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Category Archives: merely a thought monday


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wait! what?!? [merely-a-thought monday]

elephant or bear. i’m trying to decide which i’d rather be called. both momma elephants and momma bears defend their young, protect their clans. i’ve decided to go with elephant (obviously, sans political statement), for it is said, “female elephants continuously protect each other from predators in the wild, providing one another a sense of security.” and i’m less grizzly-bear-growly than wrap-my-tail-around-them-draw-them-close. hmm. well, maybe i’m a little of both. either way, i’m not going to forget if you are mean to my children. i’m not going to forget if you are mean to my family. and, in this case, i’m not going to forget if you are mean to my spouse.

people can pretty much think anything they want. we artists are pretty much used to that. questions like “what do you reeeeeally do for a living?” have peppered us our whole lives. people stare and furrow their brows when we answer. and i’m guessing that it’s not just what we say. we must … look … and act … a little artsy… or something.

sidewalks are generally pretty black and white. concrete. stamped or not stamped. seamed between squares. jointer-tool-etched or not. dyed or not. though my sweet father-in-law would have happily described all the varieties of concrete possibilities to me, i am having trouble getting through on the heaven-line so i will have to linger in my narrower spectrum of understanding.

we have concrete. in our front walk by the street, in our driveway and in our walk to the front door. all of that concrete is permanent now – post-lead-water-line-replacement-the-story-that-would-never-end – except for one square (which i hasten to point out is actually a rectangle, though far be it from me to get stuck on a detail.)

this one square, er, rectangle, is up by our front door. temporary concrete lays cracked in the spot waiting for the real concrete, contraction line between it and the old sidewalk that has welcomed visitors for about, well, 94 years, i guess.

and it continues to wait.

because it’s a “weird little job” – not worthy of attention – uh, hello? every size audience counts. just sayin’. – and because the sub-sub-contractor is “afraid the guy won’t be happy because the color and curve won’t match the sidewalk that’s already there.” uh, hello? we are intelligent beings who can grok that different ages look different. letmetellyou, we can grok that. even in sidewalks. – and because he also said, “and he seems a little different.”

wait! what?!?

“he seems a little different.”???

i’m a-wonderin’ “whatintheheck?!” while i am reading this email that was forwarded to me from the sub-contractor-to-the-city, one step above the sub-sub in the project ladder.

“he seems a little different.”

funny. david had walked in from visiting with the sub-sub when he came to take-a-gander at our “small, weird project” and had said – about the sub-sub, “wow. he seems like a really nice guy. really knowledgeable and pleasant.”

i guess the sub-sub was a good actor.

because really nice guys don’t report – even sub-sub to sub – that the client, the customer, the resident – seems “different”. that’s just kind of mean.

i don’t know what i am supposed to glean from the forwarded-email-with-no-additional-message, but the elephant in me (or was it the grizzly bear?) did write back that, though tempted to ask for clarification on what precisely was meant by “he seems a little different”, i was not going to belabor the rudeness of such a statement. what does that have to do with anything here?

it begs the question: does this mean that the sidewalk won’t be done because “he seems a little different”??

the point is the sidewalk. finishing the job. the one that started last november. really nothing else. not david’s artistic look or his intelligent conversation. not how he seems. the point is the sidewalk. not his “seeming different”.

besides, dude. newsflash: now, so do you.

*****

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this day and age. [merely-a-thought monday]

“will you get to watch any fireworks?” she texted.

our city has spectacular fireworks. for over three decades i have marveled at the extent of the fourth-of-july display over lake michigan, sitting on the rocks along the shore, in the parks along the lakefront, down by where they set them off by the harbor. the fantastic light show goes on for about a half hour, culminating with a finale that bursts open the sky with color.

this city has a festival down by the lake, a carnival in the downtown, food vendors and dock-jumping-dogs and lots of music. there are children with ice cream cones melting on tiny fingers, bubble machines making iridescent bubbles float all around passersby, red, white and blue tchotchkes/chotchkes/chachkis on carts and people, bike parades with flags and streamers. there are hot dogs and brats sizzling, cheese curds and funnel cakes, lemonade and icees and dippin’ dots. there is no shortage of fun celebration and it’s all right there, within walking distance.

but in this day and age…

we won’t be going to watch the fireworks. this will be the fourth year now.

in 2019 we had just moved on island and didn’t leave dogdog and babycat during the display; they were adjusting to a new house as it was and we had no idea how loud the fireworks would be.

the city cancelled the fireworks in 2020; the global pandemic was early-on and there was a healthier respect for distancing.

last year, following the insurrection at the nation’s capitol, along with little to no leadership-held-responsible-for-all-of-that or any accountability, we stayed home.

and in this day and age…

we will stay home again. for the farcical supreme court has begun absolutely dismantling the freedoms that we are supposed to be celebrating. extremism and religious right are suffocating citizens of this country, thwarting the ability to live freely and make one’s own decisions. equality is going the way of centuries ago. discrimination is rising up, like fog on a wind-shifting hot summer’s day over the great lake. gun violence is dramatically increasing and, yet, guns are not limited. the extreme climate crisis is heaved off to the side in favor of big business; the epa is undermined and our children’s futures will feature many more “air quality alerts” than we could ever imagine, not to mention the global warming fallout from fossil fuel emissions. we watch lake mead drop and drop. we read of the po river in italy receding, lives substantially and critically affected. we see that australia is under water and that there are red flag warnings across the southwest – fires will be prevalent as the heat is heating up. the relationships between countries are strained. politics are warped. politicians play on stages of self-agendized blather. there is a lack of responsibility. there is a bigger lack of looking out for the big picture, the long haul, the world that will be inhabited by the children of our children’s children. kindness, consideration, compassion are looked at as weakness. we are flabbergasted at the stupidity. more, we are incredulous at the lack of people to see the stupidity. it seems the more clownish, the more vile, the more popular. it seems that evil lurks. and i wonder about the hypocrisy of watching fireworks while there are people quietly – and not so quietly – undermining democracy. we could ignore it all and go cheer – as loud as my sweet momma used to cheer – at the fireworks. or we could take a pause.

our old backyard neighbor played two things in their backyard. one was the soundtrack for “mamma mia” and the other was an album of john philip sousa marches. never insanely loud back then, both made us smile. a relationship three decades long.

but in this day and age, there are multitudes – truly multitudes – of children in that yard out back, a yard equipped with every single thing any generous public playground might have: full-size batting cage, full-size trampoline, three soccer nets, a basketball court, zipline, fort, swingset, sandbox, large plastic toys, atvs to ride, bikes, balls, bats, rat-a-tatting big toy guns and a new mysterious large wooden structure being built back along our lot line, where they can’t hear it or see it from their house, like most of the other entertainment devices in the large yard. apparently not at all conscious of the it’s-a-neighborhood-you-live-in-a-community philosophy, surrounded by people who have actually resided right here for decades, they play loud music through outdoor speakers so the whole neighborhood can hear – though no one gets a vote on what’s played – and the children have a spicy – and foul – vocabulary and bloodcurdling screams they don’t hesitate to use. demonstrating antagonism seems the way in this land beyond the dead arbor vitae. goodness! when did the rules of neighborhood – the rules of neighboring – change? did they not watch mr. rogers? parents need remember children are always watching their lead. likewise, leaders need remember citizens are always watching their lead. and how precisely did we get here?

this day and age.

we could make a big pitcher of iced water with slices of orange and lemon and grill some (plant-based) burgers, play a little music – at an appropriate volume – and watch our new pampas grass grow. we could admire our newly-cleaned garage or the new green blades growing in the haynet out front. we could paint rocks to hide on our trail or plant a few flowers. we could speed-dial fred rogers. all are quite likely. well, except for fred.

and we could go see the fireworks.

but we won’t.

not in this day and age.

though it will be a statement we make only to ourselves, it will be comforting to dogga for us to stay home.

besides, some things are just too much. in this day and age.

*****

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blue and red and white weep. [merely-a-thought monday]

the color that is most associated with freedom is blue. it represents vigilance, perseverance, justice, prosperity, peace, and patriotism.

and, yes, freedom.

in a horrifyingly regressive turn of events – strategized and intended – the supreme court has diminished the freedom of women in this country. we have traveled backwards decades upon decades upon decades. the panting of their victory lap pales in comparison to the collective gasp heard around the world as the united states thwarts its own growth toward equality, toward being a nation held up as an example respecting human freedom-for-all. with no backwards glance of remorse, these justices undermined fifty percent of this sea-to-shining-sea-this-land-is-your-land land.

and so, it is time to climb out of the quiet shells in which we try to peacefully reside and speak up, speak out, shatter the silence. we must hold those responsible who have struck down the rights of women to have autonomy over their bodies. we are on a downhill vector and the rights and freedoms of gender identity, sexual orientation, racial equality run neck and neck in the justice-extremist-whack-a-mole, justices holding hands, religious-patriarchal-supremacist stickytape gluing them together and eroding the separation of church and state they are sworn to uphold. what deity would support such reprehensible action? the color blue – the sky, peace, true justice – weeps. democracy cracking, a fragile idea failing.

“…o say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
o’er the land of the free
and the home of the brave?…”

robins laid these blue eggs. birds. symbols of freedom. also of hope, renewal, rebirth.

blue. the color of freedom.

what color represents bravery?

oh yes. it’s red.

and then – white. purity. innocence.

red, white and blue.

perhaps they should change the flag too.

i’m thinking yellow.

the color of cowardice.

*****

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it seems so simple. [merely-a-thought monday]

it seems so simple. love is love. not a lot to argue with there.

yet, there are those dedicated – no, rabid – about setting down deplorable narrow-minded rules about who-can-love-whom and the rights and freedoms of those whose love is for someone of the same gender.

it seems so simple. love is love.

yet, the crimes of hatred are aimed at the LGBTQ+ community every single day and leaders in government push to strip back protections insuring every single person’s ability to – simply – live in love.

it seems so simple. love is love.

yet, churches – sanctimonious, full of hypocrisy – spew pious words supposedly meant to revere, words canonized, words conveniently warped to fit agenda. we read the other day that a texas preacher declared all gay people should be lined up and shot in the head. where do you even start with that? what jesus would sign off on that kind of revolting hostility?

it seems so simple. love is love.

yet, this story of fighting for the freedom to love-whom-one-wishes-to-love goes on and on and on. and to what end? because power and control and aggression and anger and bigoted, intolerant ignorance rear their ugly heads and are loud, self-righteous, autocratic.

it seems so simple. love is love.

yet, our son – who we love so much, of whom we are proud – must concern himself with the cruelty of people who feel “their way” supersedes any other way, the frightened despicable heterosexuals with checklists of “normal”, and legislation, “religious freedom” and big guns to back them up.

it seems so simple. love is love.

yet, there is pushback against people just living, people just loving. wasn’t that the point – to live, to love others? what other point is there, really? how does the expression go? “and then you die.”

piglet: how do you spell love?

pooh: you don’t spell it. you feel it.

(a.a. milne)

*****

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vine-climbing. [merely-a-thought monday]

the 1977 graduating class of john glenn high school chose this song as our theme song. before the decision and ever since, it has remained a favorite. seals and crofts dominated our senior variety show – the one for which i wore a full wet suit including fins and played a piano duet -, our graduation, our prom, our yearbook. they played over and over in my bedside cassette player, on radio, on stereo systems throughout elwood and, likely, everywhere.

“so, i wanna laugh when the laughing is easy.

i wanna cry if it makes it worthwhile.

i may never pass this way again,

that’s why i want it with you…”

(jim seals, dash crofts – we may never pass this way again)

just last week jim seals died. he was 80. and suddenly, again, time flashes in front of us.

because somehow, listening to their music, i am back at 17 or 20 and they are in their early to mid thirties. but the years come and go and the journey keeps journeying, faster and faster it seems.

and so the moments and presence become infinitely more important and the stuff becomes less. the grand illusion of foreverness becomes foggy and we learn – little by little – sometimes, though, with ferocity – that we must be-here-now. we graduate and grow and regress and grow again and start to see that full spectrum is not so bad – that belly-laughing and weeping are both, indeed, necessary and that as we vine-climb from dirt to sky we are only really here to be with each other.

our beloved daughter was here for a couple days. any time we see her or our beloved son are those kind of rare-gift moments. we giggle and poke fun and talk and reminisce and ponder and there’s eye-rolling and i am astounded by them and, always, i cry upon their leaving or upon our parting. it is the hard part.

i know that we just never know. life has a way of teaching us that – again and again – though it is easy to forget, to push it aside. but the further up the vine we get, the more we recognize it. it is all so fragile. we may never pass this way again. simple. true. a calling, an imperative to say the stuff, to be vulnerable, to experience, to love, to acknowledge, to laugh, to cry, to be-with.

good choice of song, jhghs.

“all the secrets in the universe

whisper in our ears

and all the years, they come and go

and take us up, always up…”

*****

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


					
		
	



							



	

					
				

			
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pink squishies. [merely-a-thought monday]

	


	

					








yep.  they are mine.  sponge curlers from my growing-up.  





and, i have to tell you, i am tempted to try them.  i mean, remember banana curls?  well, they are baaaack.  





everything comes back, it seems…so my sweet poppo was right in saying that you need to have a giant barn “out back” where you can put every single thing until it comes back into style again.  and again.





the cleaning-out-of-the-basement (and the closets and the attic and the cupboards and the garage) is just a tad bit overwhelming, not that you haven’t guessed that from all the other times i’ve mentioned it.





these sponge curlers are riding the can’t-decide-train.  they alternatively go from donate to trash to keep.  i’m leaning to keep.  i mean, how much room do they actually take?  and….wouldn’t it be fun to try them again one day?  i think i have a curling iron or two tucked away somewhere, but we all know old-school is, well, old-school.





we came across the word “modtro”.  ohmygosh, ya gotta love it!  it is us, i told david.  a cross between modern and retro.  yup, yup.  and no, we aren’t going to go all math-like and try to figure out the proportions of each…what percentage modern and what percentage retro…i’m sure that the girl and the boy could fill you in on that.  but i do love having a descriptor.  because, truth is, we sit kinda close to the tail end of the baby boomer category and we are not really gen-x-ers either.  it’s tough without a proper descriptor.  modtro.  i like it.





so, as a modtro, surrounded by both – the modern and the retro and don’t forget the retro-ish-modern – my life-work is now – for this moment – discerning between treasure and what’s-a-nice-word-for junk.  discerning between we-should-keep-this and someone-else-could-really-use-this-especially-if-they-didn’t-have-to-buy-it-let’s-give-it-away.  discerning between someone-else-needs-this and someone-else-would-buy-this.  discerning between i-can’t-part-with-it and i-can-take-a-picture-of-it-and-thank-it-and-let-it-go.  discerning between the necessary and the not-necessary.  discerning between the i-can’t-store-it-anymore and the deep-regret of getting-rid-of-it.





i come by all this honestly.  my parents were not wasteful.  they had a tight budget – i now see – and they re-purposed and re-used and did-without and passed on the genetics of this in full force to me.  the i-might-need-its rear their ugly heads and i push back, conjuring up the strongest ruthless inclinations i can muster.





and i’m doin’ it.  the stuff is clearing out.  it’s a long process with many decades to review as i go.  there are moments of utter joy – remembrances and visceral memories.  there are moments of wistfulness.  there are moments that make me laugh aloud.





i clearly remember my sister not-so-gently brushing my hair and winding it around these old sponge curlers.  then i’d sleep on them all night, which is a gigantic sleep-sacrificing effort.  and then, voila! curls!  “it hurts to be beautiful,” she’d admonish me when i complained, bonking me on the head with the hairbrush.





so it’s hard to know in what pile to put these pink squishies.  





for now, they don’t take up too much space.





*****





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and love. [merely-a-thought monday]

	


	

					








it was, without a doubt, one of the holiest moments i have felt in the middle of almost ten thousand people.  it was more organic and held more of a sacred hush than most church services i have attended or of which i have been a part, which is saying a lot since my professional work as a minister of music was over three decades of tenure.  it was, without a doubt, something i will remember – a visceral memory – forever, probably.





matt maher was singing onstage at red rock ampitheatre, nestled in gigantic red rock formations and mountains in colorado.  mostly just him and his piano, his simple but profound lyrics had everyone on their feet, arms around each other, strangers and friends all alike.  moving from one song to the next, this man-who-was-not-the-headliner wove a net of love-for-humankind around us all and, for a few moments in time, we were transported to a place where love was – truly – the way.





“…and love will hold us together
make us a shelter to weather the storm
and I’ll be my brother’s [sister’s] keeper
so the whole world will know that we’re not alone…”





(matt maher – hold us together)





it – truly – is the only way.  





the aggression of our neighbors, our leaders, our country, our world is a broken path, filled with trolls and ogres, bastardizing efforts of goodness.  





this time is surely fleeting.  we are reminded, sometimes cruelly, of this every single day.





i walk on dusty trails, on the cement sidewalks of our neighborhood, in the grasses of mountain meadows, on the sand of seashores, always looking, looking.  our walks, our hikes – these are the places of true sanctuary.  for, often, in those other places there are bellicose voices, desiring argument, pushing agenda.  so instead now, we walk and breathe in the granola of the universe, under the sky of all possibility.  





and in the way of nature, they appear.  heart-shaped rocks, heart-shaped leaves, heart-shaped raindrops, heart-shaped puddles.  reminders, always, they stop me, sometimes to pick them up, sometimes to photograph them, sometimes to just simply ponder.  always, always, they give me pause…moments to think of beloveds, moments to have quiet gratitude, moments to think of love.  





“love is a place





and through this place of





love move





(with brightness of peace)





all places





yes is a world





and in this world of





yes live





(skilfully curled)





all worlds”





(ee cummings – love is a place)





though the world does not shake out the way we might choose it to be, we have the choice whether or not to reach out and put our arms around the person next to us, whether we know them or not.  we can choose to be shelter for each other or we can choose to be antagonistic.  we can choose to weather the storm or we can choose to be the storm.





we can choose to be alone or we can choose to be together.





“tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?’ (mary oliver)





*****





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well and stinky. [merely-a-thought monday]

	


	

					








hash marks are kept somewhere, keeping track of the days we do it well and the days we just basically stink at it…life.  the generous thing about it, though, is that, for the most part, no one is waving those down-down-down-down-across-hatches at us.  each day, we get to do it again, the best we can.  and some days we do it well and some days we stink at it.  sleep and repeat.





after six decades of doing life – which admittedly, isn’t really all that much – i can still say i am a newbie.  every day i learn something new; every day i sort out a little somethin’; every day i adjust the on-the-dirt-attitude-indicator which, funny thing, is the same as in the air: keeping you relative to the horizon and making you aware of the smallest change in orientation.  every day, on this fluid axis, i hope for a little grace – from others, from the universe, from myself.





and i try again.  my sweet poppo would remind anyone who was listening, “if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”  and so i do.





yesterday marked forty years since the day of my first marriage.  it was a sunny warm day in florida; i was wearing my sister’s gown, my sister-in-law’s train and white stiletto macramé sandals.  i carried a silk flower bouquet and the tiny white beaded purse i had gotten for my sixteenth birthday.  i had little time in front of the mirror, trying to share getting-ready-time with my lovely big sister, my matron-of-honor, who has a more perfected and lengthier getting-ready practice.  





at twenty-three, just three weeks after my college graduation, full of anticipation and excitement and hopes and dreams, a little unresolved trauma and not-just-a-little naiveté, i walked down the aisle to the good man who would become the father of my beloved children.  and somewhere, the hash mark collection started.  we did things well.  we were stinky at things.  and i absolutely take responsibility for my own stinkinesses, things that disrupted the horizon.  





it’s been years now since i have seen him.  time, in its wisdom and flow, has softened the ending, blurred the rough edges.  i am grateful for the decades we spent together and for the unique and powerful children we raised.  and i only wish the best of health and happiness for him and his wife.  someday i hope to see them and share laughter and stories and memories of our daughter and our son as they grew.  no one does this life all perfectly and sometimes it’s all much clearer as we reflect back, look at the shadows.  grace lingers in the air, waiting.





this past week has brought its own challenges and it has brought its own bits of devastating news for people in our concentric circles.  the circles widen and widen and we see the turmoil and angst and tragedy of others.  the horizon wobbles under us and we try to adjust, to straighten up, level out.  life is flying by.  we wake to another day to do it well or stink at it.  either one.  





and desiderata reminds us, “in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul…”  because some days we do it better than others.





“…be gentle with yourself.”





*****





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TIL “TL;DR.” WBU? [merely-a-thought monday]

	


	

					








btw, iykyk. omg.  





tl;dr is kind of an eli5 problem.  idek how this is all started.  ftr, i had never used it.  ftr, i hadn’t used many cliff-note expressions.  i have tried to communicate in a language most people would understand without having to tread water a bit while they wrack their brains trying to sort it out.  lol.  but atp i had something new to learn.  tl;dr…one of the perils of shortened attention spans, little mbs of information, fast-moving media.  so.  ama.  i have google.  btaim, i am lagging, tfw others are zooming away on another plane.  dae feel that way?  or are you all just rofl at me (instead of with me)?





we are all dtm.  idk.  i’m smh.





my parents must have felt this way, too.  a tiny bit left behind.  struggling to understand the new lingo, iso translation.  afaik, they figured out what they needed, trying to stay relevant, the fomo prompting – wth, driving – them to engage.  





irl, imho, idc about all this that much.  it’s kinda nbd.  but that may be tmi.  mtw.





oh well.  just another one of those middle age challenges.  gtr.





bfn.





remember, yolo.





*****





[translated]





TODAY I LEARNED “TOO LONG; DIDN’T READ.” WHAT ABOUT YOU?





by the way, if you know you know. ohmygod.





too long; didn’t read is kind of an explain like i’m 5 problem.  i don’t even know how this all started.  for the record i had never used it.  for the record, i hadn’t used many cliff-note expressions.  i have tried to communicate in a language most people would understand without having to tread water a bit while they wrack their brains trying to sort it out.  laughing out loud.  but at this point i had something new to learn.  too long; didn’t read….one of the perils of shortened attention spans, little megabytes of information, fast-moving media.  so. ask me anything.  i have google. be that as it may, i am lagging.  that feeling when others are zooming away on another plane.  does anyone else feel that way?  or are you all just rolling on the floor laughing at me (instead of with me)?





we are all doing too much.  i don’t know.  i’m shaking my head.





my parents must have felt this way, too.  a tiny bit left behind.  struggling to understand the new lingo, in search of translation.  as far as i know, they figured out what they needed, trying to stay relevant, the failure of missing out prompting – whattheheck, driving – them to engage.





in real life, in my humble opinion, i don’t care about this that much.  it’s kinda no big deal.  but that may be too much information.  mum’s the word.





oh well.  just another one of those middle age challenges.  got to run.





bye for now.





remember, you only live once.





*****





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what’s your chew? [merely-a-thought monday]

	


	

					








the minis are the best.  though i haven’t had them in forever.  available in the ever-popular neopolitan ice cream flavors, i prefer vanilla.  





charleston chews.  yum.  everyone has their crutch.  a while back, mine would have been kitkats.  someone could have said to me, “you can’t kitkat your way out of this” and, though i beg to differ on the “can’t” and “out of this” parts, they would have been right-on about the kitkats.  avoidance and tangents and, yes, even food in desperate situations, go hand in hand.  diverting, skirting confrontation, maintaining decorum, keeping peace…some things require overt and potent bribes.





he says i change the subject.  i get a kind of blank look on my face and “squirrel!” into some other path of conversation.  were i to spend some time thinking about this, i am guessing he is right.  once i am in an exchange that can only head downhill, my brain is rolodexing for something else to talk about, to veer off to, to act as distraction.  





he hasn’t had a charleston chew.  this is preposterous and certainly un-american, so i will have to remedy this.  but i know if i held a dark chocolate bar or a chocolate chip cookie or, now, a piece of crumbcake, in my hand – even in the middle of a “talk” – he would bite.  





because the truth is…you CAN charleston chew your way out of many sticky situations.  you just have to know what a person’s charleston chew is.





*****





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