“So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say.” ― Virginia Woolf
Do you remember the first time you wrote a note to someone? Maybe you were in the third grade and were madly in love with the cute little girl/boy sitting a couple of desks away from you. The spelling was wrong, and it wasn’t a complete sentence. You folded it and put it in your pocket. …
Mary and her siblings
Growing up, I did not feel the sting of prejudice. My parents and grandparents taught me to not feel inferior or subordinate to anyone. Unlike recently arrived immigrants, my family has lived in what is now New Mexico since the 1600’s, a hundred years before the United States became a nation. The family image of our ancestors was that of explorers, conquistadores, and “vigilantes,” the royal guard for the king. Today, as I watch the sin of racism displayed all too frequently, I see that prejudice did exist in my small community in the 1950’s. We just didn’t talk about it. Why not? …
A swift streak of color,
A silhouette in jade,
A flash of silver underneath
On all will be seen.
~Margaret Wheeler Ross (1867–1953), “Spring Styles on the Desert: The Lizard”
Saucy black plumes on copper berets
Stroll through the desert heat
Gambling on which route is safest
And betting on a jackpot of seeds.
Gila woodpeckers, red crowns bobbing
Pound their pickaxe bills
Persistently into the Palo Verde bark
Intent on finding buried treasure
An orange-headed lizard
Performs daily exercises in nature’s gym
Running from spot to spot on the circuit
And showing off his virility
With vigorous sets of pushups. …
“Life, within doors, has few pleasanter prospects than a neatly arranged and well-provisioned breakfast-table.”
― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables
Pizza for Breakfast?
My friend Myra and I met for Breakfast at 8:00 a.m. at Farm and Craft in Scottsdale. We wanted to be one of the first customers to get a table outside because of COVID19. Anytime after 8:00 a.m. in the Summer in Arizona would fry us like bacon. The waiter wearing his black face covering and black uniform led us to a bench seat close to the exit. He handed us the menus, and we began sloshing our hands with hand sanitizer. I don’t like eggs for Breakfast. I try to stay away from pancakes, waffles, or French toast, I don’t need to add on any extra pounds. …
Are you reading this in your pajamas? The sales of pajamas have tripled in the last five months, and the sales of business wear have decreased. Maybe you are wearing an old T-shirt and sweatpants? Boxer shorts? Or naked?
When was the last time you woke up before 9:00 a.m.? When was the last time you went out on a date? To lunch or dinner with a group of friends?
People are working from home and attending meetings with Zoom. No one sees what you are wearing on the bottom. You could be dressed in business attire and wearing your underwear. Who would know?
I haven’t dressed up since the beginning of March. …
I reach into the dairy case at Safeway and grab my one-half gallon of Vitamin D whole milk. A five-year-old little boy with big brown eyes and curly black hair sits in the grocery cart. His dad reaches in and pulls out a half-gallon of 2% milk. “Where does milk come from?” asks the little boy. His father answers, “From cows.”
I don’t know if this little boy has ever come into contact with cows. I never did until I was about eight years old. My cousins lived on a farm in Nebraska, and we went to visit them every year in the summer. My cousin, Joe, decided that this city chick needed to know how to milk a cow. He took me out to the barn and led me to the cows. His daily chore was to milk a dozen cows before he went to school or played with his friends. The barn smelled like cow poop, and I held my nose as we walked in. The cows were mooing and munching on their cud, and I thought they were filthy. They needed baths. …
Alcoholism is a disease. There is no vaccine, chemotherapy treatment, or radiation that will cure or try to deter the disease. It is not a disease that can be found with an MRI or an x-ray. The disease can be deadly.
My brother died from alcoholism last week. This will not be the cause of death written on his death certificate. He died from the effects of alcoholism which included poison building up in his stomach, irregular breathing, and lack of air which required the use of a ventilator, and liver malfunction.
He spent three months in the hospital for treatment and two weeks in hospice. We were not allowed to visit him because of COVID19 until the last three days of his life. He was able to communicate with a limited amount of vocabulary. He knew we were there and could tell us our names. His body wasn’t functioning and neither was his brain. …
Coronavirus Day #20
The invisible enemy.
A war is fought between two or more enemies. Soldiers fight for their countries wearing uniforms to distinguish enemies from friends. These soldiers identify themselves by the color of their uniforms and the patches attached, displaying their country’s insignia. Everyone involved knows who the enemy is.
The President of the United States says we are at war.
The enemy of this war is invisible. A disease, the coronavirus, revealed itself at the beginning of January. The president did not recognize or deal with the enemy until the end of February. …
Bartlesville, Oklahoma was not on my bucket list.
My daughter lives in Tulsa and suggested we visit Bartlesville and stay in the Price Tower, a forty-five-minute drive from her home.
Price Tower, located in Bartlesville, is one of the only two “skyscrapers” designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.
The Price Tower caught my eye and I wanted to visit and find out more about it.
Lisa, my daughter, is not a Frank Lloyd Wright follower, but I am a volunteer tour guide at Taliesin West in Scottsdale, Arizona and she wanted to give me a birthday present. She made a reservation at the Price Tower for one night. …
Who is afraid of yoga? Me. I am not afraid of airplanes, traveling alone, elevators, nor tunnels. I am afraid of MRI, escalators, and yoga.
I am not a yoga practitioner. I didn’t have my first yoga class until five months after I retired. That was two years ago. The teacher insisted on physically putting me in positions that did not make me feel comfortable. Think pretzels. I was more like a tree limb that refused to bend. After the second class, I walked out and never went back.
The thought of doing yoga never entered my mind again until last week. The pain in my arms doesn’t let me lift as high as I could before. I researched how to improve my range of motion. Yoga was the answer given 99% of the time. I couldn’t put it off anymore. I had to get rid of my fear of yoga. I watched yoga videos to understand the vocabulary. I tried the yoga poses on my own, but I needed to be with an instructor to know that I was doing the right thing. …