Where should I start? Where should I go?
The President is an idiot and our city's Farmer's Market was selling bananas this weekend. I ogled a Tesla in Denver this week, only to find out that a Tesla had been parked in our yard this week, as well. (What?! Parking a car in my green space?!!)
I did a Southwest road trip last week and the week before: Denver, Santa Fe, Breckenridge, Denver, and home again. Jigger-jig. Such relaxing fun. Just me, a car radio, and many memories.
I drove to Santa Fe to pick up some of my Dad's sculptures from an art gallery which was closing (retiring owner). The morning I arrived to fetch said sculptures was also very emotional to me: the morning two years ago when Dad passed. I certainly had not planned this morning. I spent quite some time packing sculptures and placing them in my station wagon. All was said and done. I said my farewells to the gallery owners, who are so kind, and who knew my parents for decades. I embraced the gallery manager, and I her that it was two years ago in the morning, that Dad had passed. She broke into tears.
How crystal clear things are, even when one does not want it that way. Dad lapsed into a coma just around 5:30 pm on Wednesday, and twelve hours later, 5:30 am Thursday, he passed. I was by his side, as was my sweet, sweet nephew Steve. I could not have spent that night in the peace that I felt, without sweet and kind Steve looking out for me every hour of that night.
And here I am, two years out of that sad tunnel. Dad is gone, and Mom followed him soon after. My Mother-in-law, in Australia, passed just weeks after my Dad. My father-in-law, in Australia, followed his love of life too soon as well.
Four parents. They taught us so well. It's one of the "Thanks be to God" prayers But such a tough experience.
As for the bananas? Seriously? Manhattan, Kansas will not even enjoy home-grown tomatoes until really late June - July. Shame on the Farmer's Market for allowing bananas, early tomatoes, and other produce. Seriously?! Those "farmers" are going to Wal Mart and getting produce which has been grown in Mexico. Pooh.
So many things.
Sunday, April 28, 2019
Thursday, April 04, 2019
Get a Grip and Brace Up!
This afternoon I pulled up the year 1966 on Wikipedia. I was six that year, and I have memories of swimming lessons, Brittany Spaniel puppies in the back yard, the boat house on weekends, catching crawdads in the ditch, ...you know: kid things.
Whoa! 1966 was not a happy year. There was Vietnam (our next door neighbor Gene was in Viet Nam, but his parents waved their patriotic Marine flag, and my parents shielded me from atrocities (as well they should have, in my opinion), and so I was not made aware of overseas confrontations and horrors.
There were the race riots. Again, I was living in a Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm life. Most, if not all, folks living in Pryor Creek were either Caucasian (white) or Indian (Native American). There were few instances for me or my family to rub elbows with anyone not "of their color".
I was not privy, at age six, to race riots or war demonstrations.
And then, 1966 was in the midst of hallucinogenic drugs, particularly LSD. WHOA!
So, there were race riots, war demonstrations, and LSD was soon to be made illegal.
Today, this year, the past two years, have been sort of bleak, from my vantage point on the American horizon. I don't like the horizon one bit. I try to be upbeat, I try to see beyond what's bothering a lot of us. Sometimes, though, I just throw my arms up in despair.
But I have to say, looking back at 1966, when I was just a silly kitten, things must have felt pretty bleak then, too. I am glad my parents shielded me from the pain and negativity of the world at that moment.
And in my soul-searching this afternoon, I began thinking about America life in the 50s, the 40s. the 30s...and so on. I think I need to re-visit all the decades of our American history. I am thinking each decade, and certainly each generation, had its hardships and despairs. Too, we need to learn from our mistakes. What a young country we are.
And so, I tell myself, "Buck up. Brace up".
Whoa! 1966 was not a happy year. There was Vietnam (our next door neighbor Gene was in Viet Nam, but his parents waved their patriotic Marine flag, and my parents shielded me from atrocities (as well they should have, in my opinion), and so I was not made aware of overseas confrontations and horrors.
There were the race riots. Again, I was living in a Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm life. Most, if not all, folks living in Pryor Creek were either Caucasian (white) or Indian (Native American). There were few instances for me or my family to rub elbows with anyone not "of their color".
I was not privy, at age six, to race riots or war demonstrations.
And then, 1966 was in the midst of hallucinogenic drugs, particularly LSD. WHOA!
So, there were race riots, war demonstrations, and LSD was soon to be made illegal.
Today, this year, the past two years, have been sort of bleak, from my vantage point on the American horizon. I don't like the horizon one bit. I try to be upbeat, I try to see beyond what's bothering a lot of us. Sometimes, though, I just throw my arms up in despair.
But I have to say, looking back at 1966, when I was just a silly kitten, things must have felt pretty bleak then, too. I am glad my parents shielded me from the pain and negativity of the world at that moment.
And in my soul-searching this afternoon, I began thinking about America life in the 50s, the 40s. the 30s...and so on. I think I need to re-visit all the decades of our American history. I am thinking each decade, and certainly each generation, had its hardships and despairs. Too, we need to learn from our mistakes. What a young country we are.
And so, I tell myself, "Buck up. Brace up".
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
