looking back on the 25th anniversary of september 11 i am struck at how viscerally profound it remains – in my heart, my mind, my body. not that i am surprised. it was an absolute day of terror – and none of us alive during it will ever forget.
scrolling anytime before, on or after the-day-25-years-later of these brutal attacks on our democracy, there are memes after memes on social media. person after person writing the words, “never forget!”
and that – i agree with.
but, many of the persons posting this are of a different political persuasion than me – many of them are carrying zealous pompoms for the current administration and for its undermining of this nation’s constitution.
so what – exactly – is it that those people are asking us not to forget about september 11, 2001?
is it how the country – and all its occupants – came together on that day – reaching out to each other, to help in the crisis, to comfort, to give aid, to stand with – regardless of any – ANY – differences?
is it how this country was helped by – and was grateful for – its allies in the time, the days, the months, the years after these hideous events?
is it how this nation’s people embraced each other, grateful to be alive, deeply grieving those whose lives were taken by this evil?
is it how there were adults in charge, who spoke eloquently and thoughtfully about the course of events, who made intelligent, well-advised decisions not based on impulsivity or gluttonous greed or narcissistic aggrandizing?
is it how the administration encouraged unity on the very day of these attacks: “this is a day when all americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace.“? (president bush)
is it how that president called for solidarity- instead of divisiveness – asking the country to put aside differences, support first responders, and stand together with resolve and shared purpose?
are these the things that the supporters of the current administration are talking about when they implore us to “never forget”?
because as i see it – their support of the heinousness of this administration means that they have already forgotten.
and in looking at what they are instead aligning themselves with, i say – with a heart, mind and body that remembers 9/11 – i dissent.
there is a company that has captured my attention, a small family-owned business. i don’t own anything made by this company – yet – but every single time i browse through their website, i find myself completely happy. each product – floral sheets, boho skirts and pants, some trinkety trinkets i usually don’t purchase – every single thing textural and colorful – a kaleidoscope of happy – is an item of thoughtful and intentional beauty.
in these times, it would seem that a kaleidoscope of happy is mighty valuable.
the jalapeños at the farmstand (as well as the sweet peppers we photographed and purchased) have the same impact. such happy colors, so unassuming – just doing their i’m-a-pepper thing, delighting us.
the quilt on our bed is like that as well. the colors make us happy – year-round – and when the east sun streams in across the foot of the bed, there is not much that feels quite so reassuringly warm.
in an effort to – every now and then – not watch the news, we take to youtube to see whatever else is out there – thru-hikes, mountain summiting, house-buying, rockclimbing, rvs, van-life, restoration projects, bigfoot, tiny houses, zen videos – whatever will take our minds off what is actually happening – at least for a little bit of time.
there was a video of a guy who had distilled the ten most important things about cleaning out your stuff (which now goes into the same pile as my sentimental-people-getting-rid-of-stuff book and the intense konmari methodology). if you are looking for a dopamine rush, i suspect this is not the way.
anyway, on this video one of the things he said – which I’ve only heard about a zillion times before (though i do not heed it regardless of how many times i’ve heard it i-blame-my-mom) – is to not save things “for good”. instead, he encouraged using things that we have – clothing, china, heritage pieces or things just purchased.
we’ve been trying to do this lately – we have moved all the handed-down fenton hobnail serving pieces and the leaded glass bowls and such into places that are easy to access. instead of serving things in plasticware or ordinary stoneware, we now choose the milkglass hobnail for happy hour charcuterie or the crystal bowls for slices of cucumber and hummus. “use them,” i remind myself, “today is important.“
clothing is harder.
he urged – on the video – to not save clothing for fancy events – to just wear these pieces – perhaps consider that every day is a fancy event.
as a person who gets stuck in patterns of clothing-wearing (if you know me you are nodding here) this is much more difficult. i need to take the flowy boho pants of out my closet and put them on. i need to wear the oversized overalls, the daisy sneakers, the maxiskirt i got in colorado. other than an spf sunshirt i bought on $9.97 clearance at costco a couple weeks ago, i can’t remember what else i have bought in recent times – clothing-wise. oh…a pair of shorts, at the beginning of the summer. (i actually detest shorts now, but feel like i need to own a pair or two anyway.) though it doesn’t count as an article of clothing, my really colorful REI pride crossbody/waist pack has made it to the front of the class and i use it everyday walking or shopping…a piece that manifests happy as soon as i strap it on.)
anyway, i’m losing the point here – which was??? – oh yeah….wearing – and using – the things that make you happy.
likewise – if something does not make you happy – if it no longer fits into the picture of your life – you can give it away. this guy gives you permission (so do the author of the sentimental-people book and marie kondo and every other clearing-out guru).
which would suggest that if you see something that you know would make you happy, then you should consider getting it. (this is also a hard part for me – i know you are nodding emphatically here – as i am not a spontaneous shopper. always belabored by budget, conscience and indecision, i ponder and ponder and ponder before i purchase, if i purchase…)
but there are those gleefully happy floral pillowcases and those incredibly happy floral sheets and…
and maybe, just maybe, someday…
but first – practicing….things out, things out, things out….the gurus are clapping.
and in the meanwhile, before any things-in, the corked jalapeños and the sweet peppers will have to suffice.
they make the happy zone and join in my kaleidoscope of things-beautiful on this day…this important day.
we had a field trip, an outing, a get-out-of-the-house, a jaunt. “yippee-doo-da!” we thought as we headed out.
it was to a couple of our favorite garden centers. we decided that we were on the the quest for a plant to place on an old painted-white column that is in our dining room. the column has been waiting for Just the right thing – feeling all forlorn and empty like no column should feel. and, after trying all kinds of other things – things from around our home, from in the basement, in the attic, things from outside in the garage, things, things, things…we finally knew what should go on it. a living plant.
we have two heartleaf philodendrons in our house – one that our girl gave me as a gift (that one is named “charlie”) and the second that i gave d on the occasion of our seventh anniversary (that one is named “seven”). we went searching for another – so that it could grow and vine its way around this 3’ tall column, next to the stack of vintage suitcases, just off from the dining room table.
i simply cannot walk around a nursery and keep my camera in my bag. it is impossible. the potential photographs are limitless – color exploding everywhere you look.
in particular this day were the coneflowers. in a big expanse of plant stands, they were in their glory, putting passive color charts – rightly – in their place. i was trying hard not to whip out my camera, but eventually i gave in.
i only took a few pictures, but these – “intense orange”, “hot coral”, “mineola-orange”, “orange-red” – were so vibrant i could not ignore them. ignoring them – missing their call – would be missing a breath. they were like the most extraordinary sunset – a sky full of coneflowers.
after wandering and touching and drinking it all in, we brought home a deep-forest-green heartleaf philodendron, named it “just right” and placed it on the column, which grinned.
we aren’t going far these days – keeping our old dogga company, making sure he is ok.
but it doesn’t take going too far to remind you of the glorious all around you.
standing in the outbuilding on the farm, we both felt a little bit gleeful. the sweet peppers in front of us were so, well, freaking happy. their glossy lime green, tangerine orange and lipstick red funky shapes just about did us in.
and that wasn’t the whole of it. there were mini white cucumbers and multicolored corking jalapeños, gorgeous tomatoes and giant squash, the freshest parsley and every kind of onion. it was just too much. we were ecstatic.
between the lettuce-elimination campaign and all the food recalls – in a country that seemingly doesn’t want us to actually eat – we have found a new way that isn’t new at all: the farmstands.**
in less than two weeks we have been to farmstands four times. we have loaded up with eggplant, zucchini and tomatoes from a tiny stand out a-ways and we already have a list to go back. we are just weary of the worry about produce coming in to grocery stores from places where some process or another has caused alarm about its food safety.
and we have a new source for lettuce too, so take that! you lettuce-spoilers. our town has a hydroponic grower who offers various lettuces (their butter lettuce is divinely fresh!) and microgreens we are anxious to try.
we spent labor day weekend food-prepping: quinoa tabouli, homemade tomato sauce, basil cubes (from the basil in our garden). we made spaghetii squash for the sauce, had eggplant and zucchini on last week’s menu, fabulously fresh tomato and cucumber sandwiches for lunch. it’s time to push back and eating from as much local as we can get is how we can do it.
they recognized us when we came back the second and third times and they suggested we consider a community supported agriculture food share (CSA) for next year. we’ll see. it’s a possibility and they could clearly see that in our exuberance – as we continue to ride gleefully on our farmstand wave of happy.
early in the morning that day i was supposed to get on a flight south. i didn’t. it didn’t fly as scheduled. nothing was as scheduled.
way before the sun set that day everything was different. terror had reared its hideously ugly head and nothing was as it had been.
it is hard to believe it has been twenty-five years. it is way too easy to conjure up the emotion and grief of that day and the days that followed.
it is hard to believe the destruction that happened that day, the profound loss of human life, the dismantling of safety and trust. but the images stay in our minds, clear as the day it happened.
it is hard to believe the incredibly unifying moments – moments when people helped other people regardless of any social or cultural or economic or religious difference between them, moments when people reached out in love and earnest compassion, moments when rescue, when keeping each other safe and restoring some sort of sanity was paramount.
it is hard to believe that the magnanimity, the unselfish generosity, the steadfast dedication shown by emergency personnel and regular people has not been the irrefutable north star of all the populace since.
but here we are. in a country with an administration where goodwill has fallen to hatred and revenge, inhumane treatment of the people of this land.
and here we are – instead of taking – for the long term, the long haul – the lessons of interdependency, of humanitarian aid, of selflessness in a time of disaster, of caring about every each other, of respecting life, this administration has successfully shed any idea of goodness or kindness, thrust aside any efforts at unity, promoted hatred and divisiveness leading to the dismantling of families and friendships, communities and workplaces. and we – as a country – have been unable to carry forward those very unifying moments of that day and the days that followed, resorting instead to discord and schisms of pronounced chasmic size.
and here we are – with the official white house website hosting gameware that indoctrinates the children of this nation to heinous cruelty and bigotry and xenophobia, promoting the extremist “policies” of an administration bent on destroying democracy. not to mention all the other psychotic, narcissistic, pathologically-lying social media posts.
and here we are – a country with an administration that is absolutely ignoring any inconvenient legislation of the nation’s constitution, intent upon all things harmful and hurtful – to its people, the land, the resources, the water, the food, the health, the education, living conditions, safety and security. intent on all things ruinous.
“what we learn from history is that people don’t learn from history.” (warren buffett)
it was extremist mindset that besieged this country on september 11, 2001.
it is extremist mindset now.
it is hard to believe.
but here we are.
let us not forget that we are still capable of choosing to be those people – the ones who hold space for grief and loss, who actually learn from history and who opt for unity and the greater good.
but there is a very shriveled dried daisy-that-looks-nothing-like-a-daisy on littlebabyscion’s dashboard. there are a few daisies from our wedding in a vase in my studio. and the first rose he ever gave me is on top of a cabinet in the bedroom.
despite – or is it with? – its distinct bow to aging, this pink rose just became even more beautiful.
this week – while at the grocery store – we splurged and bought a new lotion. it is an anti-aging lotion, a lotion that will eliminate crepey skin, a lotion with a potion that will make us supple and glowing all over again.
ok, well, not really.
but we do need lotion to combat the dryness in the house while we run the ever-humming window air conditioner in the feels-like 104 degree weather. dogga rolls his eyes every time we turn it off for a spell – he is a dedicated a/c dogga. his aussie self loves winter but not-so-much summer; the “cold box” (as dogga calls it) is his pal.
so, particularly in these times – spending our time at home with our aging dogga – we “have the air on”.
on the outside of the lotion tube, under the words “age renew” and “crepe corrector” it unequivocally states, “82% had visible improvement in crepey skin in just 2 days.” and then there is an asterisk.
ahhh….the ever-present asterisk.
the 82% had visibleimprovementincrepeyskin on the back of their hands and arms.
hello???
what about the rest of our bodies?
the reviews list words like “transformative“, “fantastic product“, “you need this“, “worth the cost”.
one person wrote that her “creepy forearms look so much better.” eww. just the words “creepy forearms” make me shudder. i mean, check your spelling!
another person wrote that they were a “side sleeper” which, to my knowledge, has like zero to do with the efficacy of this lotion.
and then there was the person who is using this lotion but stated, “maybe it will prevent that crepe look from happening in the first place.” and the person who is “approaching [their] 40s and noticed aging on [their] neck.” goodness! poor dear.
clearly, there should be age restrictions placed on the purchase of this lotion.
we hold no lofty expectations for this. we simply want a product that will keep our skin more hydrated as we attempt to do the same with drinking-more-water.
we know there is – really – no turning back. lotions and potions and moisturizers and all-the-stuff wasn’t consistently budgeted in our lives so we will be more like the pink rose, bowing to what aging looks like.
but, in defense of the pink rose – and us – beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
we moved the sweet potato vine from the ladder on the deck. between the heat and the rain, it was struggling. we weren’t sure it was going to make it, which seems odd for a sweet potato vine, usually pretty invincible.
no matter, we thought, it needed to be moved so that it might have a chance. we transplanted it into a bigger pot and placed it on top of barney – a spot with maybe a bit more sun.
and then we watched it.
with few green leaves still on the vine, we feared it would not last.
but that little sweet potato surprised us. with little-engine-that-could chutzpah, it soaked up the sun, its perch on barney, visits from squirrels and cardinals, house sparrows and finches. and it started to recuperate.
it greened up – into that really rich chartreuse – life-affirming lime-green fabulousness. more leaves sprouted their way from the vine that started to extend across the keyboard. it started to look thicker, more vibrant, even verdant.
and – in the way that we see things – we drank in the simple-but-outstanding gorgeous juxtaposition of green and aging piano wood. stunning.
it is certain. color can help.
with all the ugly in this world right now, we could stare at that for a time and breathe.
there are large groups of seagulls here – and they congregate in all the normal places – like on the boulders on the shoreline, on the beach, around the trash bins by the beach, out riding lake waves or soaring above the water and scouring for morsels of food. they also congregate in abnormal places – particularly like the kohls parking lot. i used to joke that they were having a conference – all together for the invocation and then splitting off into groups for brief in-service sessions that are, i suppose, for the purpose of whetting their appetites for more knowledge about a topic – 45 minutes or so before they move on to the next mini-topic breakout session.
perhaps today these seagulls are gathered because they are NOT at the conference. instead, they are having a sit-in…just off the shoreline…noisy and stubbornly not moving. it’s their labor day too, they point out.
my first “job” was to go door to door in my neighborhood, dragging a red wagon behind me that was filled with baby cacti in tiny pots. a little later i diversified and added homemade candles. door to door, selling cacti and candles for $1 and keeping a log in my ledger.
at some point i added washerwoman to my paid-job list, as my grown-up sister hired me to do her laundry at the laundromat. my ledger shows that i earned $5 for this domestic task.
according to my meticulous recordkeeping, babysitting rates way-back-in-the-day were anywhere from $2 – $4 an hour, accompanying soloists for solo-ensemble was merely $2.50 or $3, tutoring math was $3.50 an hour. clearly, i was zealous.
i started teaching piano lessons to beginning beginners at age 16 and my mom drove me to the houses where i taught lessons. $3 (and later $4) covered the cost of a piano lesson, which lasted about 30 minutes or maybe a bit more. i have had countless private students through the years, in my own studio or their homes or at the music studio.
i felt productive doing any of my early “self-employed” jobs. that feeling of pride continued when i started working retail at the outdoor recreation/dive center or the music store or the photography shop. i was happy to earn money that i could save or spend on necessities or, maybe, things i was pining over. i liked being a worker bee.
as an adult, i began working for non-profits and government entities – which ranged from educational to religious to legal settings. it became quickly evident that better pay and perks were not necessarily going to be part of the equation. but, when one chooses to work for a non-profit (or an institution that functions under a not-for-profit basis) – though one hopes for ever-improving pay-and-perks – one knows there are limitations, and rewards for your work come in different packages of appreciation and in knowing you are making a difference in the life of an organization, an institution or a community. most of the time i liked being a worker bee in these settings, though there are definitely exceptions.
when i started my independent recording label, responsible for all the ins and outs of the business, my relationship with work took on different parameters. suddenly, everysinglething was within my scope to dream about, decide upon, to initiate, to represent, to carry out. everything that was related – even in small ways – was important to me and respectful relationships mattered: relationships with those i worked with, those who worked for me, those who were in concentric circles with significant adjacent impact on my company and those who were more removed but still had a role to play. i have loved being a worker bee with my own company, despite all the angst, the napkin math and the middle-of-the-night ruminating.
each of us makes choices about how we wish to fit in – what metaphoric spoke-in-the-wheel we wish – or feel comfortable enough – to be. each of those spokes matter in the big picture, no matter how seemingly minuscule or peripheral or menial. we all do this together; recognizing interdependency is paramount to any success.
in these times – fraught with the elimination of jobs, the dismantling of agencies and regulation, the bigoted prevention or stalling of women and people of color to advance, the trad-wife perversion, the mob-like corruption to stoke up money, the xenophobic erasure of immigrants and their very important work, the pronounced caste system of less and more-more-more – we are looking at an administration that does not seem to care about good old-fashioned work and how it should be rewarded.
ahhh. the importance of labor day.
there are some basics, after all, for us worker bees.
where have those gone??
the seagulls – at their sit-in – are clearly pissed.
it’s that time of year when the wistfuls arrive. school has just started, a little bit – albeit, the tiniest little bit – of fall is in the air, notebooks and filler paper and mechanical pencils fill the supplies aisles, the lakefront is quieter.
i sort back to my own growing-up and how northport harbor went from bustling to a bit sleepy, how crab meadow beach went from crowded – the smell of coppertone lingering in the air – to deserted with a few people walking its shoreline. things reorganized and people got back to it…structure.
even so, even knowing about the impending wistfuls, i had trouble understanding what was happening when i spent the day close to tears.
i knew i had written another blogpost about the wistfuls – last year – and i just looked back at it. i’m not sure i could say what i said in that blogpost more succinctly:
and is it any wonder that i wonder what the wistful is about???
oh, i imagine that when the wistful hits, it will be with some degree of force. for everything is changing – not just the leaves.
and we are suddenly thrust into a world – a country – where freedom and rights are being usurped, where the administration is upholding the secrecy of sexual predators, where school shootings – with children and adults dying – dying! – elicit merely passive thoughts and prayers, where xenophobic, racist, homophobic, misogynistic leaders wish to eliminate – eliminate! – actual people they consider superfluous, unwelcomed, expendable, where the premise of warmongering seems to be a sport and the propensity to further lethality and offensive actions on those they perceive as disposables runs rampant, where healthcare and the ability to have enough food is considered elite, where having more gets more and having less doesn’t matter.
(a note: i wrote this blogpost and initially thought i would not share it. i gave it much consideration, time to brew and ruminate over it. i share it now because i fear that too many people out there are feeling this grief, too many people have lost beloveds in this way, too many people can relate to these words, too many people feel alone in this: the brutal division stoked by the actions and attitudes of the current administration and all those perpetuating its ruthless inhumanity. my heart holds space for each of you hurting in this way.)
***
and, though we came from the same place and the same parents, the same set of dna, the same ancestry, we are on divergent paths.
i always held you in high regard. i deferred to you when i was younger – watching you when i was a teen – inspired by you – thinking i wanted what you had built for yourself: a little family, a sweet husband, a house, a good job, a nice car, a pool. i thought you had it all and i believed that, even though we were at different places in life, you and i would always be close – on tightly woven parallel paths, weaving in and out of each others’ lives, forever.
i never expected to be exact samesies. you are more than a decade older than me. that sets up two different social cultures – you are leonard cohen and the righteous brothers and i am john denver and james taylor. you are teased and hairsprayed and i am long and loose. you are eyeliner and lipstick and i am mascara and lipbalm-at-most. you are queen-of-the-prom and i am studious nerd. you are fancy cars and leather pocketbooks and i am high mileage and backpacks. you are hot temper and i am keep-the-peace. you are brand-name and i am whatever-costs-less. you are mani-pedi and i am do-it-myself. you are lovely restaurants and i am modest recipes and leftovers. you are white wine and i am red. you are palm trees and i am aspens. you are the south and i am the north. you are gold and diamonds and i am basic silver. you are generous and i am frugal. you are ethan allen and new and i am peeling-paint-vintage and repurposed. you are worked-for-companies and i am owned-small-business. you are sometimes a bit unaware and i am sometimes ridiculously over-sensitive. you are financially secure and i am ever-teetering.
none of that was or is deal-breaking. of course not. it is simply two people becoming who they are.
i haven’t always been happy with you. it’s likely you haven’t always been happy with me. because of our age difference, you have often chosen to act more like a mother-figure than a sister, judging or instructing instead of supporting. and, at times of true emotional turmoil, you have sometimes chosen to be betraying to our sisterly sisterhood. during the time that our daddy died we stuck it out together. during the time our sweet momma died it was tough. in a nod to avoiding conflict, i didn’t say anything and we continued on in life, still in the same tapestry of family, riding the coaster of both confusing, hurtful missteps and loving support of each other. even with all the reasons i may have been upset with you and you upset with me – through decades of living – i never thought there would be a time when there would be irretrievable distance between us.
until now.
every day i shudder to read what is happening in this country, what cruelty and destruction this administration has now wrought upon the populace of our nation. every day i cannot believe that you are in favor of this hideousness.
it absolutely breaks me.
my sister…our faces look the same. the more i age, the more i see you in the mirror.
and yet, there is something so very basic about our hearts that is different. something so fundamentally and extremely opposite.
and that, my dear beloved sister, has placed us on such divergent paths – such chosen disparate and conflicting paths – that i wonder if we will ever recover.
