i read the news this morning of a friend’s mother having a stroke,
and another’s father breaking a hip.
i heard of an adult child who fled
his responsibilites and left his
wife and children for a fling.
i thought about the pain we experienced
as young parents, worrying about our
infants’ developmental stages.
i recalled the nights spent agonizing
over my teenagers’ angst and woes,
their heartaches and heartbreaks.
i wept when reflecting on the loss
of my parents, both gone too soon
from my life; too young from theirs.
i realized there are no easy times,
nothing worthwhile comes without cost.
the joys of loving our only reward.
Recently a beloved uncle passed away after a long illness. When I shared the news on Facebook a friend who’d recently experienced a similar loss commented that we are at a tough age.
I knew what she meant. I’ve lost both of my parents, as have most of my closest friends. Several in my age group have experienced the traumatic loss of a spouse, and some the loss of a child.
We are the sandwich generation, those of us in our mid-to late 50’s. Some still have children at home while simultaneously caring for aging parents. I would almost say it is the most difficult time. But then I started thinking and the poem appeared.
There are no easy times. We might be fooled for a second by a lull in the action, but every stage has its pitfalls. The love is worth it, though. Just keep plugging.
The hours I spend at Tallahassee Animal Services as a volunteer are the among the best of my week. Only surprise calls from my grandchildren can top being with the cats and kittens at the shelter.
Each week has its pleasures: cuddling a sweet kitty and feeling it purr against my chest, enticing a morose cat from her perch at the back of a kennel to come closer for a behind-the-ear scratching, watching a hopeful feline leave with his new family.
But each week has its little messes, too. This past Wednesday I spent some time doing laundry and putting it away. The shelter goes through countless loads of dirty towels, blankets, and cloth toys. Soiled items are placed in an oversized trash bin.
I grabbed an armful of laundry this week and was rewarded with the icky wet smell and feel that only dog pee can produce. And now I had that smell, too. All over my tee shirt.
Having successfully loaded the washer I stooped to pick up a substantial piece of fuzz from the floor and realized just in time that it wasn’t fuzz, it was poo. Stinky, relatively new, poo. All in an afternoon’s work.
Here are just a few of the animals available for loving adoption at Tallahassee Animal Services. Remember, “Don’t Shop, Adopt!”
i’d like to have you,
on a slow boat tonight
down a lazy river or
any port feels right.
whisper through wee hours
give into rhythm’s waves,
rock each other gently
and stay afloat for days.
far from shore we’d sail
then shelter in the cove,
skyclad ‘neath the stars
clothed in naught, save love.
Now, lest anyone think I was feeling amorous when I wrote this nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve got some sort of stomach bug, and I am doing my best to keep from being sick. Poor Studly Doright.
“Essence” Painting by Timothy Fleming From fineartamerica.com
what binds you to me
I don’t know you
we’re in no way alike
we share no close blood
wear different hued skin
speak separate tongues
hold dissimilar soils
in the crease of our hands
pray discretely our rituals
calling God unalike names
what binds you to me
doesn’t our marked disparity
minimize any loose ties
of a broad shared humanity
making distinctions of culture
and clan our definitive essence
perhaps it’s our shadows who
know the wise answers but
how can I ask when I can’t
tell which shadow is mine
*******************
“An emancipated society would not be a unitary state, but the realization of universality in the reconciliation of differences.” – Theodor Adorno
From my friend Janie Christie Heniford:
11.21.15 babies
What’s the best thing you’ve ever done? The most selfless? I am not sure what it is for me. I think maybe leaving my job to be with my mom at the end of her life. Or maybe when i arranged for her to have one gift to open every day from Thanksgiving to Christmas during her last holiday season. They weren’t much, but they were little things chosen by my sister and I that were just for her. That’s the best part. Not a lot of money, but it told her every single day, in a concrete way, that I loved her. It was the next best thing to being there. That’s kind of what I want to ask you to share in tonight.
The Syrian refugee crisis has been heavy on my mind. Really pulling, and I feel like I need to do something concrete to help. I know they can use monetary donations, but I heard about another program that touched me. We’ve all seen the pictures of kiddos affected by the war. The toddler that washed up on the beach. The little girl with her arms up in surrender. How could I directly help those children? I’m too old to adopt a Syrian orphan or I would.
There is an organization that was started by a couple of moms in California, called “Carry the Future. They’re collecting baby carriers to give to the families with small children as they cross the border into Greece. It’s truly a huge help. The families who arrive in Greece have many miles to walk to get to help with relocation. Most have 100 miles or more. It’s hard to keep up with the kids, the babies. Most families have more than one small one to keep up with, and also have backpacks withtheir belongings if they were able to save anything.
Carry the Future is looking for new or gently used carriers===the buckle type that are easy to figure out and need little instruction on how to wear. They aren’t accepting wraps or slings at this time.
I’ve found one for just under 10 dollars that is bare bones, and one for about 14 that has a pocket. If they have pockets we can put socks, or toys, or vitamins or such in the pockets.
I’m asking you to do something that may be the best thing you’ve ever done. Help the children, and help their parents to help them. Regardless of how you feel about refugees in general, please please overcome that, and just help the kids. I’m including a link to the facebook page, as well as the address of the group in California that’s sponsoring this.
I’m collecting them in Ponca City, (Oklahoma), please consider either sending one on your own to Carry the Future, or if your heart is full, and you have the time, collect in your city as well.
Thank you friends. I’m a lucky, lucky girl to be able to reach a large number of caring friends so that we can help some sweet babies and families.
1. Mail us your clean, gently used structured baby carriers to (PLEASE NO ITEMS OTHER THAN SOFT STRUCTURED BABY CARRIERS such as Bjorns, Ergos, Mei Teis):
C/O CarryTheFuture
121 W. Lexington Drive
Suite L 106D
Glendale CA 91203
**Please don’t send wraps, ring slings or pouches at this time, as they are unsuitable for these circumstances, given that we have to fit the parent in less than 3 minutes with little to no spoken words. Again, please do not send items that aren’t carriers at this time, but feel free to add a small plush toy, protein bar, socks, note, etc. INSIDE the pocket of your carrier if it has a pocket.
Studly Doright and I have been married for more than 39 years now. I know what you’re thinking, “Man, that Studly is one lucky son of a gun.” And you’d be right. Apparently, I’m a heckuva catch.
Just this afternoon at Walmart a young man on the pet food aisle chatted me up about my cats and made additional small talk before asking, “So, are you married?”
I blinked rapidly several times and then in a too loud voice responded, “Yep! Yep! Old and married.”
“Too bad,” he responded and sauntered away.
He wasn’t my type. The saggy, baggy jeans were a deal breaker. Well, that and the “I look like I just got out of jail” vibe he was putting out. Still, if Studly ever forgets just how lucky he is, I have at least one prospect.
Note: My Walmart beau looked a lot better than any of these guys:
Is this the legendary Camo Fairy?Barney called. He wants his suit back.Don’t you wish your boyfriend was hot like me?Gary had a little lamb. Peace, people!
“Oh, yes! Things have been so depressing lately. Tell me a good one, Uncle Fox!”
“Once upon a time, there was a future President who was born deep in the African savannah, under the acacia trees. From the time he was a little boy, it was his goal to bring the Islamic faith to the American nation. As a young man, he made the long, perilous journey from Kenya to America. His Marxist mentors were already waiting here for him. They subjected him to the toughest kind of mental training, until he was turned into the perfect instrument of subversion. When he was ready, his handlers helped him infiltrate the Senate. Little did the American people know that a fascist dictator would soon be unleashed upon them…”
Science fiction/fantasy is my favorite genre by far. Nothing thrills me like blasting into hyper space or exploring the terrain of a new world from the safety of my own home.
I just finished the novel, The Three-Body Problem by China’s premier science fiction author, Cixin Liu. I’d love to tell you I read it in the original Chinese, but I only know how to say, not spell, “thank you” in Mandarin. The Three-Body Problem was not light reading, at least not for me. There was all this math-y and science-y stuff. I’m trying to decide if I’m woman enough to tackle the sequels. Three-Body provides a spectacularly different view into Chinese culture, so after a brain break I’m sure I’ll return to the impending Trisolarus invasion.
Before Liu’s book, I’d immersed myself in the works of John Scalzi whose Old Man’s War series is a must read for scifi fans. Scalzi’s wit, I suspect, could make a rewriting of the U.S. Tax Code into a pleasurable evening of reading, and I recommend it to everyone, not just those into the genre.
Hugh Howey is another scifi writer I’ve become attached to. Not literally because Howey might have me arrested, but his Wool Omnibus is incredibly entertaining, and deals with intriguing social issues. If you suffer from claustrophobia, be warned. The characters don’t get out much.
Now anyone who’s still with me might wonder what in heaven’s name all this has to do with the post’s title, “Saving the Cowsills.” As a preteen one of my all-time best friends who I’ll call LA, and I were obsessed with brothers John and Barry Cowsill of the family singing group the Cowsills, upon whom The Partridge Family TV series was based.
The Cowsills. before they were famous I saw them in a cafe in Las Vegas, NM, but couldnt figure out where I’d seen them before. I’ve always considered that my lost chance to impress John.
We could tell you darned near anything you wanted to know about the brothers: Eye color, height, birth dates, likes, dislikes, etc. One of the highlights of our young lives was getting to meet our idols after a concert in Canyon, Texas.
At a recent reunion LA gave me a book entitled, I Think I Love You, and insisted that I read it. Sure, I said, thinking it was the last thing a scifi fangirl like me wanted to read, but after tackling The Three-Body Problem my brain truly needed a rest. I picked up LA’s book and dove in. And began giggling like a preteen schoolgirl.
Written by Allison Pearson, of I Don’t Know How She Does It fame, I Think I Love You perfectly captures the mindset of a young teenaged girl infatuated with a rock idol, in this case David Cassidy of The Partridge Family. The book’s heroine, Petra, is obsessed with David Cassidy, whom I’d always assumed was an amalgam of John and Barry Cowsill. Ah ha!
The Partridge Family. That’s David standing in the back.
I’m not a particularly speedy reader, so I’m savoring the awkwardness and self-consciousness of Petra in something akin to a slow motion retro film. She’s me at 13. She’s pretty much every girl at 13, with the exception of those who somehow seemed to be in on the whole joke from the beginning.
I owe LA a big hug and a thank you for lending me I Think I Love You. It’s been more than a brain break. It’s been a refreshing swim in a pool of Cowsill-stocked memories. One thought goes out to my idol: John Cowsill, we’d have been so very good together.
I look forward to finding out just what becomes of Petra’s obsession with her hero. He’d best not disappoint her!
Praying for Eyebrowz 