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don’t be a dreamdasher. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

a few yesterdays ago we were at the apple store, asking questions, learning, dreaming, stoking up on what new technology is “out there”, what we might eventually need to replace my no-longer-with-us hand-me-down 2008 crashed computer, this 2014 mini ipad, etc etc etc.

in a remarkable three hours or so – that we stood and talked to mike and then nate – we jogged our braincells into grokking new information, new terms, new device potentials and we entertained dancing with visions of artistic sugarplums. it was a joyous time, filled with others teaching us, punctuated by laughter.

toward the end of our visit at the store, a couple – a bit older than us – walked in. both were dressed to the nines (in direct comparison to our ripped jeans, flannel shirts and hiking sandals).

the woman walked over to the table with ipads and pointed to one as an-even-older-than-them-and-us saleswoman looked on. she asked what it was. the evenolder saleswoman – let’s just call her “dreamdasher” – immediately said this while body-guiding her away from the very tablet that was inviting in the customer: “ohhh. that’s verrrrrry expensive. it’s fancy. it’s an ipad proooo. it’s for proFESSionals.”

i was taken aback and stared at them. since we were just across the table from this debacle – about three feet away – i said aloud, “did you just hear that? what on earth was THAT??” our nate – who we have now adopted because he was young, bright, informative, told great stories, was pretty adorable with great hair and tolerated our three hours worth of information-gathering – said, “everyone has their own approach, i guess.”

i continued to rant – about assumptions, about dashing someone’s dreams, about ageism (which was funny because the salesperson was perhaps older than the customer!), about did-i-mention assumptions. who was to say that the customer wasn’t a professional? who was to say that the customer didn’t have goals to be a professional? who was to say that the customer wasn’t buying for someone else? i was flabbergasted that a woman (dreamdasher) would be so rude to a woman (dreamingperson). it is truly amazing that i did not walk over to dreamdasher and quietly ask her where her generosity went, how she could just dis-count dreamingperson’s curiosity and possible purchase, how she could – in the instants since that couple had walked in – put them in the tire-kicker category and body-guide them down the row of ipads to a lower level of tablet.

i went on and on in big red for a while too. it did not sit well with me.

because we were there to dream, to imagine. we did not look the part of people who could slap down some cash and purchase the row freaking row of tablets. we were clearly behind the eight ball on device capability and terminology. and yet nate – and mike – were generous and careful teachers, on point with what we described as possibilities, lifting us – and our visions – up, not trouncing on them.

wow.

still a little miffed, as you can see.

as human beings – particularly in a time when our very country seems to want to drown every floating dream – isn’t it our obligation to lift others up, to not make unfounded and discriminatory assumptions, to be kind? isn’t it our responsibility to feed others’ creativity, to encourage and bolster their life goals as much as we can, to hope for the best for each other? is it not in our nature to wish to elevate other humans, to boost them up, to animate their dreams, to delight in ambitions and initiatives of goodness? to make a difference in the lives of others – no matter their fortune? to say “i believe in you”? to be light in the dark?

dreamdashers be damned.

grateful to the dreamlifters around us.

*****

YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE © 2003 kerri sherwood

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PS. if you are a “romper room” fan, please sing to the tune of the do-bee song:

“…don’t be a dreamdasher, don’t be a dreamdasher/do be a dreamlifter, do be a dreamlifter…..”


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sweet tomato dreams. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the tomato photo shoot. it was our first harvested cherry tomato from our lush and hearty plant that is tucked over by the fence next to the potting stand, sharing space with the ornamental grasses. before we tasted the produce we had grown, i wanted to capture its winning smile.

now, i’m not really a still-life kind of artist…i prefer more freedom…but this little tomato turned out to be quite a little starlet in this shoot and converted me – at least momentarily.

this little tomato was ultra sweet, having been warmed by a very hot sun and carefully tended. there are so many green orbs on this plant…we are anticipating a caprese salad or pasta. in the meanwhile, there is much to be said for the positive reinforcement of produce yielded from our attempts at growing.

“a dream doesn’t become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work.” (colin powell)

it would seem to make complete sense to recognize that sweat, determination and hard work, but even i can attest to the fact that there are places of employ that simply disregard the success that has been created by someone working diligently and devotedly in their name.

it is the same that is happening right here, right now in this country. workers – important spokes in the societal wheel – are being tossed left and right, leaving literal and figurative produce to rot. profound medical research, critical environmental science, expansive educational ideology, the hard work of laboring in fields or restaurants or hospitality – these workers are finding themselves booted by someone whose excuse is – obviously – a vision that no longer aligns with theirs. for a country (or a community or an organization or corporation or any institution) that wishes to abdicate any formerly-intended mission, eliminate employees who are making a difference, cut corners and costs – biting their noses to spite their faces, stop forward movement, undermine the career paths of employees and send them careening, cruelly evict its dutiful people, is a country (or a community or an organization or corporation or institution) that has lost its way.

it is simpler out back in our tiny gardens. the basil and the rosemary and the cilantro and the jalapeños and the parsley and the mint and – yes – the cherry tomatoes grow. with our careful tending, vigilant watering and pruning, they reward us with bountiful produce. in turn, we do all we can to support their growth and they respond with healthy herbs and tomatoes. it is a cycle, an if this-then that, a very simplified conditional relationship predicated on a premise and a result. even any syllogism (major premise, minor premise, conclusion) about our garden would yield a productive conclusion, steps toward the dream.

i asked AI for a syllogism about the contemporary united states. this is what instantly popped up:

major premise: a healthy democracy relies on robust, respectful dialogue and a willingness to compromise for the common good.

minor premise: current political discourse in america often exhibits increased polarization and a decline in civility and compromise.

conclusion: therefore, the current state of american democracy faces significant challenges to its healthy functioning.

i fear that this – the fallout of this republic functioning as a democracy – is exactly the positive reinforcement – the dream – that this current administration is seeking.

and now – because i am overwhelmed by the corruption i have witnessed firsthand both as an employee and as a citizen – i am going back to tending my herbs and my sweet cherry tomatoes.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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our caribbean vacation. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

we landed at our caribbean island a few days ago. anxious to stretch our legs, we dropped off our luggage and changed practical travel sandals to flipflops. the sun was out and the water was inviting. we were on the side of the island with some rocky shoreline but a beautiful footpath led us along to the sandy beach. we just couldn’t get over the color of the water, the sound of seagulls, the soft air, the bamboo populating the coast.

we haven’t ever been here before, but we are both excited to snorkel and maybe even dive – we are both certified scuba divers so having some time in this gorgeous ocean is appealing.

our airbnb is full of light, open to the outdoors, embracing everything tropical. there are two hammocks strung between trees and tiki torches all along the patio waiting for sundown. and we are lucky. we are here during a time that it is not too humid – there are cool breezes off the ocean, the birds are plentiful, the lizards run wild and free and the salty scent in the air is fresh.

we get to the beach and pull off our flipflops to feel the exquisite white sand on our feet. walking along water’s edge we decide there is nothing like this – it’s dreamy.

and – the fact of the matter is – it IS dream-y.

this is not the caribbean nor is this a tropical ocean. this photograph is taken along the harbor down the street from us on lake michigan. it’s all about the narrative.

if there is nothing else we have learned over the last eight years or so, it is to check the narrative of what you are hearing or seeing – BEFORE you believe it. it is to ponder the validity of the words that people around you are saying, to wonder if there is agenda behind those words, to inquire and research and find the truth.

because people tell tall tales – even those who you would never expect to fabricate, those from whom you would expect better, those whose positions literally suggest honesty, those whose integrity you count on. the guarantee is that you will be surprised.

so, before you think – wow! they are in the caribbean on vacation – realize you must never assume anything these days. for things are not always how they look and it is incumbent upon each of us to make sure we understand what really IS true.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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my cello. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

i sold my cello this week.

i would be lying if i told you i didn’t cry at the string shop.

i did cry. i’m crying now.

i am a professional pianist. a composer. proudly a yamaha artist with an intensely beautiful C5 in my studio and fifteen albums plus of vulnerability out in the world. i play the guitar and the ukulele. i dabbled on the trumpet in college for five minutes or so. but, oh…the cello.

the moment i touched my cello i had a bond with it. and, holding the idea close of learning to play mournfully heart-draining melody lines, i purchased it. because artists dream, i played.

but reality is reality.

and now – with 45° of wrist forward range of motion – my cello needed a new home. it’s just a fact.

i held onto it long after i knew this. it’s hard to let go a dream. and i’ve never before sold a beloved instrument.

yet, cellos – like all instruments – need to be loved on: played, listened to, tweaked, played more. a paesold, german-made, warm and resonant in tone, it begged to come out of the corner of my studio. though i tried to ignore it, it is like ignoring the stare of an australian shepherd who clearly wants you to do something (and we have experience with this). so my cello kept staring at me and staring at me. even without entering my studio – for i have not spent much time in there in these most recent years – i could feel the stare of the cello through the wall.

until finally.

i know this cello is valuable. yet, the string shop i sold it to – for much less than its value – was full of string music and luthiers working, a performance space and a full marching line of cellos on the wall. it will not be lonely as it waits to be re-homed.

the shopowner knew how hard it was for me to sell this cello, to leave it behind, to leave at all.

i touched its maple and spruce, exquisitely varnished. i spoke to my cello. and i blew it a kiss as we left, entirely and utterly choked-up.

and i wondered how my cello-dream might morph into something else.

because it’s still raw.

*****

LAST I SAW YOU from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

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in another life. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

in another life i am a potter. i have multiple aprons caked with clay and stained with glaze. i have a potter’s wheel and a giant old table in a big barn that looks out over a lake and mountains, the sun streaming in during late afternoon happy hour siesta-sans-sleep time. and the pots i throw don’t collapse in on themselves.

there is something so very visceral about throwing pots – sitting on a stool, wheel in front of you, a chunk of clay – prepared – kneaded, wedged, ready. my hands are sensitive and the texture is smooth, not sticky. my foot starts the wheel and i form a circle with my hands. and the sun streams in, a gentle breeze through the barn doors, the soundtrack from the movie ghost playing in the background, patrick swayze moving closer. eh! the dream sequence stops here. 

i’ve mentioned my pottery successes before: a couple tealight or small trinket holders and one highly-valued dessert bowl. nothing like this stunning handleless wine cup, but maybe someday. rachel stevens – the potter – is clearly gifted, with a textural approach to applying glazes, transfers … like a collage of pottery elements melded into one piece. her spirit, her intention of the beautiful – both evident.

heidi gave us these vessels for our wedding and we treasure them. their earthiness reminds us to stay grounded and centered; their loveliness is a reminder of all that is art and beauty and goodness.

we don’t use these each time we sip wine. we have lovely stemware as well. but the days we do, i am back in the barn…surrounded by crystal singing bowls and potter’s wheels, old farm tables and swivel stools, the sun and a breeze streaming in, the mountains out there as i glance up. a girl can dream.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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asphalt illusions. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“i’ve looked at life from both sides now
from win and lose and still somehow
it’s life’s illusions I recall
i really don’t know life at all

i’ve looked at life from both sides now
from up and down and still somehow
it’s life’s illusions I recall
i really don’t know life at all”

(joni mitchell – both sides now)

puddletrees. they were right there, waiting. trees out a window. trees in a snowstorm. trees in front of us. illusion. reminding me – in the taking of the photograph – that things are not always what they seem.

it’s like story. things are not always what they seem.

“but in this song there are only two sides to things… there’s reality and i guess what you might call fantasy. there’s enchantment and dis-enchantment, what we’re taught to believe things are and what they really are.” (joni mitchell – at a performance 1967)

two sides. we’ve been taught to remember that there are two sides to every story. we learn though – somewhere along the way – that there are often many more sides than two. story is a multi-faceted creature, amorphous enough – and pliable enough – to take on the shape of whatever the storyteller – or the listener – wishes. this is not just dependent on details or fact; this is not simply dependent on reality. this is dependent on intention. even with the truth-telling of true story – with ample substantiation – there are others who will warp story into their agenda. reality and the flipside. brutal.

and so sometimes the don’t-know-clouds, don’t-know-love, don’t-know life takes on monumental proportion.

but there are puddletree moments. pared down. and these are not win or lose, up or down moments. they are simply suspensions of time – when we marvel at the reflection of trees in puddles or a single snowflake on a leaf or the survivors in scorched earth of a controlled burn, when we linger in the harmonic of a ninth or the color of the peony, when we pause in the middle of mayhem to look around us, when we know that just a little beyond reality is dream. and we can see it from here.

life’s illusions in an asphalt puddle. we really don’t know life. what it really is. at all.

“well, something’s lost, but something’s gained
in living every day.”

*****

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

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what i need. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

i am a homebody. i truly love home.

but – juxtaposed on the same life-wave-riding surfboard – i love to get away. i love roadtrips and adventure, exploring backroads, immersing in new places. though i am fed noticing the extraordinary in the familiar, i thrive on images of the unfamiliar. more than once i have cried entering a canyon or at mountain-range first glimpse or surrounded by the scent of a lodgepole pine forest or the quiet of an empty trail or the quaking of aspen leaves.

so i yearn for these places – the ones we have been to and have loved and the ones we dream about.

i’m not high-maintenance when it comes to vacations. i’m not a resort-type or a cruise-type, not a disney-type or an amusement-park-type. i don’t need all-inclusive or my bed turned-down. i don’t need all-you-can-eat-any-time-of-day-or-night. i don’t need fancy or plush or luxurious. i definitely don’t need contrived.

it’s pretty simple. what i do need – is a little or big getaway. short distance, long distance. time to leave, see new things, experience new places, feel the sun from a different latitude or longitude. and then time to go home and feel the hygge that is ever-present back here, the moments that go by perhaps a little underappreciated, to feel the here and now without regret or longing, a chance to revive my homebody-ness.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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both-and. [merely-a-thought monday]

ricko and nick could be friends. they are on the same page…that trite-but-true one of potentiality.

in “my big fat greek wedding” nick portokalos quotes dear abby, “don’t let your past dictate who you are, but let it be part of who you will become.” out in the middle of the arctic tundra, ricko dewilde firmly states, “the best way to lose an opportunity is to believe it’s not there.”

john denver in “looking for space” lyrics writes,

“on the road of experience
join in the living day
if there’s an answer
it’s just that it’s just that way

when you’re looking for space
and to find out who you are
when you’re looking to try and reach the stars
it’s a sweet, sweet, sweet dream
sometimes i’m almost there
sometimes i fly like an eagle
and sometimes i’m deep in despair…”

we are all out there – looking for space. no matter the ladder rung, no matter the age, no matter the skill level, no matter the lifeline of work and education and privilege and lack thereof, no matter the past, no matter what we believe, no matter the matter we are looking for space. the place to stand and breathe and be exactly who we are.

this week i flew like an eagle. this week i was deep in despair. i would guess – were we all to be candid – there were many with me up in that eagle-sky and many with me scrambling in muddy-despair. it’s both-and. life is a correlative conjunction.

and – in that infinitely latent and screaming way of possibility – the space we inhabit on this good earth is full of it.

*****

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


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any. thing. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

there’s no telling. no way to know. really anything. any. thing.

the mystery of the new year is enormous. giant arcing things will happen, life-changing. tiny morsels of moments will happen, life-changing. we have no way to truly predict. there is no artificial intelligence that can tell us the spectrum of life that we will experience in the new year. it is hidden in holiday wrap, too much scotch tape, gift tags that have become mixed up, like luggage on southwest airlines right now.

to greet it without a hint of anticipation, without a breath of celebration, without acknowledgement of the brevity of time, is to maybe miss it.

stardust falls on our shoulders as we walk into the turn of the year under the big, big sky.

anything is possible. any. thing.

*****

happy new year.

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2022 kerrianddavid.com


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section-hike to chicago. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

over here, by one of the great great lakes, it is mostly flat. when you drive a bit south – toward chicago – particularly on the back roads – you will find ravines punctuating the landscape, gorgeous woods with deep cuts, gullies likely carved by streams into glacial moraines with bluffs high above the lake. i can’t imagine choosing the interstate over these roads and, if time allows, we are avid believers in the back ways.

most of the places we hike in our area do not present elevation gain as a challenge. instead, we have to do distance to make up the exercise gap. i’ve been a sea-level-girl pretty much my whole life – from a where-i’ve-lived standpoint – so when we are faced with elevation gain i have to do a bit of acclimatizing to get any kind of mountain legs or lungs. long island, florida, wisconsin – clearly, none of these are known for their mountain peaks.

we hadn’t ever walked the bike trail on the south side of the illinois border. we parked littlebabyscion near the entrance of the bike trail in some neighborhood – much to the chagrin of a woman walking her dog who – clearly – immediately had her suspicions about these two people exiting their vehicle – having parked their good-grief-it’s-a-2006-vehicle-ewww on the end of the road in this upscale ‘hood – for the trail. i started to walk to the trail and went back, wrote a cheery note “hi. we are just walking on the bike path,” finished it with a happy face and placed it in full view in the windshield. for the first hour or so of hiking i worried if we would get back to an empty space where our sweet littlebabyscion had been and a note to call the tow company. (it was with relief we later returned to find our little vehicle and another parked there as well.)

we crossed the wisconsin-illinois border and found the straight and narrow. illinois does a remarkable job of trail upkeep, no matter where we have found one, no matter the terrain. we kept walking. and walking. and walking. it was a beautiful day and easy to lose sight of the time or distance. we had water and halos and lemon lärabars. we were set.

we looked at the bike trail maps. though there are sections that are harder to define – one must find one’s way from one defined trail to another – you can pretty much walk or bike all the way to chicago.

we giggled and decided we would section-hike to chicago. it will be practice for the possibility of section-hiking or thru-hiking the john muir trail or the PCT. uh-huh. because walking on a bike trail – near civilization, without elevation gain, without 30 pounds on our backs, with littlebabyscion patiently waiting for us and our kitchen and comfy bed at the end of the day – is definitely good practice for say 211 miles or 2650. oh ye of little faith. whatever.

we turned around after checking time and the mileage and the forecasted hour of sunset. the way back – like the previous day on the des plaines river trail – i thought about how many miles we would complete that day, in a few hours. i doubled it and tripled the time and pondered doing that day after day for weeks or – in the case of the PCT – months.

it has a magical dreamy lure. there is no straight and narrow out there. there is hard work and perseverance. and we – watchers of more youtube video accounts than most – ponder if we could do it. we are fueled by people like the remarkable (!) wander women and, really, anyone, say, over 60 we watch successfully navigate the challenges. we think aloud – “maybe someday.”

in the meanwhile there is work to do, a plan to piece back together again post-implosion, and section-hikes to chicago.

*****

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