it would be 75 today. 75 years since the day my sweet momma and poppo married. and so, i am sharing two videos here today – the first is a dedication and the other is my song YOU’RE THE WIND. because i know you are. the wind. to each other and to each of us here on earth who miss and love you. always.
spoiler alert to the girl, the boy, family and friends: do not be surprised if one of your christmas/holiday presents from us is a shirt or sweatshirt or hat that says “AS YOU IS”.
we encountered michael at the farmers’ market one beautiful saturday when the sun was warm and the yellow jackets plentiful. i was drawn to the simple stand of breeze-fluttering t-shirts, the saying AS YOU IS on the banner and the byline “big boned or small featured. thick-haired or bald-headed. married or single. A or C student. white or black or in-between. male or female. or in-between.” we stopped to talk. i’m so glad we did.
michael was disarmingly charming and honest and zealous and positive – a breath of fresh air in a world that seems to be full of negativity and judgment these days. he spoke of the origins of his cottage business and his simple philosophy, arrived at through years of painful learning and experience and after a long career outside of this new mission. we could relate to him. he told us the point of AS YOU IS: “As You Is” is a rally cry for anyone and everyone that has a good heart, regardless of race, color, faith, age, gender, nationality, physical or mental limitations, or appearance.
the pull to stay and talk was strong, but that would have precluded michael from introducing others at the market to his new line, his new business. and so, we grabbed business cards, asked him to design some sweatshirts as well and continued on our way. but AS YOU IS has remained in our conversations together. his AS YOU IS. our (sweet momma/beaky-inspired) BE KIND. twinsies.
i suspect we will seek michael out to talk some more. because chatting with someone about acceptance and hope and goodness is, as michael says, one hella gift.
As You Is® was created to start conversations…to cause total strangers to smile…to make people think…to get others to feel so accepted they break out in impromptu dance…and to put a serious chink in the armor of racism.
Our hope is one day children can embrace being uniquely themselves, where they feel safe being different and where old people – like our founder Michael Fornwald – can age gracefully or ungracefully sans self-contempt.
Please join us by infecting others with hope one hella cool t-shirt or cap at a time.
words of wisdom from jessie holmes (a sled dog racer) of national geographic’s life below zero…such a simple truth. you can’t start in the middle….of the race, of the book, of the career, of the relationship, of the challenge, of the hallway that sits in-between one door closing and another opening. you have to show up at the starting line and experience all of it. wanting to avoid the pain, the ambiguity, the not-knowing-how-it-will-turn-out, we try to skip a stone from the start to the finish, but – if you picture a pinball machine and the ball careening off flippers and bumpers – we know that there are many variables and any one move will change where the steel ball will go next. just like life.
in a statement of the obvious, “you cannot play your pinball machine without the playfield.”(pinballsales.com) in jessie’s equally obvious but oh-so-poignantly-true statement, yes…you “can’t show up at the finish line without showing up at the starting line.” it all counts.
we drove the kettle moraine scenic drive yesterday…it was the celebration of our anniversary and we had arranged to take off…everything was lined up…dogdog care by 20…snacks…everything work-related done ahead of time. on the travel wisconsin website we found this beautiful tour through back roads and areas of fall color that looked like calendars that you buy in stationery stores. once we got out of the endless whitewater loop we seemed to be hilariously stuck in, we ambled our way north, catching our breath around curves and topping hills formed long ago by geological earth movement. fall color was everywhere, especially the further we drove. we missed the selfie stands that were sporadically placed along the way. but we didn’t miss traffic. or highways. or towns. or strip malls. it was a breath out of regular life. a chance to just be together, without work or worries or tasks or errands. to talk or be silent. to sing to john denver on baby scion’s cd player. to gorge on snacks and sip an espresso at a little coffeehouse. it was the cello line of our day, this drive. the lift of every breath.
download EVERY BREATH track 1 on AS IT IS on iTUNES or CDBaby
we knew before we really started planning that we would be married in jeans and boots. and anyone who knows us could tell you that we would definitely be wearing black tops, in david’s case – a shirt and jacket, in my case – a long tunic. it’s just us.
we went to the frye boot store in chicago long before our wedding day, combining a visit with The Boy with our errand. the girl-boots i tried on weren’t right…although i love all the high frye boots, we had a vision for these, the one item we each splurged on in our apparel for The Day. the boots needed to be totally dance-worthy, kind of worn-looking, lower-ankle boots. i ended up buying boy-boots; it helps when you have big feet, lol, because you can find boy-sizes that fit. we wore them inside the house dancing many times to break them in. but never put them on to go anywhere. we were saving them.
three years ago today, we donned our boots, our new ripped jeans and our black tops. we individually walked down the aisle to the front of the church and a new life commitment. The Girl, The Boy, 20, arnie and ptom stood in front with us and then we skipped back down the aisle, past pews filled with pieces of our hearts, to the ukulele band playing what a wonderful world. we drove our little baby scion to the historic beachhouse where we had a food truck, a dj playing music people danced to for hours and hours, hula hoops and crayons, wine and daisy cupcakes, spotted cow and quinoa tabouli, brownies and a bonfire on the beach. our family and friends – our community- brought us across the bridge from single to married; it was in a key of celebration, of support.
never did we once think that life would just be like that from there on out. for life is life and challenges arise. we are not exempt from that. but our community stands with us, silently reminding us that they were there, they witnessed the moment. their belief and our love forge together. it takes a village to be married. we are grateful for that village, for anyone who has nudged us to see Us.
and any time we forget that very important day, we pull our wedding boots out of the front of our closets, put them on and remember.
about six years ago i was in the sweet downtown of nashville, indiana browsing with linda and bill. we stopped at a music store and i fell in love with a little black ukulele. i bought it and played around with this tiny instrument, a lot lighter to tote around than a piano.
a little over five years ago i decided to offer a ukulele band at trinity, where i am the minister of music. thinking that perhaps four or six people would sign up, over the years we have sold 50-60 ukes! we have a consistent band that rehearses year round and plays at least once a month in the service. it’s a blast! and it’s a way for people who maybe have had no prior musical experience to play an instrument. i read that “the ukulele is a portal through which only happy people can pass.” (uke muster) personal experience makes me add that there is no way to play the ukulele and not smile. they go hand in hand. what’s not idyllic about that?
under the umbrella of two-artists-making-stuff-for-humans (which includes doing stuff with or for humans), recently we decided to move this glee out further into the world. we held our first UKULELE SIP ‘N STRUM last friday night at a local winery. in the same vein as a ‘paint and sip’, people registered for a lesson and a glass of fine wine; they ordered their ukulele in their favorite color and, with the help of pacetti’s – our favorite downtown music store – we delivered them that night. it was a blast!
we are booking the next dates and are taking the SIP ‘N STRUM out – all over – into different venues, people’s homes, even corporate events. the chance for people to learn and smile and play music and sip wine and sing is what we offer. as virtuoso ukulele player jake shimabukuro says, “if everyone played the ukulele, the world would be a better place.” we couldn’t agree more!
so let us know if you want to book a UKULELE SIP ‘N STRUM. we’re ready! pick in hand! and we promise – it’ll be a blast! 🙂
in the bins in the basement (and scattered in places around the house) are child-drawings and paintings, ornaments made of paper and glue and sparkly glitter, painted rocks of various sizes, necklaces of beads and shells, framed little scraps of paper with things like “goodnight mom” written in pencil and surrounded by hearts. The Girl and The Boy have marked time through their artwork (and also through their writings) and i cherish each saved piece. this morsel – the field in early october – makes me think of such pieces.
in the corner of a new piece on david’s easel i found this morsel. extracted from the painting it is so childlike in feel. such simplicity and innocence. it immediately brought me to open fields we have walked…where sunflowers gaze for just a bit longer and grass is still verdant and lush and there are wild red berries on the bushes along the trail. the sun is in our eyes and everything takes on a muted hue. i can smell the leaves burning from the farmer’s field far off to our west.
what is more heavenly than remembering an early october day from a reality-fantasy visual perspective? what is more treasured than the artwork of a child? what a delicious combination. just ask picasso.
he stopped. walking in the top floor room of a nearby antique mall we love to visit, david was struck suddenly by – of all things – tv trays. “we had these!” he exclaimed. “growing up, we had these exact trays!” i immediately took pictures. i knew i would send them to his sister later. for a few moments, he was back in colorado, clipping the tv tray into place, surrounded by his sister, his brothers, his mom and dad.
when we have free time, we peruse antique stores. sometimes we are lucky to amble with our dearest friends. it takes time to walk through antiques – old stuff that connects us to a galore of stories. we stop and tell tales, sharing, laughing, amazed at how long ago are the moments we are speaking of. pole lamps that reach floor-to-ceiling, games, figurines, wooden crates, orange and turquoise vinyl furniture, dolls and toys, china, record albums, ancient suitcases with no wheels, teapots and patterns of corelle-ware, mixing bowls and corningware…everything is part of some moment we have passed through, maybe forgotten, but now surfacing with the touch of some item.
i am really thready, without physical reminders. but with them i can literally touch yesterdays…full of emotion, sometimes pining for times-gone-by. i relish the stories, the re-visiting. i can almost, just almost remember our tv trays. but not quite. i can’t quite put my mind’s-eye-finger on them. maybe we will stumble across them one of these days. and i will stop short.
in the meanwhile, just wondering…what did your tv trays look like?
we stopped at the snowboard store and asked the guy there if he could bring a snowboard outside. he happily complied with our request and the last test – making sure a snowboard…The Girl’s livelihood…fit in the vehicle that could potentially become hers. this was right after we picked the vehicle up from our amazing mechanic who happily checked it over for her. this was with the cheering-on and support of dear dear generous friends as we searched for the right snowy-high-elevation-roads-with-no-guardrails-appropriate AWD/4WD SUV.
we had help in the quest for this reliable, affordable vehicle for our daughter who needs something worthy of a momma’s trust in the middle of the mountains. we have been steeped in research, in car-shopping, in internet searches, in spreading the word about this need for safe new wheels. one of these days all that knowledge will drop into the moat in my brain and i will forget it all. until then, we name every SUV as it passes us by…forester, outback, rogue, rav4, crv, patriot, crosstrek. we are grateful to have found this one. grateful for the help.
and this morning, in between tears as she drove away, i said a small prayer and whispered to IVY, her newly-named-new-used-car, to keep her safe.
what you can’t see in this picture of dogdog, his gaze intent on me taking his picture, is that he has a chip on his head. a tortilla chip. a mission tortilla chip, to be specific. gluten free. dogga loves chips. he loves to have chips on his head, staying perfectly still with the “leave it” command issued. even more, he loves when “leave it” is released and he can bend his head down and eat his treasured chip. he prefers it sans salsa. good thing, because his aussie hair would be a total mess WITH salsa. and i hardly think salsa is on his doggadiet (for that matter, neither are chips.)
i have to say, dogdog and babycat pretty much run the show here. not just merely sponsors, they are producers, directors, screenwriters, actors and extras. we laugh every time we wake up after a fitful night sleep because babycat has taken up 2/3 of the bed, snoring his way through his peaceful slumber. we could move him, wake him up, nudge him, anything…but instead he just rules over his two-thirds and we deal with it, yawning and complaining about cramped legs all the next day.
dogdog, on the other hand, sleeps in his crate next to the bed. he loves loves loves sleepnightnight (his word) time and makes sure that everything happens in the “correct” order. he goes out. he runs back in. jumps on the bed. and listens. he waits to hear the water-in-the-fridge spigot filling the coffeepot. waits to hear the coffee grinder. waits to hear d put a small amount of nighttime kibble in babycat’s bowl. waits to hear the container on top of the fridge opened from which d gets his cookie. waits for his bellybelly (also his word) on the bed and kisses on his sweet head, chipcrumbs mixed in with his messy fur. day’s end for a dogdog.
i don’t know about you, but i don’t know what i’d do without them. our sponsors.
