reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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harvest the love. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

in a very, very long-ago life i wrote a song for a youth choir called “harvest the love“. i recently found the arrangement i composed. it is a bubblegum kind of song – full of rhyming idealism. “…we are all one fam’ly under the sun, we are brothers, we are sisters, we are one...”. wowza.

one of my closest friends in high school – marc – used to make fun of me (in the kindest way possible). he’d poke at my embrace of rainbows and sunrises and bubbles and sunsets. i was all-in on that stuff, believing it was absolutely possible to be “all one fam’ly under the sun”. “…for aren’t we really crops in the sun and aren’t we ready for work and for fun, as all one fam’ly under the sun…”. (it’s ok to laugh.)

we had a quiet thanksgiving. it felt good to store away the deck furniture and rugs, to complete prepping the backyard for winter – for (as i write this) we’re due for 6-10 inches of snow over the weekend (which, incidentally, we did get about 10). we wrapped happy lights around the giant tree branch that used to be in our living room, now fastened to our deck. on a timer, we look forward to this tree greeting us as we arrive home in the dark. we neatly tucked everything else away and the snow shovel is in its at-the-ready place by the back door.

we had the good fortune of visiting frank over the holidays. in a rehab facility, exhausted and challenged from a serious health event, he roused to tell us stories accumulated over the nine plus decades of his life. he – most definitely – lived a life ready for both work and for fun, just like my giddy song lyrics.

and then – back home – between sending out thanksgiving greetings and receiving them – we prepared a big stockpot of irish stew for our meal. with george winston playing in the sunroom, we chopped and sautéed and, ultimately, simmered our way to dinner. it was just us, but as we gathered, we talked about the people in our lives who have meant so much to us, about memories of thanksgivings, about our gratitude for our home and each other. two weeks ago our children and their partners gathered around our dining room table and i am still holding fast to how it all felt that day, stretching it out like good taffy.

most of the lyrics of this old song are really indicative of my age (late teens) and where i had come from – you can tell i spent a lot of time sitting in my tree outside my window writing poetry. “…isn’t it time now to harvest the love in your roots and splash in the puddles around you. from dawn of the day and its dew, we bask in the sunshine surrounds us...” yikes.

then there’s: “…dig our holes in fertile soil of living and hope that it will yield us as giving...” that would seem an innocently metaphoric way – full of autumnal reference – of saying we reap what we sow. and…i still agree with that.

and then, after the song – predictably – in late 70s fashion – modulates up a full step to a new key, it ends: “harvest the love within your heart, harvest the love. harvest the love within your heart, harvest the love…(with repeat signs)...”

which is – really – i think – still what i believe. love. harvest the LOVE. gather with those you love. LOVE one another. we ARE all one fam’ly under the sun. we ARE brothers, we ARE sisters.

now if only we could all act like it.

*****

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

“i once believed that silence was strength.” (anonymous)

and then i didn’t.

because “silence isn’t strength. it’s complicity.” (barbra streisand)

and so i – in my noisy – will stand firm and tall.

and i will wonder how others have not yet gotten there – to noisy. how others have not yet realized inside themselves that their silence – in these very days – is complicity. how others have not spoken up, spoken for, spoken against. how others have not been openly horrified at what this country’s administration is allowing, how this country’s administration is grifting, what this country’s administration is hiding, what this country’s administration is intending.

and i will wonder how others protect the wrongdoers. how others cavalierly wield the power differential around, like a discus before its release, spinning, spinning. how others thwart the rights of people they consider beneath them, lesser, somehow, than them. how others avoid accountability, culpability, the simple act of being responsible. how others stay quiet – seemingly a mute cheering squad for these, both voiceless and gleeful.

and i will wonder how it is that sexual assault survivors are expected to internalize their abuse, desperately seeking anything to normalize that which is not normal. how it is that sexual assault survivors are not lifted from their pain with the steady voices of everyone around them, instead of shushed or doubted or ignored. how it is that this question – “why we doubt accusers and protect abusers” – has any turf on which to stand.

but these are not my wonders to solve. these are mine to get noisy about. for it is my own heart i must answer to.

because, for me, silence is not strength. it is capitulating to wrong, quietly suggesting that i agree.

and i don’t.

“it happened. it was wrong. it matters.” (tarana burke)

it’s happening. it is wrong. it matters.

all of it.

*****

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a cupcake toast. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

we have few vices. very few, actually. we love coffee. we enjoy a glass of wine. and chocolate – well – sometimes chocolate makes the list (more often for d than for me.)

so when our dear dear friends made us a care package for a recent roadtrip, they included all three. a bottle of wine, a box (yes! a whole box!) of hostess cupcakes, and a bottle of stok cold brew coffee. there were other goodies too – nuts and chocolate bars, munchies galore.

the first night was following ten hours of driving. though we have decided we prefer (wholeheartedly) to drive road trips in reasonable daylight hours now, we were past sunset and were driving the last of our journey that night in the dark. naturally, this was on windy, hilly, non-lit roads with the presence of deer, both alive and deceased. stressful. we went slow and were anxious to get to our accommodations in a little town in the mountains.

we warmed up the pre-prepared dinner we had brought with us and sat down at the tiny counter with a glass of wine to eat, exhaling from a long day and the last hour of our travel.

though we haven’t indulged in a hostess cupcake in forever, it was our obvious choice for dessert (gluten or no, it was clear!). we cheered our glasses and raised our cupcake to jen and brad as we sat, talking about our trip and the gift of having people traveling alongside with you, cheering you on, buoying your every mile.

because the hostess cupcake and the bottle of wine and the stok weren’t so much about the hostess cupcake and the wine and the coffee as they were about the talismans of support and love.

there is nothing like people walking – or driving – or flying – or just holding steady with you.

we raise our hostess cupcake to any of you out there who do the same for others. i’m pretty sure that – THAT – is what being in the world is about.

*****

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

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in an emergency. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

i would not think twice about using this emergency life ring were someone to be thrashing about in the cold water of the harbor below the dock. i’d quickly read the instructions and throw out the rope to anyone – ANY one – who might be drowning or even flailing, trying to survive. i have no doubt that most of the people i know would do the same; they would not ignore the seriousness of a person in extreme need of help.

which is why i absolutely cannot understand why this country is ignoring the imminent crises imperiling millions of people. when i read historian heather cox richardson’s words “what are we doing here?” i couldn’t agree more. truly…what are we doing here?

between the withholding of snap benefits, the gross reduction of medicaid, the exponentially escalating cost of impossible healthcare policies, the grabbing of people off the street, out of businesses, cars, daycares, this country – as you know – is placing its people at great risk.

so what are we doing here?

it would seem that normal human beings – those with a conscience, with compassion and with integrity – would never hesitate to help others in an emergency or in dire straits.

the words on the emergency life ring stanchion read “TO SAVE A LIFE”.

how is it that we – every single one of us – is not concerned with just that?

*****

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

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when? [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

on the same night we waltzed in the rain, we strolled up and down main street, window-shopping. we were too drenched to go in anywhere and that wasn’t the point anyway. we just wanted to etch it all – best as we could – memorize it.

the harbor had always been a refuge and i was grateful to see the post at the information booth – in several languages – declare “may peace prevail on earth”. this tiny microcosm of the world – the village park – this space that drew people and strollers and children and dogs and laughter and music – this space certainly was shining a light on the possibility of community…shared community.

but peace is not prevailing on earth these very days. the people of our country are struggling as are people around the globe. my heart sinks as i think of all the places where real-live people are fighting for their very lives, where real-live people are being dehumanized, where real-live people are starving, where real-live people are being run over by self-centered, extremist regimes.

and i wonder, if not now, when? when might compassion rise among all people? when might we all realize the immortality of our time here, living it with generosity toward each other? when might warring cease? when might evil forces slink away in humiliation – forever defeated?

when might this world come to its senses – to actually prevail in peace?

when, indeed.

*****

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children and dreams. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it made me cry. it was all i could do not to down-and-out messy cry. had i lost control it would have been ugly. i grieved for every single american child as i struggled and hiccuped my way back to some semblance of calm. phil vassar’s lyrics were poignant and profound and deeply troubling.

the concert was amazing. phil vassar is a prolific songwriter, a consummate performer, his voice strong, his ballads clear. i’ve seen him in concert several times and was thrilled to see him again. he is now 63 and, having had both a heart attack and a stroke, he is making his way back – to the attention of the public – for the public forgets quickly.

there are artists you hold onto, particularly when you are an artist yourself. you know when there is something absolutely special about someone – you can feel it. every song, every note, every sung lyric – this man is a master singer-songwriter. there’s nothing really fancy about him…he plays a painted acoustic yamaha piano, often standing (which i can totally relate to). his band is extraordinary and tight, the perfect backup for him.

“cause 419 lakewood had no silver spoons/just an old beat up upright that played out of tune/now i’m singing and living the life that i love/and when i count my blessings i thank god i was an american child/an american child/’cause dreams can grow wild born inside an american child.” (american child – phil vassar)

every american child.

and that’s why i cried. because it’s no longer the same. i cried for my adult children. i cried for my friends’ grandchildren. i cried for the children i don’t know. i cried for what this country has lost, the dreams that have been violently stolen, the hope that has dissolved, the democracy that hangs by tiny filaments.

at the end of the concert, phil vassar – in seemingly no hurry at all – sat on the edge of the stage and chatted with people, took selfies with his fans, signed shirts and hats and cds.

i stood at our seats and watched, both proud of him and a little bit stunned at how very gracious he was – his obvious, deep gratitude to a concert hall that should have been filled.

i knew he couldn’t hear me – and i didn’t go up to tell him – but as i stood there i whispered, “you’re relevant, phil vassar. you’re so relevant.” deep down, he already knows. he’s always been relevant.

an american child. the american dream.

“there is no trust more sacred than the one the world holds with children. there is no duty more important than ensuring that their rights are respected, that their welfare is protected, that their lives are free from fear and want and that they can grow up in peace.” (kofi annan)

a promise once made/will it shine, will it fade/will we rise with the vision or fall?” (american child – john denver)

*****

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pretty basic. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

the business was closed as we walked by on the sidewalk. the luminescent sunset over the harbor was beckoning. but i stopped when i saw the sign – facing out the window: “work hard and be kind“.

i’m not sure what kind of office it was – maybe a realtor, maybe insurance, i don’t know. it doesn’t matter, though. the message was clear and we so appreciated it. it was like a combo quote – of my sweet mom and poppo smushed together. there were other signs of my mom and dad here and there. simple gestures from another dimension.

when big red’s windshield started to high-pitch-whine, there was no way to ignore it. with no time for an official windshield rubber seal repair, we pulled off and found a home improvement store. i could hear my dad as we purchased and then tacked black gorilla tape all along the top windshield seal. his instructions were clear – trim the spots where there is a little gutter so that rain doesn’t accumulate there (good advice considering we were about to be driving in the torrential tropical-storm-turned-nor’easter), be sure to bring the tape all the way across and down into the well created by the driver and passenger doors, press it all down firmly and eliminate as many air pockets as possible.

i couldn’t help but remember the time – more than five decades ago – that my dad and my big brother and i had a breakdown upstate new york and they cut barbed wire from a fence for our pink-painted lilco-van-turned-camper to fashion some kind of engine fix that would get us home.

we laughed as we applied my dad’s version of a rube goldberg repair. and we laughed even more, clear that columbus and my dad were having a good chuckle together watching us from the other side. mostly, we worked hard together at trying to solve a problem, at staying calm and being kind to each other in the process. because a screaming (and later, leaking) windshield can most definitely cause stress and grumpiness.

only a little water managed to get past our super-duper-3-times-stronger-heavy-duty-all-weather homemade seal, which is pretty impressive considering the torrents of rain and wind it endured.

by the time we were walking on the sidewalk down toward the harbor and the sun, we had forgotten about the windshield challenge. we were immersing in a little harbor town i have always loved, intentionally appreciating people who were working hard and people who were kind to us.

but back in big red, on the way back – sans whistling windshield – we talked about our rube-goldberg-ing on the way out.

it all seems pretty basic to us.

gorilla tape won’t fix everything but working hard and being kind can.

*****

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yup. definitely. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

the jeep’s tirecover in the meijer’s parking lot made me stop: “spread good vibes”

taking out my phone to take a picture, i said to d, “now there’s a good monday merely-a-thought! we could totally be friends with them!”

he laughed and agreed, “definitely!”

i love when people put positive messages out there.

so much better than the vehicles – with stickers of words or lewd cartoon images – messages that say f*** off.

like, ewww.

i don’t believe we would – or could – be friends with those people.

nope.

definitely not.

*****

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help from sesame street. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

and down the road, around the corner, in the littlefreelibrary just off the sidewalk, the sesame street gang spoke to the wild range of emotions i was feeling.

“happy and sad, grouchy and glad” was facing the glass door of the wooden library box, just waiting to be taken home.

thinking of how many lessons i learned from sesame street and its – clearly woke – characters – even as a parent of young children back in the day – i was tempted. sesame street’s diversity, embrace of differences and handling of difficult topics of injustice was a breath of fresh air….clearly too loving and kind for today’s anti-empathy-anti-free-speech-anti-inclusivity-anti-equality-anti-compassion-anti, well, anti-democracy crowd. it’s exhausting. sad and grouchy don’t even touch it.

i pointed out the book to d as we walked by and we both laughed when i said that it was the perfect book – the understatement of the wild ride of emotions that we have living in this country at this time. i would extract happy and glad to relate only to our personal lives and not the state of the unconscionable insanity of this country.

i didn’t read the book – we didn’t even stop and take it out of the littlefreelibrary. though if we walk past it again today, i might just do that. it might help.

i want to see how elmo and grover and cookie monster deal with the roller coaster of feelings. goodness knows i have some trouble with that these days.

*****

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yin-yang. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

here at the end of september – heading rapidly into october – elton john’s “your song” lyrics – “how wonderful life is while you’re in the world” – are relevant to me. we soon will celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary and life is truly wonderful for me because david is in it.

so the card at the antique shoppe caught my attention as we passed by it a couple weeks ago.

just as quickly as that charming card caught my attention, so did one hanging on a rack below it: “i tolerate you“.

putting them together – a yin-yang spectrum – they made me laugh aloud and i showed david. because – you know – blissful adoration and barely tolerating someone go hand in hand.

we both had a good laugh then. people in the shoppe stopped and looked at us. we kept laughing.

as we move through the days remaining of our ten married years and into the beginning of our eleventh married year – particularly at this time in our lives – we take heart in this laughter. as victor borge said, “laughter is the closest distance between two people.

it’s one of the things i love most – laughing together. particularly when i am feeling tolerant of him.

“we are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.” (dr. seuss)

*****

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

 

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