwest – on backroads, highways, interstates – you get to see some real life.

we drove from nevada to utah to arizona and back to nevada- a big loop. there was so much to see – even just out the window of the suburban stuffed with six people and six suitcases, six carry-on backpacks or tote bags, six water bottle koozies and lots of snacks. there were many lessons along the way as we drove through small towns, farms, ranchland, desert, canyonlands.

there were people. people living in these small towns, on these farms, on this ranchland, in the desert, homesteading by the canyonlands. real live people, an exclamation point of diversity.

i had the good fortune of meeting the woman who opened her home to us – through airbnb – a half hour or so south of the grand canyon. hers was not a five-star hotel. hers was not a resort-amenity-rich spa. hers was not a photo-shoot instagram-worthy house of smart finishes and interior design. hers was a home – her beloved home to which she was soon going to return to live.

you knew as you drove down the gravel road – past the mobile homes and modular houses. you knew as you pulled into her dirt driveway and pulled up to the porch, a little worse for wear. you knew as you drove in and the outbuildings scattered within the split-rail fencing were numerous. you knew as you walked in – the laundry room off the porch door – and the floor was worn. you knew as you strolled about in her home, filled with antiques, charming tchotchkes and quirky notes everywhere that explained how things worked or invited you in to her life.

she pointed at one of the outbuildings and told me that was to become her she-shed. she pointed at what looked like a pile of rubble and told me that was the beginning of a barn for her husband and his workbench. she was so excited to tell me that we were the last guests at her home and that after a couple weeks she and her husband would return there, would move back into their forever home, would be looking forward to the peace that space, that horizon, the mountains in the distance, the desert up close and personal afforded them. this was her sea-to-shining-sea. this place represented her freedom, the place she would heal from several medical challenges, the place she would grow old, the place she truly loved with all her heart. i wanted to weep for her happiness.

this is the time – RIGHT NOW – when we all get to vote for the place that represents our freedom. this is the time – RIGHT NOW – when we all get to vote for healing our nation from the division that has been stoked by the voices in maga-land. this is the time – RIGHT NOW – when we all get to vote so that we might grow old in a democracy, so that our children and their children can grow old in a democracy. this is the time – RIGHT NOW – that we all get to vote for a place we love with all our heart.

it matters not if we have a fancy home or a plain home. what matters is that we are grateful for this democracy that houses whatever home it is we have, wherever it is we live in these united states . what matters is that we are grateful for the freedoms, the constitution, the checks and balances of power, the mutual respect of each other – our sameness and our differences, the ability to have a voice.

we drove about 1900 miles. we saw the ultra-fancy and we saw the hovels in the middle of nowhere. we marveled at the uncanny ability of people to be resilient, to tenaciously cling to life and livelihood, regardless of their circumstance. we dreamed that this country would continue to address hardship – in all its forms – and that we would continue to step only forward.

we spoke about the airbnbs we stayed at. there were five, all different. this home – in the desert and unlike any of the others – touched my heart. this woman did the best she could to offer up her house to others who are traveling, to invite people in, to envelop them in warmth and the reassurance of home, albeit temporarily. i have so much respect for her – her unapologetic sharing of her home. she offered her beloved and imperfect space to complete strangers, trusting we would care for it. it was so much more than the option that offered a stark, austerely modern building, sans thoughtful gestures. it was a slice of real life.

real life is a country filled to the brim with people – all different. real life is a country that stands by e pluribus unum – out of many, one.

real life is meeting people – across this country – everyone different, in every different kind of circumstance – knowing we are all in this together.

real life is recognizing the urgency we face. it is being honest about what we could potentially lose and to whom we could lose it.

real life is RIGHT NOW – when it is completely and utterly delusional to think that everything would be better if the maga agenda wins, if hatred and bigotry and extreme nationalism and misogyny and the undermining of democracy win.

real life would never be the same. this country – our home – would never be the same.

be better than that. right now.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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first things first. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

yes.

first things first.

let’s just cut to the chase.

i want to live in a democracy.

everything else – every single thing else – can be sorted out.

because without democracy, none of that other, er, stuff will matter. at all. ever.

and so i am poised to vote for kamala and tim. i am poised to vote for a way forward. i am ready to do the work, carry the hope, feel the inspiration, rejuvenate the optimism of this country.

i do not want to be surrounded by ugly, by division, by anger, by revenge, by a candidate whose vulgarity is lacking any degree of maturity or reasonableness, who pushes vitriol and hatred.

i am ready to step into a future that holds firmly to the bedrock of this nation – its democracy.

i hope you have cut to the chase as well.

i mean, really, fellow americans – fellow voters – first things first.

*****

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

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shabaeawaka. unless. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“we can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” (james baldwin)

i would add – or unless your disagreement is rooted in the oppression and denial of the humanity and right to exist of people you purport to care about – people in your beloved family, in your cherished community.

growing up, there were straw placemats in a circle around the perimeter of our kitchen table. each one had inked initials in the bottom corner – to designate whose placemat it was. ba, ea, wa, ka, sha, they read. in some moment, a guest circled around the table, reading them aloud, in order. “sha-ba-ea-wa-ka,” he read. and then, more quickly, “shabaeawaka!”

shabaeawaka became our family’s shortcut of the combination of our names – my mom always lovingly referring to the moniker and telling the story of its origin.

shabaeawaka – in all the ups and downs of a regular family – became a synonym for invincible ties, for family-sticking-together.

my sweet momma, even in the last moments i saw her, believed with her whole heart in the devotion of this family to each other. she believed in kindness and generosity, in acceptance and goodness, in joy and positivity, in love no-matter-what.

my sweet poppo – a mostly quiet man – died three years before my momma. he wasn’t one of those dads who would sit you down and bestow wisdoms upon you. but i could feel his staunch support of me throughout my life…as a child, as a young adult, as i finally made my way into my artistry, as a parent.

my momma stayed in their house in florida on the little lake as long as she physically could. she surrounded herself with the familiar of their lives together, always missing the actual presence of my dad, lonely for him. the empty vase – the one my poppo kept filled with grocery store flowers – stood in the foyer, an acknowledgment of unwelcome change.

but my sweet momma – well – she kept on. and as it became obvious she would need to leave her home and move into assisted living she chose to give away things from her home. the dining room table went to a family of immigrants who didn’t have a table at which to eat. her blue leather sofa went to a family across the street. my momma was not discerning. people in need of something were precisely the people to whom she wanted to give those things. even in her grief of moving, her generosity and love of others prevailed.

i did not feel the need – nor did i have the logistical ability – to fill rooms with items of my parents after my momma’s move or even after she died. but i do have remembrances of them. and i have their dna.

mostly, i have the ideal they taught me – that no matter what, you stick by your family, you uphold each other, you protect each other, you love each other. in no uncertain terms, my mom and my dad would stand tall next to each of us, buoying us and believing in us – the lesson of acceptance – no matter what – of the right to exist, to sustain, to thrive.

i know – without a doubt – they have cheered on my life – in all its phases, in its ups and downs. i know – without a doubt – they have cheered on my daughter’s courageous and adventurous spirit finding home in the mountains, my son and his incredible and cherished LGBTQ community in the city, around the world. i know – without a doubt – they would support them to the mat, thwarting anything that might come between them and their freedoms as americans, as human beings. i know this not only because it was how i was raised, but this is what shabaeawaka is. it is the legacy of shabaeawaka.

and so i wonder what they are thinking now.

i suspect they are on board with james baldwin.

there were times of disagreement, yes. my quiet dad could get rather loud in moments. my sweet momma could push back on inequality, on the crushing of human rights, on evil.

but all was ok if the basics were still in place, if the disagreement – in the words of james baldwin – was not rooted in the oppression of them or their loved one, if it did not deny their humanity or the humanity of their loved one, if it did not undermine their right to exist or their loved one’s right to exist. those were the basics and the basics of any faith i ever learned from them.

I wonder what they are thinking now as they – from a plane of existence far away – watch this election, as they watch the unthinkable, as they watch oppression and the denial of humanity and right to exist on the up-close-and-personal do-we-love-each-other line, as they witness the undermining – the throwing away – of the tenets of their precious shabaeawaka.

i don’t know where the placemats went.

i just know i don’t need the actual placemats to remember what they meant.

*****

LEGACY © 1995 kerri sherwood

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which story? [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

sometime between 300 and 1300 c.e. there were people in this south central utah area who wanted to tell a story, to preserve it. their narrative – told in petroglyphs – was about their daily living – their families, livestock, wildlife they hunted. it was a narrative of living in community. it is astounding to witness the carved chiseling of so long ago, humbling to imagine living in such a harsh, difficult environment. you can feel a pull from the earth as you stand there – something that binds you to those moments so many centuries before. you gaze at these figures and are struck by the humanness of this history – despite absolutely different living conditions, we all simply wish to tell a narrative of our living.

the petroglyphs we were fortunate to see at capitol reef did not depict fighting. they did not depict division nor hatred. they did not depict power or control struggles. they did not depict what would certainly be pictured as part of petroglyphs were there to be some telling the tale of right now.

in absolute embarrassment about how low this country’s people have sunk – the inability to hold democracy and freedom-of-all-to-live as essentials – the spewing hatred and vitriol – i cannot imagine what story petroglyphs etched into big red rock canyon walls now would tell – later.

covid has given us some free time. in-between moments of feeling absolutely horrendous, we have succumbed to reading articles, scrolling the news. it is utterly disturbing.

i want to scream, “this is not about you!!!” to people caught up in the despicable hate, in the misinformation, the disinformation, the conspiracies. i want to beg people to consider the future of this country’s democracy, the future beyond their own lives, to vote for something hopeful. i want to ask people to just stop, listen, think, consider.

i do not recognize you – you, who are supporting the heinous intentions of the maga-party. i do not recognize you – you, who are turning a blind eye to people in your midst who you claim to care about or even love – as you sign on to extreme changes of freedoms in these un-united states. this is not a difference in policy-embracing; this is a deeply undermined philosophical difference on humanity. i do not recognize your heart, turned so very angry, exclusionary, cold. and, in turn, my heart is broken, seeing this, seeing you – now.

but i know the power of rhetoric, the sheer toxic force of those who lie. i have experienced being the subject of warped narrative, of agenda-riddled powermongers. and in my tiny subset of experience, i have seen people – who i never would have expected – support the lies, push the ugly agenda, fight to win. but it is in their winning that they truly lost. and i believe they know that.

if there were to be petroglyphs or pictographs on red rock canyon walls telling our story – the story of we-the-people of these times – what would we wish them to depict?

it boils down to a pretty basic question.

is it a story of community? or a story of devastating division and hate?

which story?

who are you?

*****

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matchy-matchy. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

this is not fun.

not that I expected it to be.

we have been really cautious through all this time – years, really – trying to be respectful of and avoid getting covid.

but here we are…in our matchy-matchy red buffalo plaid flannel pjs, suffering together.

those who have been through this already know about the fever, the headache, the incessant cough, the intense sore throat, the congestion, the tightness in your chest, the exhaustion, the aches and pains and all that. it is one hellish virus. it’s somewhat stressful for me just knowing i have this. i can’t help but remember the early days of the pandemic and the heart-breaking devastation it wrought. we have been fortunate; we haven’t ever tested positive before though we have each had some of the symptoms.

but here we are…in our matchy-matchy flannels, complaining and whining together.

a good night’s sleep seems like a really good idea – until you are laying there, coughing your silly head off all night.

dogga doesn’t seem to mind how we look or sound – and we are ever-so-grateful to be home.

but we are a bit worse for wear.

so don’t mind us as we stay put – here in our house or out on our back deck…in our red buffalo plaids, sniffling and coughing and making our way out of covidland.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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