Where Have I Been???

 So my last blog was in 2024.  I haven't posted since then because, I guess, I've put most of my thoughts into Facebook.

But today I heard something on NPR's  The Moth that got me thinking.  Too much thinking for a FB entry.

I heard the last 2 minutes of a man talking about being left out as a kid.  The story must have been pretty gut wrenching because I had tears in my eyes and I hadn't even heard the whole thing.

What got me thinking/reflecting was that I could not relate. I simply couldn't bring up one memory in my young or old life of being left out.  

I felt full of gratitude while listening with a side of guilt.  

When I was a kid I was never aware of what the other kids had and what they didn't have.  Does that make me entitled?

I had 2 parents.  We had 2 cars and a cleaning lady.  We went on vacations (nothing fancy but vacations) together.  

I got a new winter coat every other year.  That's how I remembered it, anyway.

We had dinner together every night.  We had plenty o'food in the house.  Didn't everyone?

I never heard my parents fight.  They probably did but I didn't hear it. 

No one took a belt to my backside.  I honestly don't remember ever being punished for anything.  I sure wasn't an angle either.

I know, I know.  It was a different time back in the 50s and 60s.  But, was it?  

I didn't know to reach out.  I didn't know about the whole compassion/generosity thing.  I just skipped through life enjoying the hell out of every day.

Even today as an almost 77 year old thinking back on my life I feel sad that I was so unaware.

Today at temple I talked about being on the "polar opposite roller coaster" this week.  One minute I felt joy and love as I watched the Buddhist Monks walk for peace.  I felt hopeful when I saw all the people lining the streets.  

And then . . . Minneapolis happened.  I felt outrage and dark despair.

Was I better off as a innocent unaware kid back in the day?

I Had an "I Love Lucy" Moment

 I'll set the scene: me in the kitchen.  Already the setting is ominous. 

I was trying to decide which pasta to make for Petey's dinner.

I had two half boxes of "long" - linguine and  fettuccine -  along with a couple others to contemplate.  Halfway through the decision making process I switched to ravioli so I "carefully" gathered up the two "long" boxes and moved toward the pantry.

Do you see it coming?  Did I set up the foreshadowing good enough for you?

The long boxes were the first to make the pantry journey and I neglected to pay attention to the open ends.

You guessed it! The pasta went flying.  I wasn't even moving fast but those suckers launched themselves into the air and then hit the floor runnin'.

Fortunately, I'd just mopped the floor so I scooped them up in a flash, comingled them into a pot of boiling water and dinner was served!

Just kidding.  Give me some credit.  I wasn't raised by wolves.

The ravioli was delicious, btw.

Three Beautiful Days

Wow, it's been a minute, hasn't it?  Haven't posted here since February.  I think Instagram/Facebook have kinda taken over but not today.

This morning at temple our teacher was talking about loving kindness and she led us through a meditation with it in mind.

She told us to visualize a moment/person/event/place that made a huge impact on our lives.  Something or someone that made our heart almost burst, it was so full of love.

Nothing happened for me at first.  I ruled out the day I got married, the day my son was born - those kind of things - not because they weren't pivotal in my life but something else pushed into my consciousness instead. 

Something that happened recently.

Something(s) that happened over the last three days.

We traveled to Fenn Valley Vineyard on Thursday to hear our friends Kevin and Jerry play.  We'd never been there before and I was blown away by the beauty of the place.  Not only the vineyard itself but the drive there and back.  Country roads.  Some of them we'd been on before and they brought back great memories.  Others were new and so peaceful. Almost like the feel of a rocking chair on an old front porch. 

Friday we drove up to Grand Haven.  We've taken that drive up Lakeshore many, many times and it's always a feast for the eyes.  No matter the time of year.

But Friday was different, I'm not sure why.  The winding road bordered by huge trees with a background of a blue, blue sky made me breath deeply with appreciation.  I said to Peter, "we have our own Tunnel of Trees" right here in our backyard.  I tilted by head back and watched the branches overhead fly by through the sun roof.  

Saturday was a birthday celebration (her 75th) of one of my closest friends.  A lifelong friend.  A friend I have shared many, many laughs and a few tears with over the past several decades.

The drive to her house was different this time because we came at it from a another direction now that we live in Holland and not Allegan anymore.

The vast farmlands spread out in all their splendor.  Corn was everywhere.  Dark, dark green.  Various other colors on the rolling hills were like a picture waiting to be painted.  Maybe by my friend who is a wonderful artist.

Sitting in her yard among many other friends, looking at the pond in this peaceful hidey hole almost made me weep. 

So I guess I am now sharing my loving kindness with you.  A loving kindness for our beautiful surroundings.  

Age of Reflextion

 Two days ago I attended a Celebration of Life for a very good friend. The next day (yesterday) marked one year since one of my very, very best friends died.

I started thinking of all the women that I have shared space with; it's a long list.

I think, well, I know, I appreciated their friendship at the time.  Most of them but not all, I didn't realize until many years later how very grateful I was to have known them. 

I'm leaving family members off this list because - I loved them all and miss them a ton so . . . enough said.

I'm also sure I'll miss a few but in my way of keeping my blogs short-ish, here goes.

My kindergarten teacher, Miss Adams, was so kind and encouraging.  I remember her soft voice and presence.

Mary Hearn and Elnora Simpson.  Hard working women and possessed patience from the gods.

Pat Ankney.  She expected your best and got it - if it killed us.

Sue Johnson Lange who still rides along with me most every day.

Pat Higgs Miller who showed me how to tell the funniest damn stories -  about myself. She deserved an Oscar for her tales.

Kathi Proper - who filled my life with joy every nano-second we spent together.

Gwen DeBruyn who encouraged me constantly with my jewelry.

There are more but I promised to keep it short-ish.

Take a moment and reflect on the gifts left behind by people you loved and admired.

Glasses

 Not the ones on the dinner table.  I'm talking about the ones on your face.

I always say I've been wearing glasses since I was 9 years old and I'm pretty sure I'm right but I've been known to confuse dates and times. It's kinda my "thing."  I'm famous, I mean world famous for it.

So, anyway.  I've had them riding on my nose for decades.  

I tried bifocal contact lenses several years ago and it didn't go well.

I actually don't mind wearing glasses.  My first pair of red frames set me on a "snazzy" path.  Hey, if ya gotta wear them, might as well have fun.

Along with advancing age (I'm a hair's breadth away from 75) other fun stuff happens to your eyes: dry eye, glaucoma, cataracts, etc.

Petey and I both have cataracts but we're hoping to out-live the surgery. Neither one of us have started to exhibit symptoms - yet.

But if, in fact, surgery happens I decided I'm not going to go with the corrective lens option.  

Why, you say?  Don't you want to toss those specs and run free?

No, I don't.  Glasses to me are like "face jewelry."  They cover up stuff.  You know what I'm talking about - bags and wrinkles.

I need to distract attention not call attention.

I've also seen people after surgery that are still carrying around "cheaters or readers" when they need help up close or far away depending on what they had corrected.

What's the point?  I'd have to always make sure I had that back-up assistance as opposed to now when I don't have to look in my purse or pat my pockets looking for the dang things.

Nah.  I'll stick with getting new frames every 3-5 years (hopefully) just to keep life interesting.

Pics: the good, the bad and the ugly

 I love taking pictures with my cell phone.  I don't think I did much of that when I had a Tracfone - maybe because I couldn't?  Can't remember.

Well, life opened up in a big way when I moved up to an iphone.  Thanks, Lisa.  

I recently upgraded from a #7 to a #14 and I feel like the picture quality is much better.  I'm sure there are a lot of super cool things I can do with it but I'm happy at this point with the results.

I love saving memories.  I love getting screen grabs from my nieces' FB or IG accounts. I love sending pictures of my bruised knuckle to my sisters.

Probably the biggest benefit for me right now is that I can record (video) myself playing my ukulele and singing songs to send to a group of friends living with serious health conditions.

The other plus showed its self today while we were decorating the house for Christmas.  I'd forgotten that I'd taken pictures of where everything went.  Whew.  Saved some time there.

The ugly happened when Peter thought we elevated the tree a bit last year - using a stool.  I was like "no, didn't happen."  Then I started to doubt myself so I went back to the pics from last year.

Dang it!  There it was.  The stool we used to make the tree more visible so all our neighbors could take joy in our elaborate show of the holiday! 

Did I mention it's a Charlie Brown tree?  

Now for the ugly.  Last week in downtown Holland there was a contest.  The deal was to take a picture of yourself at one of the local stores or restaurants and submit it to the city.  The prize was a gift certificate to one of the shops or eateries.

Dining at our favorite - Hops at 84 East - I grabbed the menu, held it up to my face and took a pic.  I didn't look at it until after the menus had been taken away which was a huge mistake.

Why you ask?  Because with my white hair and having the light behind me the result was freakish!  Not to mention way, way too close.  EEEEEEEEEEK!

I was too embarrassed to ask for a menu again and was pretty sure the result was going to be the same so I just shot the wreath above the door and submitted that.

I didn't win.

The pictures are still a gift.  I love going back, often with tears, and look at the people I miss and taking joy in seeing new and old friends and of course, family that are still hangin' around.

I'll be happy if your "take away" is to photograph your decorations if nothing else.

Music buddies

 I like to sing but I'm not a musician.  Yes, I picked up the ukulele a few years ago and I'm really enjoying it but there's nothing natural that's happening on that instrument. My goal, from the start, was to accompany myself in my little den here at The Red House.  I missed singing so the uke has helped me fill that void.

This time of year has me really reflecting.  Many experiences and people have been running through my mind like crazy little rabbits lately.

One category that's at the head of the memory train is: Musician friends that are no longer here.  I had the pleasure of standing on the same stage as the men I'm going to mention.

Fred Gibson:  I first met Fred when he was in elementary school and hung out at the playground I was working at for my summer job.  I pumped him daily for info on his older brother.  I had a big crush going on back then and needed some insight.  

After that summer I didn't see much of Fred until my Cabaret days.  He was like magic on the stage.  He tore it up.  He owned it.  There were times I considered trying to talk him into running away with me.

His life ended abruptly and way too soon.  He left a big hole in everyone's heart.

Bobby VanStee:  I met Bobby (a lot of people called him Gus) many years ago through a mutual friend. That friend (Mary Spreitzer) and I were rehearsing a song (Desperado) at her house.  She sang it and I interpreted it in American Sign Language.  

There sat Bobby on Mary's couch with his dog, Emmy Lou, with tears running down his face.

Bobby didn't read music.  He sat down at his keyboard and stuff just happened.  His ear was finely tuned.

I was lucky enough to have some meaningful phone (Facetime) chats with Bobby toward the end of his life.  His death still caught me off guard.  I sure miss that big man.

Mitch Wooster: "Rooster," the one-man band.  I remember going into Mitch's record store in downtown Allegan looking for, what I thought, was an obscure musician's Blues music: Delbert McClinton. Mitch knew exactly who I was talking about and ordered some tapes for me right away.

I saw/heard Mitch play many, many times but I didn't appreciate what an outstanding musician he really was until years later.  It was like I was seeing him for the first time and he blew me away.

He helped me out on some recording problems I was having and we also had several private Facebook chats about politics and life. We shared "the same page."

Last time we talked in person was a quick chat at the Eagles.  If I'd known he was going to leave this life soon after that day, I would have stayed longer.

Noah Smith:  Noah was a force to be reckoned with.  He paid me the highest compliment when I sang my first solo ("Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On," the Big Maybelle version) at Cabaret many years ago.  "Who were you channeling for that?"

Noah's body took a real blow by some weirdo disease and movement was limited.  The last time I saw him perform he couldn't lift a glass but he could still sing.  The man was determined.

When I started playing the ukulele, Noah gave me some great advice during one of our phone calls.  Some chords were difficult for my old fingers and he said "oh, hell, you don't have to play all the chords.  Just skip the one that's hard and pick up on the other side."

Thanks, buddy.

These men all left wonderful memories behind.  Great stories that will hopefully be shared for years to come.