tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57651502024-03-06T22:00:56.256-08:00Golden State WomanThinking Out Loud, since 2003Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.comBlogger552125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-80685058328372449662020-03-30T11:51:00.001-07:002020-03-30T13:09:49.640-07:00We Were Set to Fly to Maui Today, But...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU88lqY5YTpFN7BN55y7IZ9jhYqOR9w45d638u7MCy67eFFkaFdSo15eBAl4w6kckXs_pnM-JF3Sp3c3lXx1Vs80AiJ1eq84xrlU60orFhUXnJkWotH4d1r9jgAPCLmkQeS9kiKQ/s1600/KaanapaliBeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="1600" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU88lqY5YTpFN7BN55y7IZ9jhYqOR9w45d638u7MCy67eFFkaFdSo15eBAl4w6kckXs_pnM-JF3Sp3c3lXx1Vs80AiJ1eq84xrlU60orFhUXnJkWotH4d1r9jgAPCLmkQeS9kiKQ/s400/KaanapaliBeach.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We were set to fly to Maui today for a nine-day vacation, our first in a year. Our second vacation in retirement. But coronavirus happened. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We rented a one-bedroom condo with a balcony overlooking Kaanapali Beach (see photo) and a fully-equipped kitchen. We dreamed of enjoying fresh pineapple each morning on that balcony, with fragrant Kona coffee for me. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nine days of sipping tropical drinks, chasing waterfalls and pristine beaches, a round of golf for Ron, reading time for me, and soaking in soul-deep relaxation. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's OK, though. We'll rebook for later this year, probably to replace the two-week Panama Canal cruise we planned for October as early celebration of our 30th wedding anniversary. Post-coronavirus, that cruise seems a touch too scary for us, at least in 2020.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We're OK during the pandemic if we leave the house now and then. We took a three-hour drive yesterday around Reno, to drop off boxes at the Goodwill (bless those workers!) , to check-up on family property for sale, to the market (for tamale pie makings, pasta, Cheddar cheese, more apples), and gloriously, for a bite of fast food. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was lovely to feel fresh air, to watch cottony clouds under blue skies, to savor the lazy hum-drum of neighborhood life. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Truth is my semi-retirement life has changed only about, say, 25% by shelter-in-place mandates. I already write and research from my home office at my own pace (and have done so for 20 years), and after 44 years as a career engineer, Ron is pleased to putter at home, particularly on his budding "man cave."</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCxY15rUGw6ZiMVqaTN4tKDb2J31kywzhp0aBYYYh373y3Jty8t6NE-c9T4L4HYpyZ9JptTGxvroZYEXVUn303QNz2Lz49M9sPTv8u04WTrvmABmHpJj7s2Hf03DwOUARxHZlL3Q/s1600/RenoSouthValleysLibrary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="512" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCxY15rUGw6ZiMVqaTN4tKDb2J31kywzhp0aBYYYh373y3Jty8t6NE-c9T4L4HYpyZ9JptTGxvroZYEXVUn303QNz2Lz49M9sPTv8u04WTrvmABmHpJj7s2Hf03DwOUARxHZlL3Q/s320/RenoSouthValleysLibrary.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I miss the new friendships I was building, especially at two book clubs, after our move to Reno in July 2019. I miss sojourning at my new favorite places... the Nevada Museum of Art, the South Valleys branch of the Washoe County Library system, Trinity Episcopal Cathedral. And I miss discovering the Reno restaurant scene. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But still, Ron and I are blessed. Blessed to have each other during this public health crisis. Blessed with a comfortable home, plenty to eat, online connections to our loved ones. Blessed with imagination and creativity, energy and decent health. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To hopefully stay healthy, we're leaving the house only once or twice a week. Eating healthy, including lots of fruits and veggies. Avoiding most broadcast news. Catching plenty of sleep. Engaging in something that makes us happy, which for Ron is listening to music, and for me, reading. Washing our hands constantly, and gargling daily with salty lukewarm water. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Good habits we'll keep after this pandemic is a fading memory, except for the "getting out" part. We're itching to take some road trips, to Yellowstone and Glacier National Park. To Powell's and the public rose garden in Portland, Oregon. Maybe to beautiful Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico. We road-trip together as well as any couple ever.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We're blessed and content sheltering in place. "I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances." --- Philippians 4:11. I wish I could claim that sort of perfect patience. Alas, at best, Ron and I are works-in--progress. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the meantime, It's OK we aren't landing in Maui by noon today, and reclining on that beach-front balcony by 3 pm. . We'll vacation there later this year. Maybe July or August. God willing.</span><br />
<br />
<div>
</div>
Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-77214417804505341602020-01-20T12:16:00.001-08:002020-01-20T19:06:18.744-08:00Dad Visited Me Last Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhciteARc7jMBekMOtxR6IdHQRYJtcGUibljC1I7sox64NBiNOoYbSK7MfRpA0sHFk0jXz1Cur22RHYyQT4L5UHUNBr5DASKyRwSfS7Tiv3Yb7ivKtJ5lcSqm8rnN1c918k0yH6lw/s1600/Fatheradult+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="304" data-original-width="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhciteARc7jMBekMOtxR6IdHQRYJtcGUibljC1I7sox64NBiNOoYbSK7MfRpA0sHFk0jXz1Cur22RHYyQT4L5UHUNBr5DASKyRwSfS7Tiv3Yb7ivKtJ5lcSqm8rnN1c918k0yH6lw/s1600/Fatheradult+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My father came to me last night in a dream, the first time he's appeared in my dreams since he passed away at age 89 in March 2016. Maybe the first time he's ever appeared in my dreams.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He looked older than this. Maybe 50 years old, healthy, casual, and serene, before time took its usual toll. He was dressed in neat slacks and a button-up shirt, short-sleeved. He looked normal. He acted normally, too... quiet, not shy, doing not talking. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So normal, I wasn't surprised to see him. At least, not until I awoke, thought about my dream, and realized I saw and felt Dad. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He silently, handed me a pile of three or four boxes. I knew the top, rectangular box held a picnic lunch. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The boxes underneath were flatter, wider, but not nearly as deep. I think the other boxes contained documents and information Dad thought I needed. Thinks I need. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I fell asleep with a half-dissolved throat lozenge in my mouth. He motioned for me to take it out. I woke up, and without thought or feeling, obeyed him. Of course. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And he was gone. I feel peace from his visit. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A new peace, as I never deeply mourned his death as I did when my Mother passed away, ten days later. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The connection between me and Dad was as much intellectual as emotional. When he was dying, he asked me to send him newspapers. We talked current events and economics and politicians. We watched the moon landing together in 1969. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think I know what's in the other boxes. His ancestral info that he avoided like poison during his lifetime. ("You never know what you'll find." But I firmly believe he knew exactly what he would find.) Family info that stunned me when I researched it after he passed, but dropped when we moved last year. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Seems like I need to get back to it. </span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-14675332899133509482018-12-04T11:14:00.002-08:002018-12-04T12:05:56.861-08:00Dissecting "The Best TV Shows of 2018"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWsUp6N4W5apdWibOH4Na9qVKEUlLsv9Uwszxh5sZHXF1MvutFJhb9-0YGigl2ty_nhpy8O72PxUY1EaJrc8JeV88ofvbpa5tUaTpmPKDv33s_Z4W51m1-DL8irCwL1v2PaXm5g/s1600/NYTBestTV2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWsUp6N4W5apdWibOH4Na9qVKEUlLsv9Uwszxh5sZHXF1MvutFJhb9-0YGigl2ty_nhpy8O72PxUY1EaJrc8JeV88ofvbpa5tUaTpmPKDv33s_Z4W51m1-DL8irCwL1v2PaXm5g/s320/NYTBestTV2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've fully watched just one show among the eleven named today by the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/03/arts/television/the-best-tv-shows.html">New York Times as "The Best TV Shows of 2018," </a>: HBO's moody "Sharper Objects."</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Presented in eight one-hour programs first aired on Sunday evenings, "Sharper Objects" engaged my interest through odd behavior, petty humanity, Southern Gothic drama, and tantalizingly half-explained scenes. Amy Adams and Patricia Clarkson exquisitely inhabited the dysfunctional mother-and-daughter lead roles. </span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I liked this pretty psycho-drama, although </span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hubby was bored by "Sharper Objects," in contrast to, say, Sunday Night Football or Sportscenter. I suppose he doesn't classify watching crazy womenfolk as pleasurable...</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of the other "Best Shows," I couldn't warm-up to the highly acclaimed "Barry." Much as I admire SNL-alum Bill Hader, who is both lead actor and writer, the conflicted plight of a hired killer isn't hilarious to me. No matter how clever. Just not funny.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Family tells me that "The Americans" on FX is pretty great. Which means it caught and kept their attention for an hour. The show is <span style="background-color: white;">"<i>... </i></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.28px;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic;">a period drama about the complex marriage of two KGB spies posing as Americans in suburban Washington D.C. during the Reagan administration" </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">per FX.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: 0.28px;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.28px;">Because we don't have enough of that in our daily news headlines? Television at night is an escape in our home from headlines, not time to delve more deeply into politics and government policies. It's a prelude to sleep, rather than antidote.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.28px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.28px;">What do we regularly watch? Baseball in season. "Saturday Night Live," still, because we long for a good laugh, especially about politics. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_88oTsoWBGqEvFQmDSWFvo6h6Y4x-zniN8nagcKL7g4OUqdDwkw_sd3ORsYtGJEMc2xWodvHfNpzumMUYv4bUvwnQ5HLVzbdLbn1nMw7JFe5HKRhzWw6-eh7PBIYQQAExWTFn6g/s1600/TopChefKentucky+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="317" data-original-width="370" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_88oTsoWBGqEvFQmDSWFvo6h6Y4x-zniN8nagcKL7g4OUqdDwkw_sd3ORsYtGJEMc2xWodvHfNpzumMUYv4bUvwnQ5HLVzbdLbn1nMw7JFe5HKRhzWw6-eh7PBIYQQAExWTFn6g/s320/TopChefKentucky+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0.28px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0.28px;">I rarely miss a "Top Chef" episode. Season 16 premieres on December 6th, this Thursday, on Bravo!! In Kentucky, of all places. Hard to conjure foodie chefs creating edgy Southern-food dishes. (Photo right of judges Padma Lakshmi and Tom Colicchio.)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0.28px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0.28px;">Our secret vice? "Hawaii Life" on HGTV, an hour weekly of house-hunting in Hawaii, because we fantasize about escaping it all and fleeing to the big Island for a life of savoring fresh pineapple for daily breakfast, and sipping mai tais each evening amid dazzling tropical sunsets.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0.28px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0.28px;">I wonder... do they even watch television in Hawaii? Have Hawaiian residents heard of any of these programs? </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0.28px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0.28px;">If not, Hawaii, here we come. </span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-6687301236994672052018-05-16T14:39:00.000-07:002018-05-16T15:03:56.705-07:00Trees in Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrcPLp-eGG1Y79GxvdI8jOF2cUGKC4e_MtQLd0CFFARl3Xx_00Qqtu3BSqtF_eZZ1X6ESzrg1f6FOIhUWpFdUrMPQZAdFCypIug9Ze0pAuGwB6YxrfdZSj6J-w4WrpenpUZjBy2w/s1600/Spring2018Placentia+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="850" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrcPLp-eGG1Y79GxvdI8jOF2cUGKC4e_MtQLd0CFFARl3Xx_00Qqtu3BSqtF_eZZ1X6ESzrg1f6FOIhUWpFdUrMPQZAdFCypIug9Ze0pAuGwB6YxrfdZSj6J-w4WrpenpUZjBy2w/s400/Spring2018Placentia+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think that I shall never see </span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A poem lovely as a tree. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A tree whose hungry mouth is prest </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast; </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A tree that looks at God all day, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And lifts her leafy arms to pray; </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A tree that may in summer wear </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A nest of robins in her hair; </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Upon whose bosom snow has lain; </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Who intimately lives with rain. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Poems are made by fools like me, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> But only God can make a tree.<br /><br /><br />----- Poet Joyce Kilmer, (1886 - 1918)</span></div>
Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-22522483296820797812018-03-15T14:14:00.002-07:002018-03-15T14:37:01.011-07:00Dancing in the Rain with Joy and Persistence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqqOcSqZIjlbVqXAIMDlQ4lRlPmFZlBtFTWV45iEHHLcJ1U4hkmVDlDJbC_BFfHhmIpIAH6eURFYlUdqcAXc20sw-nz57IRsvcLQogDLIJAznonvxyKn51E1wUGbyGdyvFlo_Ag/s1600/Gene-Kelly-Singing-in-the-Rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="1330" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqqOcSqZIjlbVqXAIMDlQ4lRlPmFZlBtFTWV45iEHHLcJ1U4hkmVDlDJbC_BFfHhmIpIAH6eURFYlUdqcAXc20sw-nz57IRsvcLQogDLIJAznonvxyKn51E1wUGbyGdyvFlo_Ag/s400/Gene-Kelly-Singing-in-the-Rain.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My family lamented the storm. A lot. My parents were worriers. About money, foremost. But about... well, everything that might happen. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">About car accidents. Ironically, about both illnesses and doctors. About what other people thought of us. About what we thought of them. About succeeding. About not succeeding. About succeeding too much. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My mother worried incessantly about our Christmas tree catching fire. About concussions at ice-skating birthday parties. That we didn't eat enough cottage cheese. (Seriously. Ask my sister...) Ours was a fearful home, likely borne of my parents' Depression-era upbringings in poor farming families. Unfettered joy was not a "thing" our cautious home.</span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Until I read the mantra (above) a few years ago, about not waiting for the storm to pass, it never occurred to me to dance in the rain, rather than slogging out the storm before moving forward in joy under perfect skies. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today is one of those joyful days, where I witnessed the fruition of dancing in the rain for years without assurances of anything. I pushed ahead in faith to do the right things without waiting for perfect conditions. And I followed my heart's callings, never pondering where they might lead. Never imagining they might lead to anything at all. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then today....</span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I learned from blood test results that my health has improved substantially over the past year, largely due to more thoughtful food choices. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After four years of blogging nearly 400 recipes at my pet-project, <a href="http://www.lostamericanrecipes.com/">Lost American Recipes site</a>, I received an inquiry today from Smithsonian Books... <i>yes, THE Smithsonian</i>... about my project as a whole, and asking if I would include material from one of their books at my site. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After years of me studying our local political scene, the campaign manager of a leading Democratic contender to replace Congressman Ed Royce in upcoming November elections privately emailed to ask me to meet her candidate at a meet-and-greet or one-on-one. Anytime. Soon. Asking what I need to know. And to please consider endorsing him. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqp8fXmKmVhNRHdCNEF18G5_XWOIs2hFkb9r_6VfD6MIYS6cYD9-bN_dAPVYTGq_5abjAJ5VavcMBa2CoQbIhOax6hc4pxKM5gNXuFaQjyRC87VihWBlvp3YFuGJunxRDt3Ax_vQ/s1600/SpringblossomsAfterRain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqp8fXmKmVhNRHdCNEF18G5_XWOIs2hFkb9r_6VfD6MIYS6cYD9-bN_dAPVYTGq_5abjAJ5VavcMBa2CoQbIhOax6hc4pxKM5gNXuFaQjyRC87VihWBlvp3YFuGJunxRDt3Ax_vQ/s320/SpringblossomsAfterRain.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In all three situations, I sowed seeds by doing the hard work. I moved forward, ignoring naysayers, avoiding toxic influences, and sidestepping storms. I didn't worry, or commiserate, or frankly, anticipate specific results of any sort. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I moved forward in faith and joy, with persistence and confidence rather than fearing life. Or car accidents, or burning Christmas trees, or doctors, or ice skating concussions, or succeeding or failing. <i>(I do still fear cottage cheese. I detest it to this very day...) </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I learned to dance in the rain, rather than wasting life waiting for the storm to pass. And after the rain, my fields of endeavor are bearing unexpected blossoms. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I feel grateful. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-18722548560761954972017-12-29T11:21:00.000-08:002017-12-29T17:45:31.432-08:00The Tyranny of Hallmark Christmas Movies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXZMhujoCF-D34e0FfnwnaHjfplSzt_MkKqo26_crt_5GBL0_Lwrr5UJaujcTS9CXo-xInJwC8Rd2eHi1zadAqh4yAIdceOe0hkySDTKclRTM0aKTkJadS2HRFlQCxwtjppqXOw/s1600/HallmarkCouplewithPuppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="262" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXZMhujoCF-D34e0FfnwnaHjfplSzt_MkKqo26_crt_5GBL0_Lwrr5UJaujcTS9CXo-xInJwC8Rd2eHi1zadAqh4yAIdceOe0hkySDTKclRTM0aKTkJadS2HRFlQCxwtjppqXOw/s320/HallmarkCouplewithPuppy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For decades, I believed my family's Christmas celebrations should be, feel, and look like Hallmark holiday movies, although I'd never actually watched one of Hallmark's pretty fantasy films until the last few weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You know... those gently paced films featuring stately Christmas trees twinkling with tiny white lights and shiny, traditional ornaments. With cozy yet spacious, tasteful homes generously furnished in warm tones. Set in adorable snowy towns with cute, local shops and friendly shopkeepers, and nary a Big Box retailer in sight. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Movies that invariably include homey activities done together... cookie baking, parade planning, float decorating, gingerbread house building, making angels in freshly-fallen white snow. Tree decorating seems part of every Hallmark Christmas movie, as if the tree was the sacred center of a retail-based, rather than religious-based, holiday.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Movies in which people save all manner of things. Save Santa. Save belief in Santa. Save a beloved Christmas store. Save a charming cottage. Save a Christmas celebration. Save dogs, cats, or horses. Save a small theater or church pageant. Save small town history. Save the town gazebo. Save the Christmas spirit. Save a woman from time travel. Save love, most of all. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In Hallmark Christmas movies, people </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">are attractive and immaculately groomed.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They wear lovely but never edgy clothes. Certainly no tattoos, no stray piercings, no blue-streaked tresses. They behave with patience, kindness, and impeccable manners. They smile a lot. They speak in dulcet tones and slow cadences, even when calmly disagreeing over tiffs that will be resolved, usually with a kiss, in two hours. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sneer as you might at the cheesy dialogue, formulaic feel-good stories, white-bread actors, and impossible plots. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Reality is that Hallmark's Christmas movie kingdom is a wildly-profitable smash hit, with 85 million viewers just in November and December 2017. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qQSkztIqwqxj1kR9Vl9006ELx1m2G1vYptE7LmhYU2-cl536e6DtFLUvc9UXD9oE0NPqPkUkt5QxA3WZWMLuV5FDsL4DVmxIYE9yKfk_sMz6Sh-IkV-bf5b0qsgzo3hDBsarIA/s1600/HallmarkTreeThatSavedChristmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qQSkztIqwqxj1kR9Vl9006ELx1m2G1vYptE7LmhYU2-cl536e6DtFLUvc9UXD9oE0NPqPkUkt5QxA3WZWMLuV5FDsL4DVmxIYE9yKfk_sMz6Sh-IkV-bf5b0qsgzo3hDBsarIA/s320/HallmarkTreeThatSavedChristmas.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The Hallmark Channel was the No. 1 cable network among women ages 25 to 54 in the fourth quarter of 2016, and its ratings have seen even more growth in 2017," <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/posteverything/wp/2017/12/18/let-women-have-our-hallmark-christmas-movies-we-deserve-them/?utm_term=.9aebefbc3b04">per the Washington Post</a>. The Washington Post column, penned by comedian Cassie Belek, <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/posteverything/wp/2017/12/18/let-women-have-our-hallmark-christmas-movies-we-deserve-them/?utm_term=.9aebefbc3b04">continues</a>:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #990000;">"While other cable networks have been losing viewers, the Hallmark Channel has been a success story. Theories of the ratings spike range from viewers seeking an escape from the daily fresh hells of 2017 to viewers seeking to embrace the 'traditional values' of a country made great again...</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #990000;">"I am the first to admit that Hallmark Christmas movies are flawed... <span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18px;"> </span>I love these movies filled with fake snow, small towns, Folgers coffee cans, dead moms, Taylor Townsend from 'The O.C.' and that one cafe that they keep using in multiple movies without changing the name...</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #990000;">"As divisive as 2017 has been, my female friends and family of all races and political beliefs have been talking about and watching Hallmark Christmas movies more than ever... <span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18px;"> </span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18px;">"... </span>women need a little Christmas in 2017. We need 90 minutes to sit down with the people we care about and watch characters love, cry, learn, forgive and get into snowball fights while living in beautiful homes they can’t afford and building elaborate gingerbread houses in impossible amounts of time."</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Count me in as one who is "s</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">eeking an escape from the daily fresh hells of 2017." I can scarcely bear to hear political headlines, especially during this holiday season. And I can't fathom watching programs depicting death, violence, cruelty, broken relationships, or general ugliness. Life in 2017 is packed with darkness. I don't hunger for darkness in escapist doses of culture.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I thirst for beauty in my entertainment. For charm and possibly cleverness. For loveliness. For positive thinking, and for altruism. For saving things, all for good, if often local or small, causes. I yearn to sleep well at night, placated with visions of happy people, happy lives, a peaceful world. My version of sugarplum fairies dancing in my head, I guess. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Where's the tyranny of Hallmark Christmas movies? </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So where's the tyranny of Hallmark Christmas movies? </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The impossible standards set by Hallmark's film fantasies. Like comparing ourselves to young, lithe Vogue magazine models, almost none of us can emulate the sheer perfection of Hallmark's glossy holiday dreams.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The tyranny is that f</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">or decades, thanks to my mother's impossible standards, I believed my family's Christmas celebrations should be, feel, and look like Hallmark holiday movies, although I'd never watched one of Hallmark's films until the last few weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now, Hallmark Christmas movies actively reinforce my sense of holiday inferiority. Of not doing enough, not being enough. not giving enough, not having enough. Of my family not being happy enough. Of my home not being warm or lavish enough. Of our gifts not being thoughtful enough. Of our celebrations and rituals not being festive enough. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of our Christmas decor not being pretty or elaborate enough. (At commercial breaks, <a href="http://www.hallmarkchannel.com/christmas/shop-the-look-of-christmas">Hallmark sells trees, wreaths, decorations, and ornaments</a> so you can duplicate the look of their movies. And spend money to feed your fantasies. <a href="http://www.hallmarkchannel.com/christmas/shop-the-look-of-christmas">See their Shop the Look of Christmas website</a>.) </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvUTsf8EQw-UIHtS9gSt5y8NCLjAwa7NxVkivKUz9XpxY7wHwqiyPzyCQ5e6AKwKbUGUbnMfjwbyOAxNS9McdUTKEs_8T45GdJ1bOVllArejC4TtfZ5QxZuVHkfYdK2R-ZttPIQ/s1600/AndreaTrishaGabDec252017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvUTsf8EQw-UIHtS9gSt5y8NCLjAwa7NxVkivKUz9XpxY7wHwqiyPzyCQ5e6AKwKbUGUbnMfjwbyOAxNS9McdUTKEs_8T45GdJ1bOVllArejC4TtfZ5QxZuVHkfYdK2R-ZttPIQ/s320/AndreaTrishaGabDec252017.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This year, my family of 9 (7 adults, 2 grandchildren) enjoyed a sublime Christmas Day at our home, blessed with a delicious feast, piles of thoughtful presents, and plenty of love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But over the course of our 4 days of festivities (movies, a round of golf, dinners out, football watching, cookie munching, gift wrapping), our Christmas was also messy and imperfect. None of us </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">behaved with consistent patience, kindness, and impeccable manners. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No one spoke in </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">dulcet tones and slow cadences. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was a meltdown one evening by one who feels strangled by holiday relentlessness. There was an hour of boorish behavior by one who feels left out of family intimacies. There was disappointment by one who felt childish jealousy of another's presents. Three days after Christmas, our home remains brightly littered with wrapping paper, ribbons, and boxes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We are grateful for a long Christmas weekend as an imperfect, divinely human family. But we didn't measure up to Hallmark's picturesque high-bar for what Christmas celebrations "should be."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And I, a fool who unconsciously aspires to perfection in most things, felt twinges of remorse and pain over the challenging small moments with my loved ones. I am wrong. Hallmark is partially the culprit for my shallow guilt. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After all... ours is a wonderful life, albeit laced with bumps and potholes in the road. To quote Jimmy Stewart, "It's a Wonderful Life!"</span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-25446498551034899812017-11-08T11:33:00.000-08:002017-11-08T12:16:50.636-08:00Things Change. Of Panera and UPS, People and ATMs and Divine Peaches<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpj-ZvprQiZ81NakEstqWcf_YFXhNE4i7Kx-iMZNAx5hwTHB9d0iNhjfr6EMH8M8SZSbp5CxTDZLW3wPY5s9MY7zVGhyphenhyphenlxLmjabB0IYq2BByDBv1fKgCA-p3KUmGu7Ms70izBHA/s1600/FarmersMarket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="1600" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpj-ZvprQiZ81NakEstqWcf_YFXhNE4i7Kx-iMZNAx5hwTHB9d0iNhjfr6EMH8M8SZSbp5CxTDZLW3wPY5s9MY7zVGhyphenhyphenlxLmjabB0IYq2BByDBv1fKgCA-p3KUmGu7Ms70izBHA/s400/FarmersMarket.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Things change. My Wednesday mornings are changing, after seven delighting years.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today is my last Wednesday morning to rise early and, come pelting rain or warmest sunshine, pick-up our weekly carton of freshly farmed organic produce from a small, refrigerated truck in the Big Lots parking lot.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today is my last morning to chat with Tammy, the pastor's wife who distributes produce as a second job and personal ministry. She and her husband planted a new church a couple years ago in San Juan Capistrano. Her husband and parents substitute for her when she's ill or visiting her sister. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today is my last morning to make small talk with Juan, the truck driver and family farmer who packs the company truck the night before, sleeps a few hours, then drives nearly 300 miles each way on Wednesdays to deliver the latest crops to Placentia and Irvine. Juan's parents are buried in the same country cemetery as my grandparents, who also farmed in the San Joaquin Valley.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today is my last morning to amiably chat with others picking up their weekly farming allotment. Others also clad in hastily pulled-on clothes and barely combed hair, nursing the day's first cup of coffee. My last morning to smile at and greet the plainly garbed black woman who smiles shyly, but never speaks. My last morning to observe the perfectly-coiffed women in spandex leggings, pricey running shoes, and gigantic SUVs as they gossip about the latest church doings. My last morning to admire from afar the 70-something couple who buy a large produce carton each week, to distribute to homeless shelters. My last morning to exchange cooking tips for last week's produce. (Try tossing broccoli with olive oil and kosher salt, then roasting for 20 minutes. My husband and son can't get enough. Those divine peaches...those grapes! ) </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today is my last morning for my seven-year post-produce ritual. Driving past a Christmas tree farm and miles of glinty-green soccer fields to Panera Bread for a spinach-laden breakfast sandwich and more coffee. Watching suited real estate agents on Panera's front patio listening to a marketing guru and laboring to impress each other. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39-Ilk94vWnJvW5JB4QHavSpv5V8LWRlaOCyOJ0OtzRfHy-uER2pdSQ0iVYmczTJJ6hYI0h1ViEvjUiKFlDQUN5PmwA_PiQ_rFtgRi9VVmpLmy9M4zvzi-kTk6VP48Pg1_prIRw/s1600/20140212_093549+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39-Ilk94vWnJvW5JB4QHavSpv5V8LWRlaOCyOJ0OtzRfHy-uER2pdSQ0iVYmczTJJ6hYI0h1ViEvjUiKFlDQUN5PmwA_PiQ_rFtgRi9VVmpLmy9M4zvzi-kTk6VP48Pg1_prIRw/s320/20140212_093549+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Enjoying my veggie sandwich at the local park. Watching ducks, assorted geese, and a lone egret or two. Watching young mothers push strollers. Watching retired couples stroll in unison. Watching dogs being walked, carried, and also pushed in strollers. Watching a clutch of elderly men sail elaborate model boats in the lake. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sipping coffee while meditating on trees and sky and reflective water. While praying to our God. While listening to soft music. While admittedly checking my phone. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But things change. Our carton of organic produce will be delivered by UPS, starting after Thanksgiving. No more need for contact with any of these people. No need to leave my home.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This morning, Wells Fargo's ATM was the first to wish me a happy birthday, one week in advance. My phone assistant, the one I didn't ask for, wants me to ask questions of her. But I can't think of any questions that I can't answer using my own resources. I certainly don't need an ordering assistant. I order too much stuff already. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We used to chuckle when my father-in-law refused to use a debit card or ATM machine for years. He said he wanted to walk into a bank, and talk to a teller who knows him. He wanted human contact. He wanted to be known. I understand that impulse. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Things change, often for the best. But these changes that remove and replace human connection, I don't think they're for the best. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But still, things change and ebb and flow.That's modern life, I guess. I deeply miss the people and people-watching that efficient technology has replaced in my life. </span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-33719261074373189732017-09-10T16:42:00.003-07:002017-09-10T17:19:00.879-07:00"The Year of Pleasures" by Elizabeth Berg: Charm with a Bite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yEx9OGKhV9-c0AQpU4uUD5nPz6-vjqtYVwK7jq2hv8lWlZWo354h_aAfH_QF-C46sKsbw_fDzKlftolczshCrBT03B7m4yabnNqDGKnBmQKec8X8Ty9gHXcuytXCaxoitZC5QQ/s1600/YearofPleasures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="290" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yEx9OGKhV9-c0AQpU4uUD5nPz6-vjqtYVwK7jq2hv8lWlZWo354h_aAfH_QF-C46sKsbw_fDzKlftolczshCrBT03B7m4yabnNqDGKnBmQKec8X8Ty9gHXcuytXCaxoitZC5QQ/s400/YearofPleasures.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #38761d;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The buzzer on the stove sounded. I took the pie out and put it on a cooking rack, closed my eyes, and leaned in to smell. Then </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I headed upstairs to find something to wear tonight. I would bathe, rest, dress, and go to search out the company of others, bearing the gift of fruit in pastry. </span></i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">"What did we do here but pull ourselves along in this fashion? Never mind our various life circumstances, what I believed was that we had all been flung into the water without having been taught to swim. We ate, we slept, we formed our kaleidoscopic relationships and marched ever forward.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"We licked chocolate from our fingers. We arranged flowers in vases. We inspected our backsides when tried on new clothes. We gave ourselves over to art. We elected officials and complained. We stood up for home runs.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"We marked life passages in ceremonies we attended with impatience and pride... We felt at times that perhaps we really were visitors from another planet. We occasionally wondered if it was true that each of us was making everything up.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"But this was a wobbly saucer; this was thinking we could not endure; we went back to our elegant denial of unbreachable isolation, to refusing the lesson of being born alone and dying that way, too.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"We went back to loving, to eating, to sleeping, to marching and marching and marching along." </span></i><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This passage is from the novel <i>"The Year of Pleasures" </i>by Elizabeth Berg, the September 2017 book selection for my local public library book club.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I hadn't looked forward much to reading this slim volume, and regarded it as fluff, aimed women of a certain age. And it is, for the most part. I usually read literary classics and current best-sellers, and non-fiction, often biographies or related to environmental or political topics. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But I liked this charming novel more than I expected, largely because the author appeals often to the senses... taste, smell, sight, hearing, touch. Reading <i>"The Year of Pleasures"</i> was a relaxing, sensory experience.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Elizabeth Berg can also dazzle with descriptions, such as this paragraph on page 78:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"The mantel clock struck five, startling me from my reverie... I moved to the kitchen window and watched the movement of clouds across the sky, then the lazy revolutions of a falling maple seed just outside the glass. It looked like a tiny pair of discarded angels wings, browned with age."</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like a squeeze of sour lemon in a hot cup of soothing tea, though, author Berg also startles the reader, from time to time, with sharply acidic notes... the bitchy girlfriend of a lovely young man; bitter disappointment when her late husband's written legacies are meaningless mumbo-jumbo; the passage above that belies puzzlement at the meaning of life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Just beneath the pretty words and images of this book float anxiety, bite, and a touch of bile. That is what makes <i>"The Year of Pleasures" </i>interesting. Not just the sensory experience...Life is not merely a freshly baked pie, <i>"the gift of fruit in pastry."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Clever book. Clever author and very smart editor. Don't judge this book only by its delicious cover. </span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-81172050156465117112017-07-13T15:07:00.000-07:002017-07-13T16:21:28.087-07:00Roasted Corn and Cucumber Summer Salad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRuov-5djobR6qZQ7JMA_DdlQmbyWJUptYlnu2oPCcw2vpIAghzo8Xgjo5U3ZKbWGr5RzRUp-M4oFjmdOdwUbUqIEhl72Bdqlq1rdwbSNcuTfekdnmut5vvrCGDu-Ii0iuG5oEDw/s1600/CornoncobGrilled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="475" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRuov-5djobR6qZQ7JMA_DdlQmbyWJUptYlnu2oPCcw2vpIAghzo8Xgjo5U3ZKbWGr5RzRUp-M4oFjmdOdwUbUqIEhl72Bdqlq1rdwbSNcuTfekdnmut5vvrCGDu-Ii0iuG5oEDw/s320/CornoncobGrilled.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Despite my extensive cookbook collection, both vintage and current, I often create my own dishes based on the contents of our over-filled refrigerator. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm enamored of the lettuce-free salad I concocted for my lunch today. (I'm tired of salad greens lately for no particular reason.) Using organic veggies from this week's CSA produce delivery, my delicious summer salad is also simple.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Roasted Corn and Cucumber Summer Salad</u></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1 whole cucumber, peeled and diced into large bites</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">10 to 12 cherry tomatoes, cut in half</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2 ears of grilled corn, chilled and cut from the cobs</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2 ounces of jack cheese, cut into bite-sized cubes</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Next time, I'll add a quarter cup of chopped red onions, and maybe a small handful of chopped walnuts. The grilled corn ears were leftovers from last night's dinner. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I tossed this refreshing summer salad with a very small amount of ranch dressing.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Enjoy! Thanks to my sister, Teri, for inspiring me to eat even more veggies. </span></div>
Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-37280069675801072682017-06-27T17:14:00.002-07:002017-06-27T21:47:50.604-07:00Mourning My Five Favorite Movies on VHS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvqg_vXdZwteIIwLLS1cgYKneJMxALT_0xTRa43R2sQe83QkO5HBz0Xy6YAur6LUs_TahADpuIA5mVUnVPhKV0yn6BVMFgUDQii7TPcCv8PStsyeZz39G7noPYeW67UqTgsD2bNg/s1600/LawrenceofArabia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="971" data-original-width="1267" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvqg_vXdZwteIIwLLS1cgYKneJMxALT_0xTRa43R2sQe83QkO5HBz0Xy6YAur6LUs_TahADpuIA5mVUnVPhKV0yn6BVMFgUDQii7TPcCv8PStsyeZz39G7noPYeW67UqTgsD2bNg/s320/LawrenceofArabia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We recently donated what might be the last functioning TV with a built-in VHS player. Our thirty-something sons both snickered in astonishment that we owned anything electronic that ancient...</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Lest you believe we're tech-dinosaurs, it was a rarely used second TV, gathering dust in a corner of our bedroom. I watched it when using the treadmill. And perhaps for only 15 or 20 minutes late at night since Jon Stewart departed "The Daily Show." </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We have three other TVs, all flat screens. A 46" Panasonic in our family room, and two small LG TVs, one in my office and one in the garage/man cave. We replaced the relic with an LG 4K "smart" TV, whatever that might mean.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But what to do with the 32 movies remaining in my VHS collection? We donated our extensive Disney VHS collection a few years ago when cleaning out Andrea's room. Obviously, we have no use for movies in VHS format. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I treasure those movies, though, like I treasure cherished books. I treasure memories connected to many of these movies. My dilemma? Do I replace them with DVDs, thus rebuilding my film library? I believe firmly in the value of libraries, including film libraries. Or do I simply keep a list, and watch them on Netflix or Amazon Prime, the two services we use?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Truthfully, I'm torn. I may collect a few of the films on DVD because I so savor them. Others, well, maybe not. Among the five movies on VHS I most mourn and may replace are...</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"Lawrence of Arabia," </b>released in 1962, starring Peter O'Toole. The movie that caused me to fall deeply in love with movies. I vividly recall watching it on a gigantic screen as an 11 year old, swooning at scenes of heroism, gallantry, drama, and gorgeous expanses of blue skies and sparkling desert. Found out years later, when I attended UCLA film school, that many movie makers, including Steven Spielberg, regard Lawrence as the best film ever made, and seminal to their careers in the film industry.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"Coming Home,</b>" released in 1978, starring Jane Fonda and Jon Voight, directed by Hal Ashby. I detested the Vietnam War, and shed tears of sadness during this movie. I viscerally understood their pain, their passions, their alienation. Most gut-wrenching scene: Jon Voight, a Vietnam vet in a wheelchair, tearfully addressing high school students... </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"Reds,"</b> released in 1981, starring Warren Beatty and Diane Keaton. At over three hours, the movie was too long. In the director Beatty's defense, it <i>was</i> a large-scale epic about Russia's Bolshevik Revolution. Greatest single scene ever filmed of a loving embrace... Beatty and Keaton reunited after years apart. Their expressions of raw need, vulnerability, relief were searing with heat. The movie tagline was </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Not since Gone With The Wind has there been a great romantic epic like it!"</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxwz0Iag57izGMyWT0p3oG4Ar9hN02gjt1BaMFmwA6p7YwGBCg1jac0claYphbfRj6UYwQeGfjg9zJGaIG14Gm4OKbrQClWBNacEFvMwMM3n5-jf9arsV3eJLX-EqFvdGGdHT8Q/s1600/ARiverRunsThroughIt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="1000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxwz0Iag57izGMyWT0p3oG4Ar9hN02gjt1BaMFmwA6p7YwGBCg1jac0claYphbfRj6UYwQeGfjg9zJGaIG14Gm4OKbrQClWBNacEFvMwMM3n5-jf9arsV3eJLX-EqFvdGGdHT8Q/s320/ARiverRunsThroughIt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"A River Runs Through It,"</b> released in 1992, directed by Robert Redford, and starring Brad Pitt and Tom Skerritt. Set in Missoula, Montana, the plot follows the two sons of a Presbyterian pastor in the early 1900s. The narrator reminds me of my beloved grandfather, a forest ranger and later, rancher. A sentimental, yet tough film about the vagaries of life and passage of time. The cinematography is breathtaking and the music sweetly haunting.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"Being There,"</b> released in 1979, starring Peter Sellers, also directed by Hal Ashby, based on a book by acclaimed writer Jerzy Kosinski. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. About a simpleminded man in the right (or wrong) place at the right time. Everything he knows, he learned from television. He rises in prominence completely by a series of misunderstandings, and ends as a senior advisor to the President of the United States. Dear God... I never once imagined this dark satire could come true.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My VHS film collection contained requisite baby-boomer classics, including:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The Big Chill," released in 1983</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The Graduate," released in 1967</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Annie Hall," released in 1977</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"On Golden Pond," released in 1981</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The Accidental Tourist," released in 1988</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Bull Durham," released in 1988</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My collection included a few bona fide old-time classics:</span></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"It Happened One Night"</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Casablanca"</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Fritz Lang's Metropolis"</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Macbeth" starring Orson Welles</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I defy anyone reading this to tell me they've also seen these obscure film gems from my collection:</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKA2tLJJm0WObDOtheOpjzKhgOB1KkFJPrw5Xp-BK43brutOZL9uMQH9kTMtCcalYQ2BFOKvOwXwpDGQ9jDA5juYsuDq8gLyHEU9s0dMCVraq1D8YQaZGjJfu-U9MssgEvQ9kGQ/s1600/PreludetoaKiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="291" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKA2tLJJm0WObDOtheOpjzKhgOB1KkFJPrw5Xp-BK43brutOZL9uMQH9kTMtCcalYQ2BFOKvOwXwpDGQ9jDA5juYsuDq8gLyHEU9s0dMCVraq1D8YQaZGjJfu-U9MssgEvQ9kGQ/s320/PreludetoaKiss.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"One from the Heart,</b>" released in 1982, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, starring Teri Garr, Raul Julia, featuring the bluesy music of Tom Waits. A film version of an impressionist painting, each frame, each scene was lush with color and abstraction. </span></li>
<li>"<b style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">They All Laughed,</b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">" released in 1981, directed by Peter Bogdanovich, a madcap comedy starring John Ritter, Ben Gazzara, Audrey Hepburn. and Playboy Playmate of the Year Dorothy Stratten in her only film before she was tragically murdered. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"Prelude to a Kiss,</b>" released in 1992, starring Alec Baldwin and Meg Ryan. A thoughtful comic treatise on true love, based on a Broadway play. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Goodwill has been graced with donations of my 32 VHS-format movies. And they took them, which means someone somewhere still watches movies on VHS players. I dearly hope they enjoy these magic masterpieces.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As for me, I plan to watch each again. Soon. </span><br />
<br /></div>
Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-14082269841872743802017-05-08T12:26:00.002-07:002017-05-08T12:32:49.806-07:00Of Pizza and Collecting Human Souls: Parenting in 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IPGJScHO9x51_9LDqsQz8xELHvzB0HC6_OJZAwGCHVTRi-3KGxQhcl3MMpK1fofEdAZEQt-QLvFUtxdgNvhdA7rdAfdmssFSN_JMb7nK1A81yRl2-WBWEvz0dtSBFwxYpdcs2w/s1600/18402228_10210419427863741_7352146180589688205_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IPGJScHO9x51_9LDqsQz8xELHvzB0HC6_OJZAwGCHVTRi-3KGxQhcl3MMpK1fofEdAZEQt-QLvFUtxdgNvhdA7rdAfdmssFSN_JMb7nK1A81yRl2-WBWEvz0dtSBFwxYpdcs2w/s400/18402228_10210419427863741_7352146180589688205_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pizza restaurant talk with my nine-year-old grandson this past weekend. A light, casual conversation... or so I thought.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Me:</span></i><span style="color: #444444;"> So tell me about the videos games you like...</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Ian</i>:</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I really like "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unturned">Unturned</a>."</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me</i>:</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> What's that about?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Ian</i>: </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's a pixelated zombie apocalypse game. <i>(Said with sweet, slight condescension, obviously simplifying his explanation for me)</i>.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me</i>: </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> What's pixelated? </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Ian</i>:</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The picture is in little boxes, Grandma.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me</i>: </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Got it! Uh... what other games do you like? <i>(Asked thinking the next must be more understandable to a baby boomer. About sports, maybe. Or dogs.) </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Ian:</span> </i><span style="color: #444444;">I like </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Undertale" style="color: #444444;">"Undertale</a><span style="color: #444444;">" a lot.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Me:</span></i><span style="color: #444444;"> What's "Undertale" about?</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Ian</span></i><span style="color: #444444;">: Well, it's monsters vs. humans. </span><i style="color: #444444;"> (Again simplifying for me.)</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Me</span></i><span style="color: #444444;">: Monsters vs humans? How do you play? </span><i style="color: #444444;">(Attempting to dig deeper. Show interest. Spark connection.)</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Ian:</span> </i><span style="color: #444444;">Asgore is the monster. The game is he collects human souls so he can become a god.</span></span><br />
<i>(<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He responds excitedly.)</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Me:</span> </i>Uhhhhh.<i>.. (Stunned pause. Maybe I misheard? What???)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Me: </span> </i>Hey, your extra-pepperoni pizza is here! <i>(Relieved... Collecting human souls? This is a game?.) </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #990000;"><i>Ian</i>:</span> Oh cool! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Me:</span></i> How's school?<i> (Safer topic. I have new respect for parenting in 2017. How do they do it?) </i></span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-51209995554025436082017-04-10T10:38:00.001-07:002017-04-10T12:40:31.197-07:00Of Treadmills and Foolishness: Breaking the Family Pattern<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJx9M7aUhrJLBn0EbUVLkWi1BrtqQhjfi5KqcQkSREuf_UbJ-0g0x4YpMZPZPCyCjGUuqrbV-ayChvsQufaiuSqL4QD2Kyh8ikaZGjfJcYCuFBuoxpCu8-twbPUhq7pJT70fnlA/s1600/MotherYrbookSports+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJx9M7aUhrJLBn0EbUVLkWi1BrtqQhjfi5KqcQkSREuf_UbJ-0g0x4YpMZPZPCyCjGUuqrbV-ayChvsQufaiuSqL4QD2Kyh8ikaZGjfJcYCuFBuoxpCu8-twbPUhq7pJT70fnlA/s320/MotherYrbookSports+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sports and exercise were simply not done by women in my family. Mothers and grandmothers model our first, and lasting, examples of femininity. The idea seemed far-fetched to them that physical activity was important, much less feasible. Other than leisurely golf, tennis, badminton, or backyard croquet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I can't imagine my grandmother ever exercised for her health, and she lived to age 89. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Grandma was a hearty, lifelong farmer's wife, a busy occupation during her era (1897 to 1987), at least until Grandpa retired from small-time farming and beef ranching.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The idea of Grandma on a treadmill is a hilarious vision of cheeriness and her trademark impatience. Bundle of restless energy that she was, I don't recall her sitting except at the meal table. And then only for 20 minutes before pushing seconds, clearing the table, washing dishes, stoking her prized wood-burning stove. And sitting, absorbed in her favorite TV program, "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lawrence_Welk_Show">The Lawrence Welk Program.</a>" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yet, without formal exercise, Grandma remained mobile and lived nine decades with nary a trace of heart disease or cancer, a</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">lthough those last few years were spent in a fog of what we then called senility. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As a young girl, my outdoorsy mother camped summers in nearby Sequoia and Kings' Canyon Parks, bonded with the family dogs, and rode her beloved horse Dolly everywhere. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mother's 1948 community college yearbook featured four full pages devoted to "Girl's Sports," including archery, badminton, volleyball, square dancing, jumping jacks, and lots of tennis. Oddly, she was in none of those photos.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDnh1jrL06Sr8nL1-sNTuS3BZh8qfu4mqiaGFxFQb4_uixnv2AwPH___HVmNVg3OP-I-Mk4-45M1RKNIN92mFP1I-5TdTlDShKk0aFn_rIhiCTvSyaZWLOHYsC1-B3D_dQyh82mg/s1600/MotherYrbookSports.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDnh1jrL06Sr8nL1-sNTuS3BZh8qfu4mqiaGFxFQb4_uixnv2AwPH___HVmNVg3OP-I-Mk4-45M1RKNIN92mFP1I-5TdTlDShKk0aFn_rIhiCTvSyaZWLOHYsC1-B3D_dQyh82mg/s1600/MotherYrbookSports.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As an adult, my mother never exercised for health, and paid a terrible price of arthritic pain, inflammation, and immobility later in life. For 15 years, she didn't walk more than a dozen yards at a time, and rarely ventured outside. But still, she lived to age 86, also without a trace of heart disease or cancer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My sister exercises and exercises and exercises. Teri walks. A lot. She walks for miles every possible day, usually on beautiful southern Oregon beaches. She ponders as she walks. She finds peace of mind when walking. But mainly, my sister, a nurse for 30-plus years, walks and hikes for good health. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Since childhood, I've been a reluctant exerciser. As an exasperating teenager, I would rather be in my room, my head in a book or listening to music. In junior high, Mother pushed me into tennis and archery in summers to get me out of the house. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I detested P.E., and was mortified when I once fainted while running the high school track. During my senior year of high school, Mother did what I thought finally qualified her as very cool: she often called me in sick for first-period P.E., and made excuses why I would be well by second period English. She didn't see the point of exercise or sports for a 17 year old girl. Neither did I. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today, though, osteoarthritic pain and stiffness threaten the richness of my life. Exactly l</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ike my mother at sixtysomething. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWVVEVqpAZrt-cHEJlRHQbjXMAZzfFadEmC8IwrtPZ7Zqc8R1wrmV21I2QLoWW9FLm5F8OyvD9ZfwWU-6AtBjTnxB0IB9WBaTttadp5uAxPI3rh1R2olj-H4JZ1uTr3c9aGU8Ug/s1600/MyTreadmill+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWVVEVqpAZrt-cHEJlRHQbjXMAZzfFadEmC8IwrtPZ7Zqc8R1wrmV21I2QLoWW9FLm5F8OyvD9ZfwWU-6AtBjTnxB0IB9WBaTttadp5uAxPI3rh1R2olj-H4JZ1uTr3c9aGU8Ug/s1600/MyTreadmill+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Seems o</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ur tricked-out recumbent bike has harmed my right hip more than helped over the last two years, so we dumped it last month. But not exercising yields unpleasant results for me... stiffness, pain, inflammation. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I took a bold (for my family) step recently to do things differently. To break the mold. I bought a treadmill. And I'm using it. Daily. Comfortably, to my surprise... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Grandma would be bewildered at our foolishness. Why do we sit so much today? When would we find time to to "exercise," when meals need to be created, crops grown, produce canned, farm animals tended, people cared for, laundry done, socks mended, letters to loved ones written? I can hear her:<i> "For heaven's sake, why would you need a machine to walk?" </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mother would be stubborn. Two years before she passed, she lamented that had she known more about nutrition and health, she wouldn't have "ended up like this." Which was utter nonsense. About health, she was hard-headed as an annoyed mule. Unteachable. Pain was pain, and it meant to her that you slow down, not bear down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mother wanted better for me, though. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She beseeched me to handle my health differently then her.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She told me, with urgency, innumerable times in those last years. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My sister is proud and supportive, but understandably skeptical. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Why exercise? Family genetics aren't everything, of course, and neither my sister or I are particularly predisposed to cancer or heart disease. But </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don't plan to sit for the next 15 years. I don't choose to live in pained isolation or dwell in pain. I choose to follow my sister's good example. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I also committed to a treadmill to demonstrate to myself that I remain teachable. I want better for my life, family patterns be damned. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God willing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>(Note - First two photos were taken from "The Tiger" yearbook of Reedley College in Reedley, California, 1948, my parents' alma mater.)</i></span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-30598986295966543212017-03-07T12:04:00.003-08:002017-03-07T15:25:42.952-08:00My Shared Pain: No One Wants Family Heirlooms Anymore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0_FiJJKmzQe6IpkbVZDb6Ul0focYB4DjZZq0loXrAcpsAXYnY_uJh1GQG7ENHZ0TEDn72aEmvDc4yNMX_488gYoH2BR6PbqB0Fa4n4OvAqvY41peRdznUFYlGTxfbtH61dbLmQ/s1600/TeacupsStacked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0_FiJJKmzQe6IpkbVZDb6Ul0focYB4DjZZq0loXrAcpsAXYnY_uJh1GQG7ENHZ0TEDn72aEmvDc4yNMX_488gYoH2BR6PbqB0Fa4n4OvAqvY41peRdznUFYlGTxfbtH61dbLmQ/s400/TeacupsStacked.jpg" width="275" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have a plethora of pretty things from my mother that no one wants. I'm paralyzed with procrastination... too pained to donate fragile, lovely homewares cherished by my mother, yet burdened with dust-catching items I rarely, if ever, use. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Seems I'm not alone in feeling discouraged that our adult children are uninterested in enjoying, then passing finely crafted family heirlooms down to their children. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Greatest Generation, raised in scarcity during the Depression, treasured stuff. The generations before them collected stuff for use or as mementos of distant or deceased family or ancestral lands.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Last month, <a href="http://www.nextavenue.org/">Next Avenue</a>, a PBS newsletter for those over-50, published its most popular article ever, <a href="http://www.nextavenue.org/nobody-wants-parents-stuff/">"Sorry, Nobody Wants Your Parents' Stuff."</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.nextavenue.org/told-us-nobody-wants-parents-stuff/">Reports PBS</a>:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"<span style="font-size: 16px;">This post about a heartbreaking, pervasive problem struck a minor chord in a major way: It was the most viewed article in Next Avenue’s history, garnering more than 1.5 million views, 32,000 Facebook shares and 5,500 comments, and was printed over 3,100 times."</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Comments to the Next Avenue blog post fell into five categories:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I so relate"</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"This is so sad and difficult"</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I feel guilty about what I had to do"</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I won't let this happen to my kids"</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"You're wrong. People want these possessions." </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here's a few of the comments that touched a heartbroken nerve in me... </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"<span style="font-size: 16px;">My children have already told me they don’t want any of our antiques because they don’t care for ‘brown furniture.’ Drives me crazy that they prefer cheap furniture made of pressed sawdust and glue, but what’s a mom to do?"</span></span></i></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">"</span><span style="font-size: 16px;">My mother was a serious collector of imported English Victorian antique furniture and spent her weekends throughout my life polishing it to an inch of its life … I cried when her table and chairs were loaded onto a trailer- I hated them but I loved them as well!"</span></span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7T0Aog_KlFHHyBcHl-xGn3mUqsgRYynw1CjSswFgJAdnq2JtJvvETesxcAY0j5TEW4YU9Q8xMp4_qteZOee1x3F_wZ1KXxFf6aSLvRaY5e9pkoDjvAMXrdzyrunjxO1hb0UZhYw/s1600/OldPyrexBowls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7T0Aog_KlFHHyBcHl-xGn3mUqsgRYynw1CjSswFgJAdnq2JtJvvETesxcAY0j5TEW4YU9Q8xMp4_qteZOee1x3F_wZ1KXxFf6aSLvRaY5e9pkoDjvAMXrdzyrunjxO1hb0UZhYw/s200/OldPyrexBowls.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">"</span><span style="font-size: 16px;">It’s a good thing our deceased loved ones can’t see what’s happening to their prized possessions. Many of them struggled through financial woes and 'made do' during hard times. To see their things pitched and tossed would be heartbreaking for them."</span></span></i></div>
<div>
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">"</span><span style="font-size: 16px;">My mother… always preached to me the 'value' of this or that…. Well, I’ve learned that nothing is worth anything if no one wants it... I couldn’t even find buyers for her genuine gold and gem stone jewelry and had to liquidate it for pennies at one of those 'we buy gold' places. I still have a storage unit full of stuff 20 years after her death because in her memory I can’t bring myself to just give it away."</span></span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">One particular comment rings painfully true... <i>"</i></span><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16px;">My mother made me promise to never get rid of certain items so now they sit in the basement because I would feel guilty selling or giving them away." </span></span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">You see, months before she passed away in April 2016, I told Mother that I have her 68-year-old white satin wedding dress. And I asked her, my unsentimental mother stricken with Alzheimer's, what she wanted me to do with it. She paused for a long moment, then slowly responded, "Keep it. <i>Please keep it</i>." </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlrMf7Ru4eSzYfxY_UCftA0aLGgXmxLPRUUMvvmoQYhfYrLyWr7zCgxCSYz8l0R-T6thIDL3dHryRU0_OlDJyPzx_u_gvJeNDZOS3dtfyKvzMkKCRSfoE05c1VzqyAEtzJE2vGw/s1600/ParentsWeddingDay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlrMf7Ru4eSzYfxY_UCftA0aLGgXmxLPRUUMvvmoQYhfYrLyWr7zCgxCSYz8l0R-T6thIDL3dHryRU0_OlDJyPzx_u_gvJeNDZOS3dtfyKvzMkKCRSfoE05c1VzqyAEtzJE2vGw/s320/ParentsWeddingDay.jpg" width="185" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">I'll likely keep my mother's crumpled wedding dress until the day I die. She considered her 1948 wedding day to be the best day of her 86-year-long life, and she asked me to keep it. I can't bear to give it away to strangers. I could have her dress made into charming decorative pillows for my two daughters, niece, and granddaughter. But sadly, I don't think they care that I long for them to value something of my mother... It's just more stuff that doesn't match their taste. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Among other family heirlooms gathering dust in our cupboards and two china cabinets: two punch bowls, one crystal with 18 matching handled punch glasses and two crystal punch ladles. A demitasse set of eight porcelain cups and saucers, hand-painted with Audubon-like birds. English and French bone china teacups and saucers. Tiny wine glasses. Some cool 1950s pyrex and melmac bowls. Plus an exquisitely embellished linen tablecloth gifted to me 40 years ago by my maternal grandmother. And much more. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Two distinct types of parting thoughts were reflected among comments to the Next Avenue post:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Despair...</span><i> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">In the future there will be no personal history … only ‘in the moment’ … no graves, no personal letters, no hard copies of long-lasting photographs, no heirlooms …. no footprints in the sand."</span> </span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Laissez-faire...</span><i> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span></i><span style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Personally when I die if someone enjoys something of mine great but it’s not me!! Do whatever you want with my stuff after I die, but keep a good memory of me in your heart!!" </span></i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">... and </span><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span></i></span><span style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It doesn’t bother me that my girls are not interested in our stuff. It’s just stuff, really</span><span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">."</span></i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">I'm working on the latter. And looking for a seamstress to make heirloom pillows from Mother's wedding dress, including a special pillow for me. </span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-53990382909560239912017-03-04T11:53:00.003-08:002017-03-04T11:58:09.359-08:00Golden State Woman: Focused, Not Crazy Anymore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtl73TUK3dVT_tp-3boejxITGPDLjOxLASf9S_jUjFua3nOdJD_oXj_F20PAjUzKBgjwBt7cRmw0lMl-6vTQUfU0oWRyBCJivBcVd9CAyrytf4_jXXmS45q8HZDPK99jnpXnW3_Q/s1600/13177573_10207603806234960_9003770779598076922_n+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtl73TUK3dVT_tp-3boejxITGPDLjOxLASf9S_jUjFua3nOdJD_oXj_F20PAjUzKBgjwBt7cRmw0lMl-6vTQUfU0oWRyBCJivBcVd9CAyrytf4_jXXmS45q8HZDPK99jnpXnW3_Q/s200/13177573_10207603806234960_9003770779598076922_n+%25281%2529.jpg" width="168" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My longtime personal blog has new life! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A new name, new look, and new excitement, as I (finally!) embrace my new phase of life... 65 and never happier or more free.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will still be blogging about the usuals: faith, family, food, books, travel, the great, green outdoors, and whatever catches my fancy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Welcome, friends. to GoldenStateWoman.com, formerly TheCrazyWoman.com. I feel focused, not crazy anymore. </span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-71849109529485377952016-12-31T17:25:00.003-08:002017-03-04T09:17:25.568-08:00Blessed Foolishness to Think You Can Make a Difference<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij71D4R8FL3xOCjzN6U0iiXJJwof8R3Y4CEpM0Dv-fKV-K9A2wqkUbXw83Wqj3vvyZJxmEpwVVWFHOK-H8r_imy2RySoBbHB2dXxlhRcyv45oQAtrovhu6TJ1gMHQqAmIG69v9yw/s1600/ChagallWindowUnitedNationsPeace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij71D4R8FL3xOCjzN6U0iiXJJwof8R3Y4CEpM0Dv-fKV-K9A2wqkUbXw83Wqj3vvyZJxmEpwVVWFHOK-H8r_imy2RySoBbHB2dXxlhRcyv45oQAtrovhu6TJ1gMHQqAmIG69v9yw/s400/ChagallWindowUnitedNationsPeace.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On this New Year's Eve, I offer a prayer from my Christian faith. Please ponder it through the lenses of your faith beliefs...</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you will have a passion for justice, equality, and peace.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that you will reach out your hand to comfort them and change their pain into joy.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"And may God bless you with the foolishness to think that you can make a difference in this world, so that you will do the thing which others tell you cannot be done.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Amen."</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">(Note - The stained glass window is by Marc Chagall (1887-1985) and is entitled Peace.<a href="http://worldpatrimony.org/peacewindow/window.html"> Per the United Nations. </a>"The 'Peace Window' was a gift from the United Nations staff members, as well as Marc Chagall himself, presented to the United Nations as a memorial to Dag Hammarskjøld. The 'Peace Window' was dedicated to his memory on 17 September 1964, exactly three years after Dag Hammarskjøld, then the second Secretary-General of the UN, and 15 other people with him died in a plane crash.")</span></span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-19130685337041406602016-11-30T12:22:00.002-08:002016-11-30T15:52:07.423-08:00Is Post-Election America Fraying at the Small Edges? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlraeVVoIoSfmeou5IEw7rqnbRtjF9eoQslzx2HsSUAp7he7m1dxHEbckMhbjmeHOWBdCnNSaQw5mG5jZgD4bfrZUnr2OLJPbIlhyoMpoKUPHpoym7FK3XZyvWTL3CUqKJJ2htjQ/s1600/TatteredAmericanFlag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlraeVVoIoSfmeou5IEw7rqnbRtjF9eoQslzx2HsSUAp7he7m1dxHEbckMhbjmeHOWBdCnNSaQw5mG5jZgD4bfrZUnr2OLJPbIlhyoMpoKUPHpoym7FK3XZyvWTL3CUqKJJ2htjQ/s320/TatteredAmericanFlag.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">America, or at least my little corner of America, is making mistakes lately because businesses and people seem to be moving too fast, too frantically, especially since the elections. Micro mistakes, I grant you, but mistakes that hint of new unreliability... </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Over the last couple days, I've experienced...</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A medical office sending prescriptions three times to the incorrect pharmacy location, an inconvenient one, despite clear requests. (Turns out they were using an incorrect FAX number. Offices still FAX?)</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Amazon losing an important package, then finding it, then losing it again, then delivering it to their own surprise. Beaten up.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sporadic mail delivery in our neighborhood. One recent night, our beleaguered, hard-working carrier was doling out mail at 11 pm. The confused carrier yesterday confessed that he's a temporary import from another city because our post office is understaffed for </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">mail volume.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Scrutiny of our cable bill revealed monthly charges of $15.99 for a movie channel we've hardly heard of, never used, and certainly never ordered. Have you tried to review your bill with cable TV customer service, much less demand a credit for back over-charges? Yeah, been there now...</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Even El Pollo Loco asking me three times to come back for a small order I pre-placed earlier... </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All workers were consistently pleasant, kind, and helpful. All workers seemed genuinely overwhelmed. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhKwo7t5vH51bIvzrsCUB0hfycWcbwqFcDEMSh4npyKX302KGkoRQ2goZRQG6ybU9mYCAyjyatM2zIgvJxhyphenhypheno1sPl4nM7p6ljtqr4M3zXdfbuchCLksGTC9H_YIyJsPlL56me3Q/s1600/MailCarrier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhKwo7t5vH51bIvzrsCUB0hfycWcbwqFcDEMSh4npyKX302KGkoRQ2goZRQG6ybU9mYCAyjyatM2zIgvJxhyphenhypheno1sPl4nM7p6ljtqr4M3zXdfbuchCLksGTC9H_YIyJsPlL56me3Q/s200/MailCarrier.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This aggregate of mistakes could be the sign of a growing, vibrant neighborhood pacing ahead of service providers. Ours is, indeed, a growing, vibrant area with new local businesses and new housing. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These could be signs of organizations deliberately under-staffed to meet year-end profit targets, a common management technique. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This, of course, is God challenging and testing me on patience. You know, <i>"Don't Sweat the Small Stuff." </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But it also feels subtly like something more. Like tiny details of my tidy American life are fraying at the edges. Like the assumed reliability of comfortable, trustworthy suburban life is suddenly a bit less reliable. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I unconsciously equate these to the grand traditions of our great country fraying at the edges. I unconsciously sense that life in these United States feels less stable than before the election. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And I wonder about and pray for our American way of life, both at home and across the nation. </span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-23865461869908993042016-10-13T10:22:00.002-07:002016-10-13T11:10:39.876-07:00Nobel Vindication of My Moody Youth: Bob Dylan's Music<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2MxEyF4uXJT0wpP6i0fty5munXbMSAOtJgNNSzSTWUicCSLGY36q_nq5l6DqhLJin20qedBc6QLXi089VcO-qmVL5Oyw4a_M1VN-gDDf9prlalzZNkW_7sU2lUgx7ziGqmXCSQ/s1600/JoanBaezAnyDayNow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2MxEyF4uXJT0wpP6i0fty5munXbMSAOtJgNNSzSTWUicCSLGY36q_nq5l6DqhLJin20qedBc6QLXi089VcO-qmVL5Oyw4a_M1VN-gDDf9prlalzZNkW_7sU2lUgx7ziGqmXCSQ/s320/JoanBaezAnyDayNow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The music of my moody youth won the Nobel Prize in Literature today. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I feel vindicated for my then-maligned taste, and relieved that the world sees what I saw, heard and felt... and still see, hear, and feel. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was deeply obsessed with one album, "Any Day Now - Joan Baez Sings Bob Dylan" a double-album released in 1968, when I was a high school junior. My conservative parents worried I was weird... </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I still have it, my original album from all those years ago. The only vinyl I've kept, after selling hundreds of others. The album remains part of me. It sits here on my desk, propped against the wall. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dylan's most famed tunes... "Like a Rolling Stone," "The Times They Are A-changing," "Rainy Day Women," even the iconic "Blowin' in the Wind"... are not on this album. (I love those songs, too, mind you. Can never refrain from singing along. Just ask my embarrassed husband.)</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The album's sixteen powerful tunes, instead, are ones of empathy for others, of struggles of the downtrodden, of dreams for a better life and world. The poetic songs demonstrated love for others... prisoners, immigrants, drifters... like I'd never before heard, witnessed or experienced, and it touched my heart. Over and over and over... Still does. There but for the grace of God... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Included on "Any Day Now," which is the refrain from one of the album's songs, "I Shall Be Released," are:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I Pity the Poor Immigrant"</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Love Is Just a Four-Letter Word"</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I Dreamed I Saw St Augustine"</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Tears of Rage" (with extraordinary acapella by Joan Baez)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Dear Landlord"</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The Walls of Redwing"</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"One Too Many Mornings</span></li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhQaH0BQc9gSU3cUAngmPOgcdoqORbGGQ9-TA7r9ziLU9gzr3OUaPss__KCXXwMqAjZ46Rh9ROgBdAaDsH2xCq0X4rxsm7D0AdKqaDwrGSLAodWxlSnv4XGamydOqagQhmkgByQ/s1600/BaezDylan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhQaH0BQc9gSU3cUAngmPOgcdoqORbGGQ9-TA7r9ziLU9gzr3OUaPss__KCXXwMqAjZ46Rh9ROgBdAaDsH2xCq0X4rxsm7D0AdKqaDwrGSLAodWxlSnv4XGamydOqagQhmkgByQ/s320/BaezDylan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands," 11 minutes, 18 seconds long, and I knew every word, every breath, every pause. My poor mother... I must have played this cut a thousand times, and never at low volume, as I immersed myself in feelings of Bob Dylan's sacred lyrics and score. </span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"<span style="background-color: white;">Dylan has the status of an icon. His influence on contemporary music is profound..." wrote the Committee. And, I might add, the subjects of his music... empathy, struggles, unfairness, rebellion, keenly observed experiences of others... are entirely consistent with the body of literature honored by the Swedish Academy since its 1901 founding. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Congratulations to the Nobel Prize Committee for Literature for awarding the 2016 award to Bob Dylan</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> "for having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition." <i> </i></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Indeed! </i></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-31455616381683859282016-09-08T18:26:00.001-07:002016-09-08T19:31:46.007-07:00Of Pumpkin Spice Lattes and NFL Football<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdotgvPXlpJ8rAUuN-eP1Z2cwDzM8pLViBRw67umjkoxspxv81FvZnFhXj7mpNvXTkbHMeW_mDWZ7YGUzyc3nSDNRRWEonUhXO9AZm9esJ8CJJRQqbgUERQBNlvH1ewn4g21X2Zw/s1600/Pumpkinspicelatte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdotgvPXlpJ8rAUuN-eP1Z2cwDzM8pLViBRw67umjkoxspxv81FvZnFhXj7mpNvXTkbHMeW_mDWZ7YGUzyc3nSDNRRWEonUhXO9AZm9esJ8CJJRQqbgUERQBNlvH1ewn4g21X2Zw/s320/Pumpkinspicelatte.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I savor the small rituals of each season, but especially of my favorite, autumn. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I write these words, I'm sipping my first Starbucks pumpkin spice latte of the year while watching the first Thursday night NFL game of the season, the Denver Broncos v. Carolina Panthers. </span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My fall calendar lights up again with activities next week after a long summer sojourn... Living Vine bible study and small groups, Homework House volunteering to neighborhood kids, two book clubs. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our kitchen is brimming with fall organic produce for heartier meals... tomatoes, eggplants, zucchini, carrots, potatoes, sweet bell peppers, onions, herbs, and early apples. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My writing calendar is full, too, with an active book project, blogs, and an inspiring conference in San Luis Obispo in a few weeks. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And today is my beloved son's birthday. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I feel blessed and deeply grateful for a fresh, creative start to a new, different season in my life. </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Welcome, fall! I've been waiting for your warm glories... </span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-68635801024765565832016-08-25T11:24:00.004-07:002016-08-25T17:28:47.974-07:00Facebook Victorian-Style, Circa 1881<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2A92JWuE5kkPOis4Ma8tw7aIcP22zWcaEwS5yE1P1AqWL6-AheYSioGZks5YclMV3UO24eI4deWW4E0xWjuwIA1oMIalbmj4Ro28cV1-KlxZiS_4K_jSD969jLfk_B9u8qc3M9Q/s1600/Autographbook2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2A92JWuE5kkPOis4Ma8tw7aIcP22zWcaEwS5yE1P1AqWL6-AheYSioGZks5YclMV3UO24eI4deWW4E0xWjuwIA1oMIalbmj4Ro28cV1-KlxZiS_4K_jSD969jLfk_B9u8qc3M9Q/s320/Autographbook2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've long been charmed by American culture around the turn of the 20th century, from about 1880 to 1920. Little charms me more than this Autograph Book of my maternal great-grandmother, Jessie Belle Gibson Hutchison (1862 - 1952).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Autograph books were a fad in Victorian-era America, from about 1850 through the 1880s. Until replaced by yearbooks. Telephones. The internet. And Facebook... </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autograph_book">Per Wikipedia</a>, autograph books originated in Europe in the Middle Ages to record family genealogy, and among college students.</span> "Traditionally they were exchanged among friends, colleagues, and classmates to fill with poems, drawings, personal messages, small pieces of verse, and other mementos. Their modern derivations include yearbooks, friendship books, and guest books."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In fact, <a href="http://findingaids.princeton.edu/collections/AC040">Princeton University archives house a collection</a> of</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> "</span><span style="line-height: 18px;">219 autograph books from 192 members of classes between 1825 and 1884. The books were used to collect not only the autographs of classmates, but also good wishes, bits of favorite verse, letters of farewell, or reminiscences of shared events during undergraduate years."</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrlbjwO7bfW0-Vl4ibhzYMf0qoi8R8Nu3eN5gwVUjOqc1PrW7cWUQg6Wb20wYg4rRjmALkaKVKobxvNuGWEqooLmFbDiSSberA58gOo9UEIUH6WG3KYBYVBojVNGEnTv_aiYclw/s1600/Autographbook3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrlbjwO7bfW0-Vl4ibhzYMf0qoi8R8Nu3eN5gwVUjOqc1PrW7cWUQg6Wb20wYg4rRjmALkaKVKobxvNuGWEqooLmFbDiSSberA58gOo9UEIUH6WG3KYBYVBojVNGEnTv_aiYclw/s400/Autographbook3.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I appreciate my great-grandmother's Autograph Book for the extraordinary genealogy record she later, at age 71, listed in it in 1933. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">But even more, I'm charmed by the eloquent, sweet, serious, clever, often funny autographs collected in the early 1880s from family and friends by 19-year-old Jessie Gibson of farming community <a href="http://www.kancoll.org/articles/nelson/sigel.htm">Sigel, Kansas</a>. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">And it strikes me how much civility and graciousness Americans have lost in the last 150 years, from Victorian-era autographs books to Facebook today. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">For your enjoyment, a small sampling...</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">"Take this, it is a gift of love</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">That seeks thy good alone.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Keep it for the writer's sake,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">And read it for thine own.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Your friend,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Laura M. Flagg, </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">April 17, 1883"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"Our lives are albums written through</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Of good or ill, of false or true</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">And as the angels turn the page of our year</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Oh may they greet the good with smiles</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">And blow the ill with tear.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Is the wish of your friend...</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Eva Cade, September 8, 1881</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Lawrence, Kansas"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"Forget me not is all I wish,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">And if it proves too hard a task,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Forget me.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">As ever your friend,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Hattie Frazier, November 10, 1883</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Alfred, Kansas"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"Oh believe me dear Cousin Jessie when I say that through life, </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">my best wishes shall be for Thy happiness, and</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">a pure desire that we may spend eternity happily together</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">in the presence of our Heavenly Father.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Adda C. Petefish, October 20, 1881</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Belvoir, Kansas"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"When you stand before the tub</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Think of me before you rub</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">And if the water is too hot</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Cool it, and forget me not.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Effie Hutchison, October 27, 1883"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGljo2h0pr6zvh4fAUPhstNwt1fWKyA_8O0SP8yM-4rb4UGNqUaUU7_SPA8APFYCEFvJgVkiAdJ1_udctti7SxnwAROIkPEYgQutmfiWafqA7SA4BX8m847-Vv9Ke0CSUJpASjNA/s1600/Hutchisonfamily1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGljo2h0pr6zvh4fAUPhstNwt1fWKyA_8O0SP8yM-4rb4UGNqUaUU7_SPA8APFYCEFvJgVkiAdJ1_udctti7SxnwAROIkPEYgQutmfiWafqA7SA4BX8m847-Vv9Ke0CSUJpASjNA/s400/Hutchisonfamily1.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"Miss Jessie,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Youth is life's bright morning</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Age is coming on.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Watch and pray and labor</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Youth will soon be gone.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">'Hope'</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Why do we hope? Disappointment will fret us</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">And laugh at our dreams ere our wakings begun.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Why look to the future? That will not forget us</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">If something is lost, there is more to be won.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Yours Truly,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">James F. Morris, October 28, 1881</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Richland, Kansas"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">And from Jessie's future husband, my great-grandfather, Charles Hutchison (1858 to 1941) , who she married in 1884...</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"Tis hard to part with those we love</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Tis hard to part tis true</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Tis not as hard to part with some</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">As tis to part with you.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Charley Hutchison, October 1883"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Charming, indeed. I mourn the graciousness and innocence of those pre-Facebook days.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><i>(In the photo, from left are Charles Hutchison (1858-1941), son Alpha (1884-1962), daughter Marie, my grandmother (1897-1987), daughter Gertrude (1886-1962), Jessie Gibson Hutchison (1862-1952), daughter Clara (1888-1975).)</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-65493977876039341052016-07-19T14:26:00.000-07:002016-07-19T15:38:02.142-07:00Mammogram from Hell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbD8xJoEJN0ZWGU8gdXnPcvDxnjscAbRBortUURDoPyV232S8d5RZ72cx-iHSZkH2gXtTAAFB7uUeGMWLkNicttAhkx_VfrMyswohVfNBPSH2TuwNW2iq8JzMjVQlTzyGf1IMtDA/s1600/DigitalMammogram+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbD8xJoEJN0ZWGU8gdXnPcvDxnjscAbRBortUURDoPyV232S8d5RZ72cx-iHSZkH2gXtTAAFB7uUeGMWLkNicttAhkx_VfrMyswohVfNBPSH2TuwNW2iq8JzMjVQlTzyGf1IMtDA/s400/DigitalMammogram+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, that was the mammogram from hell. My first mammogram from hell, after two decades of annual mammograms.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Men certainly suffer physical exam indignities. But I doubt any man in a medical office was treated with the condescension I met this morning. <i>Ever.</i> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Privacy was not the problem. Heavens, I'</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ve given birth three times. Once a mother, few women think twice about a bit of breast-flashing in a medical setting. No, privacy's not the issue.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The problem was the attitude of the energetic radiology tech who rushed through what's probably a boring drill for her. Older woman. </span><span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Healthy patient. R</span><span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">outine exam. Blah blah blah. </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She raced down the hallway, oblivious that I'm a slow walker, given my wobbly right hip. When she noticed me lagging behind her track-star pace, she coaxed me sedately as though I was not comprehending her "OK, turn right. Now it's the fourth door on your right. See? This door..." </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She directed me to the usual chair encircled by a hospital curtain, but cautioned, "Don't sit down. It's hard to stand back up again!" <i>Huh? </i> I sat down, removed red tank-top and pink bra, then donned the requisite ugly front-opening half-gown. </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I stepped to the digital radiology equipment (see above), and started to lean in exactly as I've done yearly since the medical group went digital. The tech rushed over... "No sweetie, not like that. Just follow me. Drop your arms. I'll show you..." <i>Sweetie?</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I go limp, and let her contort my arms and chest into awkward picture-friendly positions. And then it happened. Once.Twice. Two more times for lateral views. </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She affixed my breast between the two mega-slides, then ZAP, she auto-closed the slides. For good measure, I assume, she then manually twisted knobs twice (or more?) to tighten the vise with the power of a weight-lifter.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Electricity coursed through my system. Shocked, I briefly yelped. Never before have I experienced intense pain at a mammogram. This pain was searing. I told her it was too tight. Her response? "Be quiet. You need to hold still." <i>Uh, what? </i>"Look how red my breast is," I nicely complained about my mottled strawberry-red skin. "Happens to everyone," she quipped, not bothering to look. </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She rapidly repeated her process three more times. Never letting up the unnecessary pressure. Never listening or responding to me. In fact, the last two, it seemed she clamped that vise down a tad harder, if that was physically possible. But maybe my breasts were so sore by that time, the torture felt more acute. Intimidated, I stayed quiet. </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Lest you think I'm a whiner. I've been told by the best that my pain tolerance is pretty high (except for childbirth, of course). A respected orthopedic surgeon once lectured me at length that I need to be more aware of pain. That being too mind-over-matter coupled with obliviousness to pain is not a formula for good health.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I sat in the curtained chair to clothe. Done with her tasks, the radiology tech shouted to me, "Do you know how to get to the lobby? Turn left out of the door, then left at the corner." She abruptly exited another door, slamming it hard in her hurried wake. </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am grateful beyond measure for good medical care. I am grateful for the technical skills of this radiology tech. I am grateful that almost without exception, I have dealt with medical professionals who treat patients with respect and reasonable sensitivity. </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today, though, I experienced the mammogram from hell. This mammogram was painful and more than a little humiliating, and in only 20 minutes. </span><span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I finally understand why many women detest, and often wrongly avoid, mammograms. Hard to imagine that men are treated with the same indifference or condescension as shown to me in this simple medical test. </span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-52585629110202593472016-07-14T16:01:00.001-07:002016-07-14T22:57:07.140-07:00Still Crazy After All These Years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYAftpGniLa67pgkPHHYVJ7ZaySetPAmOlX1x1QEqEQphMEa3WU8PPR3b42yEcYw4uTKzE9h-MelDJr6O_6x4sIdloTU69ewjKPOVboI_gWeB0wi-mYWV9ntVi6uI5V-1PjE6rQ/s1600/WaikaloaWindow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYAftpGniLa67pgkPHHYVJ7ZaySetPAmOlX1x1QEqEQphMEa3WU8PPR3b42yEcYw4uTKzE9h-MelDJr6O_6x4sIdloTU69ewjKPOVboI_gWeB0wi-mYWV9ntVi6uI5V-1PjE6rQ/s400/WaikaloaWindow.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's me. Still here. Still crazy after all these years, to borrow from a famed baby-boomer philosopher. Deborah Bowen (Clark) White. Debi White for more than 25 years, though, the longest time I've been known by one name.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Just returned from a refreshing weeklong vacation on the big Island with Ron, of course. (See my window for ritual morning coffee, at right.) Ready to return to my blogging roots. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aloha, friends! </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I haven't written at The Crazy Woman ("TCW") for two years. Been busy, growing and expanding, experiencing highs and lows of this life. More about that later... I lost four years of TCW writings, from 2010 to 2014, including a few deeply poignant pieces. I have high hopes of still salvaging the posts from a bungled download. But writing, like life, must carry on... </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Crazy Woman was my first blog, and remains the blog I love best. It's personal, not political or professional or bound for big-time publishing. It's my musings. It's my blog, my page, my thoughts. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I started TCW in 2003 when I first heard of blogging, in the same year my oldest daughter, Trisha, married. In the year that the U.S. started the Iraq War, and changed everything in this country. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Much has changed for me, too, especially in the last four years. Trisha is no longer married, but living the life she always wanted in New York City. Successful woman, that one, especially at marketing. Can scare up a terrific job faster than anyone I've ever known. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My parents both passed away earlier this year, of separate but similar causes. Married 67 years, they were part of each other in every way. Theirs was a marriage full of joy, fun, and sadness, misunderstandings and too much illness. But always, family and commitment. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As for our other adult children, Kevin and lovely wife Lauren, fashion and design guru, live in Berkeley with two cats. Kevin continues to be a star in marketing for a major database corporation. Lucky guy takes BART into The City, and works two blocks from the Giants ballpark. Ryan (and kids) reside near us here in Orange County, and labors mightily in the software field. We feel blessed beyond words to see them often, and be part of their lives. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yours, mine, and then there's ours... Andrea, our only kid still a twentysomething, lives in greater Washington D.C. Astonishing that she graduated three years ago from that college in Connecticut. She works at a health-related think tank funded, in part, by the Gates Foundation;. is finishing a post-bac pre-med program at University of Maryland; and plans to apply next spring to medical schools. Lots of her friends live in D.C. and New York, so you can imagine, we don't see her much. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here's the thing. Our kids have their own lives. "Cat's in the Cradle" and all that jazz... they don't need us much anymore. We are finding our way again. I am finding my way again. Still crazy after all these years, I'm pleased to report. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That's what I will be writing about now at The Crazy Woman. Finding my way, post-parenting and post-parents. Check back often. I'd love to share this journey with you. </span></span><br />
<br />Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-91525500618429591232010-02-15T14:47:00.000-08:002010-02-15T16:13:20.338-08:00Our Own Private Mardi Gras<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifq3UmInbEdwzmfaHulSjQW7PLwaszikCLyhVmOO1XK6WQO2lKG8wObuEyAWeqU378IFkPo6l5ch1_K-yVyNgboFLXW3Isx5SbJZvEWlzbe9-grl_6fdM9KwoRxOJWKz07pE4Qmg/s1600-h/sirloinsteaks.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438625140001015986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifq3UmInbEdwzmfaHulSjQW7PLwaszikCLyhVmOO1XK6WQO2lKG8wObuEyAWeqU378IFkPo6l5ch1_K-yVyNgboFLXW3Isx5SbJZvEWlzbe9-grl_6fdM9KwoRxOJWKz07pE4Qmg/s200/sirloinsteaks.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003300;">For Lent, Ron and I are giving up beef. </span></div><div><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#003300;">All beef, including the occasional Carls Jr. teriyaki six-dollar burger with grilled pineapple, crisp red onion, and two slices of Swiss on a sesame seed bun....<em> (Can you hear my sigh?) </em></span></span></div><div><em><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></em></div><br /><div><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I don't understand, though, if, by giving up beef, we're giving up a vice or a virtue. </span><span style="font-family:Arial;">I'm not sure how personal sacrifices for Lent are supposed to work: are we called to give up something bad for us, or something health-neutral that we really like? </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;">For instance, smoking. If someone gives up smoking for Lent, shouldn't they do that anyway? If someone derives personal benefit from giving up, say, smoking, does that count as a bona fide Lent sacrifice?</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;">Or take chocolate. For most people, sacrificing chocolate would be a health-neutral act. For some, foregoing rich, soul-satisfying chocolate for six weeks could also create intense cravings. Is this what meets the Lent sacrifice criteria: something you really, really want, but isn't that terrible?</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;">I don't know the Biblically-correct answer. But I do know why we're giving up beef for the six weeks of Lent.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;">Neither of us craves beef, but we certainly like it. In an average month, we likely dine on beef six or seven times, including two fast-food burgers <em>(especially a luscious Carls Jr. teriyaki six-dollar burger!)</em>. At home, we enjoy a savory, medium-rare roast that can used for sandwiches during the week. Steak kabobs with veggies are our specialty in summer. And once in a great while, absolutely nothing tastes better than a thick top-sirloin steak grilled on our Weber kettle barbecue.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;">So yes, we like beef now and then. But we're hardly beef-aholics, and we don't need either the calories or fat. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#003300;">But we're also giving up beef because its destructive impact on our environment. Beef has been called the </span><a href="http://www.environmentalleader.com/2009/02/17/beef-as-bad-for-the-environment-as-the-hummer/"><span style="color:#003300;">Hummer of food</span></a><span style="color:#003300;">, and rightly so. Per </span><a href="http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/40934/title/AAAS_Climate-friendly_dining_%E2%80%A6_meats"><span style="color:#003300;">Science News in 2009</span></a><span style="color:#003300;">:</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"><em>"<span style="color:#666666;">From a climate perspective, beef is in a class by itself. It takes a lot of energy and other natural resources to produce cattle feed, manage the animals’ manure (a major emitter of methane, a potent GHG), get the livestock to market, slaughter the animals, process and package the meat, dispose of the greater part of the carcass that won’t be human food, market the retail cuts, transport them home from the store, refrigerate them until dinner time, and then cook the beef..</span></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#666666;"><em></em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#666666;"><em>"Currently, although beef accounts for only about 30 percent of the industrial world’s meat consumption, it contributes 78 percent meat’s GHG emissions there. Pork, at 38 percent of consumption, contributes only 14 percent of this meat's GHGs. Another 32 percent of the meat consumed worldwide comes from chicken, but getting these birds from farm to fork contributes only 8 percent of meat’s carbon footprint in the developed countries"</em></span></div><div><em><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></em></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#003300;">Also, beef production requires an enormous amount of water, which is an increasingly precious commodity in the U.S. and around the world. A </span><a href="http://www.vegsource.com/articles/pimentel_water.htm"><span style="color:#003300;">vegetarian website observes</span></a><span style="color:#003300;">:</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"><em><span style="color:#666666;">"... probably the most reliable and widely-accepted water estimate to produce a pound of beef is the figure of 2,500 gallons/pound. Newsweek once put it another way: 'the water that goes into a 1,000 pound steer would float a destroyer.'</span> "</em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"><em></em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#003300;">Further, most American beef is so riddled with cancer-connected synthetic hormones that the </span><a href="http://www.preventcancer.com/consumers/general/hormones_meat.htm"><span style="color:#003300;">European Union has entirely banned</span></a><span style="color:#003300;"> importation and serving of U.S. beef since 1989. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;">Ron and I are giving up beef for Lent because we like it, and want to sacrifice something we enjoy. Because we might be a bit healthier without it. But also because less beef consumption would conserve both water and energy, and lessen the amount of greenhouse gases released into the environment. We want to be good stewards of God's creation. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;">So I pose the question: is giving up beef a bona fide Lent sacrifice for us? Or just something we should do for all the benefits mentioned above? </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"><em></em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#003300;"><em>I</em> don't know the answer. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;">But I do know that tonight, before the six-week Lent clock starts ticking, we're firing up the Weber and enjoying two of juiciest top-sirloins imaginable, synthetic hormones be damned.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#003300;"><em>Call it our own private Mardi Gras!</em> I wonder... should we run out and get some confetti, beads, and a King cake, too, for the festivities? </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></div><div><em><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003300;"></span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003300;"></span></em></div><div></div>Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-65346301044100416672010-02-07T16:12:00.000-08:002010-02-10T11:31:52.186-08:00The Pastor Who Married Us Was Wrong<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkRb5krvzoF48_-NBKjH_dhG0N7-DsJVDY_CwSxIvRdByxwBk795YNLgiuxFSu-QTKPrJ-367AS2LGVAou441ipD010B7Ga2wC4Ycy3NNbnsu1fLF54_EdTh1Z9aeSV9umOrUiA/s1600-h/055.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436692443579527810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkRb5krvzoF48_-NBKjH_dhG0N7-DsJVDY_CwSxIvRdByxwBk795YNLgiuxFSu-QTKPrJ-367AS2LGVAou441ipD010B7Ga2wC4Ycy3NNbnsu1fLF54_EdTh1Z9aeSV9umOrUiA/s200/055.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#006600;"> </span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003333;">The pastor who married us was wrong. Based on long years of counselling and on a battery of premarital quizzes, he openly worried that we were too different... too "incompatible."</span> <div><br /><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">After a candlelit dinner at home last night to celebrate our two decades of marriage, I gave Ron one of those attractive, designed-for-a-man Hallmark cards. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">The trendy blue card looked oddly stark, though, and short on heartfelt sentiment, so I covered the inside with a list of things I love about him. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">Things he does. Things I admire. Things we do and are together. Things he does for me and for our family. Small things. Big things. Thoughtful things. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">My list brought rare tears to Ron's eyes. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">Likewise, he selected a pretty, poetic card for me that he signed "You are my everything." </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#003333;">Sure, we've had our disagreements. Moments of angry frustration. Times when either or both felt disappointed or smothered or bewildered. But we never doubted that we belonged together.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#003333;">Meeting with us in his small church office, the weary, middle-aged pastor reported results of our premarital tests with a deep sigh, "<em>Well, I have good news and bad news...</em></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">"The bad news is that you two are very, very different. The good news is that you know it. And you're fine with it."</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">Indeed, we do know it. And we're fine with it. <em>Just fine.</em> </span></p><p></p></div>Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-54951342573884243022010-02-05T16:13:00.000-08:002010-02-05T18:28:56.951-08:00What Makes You Happy?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeNzKUG5SuuzvUtEMqckjjzMOCifTHKjyawfXaugE5kwhlwn3LaatSRNK18dQP1yGDjuOBjo3yN3TJY0foCs9IzgA5Yf37IKGZ9hqfar4AO6qxz0KQXPIeFnGEP393nevpja-Cg/s1600-h/bloodpressuremonitor.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434939941556816178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeNzKUG5SuuzvUtEMqckjjzMOCifTHKjyawfXaugE5kwhlwn3LaatSRNK18dQP1yGDjuOBjo3yN3TJY0foCs9IzgA5Yf37IKGZ9hqfar4AO6qxz0KQXPIeFnGEP393nevpja-Cg/s200/bloodpressuremonitor.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;">What makes you happy? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;">That's the subject of a puzzling new book, <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Happiness-Project-Morning-Aristotle-Generally/dp/0061583251/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1265419471&sr=8-1">The Happiness Project</a></em>, by a youngish woman who embarks on an ambitious quest to seek out tasks that make her "happy." </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000066;"><span style="font-family:arial;">(She concludes that cleaning closets, "acting energetic," and exercising are on her happiness short-list. </span><span style="font-family:arial;">In reality, what also makes her happy is writing at length about herself doing tasks. But I digress... )</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">The question is a serious one these days for people mired in the busy rat-race of the world. But the question is not:</span><br /><ul><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">What makes you content? </span></li><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">What gives you peace? </span></li><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">What brings you joy?</span></li></ul><p><span style="color:#000066;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">The question is... <em>What makes you happy</em>?</span> <span style="font-family:arial;">The dictionary here on my desk defines happy as "feeling or showing pleasure," which, to me, implies a temporary condition. A fleeting feeling of bliss, far more temporary than, say, contentment, joy, or certainly, peace. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">I've fought blood pressure battles for over decade, and have taken mild medication for most of that time. At my doctor's behest, I bought a good-quality blood pressure wrist monitor <em>(see photo above)</em> five or so years ago, and have used it sporadically... sometimes diligently, sometimes forgetting it altogether for months at a stretch.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">While I feel great these days, and less excitable as the years drift by, blood pressure is again, and always, an issue. And my doctor is rightly peeved that the monitor has recently gathered dust.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">I dusted it off last week, and bought new batteries for it. And like the author of the<em> The Happiness Project,</em> I've started a project ot studying what makes me happy... feeling pleasure, relaxed, devoid of stress... via measuring my blood pressure at all times of day and night, in a variety of circumstances.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Here's what I've observed via blood pressure reading, thus far, that makes me happy: </span></p><ul><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Reading interesting books when the house is quiet.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Writing for personal pleasure, usually not about politics.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Cooking creatively for someone who enjoys it.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Doing things for my family that makes them feel listened to, supported, and/or loved.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Listening to most praise music and many kinds of jazz.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Sitting on the couch with Ron later at night, talking, laughing, watching dumb TV shows or baseball scores, winding down from the day. </span></li><li><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Hugs. Hugging. </span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"><em>(And other acts of affection, of course.)</em></span></li></ul><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">(My blood pressure falls, too, while I'm eating. <em>Seriously... I measured it.</em> No wonder I like eating too much... This pleasure is more of a problem, than positive attribute, in my family.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Cleaning closets or any other part of the house, garage or yard will never be on my bliss list, although our house is tidy and well-organized. Nor will exercising or crafting/sewing or most shopping . Or hanging out with unkind folks or those who take themselves far too seriously. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Now, none of my "happiness" factors are particularly original. <em>Frankly, my inner critic finds them embarrassing, more than a little mawkish and oh-so Lifetime-ish</em>. But like my talents and flaws, my green-gold eyes and milky skin, my arthritic knees and chubby thighs and big feet... they're mine. All mine. Given to me by an infinitely gracious God. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">Contentment, though, is not a perpetual state of bliss, but rather, a tension between taking care of one's responsibilites within community and world, and savoring moments of happiness that allow us to refuel to face our stressful, imperfect world. And, of course, contentment isn't possible without an ever-growing relationship with our God... </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;">My advice to anyone else confused about "What makes me happy?" Get a blood pressure monitor. Like a polygraph test, it's a truth teller. And truth detector. </span></p><p></p>Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5765150.post-51085940922033911932010-01-27T17:05:00.000-08:002010-01-27T17:36:43.183-08:00A Fresh, Post-Parenting Start<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2pLG3G2-nXBhgnJ2mkgIklFUge0lq1ZmhsiIyyg9mJIwWfqs4naCe4RxNGJN75g92FnHVpx4ukNIPcWRXNy4c4KK4PuN5UGupmQCB7U43ddeCvWrM7GxrLTSz1qWTcJTvbMCQA/s1600-h/freshstart.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431597747426530098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2pLG3G2-nXBhgnJ2mkgIklFUge0lq1ZmhsiIyyg9mJIwWfqs4naCe4RxNGJN75g92FnHVpx4ukNIPcWRXNy4c4KK4PuN5UGupmQCB7U43ddeCvWrM7GxrLTSz1qWTcJTvbMCQA/s200/freshstart.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003333;">Not sure why I haven't posted here since Andrea left for college five months ago. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003333;">Maybe my absence from blogging about life had to do with the unexpected intensity of my pain at her leaving. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003333;">Maybe my absence from blogging about my life had to do with the hole created in my world when she flew away. I had invested more time and energy into supporting her those last couple high school years than, frankly, I'd realized.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">Andrea was home for almost four weeks at Christmas, and the three of us enjoyed wonderful, intimate time together.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">But when she left several weeks ago to return to school, something had changed from last August: I don't miss her as intensely, and she doesn't miss us as intensely, either. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#003333;"><em>I don't know why the change</em>. But I know that it feels healthy. And partially freeing.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">Today, I had my routine blood pressure check with our longtime family doctor. As usual, my blood pressure was too high, despite losing seven pounds, and exercising intensely throughout 2009.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">Today, I <em>grasped </em>that I must redesign my new life, post-parenting, to reduce stresses... and to live more fully the new plan that God calls me to. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">I took a couple concrete steps in that direction today, including volunteering my time on Tuesday afternoons to help kids with their school work.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#003333;">It feels like a a fulfilling. fresh start in the right direction. </span></div><div></div>Deborah Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07681456264047358861noreply@blogger.com0