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

so another week goes by. and now there are 45 days left.

45 days to discern – really think through – your vote in this election-of-elections.

45 days to determine what is most important to you…not in a singular policy kind of way…but in an overarching sense of what you would like this country to look like in the future…not only for you…but for all who follow you.

responding to our cartoon about the insanity that is the maga platform, she wrote, “they do see and they don’t care. … it’s all about hate and control … hidden within the guise of old-fashioned values and going back to the good old days.”

and it clearly doesn’t matter to them how they get there – with truth or with lies – to the nirvana of their good old days – a nirvana of patriarchal, misogynistic, racist, xenophobic, extremist, nationalistic, bigoted values (to use the word values loosely and without the virtue of meaning).

we take turns ranting. sometimes we participate in each other’s rant. sometimes we are quiet. because, frankly, sometimes it is all pretty suffocating.

if i were to rant right here, this is what i would say:

be aware of what you linger on, for there are many distractions out there, veering you off the real issues at hand. be purposeful in your research and in your discernment. be wary of what you believe, what you purport, what you amplify that you believe in. be mindful of the words you choose, for once they are in the air they are there for all time. be selfless as you consider the future of this country’s democracy. think about the words of the declaration of independence, “we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” linger on the words all and equal, for regardless of your race, gender, orientation, economic privilege or lack, religion, you are the same as the next person..no more, no less. remember you are in control of your vote and, as a citizen of this nation, it is incumbent upon you to vote clearheadedly and in good conscience. and, before you vote, in those moments before you take pen to paper, maybe recite these words, “e pluribus unum” – out of many, one. be vigilant of who you elevate to the highest position in our this-land-is-your-land-this-land-is-my-land.

in cris’ words, “don’t relinquish your brain at the door.”

there are 45 days before you cross the threshold of the door into the room where your pen will hit the paper. bring your brain – and your heart – with you.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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with barney. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“the longer i live, the more beautiful life becomes.” (frank lloyd wright)

if it wasn’t ‘copying’ i would also get this inked on my body. but my beloved daughter – a bunch of years ago now – chose this as a tattoo and copying it – despite the clear wisdom of this quote – would be taboo.

it is intensely true.

the longer you live, the more beautiful life becomes.

if you take sweet time to notice.

in a most wonderful day tuesday we jaunted about, gathering knowledge and trying on new hiking boots. we joked about falling arches and bunions, our feet – somehow – getting substantially bigger, the trail-running we won’t attempt, heck, the running we will never do again, pinky toes resistant to closed shoes. it is somewhat liberating to not have the same expectations we once had. there is a different bar.

at the end of this wonderfulday i stepped outside and was struck by the moon. we immediately took off – practically sprinting (note: not running) – down the road to the lake, so that we could watch the harvest moon rise and feel its moonbeam as it chased us on the shoreline.

we sat on the deck after a long walk in perfect night air along the lake. and we celebrated our day. for in it we had tended to things that feed us – writing, exercising, eating well, planning for future hikes, laughing.

we know that our next will not resemble our past. we know that there are no corporate or organizational positions in our future. we know that aging is perceived differently by the hiring crowd than by the aging. we also know that we have aged each and every day of our lives so we don’t place parameters on what is possible. we don’t underestimate the wisdom of the ages or the insights of aging, though the word sort of makes me shudder.

and then I wonder why. why does the word “aging” give me a bit of the heebie-jeebies? I looked up the word. multiple sources. and each time i discovered that 65 is considered “elderly”. sheesh. no wonder ageism is alive and well in this country. developing nations base their assignment of old age on a person’s ability to actively contribute to society. though the united nations considers old age to be 60 and beyond, i also discovered research that suggests only a tiny percentage of adults 65 and older actually consider “old” to happen before the age of 60. we are most definitely in the camp that rejects old-before-old.

according to britannica.com, “there is no single theory that explains all of the phenomena of aging.”

no single theory. well, of course not!!

barney is still out back, soaking in summer sun and winter snow and everything in every season. he houses chippies and is a resting place for birds and scampering squirrels. he doesn’t serve as a piano now, but his soul is still a piano. barney is more beautiful than the day he came out of the dank basement boiler room and arrived in our backyard.

barney and i say, bring on the mystery!

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

listen to IT’S A LONG STORY: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofvt66SA_4s

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listen on PANDORA

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more beautiful now. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we live by big water.

much the way we are drawn to the mountains, we are drawn to big water. more and more. both.

and more and more – each and every day – we are amazed. even by its ordinary. big and little ways.

diamonds have ridden the waves of lake michigan for all time. yet, each day further on the timeline of this life, they become more beautiful, more intense, sparklier.

the lyrics brought tears to both of our faces as we listened. susan had sent us a song, “you were beautiful then but you’re way more beautiful now.” (beautiful now – james maddock )

yes. yes, this is true. i have seen photographs of him younger. he looked a lot like david cassidy – that longer, feathered back hair, those eyes, that smile. he was – in every good use of the word (feminine or masculine) – beautiful. i didn’t know him back then. just like he didn’t know me in my midriff-hiphugger-bellbottom-wearing days. those days – well – those are the olden days.

but now is different. i look at his face and his eyes, his long hair peppered with grey – this man now – and i know – just like the song – he is way more beautiful now.

and so, for a bit, i wonder why the diamonds on the lake are more beautiful and why the sky is bluer and why the early morning air is breathtaking and why this man – sharing life with me for eleven years – is more beautiful now than he was then.

and i know that every single thing is.

it is impossible to hold onto the gossamer threads of these moments now. they fly by and next week i will feel like this week was eons ago. we are trying to hold them as we drift by in this sometimes-lazy-sometimes-raging river. they slip out of our hands, like trying to hold onto the river itself.

and everything – every single thing – has its own sparkle.

and we try to see that each day. we try to remember our very fragile place on the soil of this earth. we try to grok beauty in the simplest things and in the hardest things.

mostly, though, we can see it in each other and it reminds us. however beautiful he was before, he is way more beautiful now.

“from sleep i fall to waking” and morning – like time, in the way it keeps going and going – graces everything with shiny, shimmering glitter.

we look and – now – we can see it.

way more.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

EMBRACED NOW mixed media 48″ x 36″

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pollen is pollen. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“garden??? what garden???” with a particularly-yellow pollen-nose and infinitely sweet amber eyes, he looked at us – after trouncing through our dear westneighbors’ ragweed garden – and insisted, “i didn’t go in the garden!”

oh, dogga.

every time he goes on errands with us, it is his ritual to jump out of the car and beeline down the driveway to the ragweed by the fence. every single time. we expect it. this time – afterwards – it was just a tad bit more obvious. there was evidence. and, even with his i-didn’t-do-it-i-didnt-eat-the-cookie-out-of-the-cookie-jar bright-eyed and happy expression, there was no denying it.

we laughed and told him, “you can’t fool us, doggle-dog.”

despite his best effort at gaslighting us into thinking he had not trampled the raggy ragweed, there was evidence to the contrary. and – facts are facts.

now, surfing in on the facts-are-facts wave, i suppose i could launch into an entire political diatribe about what is happening in this election climate – how, apparently, gaslighting attempts are successfully taking over the good brains of people – despite, well, facts. how treacherous it is to believe hook-line-and-sinker the maga stuff that’s out there, the conspiracy theories undermining good sense, the outrageous lies keeping everyone distracted and placing people now – and in the future of this country – in danger. it’s all in plain sight. and it’s insanity.

but yellow is yellow. and pollen is pollen. it is easily identifiable. it is what it is. and when you see it, you know that the dog has been in the garden. no doubt about it.

*****

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

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donuts and stars. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“the optimist sees the donut. the pessimist sees the hole.” (oscar wilde)

i suppose this could easily be applied to aging. somehow, in some rush of years, i am 65. it’s still a wonder to me and it has now become clear why my sweet momma was so astounded when she was almost-94 and thought she looked like “an old lady” when she looked in the mirror.

like my sweet momma, we are choosing to see the donut. which, i suppose, means one day we will be astounded as well. (truth be told, we are a tiny bit astounded by some tiny body-change each and every day, but we are holding off on the big-time astonishment as long as we can.)

so instead of seeing – and ruminating on – what’s missing in the here and now, instead of trying to clarify the blurry of what’s out there ahead of us, we – as an ever-aging couple – yikes – are zeroing in on the gifts of the present, the sweet phase – as we are calling it, and tapping the rich potential of the future. there is so much we don’t know but we are excited about exploring what’s next.

artists don’t really have solid retirements. it’s risky business, this being-an-artist thing. we keep on keeping-on because it’s an imperative, a driving force. we write, we paint, we compose, we mold thoughts and questions and experiences and impressions into tapestries that we – vulnerably – put out there for others to read, see, listen to, touch, feel.

we work for the donut-lovers and the donut-holers. we are not selective. we believe art is fundamental. art provides access and awareness. we are simply part of the delivery mechanism.

and so, even as we get older, that doesn’t change. we look to times of new projects, artist residencies, experiments outside our usual mediums. we aren’t simply done. and, maybe, in the words of grace hopper, “we’re just getting started.”

regardless, every day we walk toward astonishment we have decided to do it with as much grace, joy, anticipation and gratitude we can possibly muster. we will be (gluten-free) donut-lovers in the sweet phase and we will reach for each star past the donut hole.

“we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” (oscar wilde)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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

♥️

“…so keep your heart open – cause love will find a way…”

(love will find a way – pablo cruise)

these are hard times. we are all – undoubtedly – struggling to keep our hearts open. we are all – undoubtedly – trying to believe that love will find a way. somehow. some way.

“…and when you feel afraid, love one another

when you’ve lost your way, love one another

when you’re all alone, love one another

when you’re far from home, love one another

when you’re down and out, love one another

all your hope’s run out, love one another

when you need a friend, love one another

when you’re near the end, love

we got to love, we got to love one another…”

(love is the answer – john wilcox, kasim sulton, roger powell, todd rundgren songwriters – england dan & john ford coley recording)

these are hard times. we are all – undoubtedly – struggling to keep our hearts open. we are all – undoubtedly – trying to believe that love will find a way. somehow. some way.

“…when you’re down and out, there seems no hope at all

but if you just believe there’s no way we can fall

well, let us realize

that a change can only come

when we stand together as one…

…and the truth, you know, love is all we need…”

(we are the world – lionel richie/michael jackson)

these are hard times. we are all – undoubtedly – struggling to keep our hearts open. we are all – undoubtedly – trying to believe that love will find a way. somehow. some way.

“have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

(maya angelou)

these are hard times. we are all – undoubtedly – struggling to keep our hearts open. we are all – undoubtedly – trying to believe that love will find a way. somehow. some way.

“i have decided to stick with love, for i know that love is ultimately the only answer to humankind’s problems. and i’m going to talk about it everywhere i go. i know it isn’t popular to talk about it in some circles today. and i’m not talking about emotional bosh when i talk about love; i’m talking about a strong, demanding love. for i have seen too much hate. […] and i say to myself that hate is too great a burden to bear. i have decided to love.”

(where do we go from here? – martin luther king, jr)

hard times. somehow. some way.

“…so keep your heart open – cause love will find a way…”

❤️

*****

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

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

i’m exhausted.

like many of you.

i’m not sure how much more my heart can handle the absolute madness of this election.

every day i think that it can’t sink any lower. yet every day it sinks lower.

every day there is more screaming bigotry, more undermining misogyny, more threatening rhetoric, more conspiracy-laced propaganda, more demonizing vitriol, more inflammatory lies, more exploitation, more distraction, more utter insanity. all with no moral compass.

it is truly beyond my comprehension why people want to support this maga candidate and a platform filled with – and unleashing – so much dangerous rage. the hatred is mind-bogglingly heart-stopping.

we get to live this life one tiny time. why is it there are millions of people who wish to do that without civility? without caring for one another? without compassion? without a thoughtful, informed investment in fact? without peace? with so much anger, division, blatant disrespect for the ideals of democracy?

and here’s the thing i now know: they can see it – the ugly. and they are choosing it anyway.

decency is on the chopping block. and it’s terrifying.

please vote with a measured and conscious heart, leading with goodness, sanity, unity, truth. this is the future of your children, your grandchildren, your family, your friends, your community, your country.

vote FOR decency.

let love be your legacy.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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shadow wisdom. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the shadow knows.

on this part of our walk in the ‘hood, our shadows precede us. we follow them east down the sidewalk, never quite catching up. and, just as suddenly as they appeared, they disappear – as we turn a corner and head for home.

i, laughing aloud, wish for the long, skinny legs of my shadow. though we clearly can’t see our expressions in our shadow photograph, we both smile as i take a picture. it reminds me of times of confusion in my life when it was difficult to sort out the emotions of the time – and i smiled anyway.

when i was in junior high we were assigned the task of choosing an old radio show, writing a new script and recording the show onto cassette tape. my group chose “the shadow”. “who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of man? the shadow knows.” i don’t remember the script we wrote or the storyline we chose, but i do remember the commercial we made. it was about a product that could clean anything – from brushing your teeth to heavy grunge cleaning – the same product.

i am aware of shadow work – the shadow – the place where unprocessed trauma is found, where pain is stored, where we somehow try to protect ourselves. the work to help recognize what has become unconsciously present in our lives. it would seem important for all of us to have an opportunity for the quiet time to step into our shadow – the place that knows. because we are human, there are always places in our heart to heal.

in the meanwhile and here in the sweet phase, we walk arm in arm around the block a few steps behind our shadows. we binge on happy moments and hoard them for trying times, sad times, confusing times, times when our shadow tilts its head and asks us to feel something else.

we carry the wisdom of time we have already spent living. there’s a knowledge we gain as we experience the blisses and the traumas of this life. and smiling – even in the shadow times – stokes the fire, keeps the pilot light on, reminds us of the here and now and the evanescence of it all.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

listen to GOOD MOMENTS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbiKiz1NZYs

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our promise to walter and irma. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i want to hold onto the sound. cicadas and crickets on summer nights. it’s a locating sound, and, as i adirondack-chair-sit on the deck listening, i am immersed in it. i can feel it.

we’ve been watching the series “alone” lately. our binges have taken us through to season five, where ten people have been dropped off in desolate mongolia to survive as long as they are able. the sounds are completely different – wolves are howling, deadly snakes hissing, bears rustling through the woods – unnerving sounds. it is beyond my wildest imagination what these people are doing, how they are assimilating into and feeling a part of this environment, how they are sustaining. i would absolutely fail out there.

it does make me think that – indeed – we all have our strengths. as we hiked the other day we talked about how fascinating it is to watch other people and the random abilities they’ve been blessed with. we are simply spokes on the wheel…a giant wheel of universe proportion.

i came across this cicada in our driveway. i was immediately saddened, for it was wandering in a circle and i knew it had little time left on this earth. its beautiful coloring, its giant alien eyes, it captivated me and i gently placed it into the bushes next to the driveway, offering a few words of gratitude for its existence.

one less cicada to sing its nightly song, i know that too soon the night will be quiet and i will miss the sounds i have always associated with the white noise of summer.

i woke up this morning to the sound of walter and irma in our backyard. these are two cardinals that frequent our feeder and hang out on the wires of the garden happy lights or on the top of the fence that stretches across the yard. they are as much a touchstone as our cicadas, but i know they will stay through the fall, through the winter and hopefully will cheerily greet the spring again next year. they have a hard time with our bird feeder because the rim is not big enough for them to perch upon – and because the squirrels do gymnastics emptying it.

we have promised walter and irma a flat feeder – the kind we understand that cardinals prefer. and every time walter flails around on the edge of our current birdfeeder, we imagine that irma is reminding him that someday we will have a different feeder, to hang in there and to stop being overly-dramatic.

i think that someday has arrived.

sometimes it is the simplest of things that bring us the most reassurance. somehow the loss of one more cicada makes me want us to extend to our backyard birds something that will make their ability to sustain a tiny bit easier. they are spokes on our wheel – giving us the grand pleasure of watching them, slowing us down, grounding us.

in the days that we feel like we are in the wilds of mongolia – for we all have days like that – we find things that bolster us, we find things that give us perspective, we find things that make us feel a part of the whole, we find ways to sustain.

i know i will soon miss the cicadas and crickets. i recorded their nightsong on a video and saved it. just in case – in the middle of winter or the wilds of mongolia – i need to feel it.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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sink or swim. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

you don’t think much about the sink until the sink no longer behaves like a sink.

and in those moments, as you stare at the rising water line in the not-draining-sink, your heart does a little flip-flop-sink and you mentally list all the solutions you hope will quickly and thoroughly address the problem.

but in a house that is anxiously awaiting its centennial birthday party in ’28 this-old-house/handyman/reddit/my-dad’s-rube-goldberg solutions are unlikely fixes. even AI has trouble adequately addressing this…the plunger, hot water, baking soda and vinegar, salt water and one of those straight 99 cent barbed-edge snakes are not the thing.

so we called mike, plumber extraordinaire, who told us to call shane, drain extraordinaire.

sparing you the details of the kitchen sink drain blockage clean-out and the bathroom sink drain blockage clean-out, i will tell you that it felt like a small miracle to run the water in the sink and watch it go down the drain – as it is supposed to. there are days we are amazed by running water. and there are days we are amazed by sinks that drain the water running in them. these last days have been both.

the simplest things – addressed by people who really know their stuff – are back to being simplest things.

those moments david plunged and plunged and plunged, the moments we shook baking soda into the drain followed by vinegar – like a cool science experiment – the moments d laid on towels under the kitchen sink cabinet, bucket at the ready, undoing the j piping…they are – thankfully – fading into oblivion. this is good, as we are not the people who know their stuff when it comes to sinksanddrains.

there’s kind of a lesson here.

despite the fact that we always try to make it up – the solution – acting like we can articulate the problem and then – using good deductive reasoning and analysis (and google and youtube) – solve the problem – does not mean we will truly solve the problem. we may stave it off for a bit. we may make a tiny, barely discernible difference which boosts our high-fiving egos but solves nada. we may truly make the problem worse. it’s a wide spectrum of possibility and so many things can happen in that unhappy expanse of disaster potential.

the lesson, you remind me….

yes, the lesson is to give over to the people who know. that’s – indeed – why they know.

so, although it may seem a tad bit like overkill, i have to say that we are ever grateful to shane this week. every single time i run water in the bathroom sink – to brush my teeth or wash my face or my hands or in the kitchen sink for any of innumerable reasons – I think about his calm and measured demeanor and the fact that he – with quiet confidence – fixed it all.

and the simple thing – the job of sink – is back to being a simple thing. it is back to not being larger than life. it is back to being almost 100 and waiting for its birthday party just a few years down the road.

it’s funny how a misbehaving sink can run your life – instantly. all other priorities fall by the wayside as the water rises, rises. nothing else gets done. i’m guessing it just plumb wanted its fifteen minutes of fame, its time in the sun.

it’s a good thing we didn’t have to sink-or-swim on our own. we’d still be sink-ing.

*****

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

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