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doing-do-bees. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“i’m a romper room do-bee, a do-bee all day long.” (romper room)

oh geeez. about to write this blogpost, i looked at this image – of this stunning bumblebee happily lingering in the flowers of our coleus – and thought of the romper room do-bee song. where does this stuff come from???

my dear husband claims that i am a circular worker-bee, that i go from one thing to the next, doing a bit, then doing a bit, then doing a bit, then circling around again and getting a bit more done, a bit more done, a bit more done. i suppose that is somewhat true – though i would like to add that eventually it all truly gets done, circular or not. as i watched this bumblebee bumbling happily around the other day, i thought that maybe i am more of a bumble than a circular worker-bee. or maybe that’s the same thing…

this little bee seemed perfectly content to flit from one flower to the next, never lingering too long on any one nectar source. it reminds me of when i had toddlers, flitting from reading from a stack of books on the floor to the matchbox cars on the floor to the studio to jot down a lyric or a melody to the stove to stir the kraft macaroni and cheese or flip over the grilled cheese sandwich. in constant motion. just like the bee. eh, truth be told, it reminds me of now.

romper room was a staple back in the day. though the host never saw me (she never said my name aloud) in her magic mirror, i remained a fan through my pre-school years. the fact that i have the romper room do-bee songs 45 rpm record attests to the impact of this little show back then. it’s interesting that i still have it – in my 45rpm record case – the kind that perfectly fits 45s with a buckle on the front and the handle on the top. and it does make me wonder how mitch miller and his orchestra, along with the sandpipers recorded this side a/side b with straight faces. “i always do what’s right. i never do anything wrong. i’m a romper rom do-bee, a do-bee all day long,” the big finish has a predictably rising (and crescendoing) melody despite impossible-to-humanly-achieve lyrics.

we write blogposts six days a week, as you know. five of them are based on images of photography or quotes we have come across in our path, while saturday is the cartoon smack-dab that we produce. that you have gotten to this sentence is amazing to me and i want to thank you for reading – however often or sporadically you read. i’m never quite sure of what i will write as we open up our laptops (ok, well, not my laptop now as that is refusing to remember its role in life, so i open up my mini ipad). i’m never sure of how you might react or respond to what i have written. sometimes i feel vulnerable about what i have shared. sometimes i feel nervous about what i’ve put out there. sometimes i’m a little tiny bit proud of something i’ve written. nevertheless, i keep writing and telling you of life from my little corner of the world. it is, after all, a romper room rule:

romper stomper bomper boo, tell me, tell me, tell me, do.

i’m an artist. always i know that there will be another flower, there will be another source of nectar. the next image, the next day. and i will happily – and bumbly – share words and thoughts with whomever wishes to read them.

you and i – we are together in this moment. we are doing-do-bees, sharing time in the world.

and, from the bottom of my trying-to-be-a-do-bee-all-day-long heart, i wish you plentiful flowers filled with plentiful sweet nectar as you flit from one moment of your life to the next.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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

it’s not that complicated. BE GOOD PEOPLE.

it’s not complicated at all.

it would seem the most basic tenet – of any philosophy of life, any religion or belief system, any ideology, any world outlook, any life stance or doctrine of living.

it would seem that at the very root of all of it – this thing we do on this earth – being good people would be most important. we are – time and again – witnesses to and recipients of abundant goodness. likewise – time and again – we are capable of bestowing goodness.

but i suppose the word “good” is up for grabs these days. and i suppose each of us will define that – and what it means to be a good person – for ourselves.

as this election cycle continues to unfold until it screeches to a stop on november 5, we have some things to decide. we need to really discern what is actually happening, what candidates are really saying, what future plans they might enact, what adjectives describe them, their candidacy, their intention as president. we need be clear on what their overarching belief is of how the populace of this nation should be treated – which includes women and men, humans of all races, regardless of age, religion, gender identification, sexual orientation, economic status.

we need to be wary and aware, to check our sources, ask questions, have conversations in our communities and – even more importantly – beyond our own communities.

we need to hear the truths and pick apart the untruths, look for the kind of future we wish for, the people we aspire to look up to, the kind of country we will be able to count on for our future and the future of the other people in our homes, in our towns, our states, our nation.

for this country to move forward – to responsibly and continually evolve – is to give all equal access to vital physical needs, safety, education, health and healthcare, possibility. are we our brother’s/sister’s keeper or are we all about our individual selves – every person for himself – with no integration or inclusion of any others? what are the messages we wish this country to send to all the world?

it is my hope that our intentions as a country are ever more humanitarian, ever more generous, ever more open, ever more caring.

it is my hope that the ugly, mean-spirited, incoherent ramblings of a power-seeker are made plain to all in time for us to vote against it.

it is my hope that all people have the courage to step away from the zeal and status created by anger-mongering and popularity bandwagons to vote with true heart.

it is my hope that the gaslighting and conspiracy stories, the exaggerations, vitriol and lies, the sneakiness, the violent threats, vulgar rhetoric and promises of retribution, the misogyny, bigotry and the darkness of the shadow of authoritarianism are cast aside – for democracy, altruism, kindness, empathy, virtuous truths – for good people.

good people. it’s not complicated.

*****

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

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why on earth? [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

messed-up is an understatement.

i tried to find an adjective to describe the things people are saying and doing ‘these days’. the current political climate has seemingly swung open a door to the undeniably crass, the vulgar, the rude, the shocking lie, the exaggeration, the pontificating of extremism, crudeness and base-ness beyond any description. i gave up on adjectives. because the descriptors confounding, perplexing, astonishing ….. don’t even touch it.

every single day i utter the words, “why.on.earth???!!!!” i am shocked at the things people are saying and i can’t understand why they are saying the things they are saying. i am shocked at the things people are doing and i can’t understand why – on earth – they are doing the things they are doing. so, yes, perplexed, confounded, astonished. but also stunned, disappointed, dumbfounded, bewildered, sickened.

where have manners gone? what about respect? courtesy? decorum??

propriety has fallen by the wayside.

why on earth???

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. Copyright 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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the pontoon boat. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

prior to going up-north i had only been on a pontoon boat once – in the carolina mountains with a black lab who loved to swim and a tiny little life-vested girl who equally loved the water and who spent time rafting alongside. our little boy had not yet even joined us, so it was a long time ago and the memory, although faded in detail, is clearly peaceful and beautiful. gloriously great fun.

the pontoon of up-north means laughter and snacks, old-fashioneds and slow cruising around the connecting lakes. it means conversation and story-telling, the search for loons, and the art of spontaneous plan-making.

we haven’t solved all of earth’s mysteries onboard, nor have we come up with a design for world peace, but we have found solutions to less pressing problems, offered and heard advice, dreamed a bit.

there is nothing quite like a pontoon boat to remind you of the power of community. and, more than once on that pontoon boat a few weeks ago, i looked around and gave abundant thanks for the others on the boat. snugged into comfy seats, sun on our faces, a summer breeze blowing, we are in a cove of deep friendship, people who can count on us and upon whom we can depend.

moments like these lend themselves to carrying a kind of a pontoon boat philosophy of life everywhere…a place of inclusion, of generosity, of comfort, a place of openness and caring. a place to share some time, to float ideas, to listen, to feel heard, to have raucous fun, to be quiet. a gentler ride through life, with people around you who will be there when the seas are rougher, when you need a little help with forward momentum, when their support is like oars in a rowboat.

we are fortunate – when we can give over to the pontoon boat. we are fortunate – life presents us with people with whom we can ride along together. we are fortunate – we are reminded of the sheer gift of community. we are fortunate – and we take time to be grateful.

the loons watched us and then, after a few seconds of study, they determined we were simply co-existing with them. they paddled away, riding our rippling wake.

*****

TIME TOGETHER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orq9Q6Wd5O4

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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an upside. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i scoured the streets of san francisco looking for it. i had somehow lost the peace pendant my daughter gifted me – it fell off from around my neck and, as we moseyed away from the san fran moma and shopped, i suddenly realized it was gone. i immediately backtracked my steps, even knowing it was not likely i would find it. we all walked with our eyes peeled to the city streets.

as i stepped up onto a curb while crossing a busy street, i saw it. there, in the gutter of the road, lay the pewter peace sign and its chain. i felt a surge of relief finding it, for I truly do treasure the gifts my children have given me and, of course, you know how thready i am.

years ago, the kiddos made a shopping trip to target. together they picked out a tall bamboo vessel with golden and deep red-dyed dried reeds and gave it to me – a gift. it has – since then – continued to have a place in our home. now it stands in the bedroom, between the red and white gingham-checked recliner wing-chair and the jewelry armoire i purchased on marketplace, right in front of the window. in the morning, the sun streams in and sets the reeds aglow. and i think of my beloved children every single time.

i suppose i could be less thready, a tad bit less sentimental. it’s not likely, though.

i could take you on a walk through our house and yard. the stories would not be about the value of objects we have displayed or the name-brand of things we own. the stories would be narratives, tales of experiences we’ve had, of times with others, of things we’ve been gifted, of workarounds, of love delivered in a plant, a candle, a wine holder, hearts, peace signs, a rag-rugged love sculpture, a quilt, of history in a branch, an old table, a window frame, vintage suitcases.

when littlebabyscion had trouble last week – and we had a conversation – me and littlebabyscion – i asked it to hang around longer. and i fully expected it to listen, because i have basically personified that little vehicle since i purchased it. friends from all over wrote to ask how littlebabyscion was, because, well, they know. yeah, less thready is not likely.

this morning was intensely beautiful. with the sun starting to pour in the open windows and all the fans off for the moment – so no white noise – we could hear the birds, the gurgling pond, the airplane flying above. we sipped coffee and dogdog laid on the foot of the bed. there was nothing you could have done to have made it any better. feet tucked under the blankets – for it was still a little cool in the early morning – we were silent.

i memorized it and tucked it away.

that way, another day – when it’s cloudy outside or inside – i could pull it all back and remember, i could let that moment wrap around me once again.

thready has an upside.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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getting ready. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

fall has cracked the door open. and, though it may tiptoe around a bit in this teeter-totter season, it will not backtrack. it is on its way.

and nature – in its wisdom – is doing the work, prepping for cold to arrive, stoking up, storing up, guarding its ability to survive, seed heads readying to spread far and wide.

she asked me if i would be recording again. I wasn’t sure how to answer. i don’t know. it has been some time since my last project. recording is expensive and – because of today’s world of streaming – not particularly financially rewarded, making it a kind of skewed investment…heavy on the cost, extraordinarily light on the payoff.

yet, every independent artist knows recording is not solely about the financial reward. it is the expression of what’s inside, just waiting to hit air. it’s doing the work, prepping, stoking, storing, guarding – all for the seed heads to fly.

she asked me other questions as well – how i compose, if i hear music inside. her questions cracked open the door to a conversation I haven’t had in a long time, a real conversation about my music. i felt grateful – not only for her inquisitiveness, but for her obvious support of what i have already produced. it was a sort of balm on a wound that was just lingering, lingering.

I don’t know when – or if – i will produce another album. i’ve teetered-tottered just like the waning of summer and the rising of fall, just like daisies struggling to stay vibrant, open, to stave off utter fallow. i’ve wondered through these last few years if, after fifteen albums, i was “done”, wondered if, at 65, i was no longer relevant, wondered if i still had the necessary chutzpah.

i miss the stage, a piano and a boom vocal mic, a wood apron beneath my boots. i’ve missed telling the stories of songs and the gestures of instrumental piano. i’ve missed eye contact with an audience, finding resonant bits, making people laugh or reminisce, the moment you know they are right there with you.

the daisy seed heads are getting ready. it’s pretty certain they will proliferate gardens again in the spring after their fallow through fall and winter.

maybe – somewhere in here – i am getting ready too. i guess we’ll see.

*****

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

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golden light rising. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the glow of the setting sun teased through the grasses out front. autumn is rising.

my old hiking boots are waiting by the back door. soon – and very soon – it will be time to change out of our hiking sandals and back to these boots, worn from many, many miles of trails. we need to replace them. the podiatrist informed us we should purchase new ones every six months or so if we are wearing our boots regularly. since we are artists, this is not quite possible. and so, these circa 2016 boots have graced our feet for the last eight years of hikes. every bit of worn leather, every creak, has a story to tell. someday it will be a tad bit hard to retire them. they have served us well.

today is the first day of school here. i am completely out of sync with these touchstones of time. the trip to target – with school supplies galore – helped place me in time. but with grown children and no direct connection to the school system, we had to look up the district calendar.

a certain wistfulness comes on the breeze with the return of the fall sun. it happens every year. it’s hard to identify, but it is palpable.

i wonder if it is a kind of homesickness – for growing-up times back on long island and for my own days with a backpack – stuffed with textbooks, spirals and new pencils – slung over my shoulder.

i wonder if it is a kind of nostalgia – a yearning – for the times when my children were little, when they picked out new backpacks and pencil cases, gathered their wide-ruled notebooks and glue sticks, colored highlighters and crayons, those days when packing lunches and snacks and waiting for the bus were the defining times of the day.

i wonder if it is the bank of memories i carry – taking my children to college, unpacking into dorm rooms, apartments, toting stuff back and forth, my heart holding dearly to the threads of their childhood while, at the same time, supporting their gossamer winging wings, watching their contrails.

i wonder if it is a kind of longing – a pining for things undone to be done, for things not accomplished to be accomplished, for summer dreams to extend beyond the setting summer sun.

autumn rises and i feel invigorated. these are new times. there is new possibility. i have no idea what is coming but this rising autumnal sun is full of golden light.

golden. light. and my old boots are waiting by the back door.

“the sun shines not on us, but in us.” (john muir)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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smarter than scunge. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

she said it and i immediately wrote it down. “american women are not stupid,” katty kay (bbc news correspondent) repeated elizabeth warren’s plainspoken words and then added that it should be the new slogan of the harris/walz presidential campaign. i wholeheartedly agree.

she’s absolutely right. american women AREN’T stupid. WOMEN aren’t stupid.

last wednesday the maga presidential candidate amplified a meme featuring two outstanding and accomplished women – hillary clinton and kamala harris. the comment about these two women – on this meme he deliberately shared – was the epitome of crass, vulgar beyond belief. i will not repeat it here. but something in me snapped.

even beyond the access-hollywood hot mic audio recording. even beyond his unending lewd, derogatory, demeaning comments about women. even beyond all the accusations of sexual abuse. even after a jury of his peers found him – this presidential candidate – guilty of sexual assault. even beyond every single other indictment, every single other conviction, every single other thing that disregards the rule of law. this scunge of a man is actually running for president – a position we wish our communities, our nation, our world, our children to hold in esteem – and it is unconscionable.

i have had zero respect for this maga candidate for some time now. his repugnant behavior has not resonated with me, amused me, entertained me or aligned with me one bit. his mean-spiritedness, his narcissistic self-devotion, his quest for autocratic power, his inability to play by the rules. this is a man who objectifies women, a man who sexualizes them, who aggressively degrades them, who sloughs them off, who takes advantage of them, who wants to control them, who sexually abuses them. and now i am sick to death of him. it is beyond the pale that he should even be able to run for the highest office of this land – he lacks any regard for anyone other than himself.

i am a woman. i am a daughter, a mother, a wife, a sister, a girlfriend. i am an aunt, a godmother, a female, a victim of sexual abuse. i am appalled.

women are not stupid. we will not vote for patriarchy, for the annihilation of the rights of women, for wearing skirts for men. it disgusts me to the point of nausea thinking of any woman – ANY woman – casting a precious vote for a man whose wishes are to put women back into their place and to control their bodies, to eliminate the rights of LGBTQ, to trash any racial, gender, religious, socioeconomic equalities we have achieved, to rule with an iron fist.

there is a woman around the block who has a sign that touts “women for [this candidate]“. i wonder every time i see it how it is possible that she supports this misogynistic bigot for president. what – on this good earth – is she thinking?

and so, though i am utterly distressed that any decent human being would support this maga candidacy, i want to specifically ask the women who are waiting to crown maga as leadership a few questions:

is there anyone in your family who is female, besides you? do you want them – as they live their life – to have freedom of opportunity, of decisions that will impact them, their bodies? do you care about their safety? do you care about their futures or do you wish to limit and imperil them?

is there anyone in your family who is LGBTQ? do you care about their rights, about their opportunity for the freedoms you have enjoyed, about their futures? do you care about their safety? do you care about them at all or do you wish to limit and imperil them?

is there anyone in your family who is not white? do you care about the equality that should be bestowed upon them, just like you? do you care about their safety, their futures or do you wish to limit and imperil them?

is there anyone in your family who is a child? do you care about their schooling, about their chance to learn the truth of history, about their free questions and research, about their safety, about their futures or do you wish to limit and imperil them?

is there anyone in your family who does not deserve proper healthcare – whether it is while they are younger or during their senior years? do you care about the social programs of social security and medicare continuing – with the freedom of choice – supporting them in their aging? do you care about their futures or do you wish to limit and imperil them?

is there anyone in your family who you would prevent from seeing the things that this maga candidate is saying, the things this maga candidate has said, the things this maga candidate has done, the crimes this maga candidate has committed, the extreme prejudices and contempt this maga candidate has for others? or are you hoping to emulate these behaviors, hoping that your dear ones emulate this, grow up to be this?

do you actually find this maga choice – unbelievably the person in all the country – this entire nation – that has been lifted up by the maga party as the best of the best – to be acceptable? how is that possible? what is inside your heart that makes this your ideal choice for leadership?

isn’t there reason to believe – a constitutional expectation – that the position of president of the united states of america should be held in the highest esteem, should answer to the highest of powers, should be a person of unparalleled virtue, should not limit or imperil the populace?

we american women are smart.

unacceptable is simply that – unacceptable.

scunge is not worthy. scunge is unacceptable.

*****

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

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

you CAN feel it. there is hope in the air. there is light. there is possibility.

i – for one – am very, very, very tired of the darkness we have seen over the last decade. i am weary of the name-calling, the maga bastardizing of the honor of running for or being president, the hook-line-and-sinker of people who are in the trickle-down of mean-spiritedness, of incoherent narcissism, of a vector heading to autocracy.

i can feel the light and i am standing in it, proudly.

last saturday night i had an event that seemed in every way to be a heart event. for a half hour – in the wee hours of the night – i struggled with intense pain, wondering if there was a way that i could lessen it, wondering what to do. though i don’t necessarily feel 65, i know that i am 65 and so i was frightened.

we went to the ER to make sure this was not an emergency and, gratefully, the tests all came out fine. the mystery will be one for my personal physician and i to solve. but there is a learning – as always – here.

there is way too much darkness. in the middle of saturday night, while laying in bed thinking about life itself, i knew that the lesson presenting itself – the wisdom repeating itself – was none too small.

we have one opportunity to live this life. we can either live it ugly or live it with as much goodness as we can muster. we can greet each dawn with hope and light and generous possibility or we can perpetuate the dark of night, starless and with evil in our hearts.

i can feel it – this new hope surging through our nation. i can feel the energy, the light, a wide-open future full of wonder and blessed by simply breathing.

this trickle-down – of freedom and good intention – is contagious. the joy of the harris/walz campaign – the humanity of the harris/walz campaign – the spirit of the harris/walz campaign is washing over us.

and for that – and for sunday morning and each morning since – i am grateful.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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watermelon time. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

dogga adores watermelon. he also adores blueberries and carrots. he’s a big fan of any kind of chip, cracker or cheese. really, any dog-safe morsel of people food – except bananas – are in his taste-treat wheelhouse. he finds us easy to convince – those eyes of his – complete amber eye-to-eye contact.

back in the day, when i lived in florida, you could find watermelon at many rural corners, much like boiled peanut stands – a pick-up truck with a bed filled with watermelons fresh off the vine for buyers to choose from. i remember breaking open melons, sticky sweet, a tiny bit cooler than the air temperature. these last few days here in wisconsin remind me of those hot summer days down south, with nights that don’t cool down and humidity lingering so much in the air you can see it. chilled watermelon helps.

in the olden days (as my poppo used to refer back) watermelons had seeds. lots of them. you’d stand out back on the patio or on the deck spitting pits over the railing – contests of whose would gain the most ground. now, we are lucky – seedless watermelons have changed life, like seedless mandarins. no more contests over the deck rail, but so much easier to eat. ahh, the end of the folksy tradition of the watermelon-seed-spit. probably not a big loss.

dogga will accept any treat he is offered. he clearly trusts that we will keep his well-being and his people-food tastes in mind, so when i cut up the watermelon the other day into bite-sized pieces, he was right there, by my side, waiting. it’s his summer too.

but time doesn’t stand still. we simply cannot believe that it is labor day weekend already. the summer flew by. and soon, a bit later on, we will be barreling through fall. it’ll be time for apple-picking and pumpkins, jeans and boots and vests. part of me yearns for that – autumn – my favorite time of year.

but watermelon is plentiful right now, and, so, our moments will include dabbing our napkins on our watermelon-slice-sticky faces in the middle of these hot summer days, these days of intense heat.

dogga doesn’t seem to have yearnings for later-on. somehow he knows that any time at all is too precious to waste. his wisdom is in his absolute presence. whether it is watermelon time or apple time or cranberry time or blueberry time…it doesn’t matter. he is just there – appreciating all the wanna-bites of the season.

so in the middle of winter – when it’s frigid outside and we humans are wishing for a little warmth while dogga is relishing the piles of snow – we may summon up these days in the sun. hopefully, even in our baselayers, wool socks and down coats, we might taste the summer we – hopefully – memorized. we might close our eyes and remember the sweetness of cold watermelon.

or, because this world is what it is and we are fortunate beyond belief to be able to purchase produce from nations and places far and wide, we may buy a watermelon – in the cold of winter – from the grocery store. we’ll take out the big carving knife and the cutting board and slice it into triangles, with great anticipation. and we’ll take a bite of the top of the triangle, easily the best bite of all melon bites.

and we’ll be back – standing in the hot sun, with sticky hands. because watermelon has that power. even without seeds.

*****

GOOD MOMENTS: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WbiKiz1NZYs

(copyright 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood)

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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