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the real. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

104. in the moments i am writing this post – a couple days ahead of today – my sweet momma would have turned 104.

i wasn’t sure about using this photograph. it isn’t something we stumbled across when we were out and about; instead it is a photograph i took in my studio. but, it is an effort to continue an effort we are making – which, i might add, is a big effort considering the here and now – to list over to presence and gratitude for the other parts of the here and now…the real…the stuff that i simply cannot imagine that the rabid purveyors of cruelty ever notice. for, if one can see the stunning in the falling dusk or feel the heart-stopping of a simple james taylor song or taste the fresh basil in the stockpot of sauce, one cannot also relish the sheer and abject depravity of current events.

my sweet momma – always – her message to me, “live life, my sweet potato.”

and to that i would add – as i stood in the kitchen – his arms wrapped around me, with our birthday dog at our feet – “never, never, never give up.”

there is a visceral response – breathing – i have to seeing the wild horses in the documentary, the dueting voices in the music video. there is a fascination of the munching-munching caterpillars on our dill plant, the finch drinking from our birdbath, the tomato plant’s explosive growth, the jalapeños becoming peppers from tiny blooms. there is an appreciation of the eye-to-eye contact of our amber-eyed aussie, the feel of flipflops on a hot summer day, the wafting scent of basil on the air.

we didn’t go to any celebrations on the fourth. we did not feel that this very moment in time was aligned with commemorating the democracy and freedoms as written into the declaration of independence for these united states. this moment – instead – feels like the antithesis of all of that – the un-uniting of this country, the dismantling of freedoms, the fall of democracy. so we stayed home, away from the carnivals and the parties and the bands and the fireworks (though our neighbor set off fireworks right above our backyard for hours late into the night).

and this morning, while d was picking up the vestiges of those fireworks which, thankfully, did no harm to our home, i watched the caterpillars on the dill. while he brushed away the chalk marks of firecrackers landing on our patio, i watered the herbs. while he made doubly sure there was nothing pyrotechnic-like left that dogga could ingest or could cause him harm, i watched and listened as the birds returned on a refreshingly quiet morning.

we have a list. i mentioned it the other day. it’s simply a list – not far away – of places for us to go, to visit, things to immerse in. to do the best we can, right now.

to the top of the list i am going to add “never, never, never give up.”

because momma was right. live life. it is not unlimited.

sweet potato out.

*****

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

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what to say. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

as we drove north we talked about these blogs. i pretty much know that nothing i might write – or ponder – or rant about – will change what is happening in this country right now. i write anyway.

i am typing this blog post ahead – at the very moment that the u.s. house minority leader is speaking on the floor before a final vote is taken on the big __ bill.

and i truly want to cry.

because even the briefest scroll through social media today reveals a country being led by an administration rife with cruelty and it takes my breath away. i just cannot wrap my head around this – in 2025. i barely know what to say.

we had decided to go on a much-needed get-away-from-all-of-it date with each other and drove to walkers point in milwaukee where there is a spanish bistro that has sangria and tapas for happy hour. it was an early evening, but the tapas are $1, $3 and $5 and, as we ordered three to share, we knew that could fit in the budget we had saved for these moments.

because the moment we were in was overwhelming and last night’s date out – requiring an hour drive to and fro and some time on barstools talking – really talking about real stuff – with a young man bar-and-soul-tending was a reminder to stay in the here and now (at least for here and now).

i’m going to go out on a limb and guess that the bill – with the knee-bending, capitulating, hate-perpetuating, sycophantic incentive not to piss off their madman prez – is going to pass. [which – as an addendum – it did.] and the cruelty and inhumane treatment of real-life people will not only continue, but will escalate exponentially. the absolute cowardice of those who are supposed to be representing the needs and wishes of their constituents – the american people – is beyond appalling. i barely know what to say.

and then – in moments of their glee and gilded-golden-glory – in the sad moments of watching the cheer squad justify and cheer – in the aftermath of hope hobbled by hatred and greed – this beaten-up country will stagger into tomorrow, tears streaming down its face as its e-pluribus-unum heart shatters into a million pieces.

and i barely know what to say.

i keep writing anyway.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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existential love. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the universe has a way of knowing what you need – even when you don’t.

twelve years ago – in the middle of a budget truck move from seattle to this town tucked into lake michigan’s shoreline – we passed a sign that would change our lives.

the sign was hand-lettered. and it read, “aussie pups for sale”.

in odd moments of being the passenger in a vehicle, i read it aloud as we passed. and then i asked him, “what’s an aussie pup?” he told me about australian shepherds and how they are quite beautiful, intelligent, loving dogs – usually merle in color…patches of white, cocoa, black, caramel.

we had talked about wanting a dog – someday – that should be in capital letters – some day. we were just at the very, very beginning of our time living together – literally the first moments – his rocking chair and paintings and clothes and various other scaled-down paraphernalia were in the truck. i had a cat waiting at home and a dog just wasn’t in the mix envisioned for the moment – at least not that very moment. plus, it was simple: we wanted a black dog. so these aussies wouldn’t present any existential problem.

and i know you’ve heard the tale: we decided it could do no harm to look at puppies on our verylongdrive and we turned the truck around on the windy mississippi great river road, drove into the farm driveway and up the hill, parked at the top and got out. farmer don met us in the dirt driveway and we asked him about the puppies.

farmer don told us he only had one puppy left – we’d have to follow him over hill and dale to go see it at a kennel, for he was waiting for a beeper to alert him for an emergency surgery he needed to undergo.

we lumbered along, following him in our budget truck, curving around bends and up and down hills. we arrived at the kennel where we were greeted by a few energetic and gorgeous dogs. he went to get the puppy and carried him over to us. “he’s on sale. i just need to home him. he needs to be adopted. no one wants him because he’s black.”

cue the existential crisis.

we were instantly in love with him – this bundle of black fur and enthusiasm and kisses. instant decision limbo. the timing. the added responsibility. a puppy!

after an eternity of loving on this amazing little dog, we gave farmer don a small down payment and said that we needed to drive on home and decide. we told him we would call him in three days and that, either way, he could keep the deposit.

we went back and forth about a million times. dog/no-dog/dog/no-dog/dog/no-dog.

we drove back, still not knowing the answer but figuring we could decide on the way or at the moment we got there and saw the puppy again.

silly us.

of course he saw us when we arrived and ran as fast as his four short little legs could carry him. he stopped just in front of us where he sat down, ready for his new life adventure. we hugged farmer don and put this obvious blessing from the universe in littlebabyscion for the almost six hour drive back home.

dogga is 12 today, this adorable puppy who refused to answer to the names we had picked out for him and would first only answer to “tripper”. he is 12 today, this beautiful creature we were somehow gifted, whose best friend in the world became babycat, whose every move is based upon our moves, whose well-being is central to all that we do – even more particularly now that he is older and a homebody. he is 12 today and we go slower for him, make allowances for him, keep his needs in mind. he is 12 today and we have spent our entire time living together – in the early days and in our marriage – with the exception of three days – with him in our lives.

and i cannot – for the life of me – imagine it any other way.

happy birthday our precious dogdog. we love you forever. ❤️

*****

DIVINE INTERVENTION © 1995 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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the lavender years. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

a couple decades ago a dear friend tied some stems of lavender together with string and gave them to me. it was a wish for peace, for calm, for comfort. one of the stringed-together stems still hangs in my studio.

sometime after that another dear friend shipped me lavender from her own yard – so that i might plant it in mine. for a time i had a lavender garden – returning each year until a neighbor’s invasive ground cover usurped my more fragile lavender.

the summer we lived on washington island we were privy to an amazing lavender farm – walkways in between beds upon beds of lavender in a field of tranquility.

a couple years ago i carefully dried some stems of lavender – hanging them in the basement – and then extracted the seeds, putting them in tiny organza bags to send to family members and close friends with wishes of healing and serenity.

in these last years we have planted big clay pots of lavender, anxiously waiting for the soft purple flowers and the scent off the breeze to lift us.

each year i am amazed by the clusters of diminutive flowers that make up the whole. each year i photograph the green stems and the tiny buds waiting to spring into bloom. each year i run my hand along the stalk and gently along the blossoming lavender, always taken by the fragrance.

it is no different this year. i sat on the deck next to the pot of lavender. my mind wandered back through the years – the lavender years – the gift of a posy, the plants flown to me across the country, the lavender in the fields on island, the lavender my girl picked out at the nursery. english lavender, french lavender, sweet romance lavender, bundles of lavender drying downstairs, beautiful sachets ready to be gifted.

we are not high-brow gardeners. our gardens are simple and have many heritage plants and things that are not complicated to grow. we know little but each year try to learn a wee bit more than we knew before.

maybe one day we will add a raised bed or two to our patio – where we might add more herbs, more vegetables, more flowers.

the thing i know we will always have – whether there is a simply a potting stand and perimeter gardens like there are now or something more – is a big pot of lavender.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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wilted. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

there are definitely days – many of them – during which we would love to just run away. go to some far away remote place and hole up together, sans current events and other people. because it is all sometimes unbearable.

a writer and former pastor, john pavlovitz said it well, “the greatest tragedy to me isn’t him. it isn’t the reality that the person in the highest seat of power in our nation lacks a single benevolent impulse, that his is impervious to compassion, incapable of nobility, and mortally allergic to simple kindness. the greatest tragedy is how many americans he now represents – and that he represents you.”

there are too many “you”s.

and, like this dill in the middle of the heat-dome-heat, we are wilted. because it is exhausting. utterly exhausting.

i don’t honestly know how this country can ever regain its heart.

i don’t know how we got here – though one can certainly track lines of bigotry and hatred and violence through history. the ebb and flow of the heartless seeking of power, control, profit through any means whatsoever, without any scruples, ethics, or conscience.

the things that are happening, the things that people champion – people i have known or loved or cared about – the things that diminish support for others, marginalize groups, perpetuate cruelty…it’s just too much.

and…the grief. not just the grief of the arc of this history, but the contemporaneous grief. it is exhausting. utterly exhausting.

no amount of water will unwilt this dill. it will turn yellow and then brown and these stems will die. for these stems – in the extreme heat – have reached the point of no return. i must be more vigilant to protect the rest of the plant, to – figuratively – keep its heart beating and its spiny stems upright.

so it is here – in the middle of this reeling and this vigilance and this burning grief and this already-deeply-bone-aching tiredness i wonder how – exactly – we can keep the heartbeat of democracy when the moral spine of this nation is so compromised.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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but sometimes. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

we started a list. things we haven’t done before, things we’d like to do, things we’d like to repeat sometime, places we’d like to visit locally, things to explore. since we aren’t traveling this summer – on a vacation anywhere – we want to try some other things.

we added a few different herbs to our potting stand. we added dianthus and sweet potato vine to the planters on our deck. we added books to our list. we added recipes to our stockpile.

we are appreciating being home.

on friday night – just a few nights ago – we lounged in the old gravity chairs on our deck. it was cooler, the slightest of breezes off lake michigan. the air was soft. dogga was laying on the deck just feet from us. we watched the birds and the pond fountain. sipped a glass of wine. marveled at our quaking aspen. it was quiet.

we had had a hard time deciding what to do on that friday-night-date-night, as we call it. we had been thinking of driving up to milwaukee or down to a harbor in illinois where there is live music. but, for some reason, we just didn’t do either. dogga looked at us – with a big-eyed, sorrowful look – as he anticipated our departure. and we just agreed, “let’s stay home.”

dusk arrived and we finished dinner outside. not anxious to end the peaceful evening in our backyard, we stayed put.

we could spend all our time – all our words – on what is happening in and to our country and the world – and that would be a worthy thing.

but sometimes, even in the middle of all the madness that we simply cannot forget or put out of our minds, it is good to step aside, to go nowhere and do nothing, to zero in on the very simplest of things.

like the dianthus after the rain.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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it is time. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it was rafiki who said, “it is time.” in a pinnacle moment of the movie the lion king, mandrill rafiki – an insightful spiritual guide – discovers that simba, the lion, is still alive and declares that he must return to the pride lands and restore order and balance. simba’s life force – to defeat evil, overcome adversity, to perpetuate a legacy of the interconnectedness of life – the circle.

it is time. it is way past time.

order and balance, goodness and kindness. the concentric circles of connection.

yes. way past time. already.

in these moments – the anguish-filled, agonizing moments before the figurative return of simba – we might turn to others – next to us – near us – far away though connected with invisible filaments of love and care – and say, “i am glad for you.” the tiniest message.

in these times of so much uncertainty, so much angst and pain, so much loss and grief, so much frustration and anger, it would seem that uttering five words might be a powerful salve. thought it may not change the heinous circumstances of our current world, it will wash over the person upon whom we whisper – or shout – these words.

it may be in the post “i-am-glad-for-you” moments that one is able to – once again, tirelessly, with great courage – reach deep inside to pull up bootstraps of bravery and pushing-back, bootstraps of protest and protection, bootstraps of generosity and altruism, bootstraps of humanity.

i am glad for you.

so, be weird – extraordinarily heart-on-your-sleeve weird – and tell all those people for whom you are glad that you are glad for them. i can’t imagine that not feeling good in your soul and i can’t imagine a response that does not carry the extraordinary, raw power of this message forward.

it is time.

way past time.

*****

“i see you. you are beautiful. i am glad for you. i am glad you are here.” (michelle obama)

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

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the real problem. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

the heat dome has driven us to this place – under the steps in the basement – back past the really big bin with roller blades and tennis rackets and a kickball and badminton set – where there are a few old window air conditioners.

we pulled one out and installed it – just like last year – in the dining room window.

but this heat dome is incessant and suffocatingly hot – particularly in our old house – a house with charming radiators but no duct work for central air.

so we went back on the prowl under the steps, specifically looking for a slimmer-lined air conditioner i remembered from decades earlier.

we found it a little further back – in the spider web zone – and pulled it out to plug it in and test it before any attempt at installation.

written in sharpie on the pull-out filter was “1999” and as i washed it i pondered how we might make the air conditioner work. both accordion pleat side wings were broken and, clearly, the unit was far too old for which to find replacement parts.

we put on our thinking caps.

after a couple of hours of rube-goldberg-ing a set of wings we uninstalled from a different broken unit – to applause by my dad – who was seemingly guiding us from the other dimension – we used a combination of 2×4, hand towel and black foam to brilliantly – and in a clearly, umm, aesthetically pleasing way – install the air conditioner in our bedroom window.

it occurred to us – during both the thinking-cap-period and the period-of-installation – that we did not know if this unit might be leaking coolant – which could be unhealthy. but, after research and some deductive reasoning, realized that the cool air pumping out of the unit belied any leak and that we were – likely – safe. (though, of course, i would be checking in on any and all physical displays of freon poisoning we might exhibit.)

problem presented. problem solved.

in the cool flow of air circulating somewhat noisily around our house – aided by ceiling and standing fans – our thinking returned to the real problem at hand – one of the reasons we literally were determined to make a thirty-plus year old air conditioner work instead of investing several hundred dollars into a new one.

the real problem? the decimation of this country.

while we watch the current administration completely destroy the safety nets, the healthcare, the retirement, the rights and freedoms of millions and millions and millions of people they clearly don’t give a damn about, while we watch congress completely – sickeningly toadyingly – abdicate their responsibility to we-the-people while revering upping-the-ante cruelty, while the republican supreme court justices horrifyingly and repeatedly make the jump from objectivity to capitulation, while we reel in shock at the rapid descent into fascist, authoritarian ideology, while safety and any security is completely undermined, we wonder what will happen.

and my sweet dad – this man who served this country in the second world war, who was shot down, missing in action and taken prisoner of war, who never fully recovered from the post-traumatic stress he voluntarily experienced to aid this country and its experiment of democracy – this man hasn’t a clue on how to guide us.

what’s gonna happen?

who knows.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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show up! [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

with a real feel of about 105 degrees, we gathered with thousands of others to watch our son perform at PRIDE FEST in chicago. the energy was electric and the set flew by, even in the midst of an insanely hot summer day.

northalsted is a landmark LGBTQ+ neighborhood, an ultra supportive community that offers undying love and non-profit medical and mental health resource assistance to its residents. we always feel welcome there; our son’s friends and complete strangers embrace us – just as we embrace them.

this year we took the train down and uber-ed over to the event. last year we had driven down and – between PRIDE and the cubs game at wrigley field- the traffic was unbelievable and took a couple hours longer than anticipated (not to mention the tornado on the way home when we tucked littlebabyscion right next to a brick building – a closed restaurant – after we had been literally lifted up off the ground by the winds.)

the show was fantastic. there is nothing like seeing your child in their bliss. and here was our son – an EDM artist – in his skin, in his element, in his community, in his neighborhood – doing what it is he is supposed to be doing and loving every second. there is no way i would miss that. there is no way i would miss any event for either of our children – our son or our daughter – that is an expression of themselves – given simply that we know what it is, when it is and where it is. it is the nature of parenthood. it is the privilege of being a parent. it is a choice and i will choose it every time.

i know that there are many parents – hell, many people in our country – who would not – even for a second – support any such effort as attending PRIDE or supporting – in any way – a child (young or grown) in the LGBTQ community. there are those who have – horrifyingly – excommunicated gay family members, who have turned their backs on their own. there are those whose actions have undermined this community, who wish to eliminate the rights of those in this community, who endanger this community with vitriolic uninformed rhetoric and undisguised hatred. it’s a sad statement of conditionality and it absolutely breaks my heart.

if we could show up for every one of the members of this community – at every one of their personal bliss-events or in their own life-affirming moments – we would.

because if we each stand in the middle of the grace of this universe, then we each should likewise stand in the middle of loving grace for each other. it’s not that hard. it’s not really hard at all.

and the choice to be actively-accepting, unconditionally-loving can’t be more important than it is right now.

*****

CONNECTED © 1995 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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to be a bird. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we used to climb out of the bedroom window upstairs onto the flat roof. we’d pass adirondack chairs up from the deck below and experience our backyard from a “patio” spot higher up. it is always perspective-arranging to be up there. we can see further from that vantage point.

the very first day we met in person we climbed out that window onto the roof. that day i had a rug, a couple chairs, blankets and wine glasses ready. it was utterly magical and has made us dream about securing the roof structure and designing a more permanent space that we might enter through an actual door.

we haven’t climbed out the window in a while now, though we have often spoken about it and i imagine that one of these days – after the heat dome has moved on – that we will again have happy hour on the roof.

when the bird landed on the pinnacle of our roofline, i wondered what it could see. i wondered what it might be thinking as it looked upward to unlimited sky. i wondered what it might be like to be a bird – sans the complexities of living in community with other human beings.

each day we juggle the choice of participating in current-event-information-overload or divesting ourselves of all of it and hiking with nothing on our minds but PCT-someday-dreams and the snacks we carried with us.

each day – as citizens of this country – we try to understand how anyone could wish to destroy this democracy, how anyone could wish to subject other people to the inhumane cruelty we are witnessing, how anyone could wish to align with such horror.

each day we wonder about the next. we wonder what will happen. we wonder what the next few decades will look like – as we, now, are moving into a time when a few decades is all we have.

each day i am overwhelmed by the brutal reality that we – as human beings – generously graced with intelligence and the skills of critical thinking – on this stunningly beautiful mother earth – are literally incapable of living in peace.

and i wonder if the bird – perched on the tippy-top of our roof – is counting its blessings that it is a bird.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

PRAYER OF OPPOSITES 48”x 48”

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