the leaves have not all fallen yet. looking out back, they are still clinging to the oaks, the maples. i gathered a few that had made it onto the deck…just bits of green, yellow, a little orange, red. they went on the dining room table under the gourd that had spent long sunshiny hours on the potting stand, wicking away its outer layer, stripped down to its mustard shell. we celebrated the simplicity and lit candles to showcase these small trinkets of fall.
our stock pot of irish guiness stew simmered for hours. we shared it with our son and his sweet boyfriend, sipping wine and dipping chunks of baguette into our bowls. it was a joy to be there – at that table together – on thanksgiving – and i was grateful in each moment.
i’m more and more aware of the tiniest showcases of miracles. from our quiet hikes on trail to listening to the wind resonate the tenor chimes in the dawn hours to walking about inside post some clearing-out and rearranging in our old house to times spent with others. in silence and in boisterous noise. an abundance.
the light shines. it radiates through. noticing it is not only our task, but it is our gift.
standing under the desert night sky – zillions of stars and the milky way just lingering out there above me. stunning. it was like an umbrella of humility. we are so very tiny, after all.
yet, on this clear night, on the border of arizona and utah, i stood holding hands with my husband on this stargazing deck, merely feet from dear friends. i thought about recent photos our son had posted of the starry sky in utah while exploring with our daughter. i could feel the love i had for each of them – it felt enormous – and yet, i am so tiny, after all.
last week i was taken by ambulance to the emergency room. i have never been treated by 911 paramedics and firemen before, nor have i ever been in an ambulance. but the situation seemed pretty dire and david needed back-up from people who had medical and emergency knowledge.
in the emergency room, i was struck both by how many people were present for me and how many people needed care. each person treating me was empathetic and caring; each one made me feel like they had true concern for what was happening.
and no one asked me about my political stance before they treated me.
instead, i was one star in the sky and they were each nearby stars. no one was greater than the other. we were all in it together, working with each other to a common goal.
in the period of time i was at the emergency room, two dedicated nurses, a doctor, an x-ray tech, other aides all assisted in attempting to figure out what was happening. hours later, i was grateful for each of them, for their expertise, their comprehensive care, their kindness.
this is the world i wish to live in…where we are all equal stars in a vast sky full of different stars. where we are all working together. where we have compassion and concern for each other, where we strive for everyone to be well.
this is the world i wish to live in…where rage doesn’t exist, where no one makes excuses for bigotry, where people bring their best and do the best they can for each other, no one belittles others, no one dehumanizes any one else – regardless of their gender, their race, their ethnicity, their sexual orientation or identification, their religion, their socioeconomic status.
it was no joke going to the hospital in an ambulance. everything most important to me was needlenose-pointedly front and center in my mind. i was scared and i was counting completely on others.
and i carried this from my experience – now, as i heal from all of it – reinforcing we need live this way. like we are stars in the sky – indiscernibly no bigger or brighter than the rest – all part of the enormous galaxy – all in it together.
we need hold each other up, lift each other up, live present to the moment, hold joy as our north star.
the opposite is toxic.
a punitive, uncaring, narcissistic, demeaning, rights-stripping, rage-filled, hateful, vengeful, limited world is a waste of time.
my dad went missing-in-action in world war II when my mom was expecting their first child. she gave birth to a baby girl who died later the same day – still while my sweet poppo was missing-in-action.
later, my dad was declared a prisoner of war, held captive, shot down over the ploesti oil fields of romania, taken prisoner in bulgaria.
my dad – who would have been 104 last week – had enlisted in the army air corps of the united states because he was invested in protecting the world against the rise of fascism and its horrors. despite having a brand new bride, he risked his young life to push back against authoritarianism, never wavering, courageous and stalwart.
to think that anyone related to my dad would vote then for a fascism-dreaming candidate to be the president of this country would be a slap in the face of my father, a wave of the hand dismissing his time as a soldier, missing-in-action, as a prisoner of war.
my dad was the good. he participated in an effort that was necessary to keep our democracy, to help the world regain some solid footing, to expose the terrors of extremism.
and now, with absolutely no uncertainty, i will do my part. i will carry forward his good.
i am not on the front lines, fighting a war or in the throes of bombing or intense strife. but i am living in these united states- a country divided like no other time. i am sickened by what i see in the maga candidate, the maga agenda – the hatred, the bigotry, the propaganda – intentions borne of the extreme, of the self-serving, of all manner of prejudice.
i know – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that my dad and my mom are casting their votes for this election from the heavens above.
they are calling from that other plane – no, they are shouting from that other plane – “BE THE GOOD!!!” they implore us.
i will not turn my back on the sacrifices of my father, the terror my sweet dad experienced. it is with gratitude for his service to our country – and with gratitude for the service of all veterans – that i vote for the continued democracy of these united states.
we have one life. one. we get to live this life here once. once.
it would seem prudent to live it united in peace, united about preserving equality and opportunity in the world, united with mindfulness about our environment, about wellness, about virtue.
it would not seem in our best interest to be divided, to be cruel or vicious, to inflict inequalities upon others, to be careless about our earth, to live ugly.
i’m struck – day after day these days – by how ugly ugly can get. there is no bottom bar. instead there is the deepest of evil crevasses from which people mine the power they desire, the control they feed upon, the extreme ugly they intend.
i have lost sleep over this – night after night. i have ranted and i have been horrified. i have wept and i have felt scared.
but I continue to have hope.
hope that there are more and more people – out there – who wish to live in gratitude, who wish to be caring, who lead with kindness, with generosity, who wish to move forward, to keep evolving, who are united by nature, whose nature it is to celebrate being united, who don’t choose to live ugly.
we’ve been making do. one sprinkler – the kind that goes in a circle – has duct tape keeping on one of the nozzles. the other sprinkler simply refuses to sprinkle back and forth. it will sprinkle to ninety degrees and then returns to zero. it has ceased being a 180 degree sprinkler. nevertheless, we are diligently watering, despite the quirks of our roster of sprinklers. “next year,” we say, “we will get a new sprinkler.”
but right now it is time for us to get new hiking boots. our brown leather boots – which took some serious time to break in – have hiked with us for the last eight years. they’ve hiked locally, in the high elevation mountains of colorado, the red rock of utah, the rhododendron-rich mountains of north carolina, the door peninsula of wisconsin, along the coast of california and on the beaches of long island. it is likely they are hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of miles past their prime. they have little to no tread and, therefore, little to no traction. however much we love these boots, it is way past time.
oliver sussed us up pretty quickly. the gentleman who had been helping us left to go on break. he had been steering us to a certain brand – clearly his favorite brand – and he grimaced when i asked to try on different pairs of boots. oliver took over where he left off. and we are grateful to him. in the matter of a few minutes he was able to change ”steering’ to ‘accompanying’ us along on this new-hiking-boot journey. he laughed and asked us a few questions after we told him we were suffering through this new-boot-decisions. joking, he lightened the spirit around our shoe-trying-on-chairs and zeroed in on the way we would use our boots. “functionality,” he pointed out. he was both practical and reassuring and he spoke straight-up about the choices that were there in front of us, never being pushy, aware that there are other places with other brands or models that might work better. and sometimes there is a boot that will become the in-the-meantime boot. functionality. he became our favorite boot salesperson.
when the drain-guy was at our house he described two ways of fixing the piping under our sink, one way more involved than the other. i’m pretty sure he could see us both staring at him, in decision purgatory. he began to speak again, this time explaining that he is a functionalist and giving us the nitty-gritty on what he thought. his candid approach – with truth and common sense – was the help we needed. we chose the simpler fix, acknowledging that the other was likely overkill at this time. he is our favorite drain guy.
i had only seen my doctor twice before, both visits within the brief time parameters of whatever it is the healthcare company and insurance company deem appropriate. when she – at the end of my follow-up for that what-seemed-like-a-heart-event – recommended that i try myofascial massage, her confidently professional voice softened a bit and i could feel empathy in this physician i barely knew. it was in those unrushed moments of concern and in her caring recommendation that i felt nurtured. in those moments she became a person i trusted and with whom i would look forward to establishing a patient-doctor relationship.
it doesn’t take too much. but a slight tilt of the head, a person really listening, a few extra minutes all make a difference. it all matters. each of these seemingly inconsequential experiences was a validation of the consequential power of nurturing another. d and i talked about each experience later.
and we talked about how much different our world might be – if every time we had the chance to nurture someone in some way – even the simplest of ways – if we took that opportunity. to go the extra. what might happen. the concentric circles would explode outward.
we will never know how big our tiny nurturing moment of another might actually end up. but it matters nonetheless.
it was in full support of intentional redundancy that i jotted this down as soon as nathan on alone season 6 said it, “the only currency we have is gratitude.”
it was without hesitation i looked up belleruth naperstek’s prayer for healing, “just give me this … so i can start over, fresh and clean, like sweet sheets billowing in the summer sun, my heart pierced with gratitude.”
it is with humility I find myself starting another new day – just after the fall solstice – with a clear etch-a-sketch, a blank notebook ready to be filled. there is but one breath between here and not here and it would seem prudent that i have wholehearted gratefulness for that breath.
so it is without any self-editorial skirmish that i write – once again – about gratitude.
it really is kind of about breathing those breaths, about waking up, about the turn of seasons. it really is about appreciating another inhale-exhale – this chance to be alive and how we choose to embrace it.
in these times, the distinction of starting over on another day is clear. the clothesline waits for the kind of prayers we hang on it. there is a vastness between billowing sweet sheets – fresh, clean, hopeful, and limp skanky soilage – deflating, stale, regressive.
we all have choices. we may uphold the efforts of those who forward goodness, who pursue equality, who speak emphatically about the care and concern of all.
or we may uphold the efforts of those who forward vitriol and egoistic agenda, who pursue limits on people based on bigoted skews, who spew vile exclusion.
life just seems way too short to live ugly.
i am personally choosing being on the clothesline in the waning summer sun. billowing and breathing and giving thanks.
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.
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.
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.
time to speak up. time to own what you have pondered, researched, debated, lost sleep over. time to honestly consider the choice and its true ramifications. time to think beyond yourself and reflect upon the legacy you are choosing. time to weigh in on the qualifications, the integrity, the character of the candidates. time to deliberate good and evil. time.
we have not remained silent. we have spoken and written and cartooned. we will continue to do so. because it is – indeed – time to take action.
our precious votes will not be squandered on a candidate whose sole focus is himself. they will not be spent on a man who lacks basic humanness, whose criminal and monstrous behaviors demonstrate his ambitions. they will not support a party that has eaten itself alive, that has become pistol-focused on autocracy, on mean-spiritedness, that would have the audacity to use name-calling and underhanded bitter tirades to represent itself. they will not be cast for a ticket that quashes the freedom of women and LGBTQ, that deliberately builds up the rich and ignores those in need, that slashes equality for race, gender, religion, orientation, that has intentional plans for undermining the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness of all in this country, all entering this country. these precious and important votes of ours will not buy into the repugnance of maga and its hideous scheme for the future. no.
instead, our votes – this opportunity, this responsibility, to participate in the future of the united states of america – will be cast with the honor and respect and diligence due them. they will be educated, considered, based on researched fact, leaning into joy and hope for future generations, looking toward light instead of bleak darkness.
there is no choice here. there is only one worthy candidate.
and though i would – with absolute certainty in my mind and heart – vote AGAINST maga, i, instead, will vote FOR the democratic ticket. i will vote FOR kamala harris and tim walz . i will vote for kindness and the community of this country. i will vote for democracy.
and i will take action each day to help the future of this country for us, for our daughter and son and their partners, for our friends and extended family regardless of their votes, for our town, our state, this nation and the world.
the choice is obvious. i am not going back to the stifling, suffocating, unconscionable ugliness of what we have seen – what we see – from maga.
reverse threading 