the canvasser walked up the driveway toward us. “well, there’s no doubt who you are voting for,” she stated and then continued, lifting up the democratic presidential candidate who had inspired her to hit the sidewalks, to knock on doors and talk to people.
“we already voted,” i smiled and told her, so she could breathe for a moment, replenish her energy and move on to the next house, with the hope that she could make a difference in this unparalleled election, an election of utmost importance to our country and its populace. i thanked her as she smiled wearily, turned and walked on.
yes. it is obvious who we voted for. we have zero need for this choice to be secretive.
we exercised our right – to vote – granted by amendments to the constitution of these united states.
we exercised our civic dedication – our duty – to democracy, voting for the most appropriate candidate to be president of these united states, the candidate who will uphold and protect that very democracy.
we exercised our right to vote to protect those rights, our freedoms, the constitution, its amendments, to protect these united states.
yes. we voted for kamala harris and tim walz. with gratitude for them.
because any other vote is a vote to undermine the privileges of freedom we – every single one of us – have in this country, to undermine the compassionate humanity we all share, to undermine the democracy of america.
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.
“happiness is….happiness is….happiness is…different things to different people. that’s what happiness is.” (ray conniff)
i can’t use these glasses – gifted to us – without hearing that song. our tonic and lime makes it happen every time. I don’t fight it. i succumb to it – humming or bursting into song – at least inside my head.
nine years ago the monday of this week was the start. everyone was on their way – sometime during that week. we entertained at our old house each night – and everyone present came for dinners we prepared with an entourage of kitchen helpers. it was a barn raising in every good way.
by the time we actually got married – at the end of the week – we were pretty darn tired. but happiness? it was abundant.
every now and then there is a moment, a snag, a who-are-you-and-what-are-you-doing-here. we all have them. but, in the way of moments, they are momentary. and if i give myself space to think about the passage of time and everything that has brought us to the puny moment, to allow in perspective, i am able to process, to rejuvenate out of puny, back to happiness. ok….not an immediate bouncing-dancing-leaping-about kind of happiness, but a deep-from-within happiness that reminds me of the reason we two people joined. the support, belief and love of our families, friends, community have generously seen us through.
every now and then there is a moment, a wildly astonishing wide-eye, a heart-lifting teary eye, an i-wouldn’t-wanna-be-anywhere-else. and, in the way of moments, it is a gift, a reminder of the unlikeliness of ever having met, a gratitude for how the universe aligned two tiny stars distantly apart, a peek into the big heart – and the sense of humor – of whatever deity you wish to name. those are bouncing-dancing-leaping-about kinds of happiness moments.
each year that we celebrate another year we relive that week preceding our wedding. each year we are grateful. each year we are really aware of happiness … which begets happiness … which begets happiness.
“whatever a house is to the heart and body of man-refuge, comfort, luxury-surely it is as much or more to the spirit.” (mary oliver)
we’ll travel a bit soon. a trip that’s been semi-planned – and postponed – for some time. even before setting out, we know it will be great fun, adventuring with friends, moseying the country with them. there is a sweetness to anticipation.
and it’s funny. every time i get close to going away – anywhere – i have a distinct appreciation for our own home. there is something that rises up for me before a trip – a reminder of how really dear home is to me – our old house, our backyard, this amazing lake just a bit to our east, our dogga, our life here. we take walks in the days before leaving and mother earth does her very best at impressing us – a showcase of unparalleled beauty, a display of what’s-right-here.
and it’s no different this time.
even the unexpected worn-gasket-water-pipe-union spewing water into our basement cannot change this feeling. even d’s all-day wet vac duty, carpet that was soaked, stuff that needed to be moved out of the way, the unplanned cost of an expert plumber – even all that didn’t dim this appreciation of home.
we have traveled a lot together and i have become aware of how true it is that you carry home with you. we’ve taken home – together – overseas and all over our nation. this trip will be just the same – a great exploring – while holding home between us.
we are excited to go, to be fed by new places and new experiences, fodder for our muses, our spirits expanding with the time away.
and, at the same time, here i am – smitten by our own home, my spirit filled before we even leave.
“as we walk in fields of gold…” (gordon matthew sumner (sting) – fields of gold)
it is the grasses that thrive in our yard. the hostas have mostly yielded to the daylilies and the ferns have volunteered into a bigger garden out in the corner under the trees. the peonies hold their own – their blooms ever the sweetest. but the grasses – planted in our sandy soil near the lake – multiply and thrive.
were we to be dropped out of the galaxy into our yard, we would at least be able to identify the season – based on the ornamental grasses that grace our gardens. they are stalwart and enduring, coming back despite whatever is happening in our own universe, in the world. they are tuned to the sun and the moon and they set a high bar of appreciation for their renewal, their robust, their willowy feathered plumage, their verdant green in summer and this golden glow in fall.
we sit and gaze at these gardens of gold, particularly as dusk’s setting sun plays over them. we are smitten.
i am planting two new roots of peony, a generous gift from my sister-in-law. carefully we have decided where to place these tiny plant souls. they will flower in white blossoms, different blooms from each other. i will cluster them with one of our hot pink peonies – the one that hasn’t yet budded. and, hopefully, the grasses adjacent in the garden will keep an eye on these newcomers. we can gently plant, water and feed, be mindful of recommendations, but the garden will also tend itself and my sister-in-law has reassured me that peonies are so tough and hardy that they don’t necessarily need anything special. welcome words, as we are really neophytes at this.
there are many gardens with much more variety, that are more exquisite, more elegant, lavish, even opulent. yet, each time we come home – or finish our day on the deck or the patio – now that we have passed by the equinox and autumn is sweeping in on the departing wings of summer – i am grateful for these fields of gold in our yard. the steadfast spirit of these golden grasses aligns with us.
“…let’s live like mountains: two worlds rooted together but each cutting its own shape into the changing sky…” (james a. pearson – the space between us)
the sacred space between us.
when david proposed – over a decade ago – he gave me two rings. identical in style, they had textural differences. both sterling silver, one had a textured band with a smooth round globe and the other a smooth band with a textured round globe. he spoke words to the effect that we each brought similarities and differences into this space we would now share. to him it – our marriage – was best represented by two different rings worn together, side by side.
in the years that have gone by, i have watched these two rings become more alike – time is wearing them down, has minimized the textural differences as this sacred space between us has grown. we mountains have rooted together – like aspen trees in a forest – and, standing next to each other, though we cut our own shapes into the sky, we are becoming a mountain range.
in the way that time carves lessons and learnings into our hearts and minds, time has gifted us with the fire and flow of good relationship – both – that rubber band of intimacy that holds tight and stretches and snaps back like a bungee cord – eager to find center once again. fusion and fission, elements of the canyoned valley we share between us. we hold it gently in our joined hands.
and i wonder if the rings will become so similar that the difference in textures will be impossible to see.
what i do know – no matter how texturally identical they are or become, they started as two and carry two worlds with them. we – like all in relationship – bring different gifts with us. these gifts of the other help us evolve – they add to our sedimentary bedrock.
it is my instinct to seek words of wisdom about this space – this sacred space – between us. the union, the adapting, the transitions, the growth, the times of storm and times of calm.
but, instead, i will just watch my rings. and as they wear and change, i’ll keep renewing our roots, grounding us in center somewhere between our mountains in a meadow of wildflowers under the sun.
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.
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.
reverse threading 