all are punish'd

I had the pleasure of filling in for a priest-colleague yesterday while he was out of town. The parish is known for being inclusive, and the spirit there is always one of vitality. The congregation is full of people with many talents, not the least of which is the willingness to engage in conversation surrounding potential difficult issues. Between services I joined their bible study group, which takes the approach of exploring scripture in juxtaposition with current events. Yesterday we looked at the story known as "the rape of Dinah," (Genesis 34) filled with issues of violence, justice, and vengeance, contrasted with the recent massacre in Afghanistan of families and children.

The conversation was thoughtful, penetrating, and respectful. We concurred that we didn't have enough information regarding the soldier in terms of his state of mind, and what may have prompted a course of action that virtually everyone suggests is contrary to his nature and history. Our conversation focused on the issues and implications of what took place, not on passing judgment. 

Inevitably we touched on the nature of the conflict as it has been waged these last eleven years, both in Iraq and Afghanistan, noting parallels to the experience our military faced in Vietnam. In particular we voiced our concern that our military are confronted by an enemy that is no longer conventional: women and children are carrying out the deeds of what was once an adult male military force. When we can no longer tell the difference between friend and foe, what impact does that have on the psyche of the people who are put in harm's way? If it becomes commonplace to see women and children as targets, what becomes of us?

The question left hanging, for me, is this: at what point is the mission not worthy of the cost to the whole well-being of our men and women in arms? Do we ask them to lay down the lessons and values acquired during their lives from of a culture rooted in striving to be honorable and decent? Do we do so expecting them not to be changed by that experience, and to return home as the proverbial boys and girls next door? We delude ourselves, if this is so.  

These questions need to be considered by more than just our military and congressional leaders. Each of us as citizens benefiting from the freedoms our soldiers defend and protect must also ask ourselves if it is right to ask our young men and women--and their families--to make this sacrifice.  Going to war is no longer just a matter of risking lives, but of abrogating essential values.  To consent to that perversion is to become the very enemy we fight.  For that, we all pay a price.

I am reminded, yet again, of a closing scene from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, where the prince addresses his community mourning the loss of those whose lives got caught in the cross-hairs of hate.

Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!

See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,

That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!

And I, for winking at your discords too,

Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish'd.

act 5 scene iii

We cannot afford any longer to wink. There is far too much at stake. 

hello, it's me!

These days I only seem to have time on the occasional Saturday morning to visit here and say hello. The last few months at work have been incredibly full, with the two most demanding events in my job description falling back to back in February and March. Add to that my father's death and you can understand how I overlooked the fact that all the promotional material for Marlee Matlin went out with the wrong day (correct date) on it. Big Cringe.

Anyway, we were back in Connecticut last weekend for dad's memorial. It was a good weekend, in spite of plans for virtually everything that wasn't the memorial service itself being very fluid. I've learned over the years to be a lot more relaxed than my natural "J" tendency would suggest, but the vagueness of plans was a bit much in an already emotionally delicate weekend.

There were, at least, a few tasks to be done that helped ground our time there. Mom, for instance, arranged the flowers for the service. We headed out Friday morning to select the blooms, and I took my camera. I suggested that some day I should document "a day with mom." Think of this as a dry run (even though I didn't get any pictures of her actually putting together the arrangement).

There's an especially good floral/garden place not far from where she lives, which is where these two photos were taken. Talk about floral heaven! It's a refrigerated room filled with color, fragrance and texture. It was hard to resist choosing something from every bin, but resist we did. The parameters for choosing the blooms were a request from Linda (dad's companion) that the colors be bold.  It's not as easy a task as it might appear, in spite of all the choices! Fun, nonetheless.

In keeping with Quaker simplicity there was one arrangement, flanked by two candles. Even though the hint of March's heatwave was in the air, it was cool enough on the day to have a fire in the fireplace. Think of it as a perk of Quaker worship. The logs that were burned came from the apple tree in dad's back yard that finally went the way of all living things a couple of years ago. Dad loved that tree. He gazed out at it through the picture-window in the dining room from his seat in the living room, reflecting on the parallels between its life and his own. Those reflections generally found their way into his Christmas letter! By the time the service and accompanying reception concluded the ashes were cool, and we scooped up a bunch to mingle with dad's cremains. I can see his satisfied smile.

On Sunday our cousin Ginger, who came from Atlanta for the weekend, took us all out to brunch. Afterward mom took her to the airport while the rest of us convened at dad's house to take a first pass at some of his things. The house is now Linda's, and she will remain there, at least for a time. I think for all of us it felt a bit surreal. We each selected a few books from dad's massive collection, and I came home with a box of letters and photos that had been his mother's. There are some real gems among that assortment, included a photo from the 1880's of the choir from the Wilkes Barre Methodist Church. And to think that all these years I thought my grandmother was a homegrown Presbyterian! (Her mother is in the picture of the choir, but there are a number of church-related items that make it pretty clear this was the family church.) I plan to scan a lot of the photos, and then some of them will go to Mt. Holyoke, my grandmother's alma mater. This is the centennial year of her graduation in 1912. No doubt you'll see a few of these in due time.

Sunday night we enjoyed dinner with my dear friend from grade school and matron of honor, along with her husband and mother (my godmother) and mom. We shared a selection of tasty goodies at a local Thai restaurant, concluding the weekend with full tummies and some good catching up with old and wonderful friends.  I had to chuckle when my godmother leaned over to whisper to Ken, whom she had not met before, "I like you better than I thought I would." 

Back in Tennessee life goes on, and I now have the task of figuring out how to get dad's piano shipped here.  It's the one thing that has been in his possession over the years that I have wanted when this day arrived. 

When I can find that time to sit and compose the post I want to share something about which my brother spoke so eloquently at the memorial. For now this post has rambled on long enough, and it's time to tackle today's to do list. 

Until the next time, may the luck of the Irish be yours.

a recycling trip

So yesterday we planned to make the trip to take our recycling stash to its respective location, then make a stop at a local shopping center on the return trip home to 

1) pick up some ceramics that Ken had painted and had since been fired

2) return some socks to Target

3) drop off old, no longer functioning printers at Best Buy

4) pick up some fabric to make the capes we will need when we are invested with the Knights Templar next month.

We decided that we could leave at 11 to make it to the recycling center and then to the shopping center by noon when the ceramic store opened. Well, the day unfolded a little differently than planned.

We started off on track: recycling accomplished! The recycling center is in a plaza where there is a Big Lots, and Ken had noticed a 20% off coupon good for that day only. I need socks, so we decided to "pop in" and look for socks. 45-minutes later we left the store with Easter goodies for the grandkids, grapes for Ken to plant (he is hellbent on making his own wine one day), some spring onions for planting, and some bling for a St. Patrick's Day event we plan to attend. No socks. 

By now it was lunch time and we were hungry, so we took a route to the shopping center that went by a fairly new Indian restaurant that we discovered a couple of months ago. Score! Fabulous lunch. On to the ceramics store.

Ken told me that I wasn't allowed to come in because he had also painted something for me. No problem, I thought, I'll just mosey up to the next section of the shopping center and make a quick stop at Chico's. I figured I could scope out the current merchandise to see if there was anything I wanted in order to take advantage of a coupon (that was at home). Once Ken learned I was there he wisely made a stop in Books a Million and found a book that is recommended for Templars to read. Close to two hours and 30 items of clothing tried on later, we left Chico's with a modest purchase in hand.  

Next stop? Target to return the socks purchased the week before (the socks in the photo are representative). Would you believe those suckers wouldn't even fit over my ankle? And I do not have big ankles. 

On to Joann's, where it was not such an easy thing to find 12 yards of the right white fabric for our capes. While there I also picked up a stash of sympathy cards (see previous post!). Thank goodness for coupons.

And then... the second of our printers at home bit the dust, so we decided to check out the options while we were at Best Buy to unload useless printers. We missed by one day the sale to save $130 on the printer I wanted, so we decided to make our way across the street to another store where we found a suitable Lexmark on sale. 

Finally, at 5:05 pm we were on our way home. I'm never happy to yield my day like this, given that my weekends are about the only time I have for leisure and to take care of things on my own "to do" list, but at least it was a productive day. And we now have a functioning printer, although it hasn't yet been set up.

How about you? What did you do with your Sunday?

swimming in loss

This has been a rough year for losses. It literally began on new year's day when the husband of a friend, who was himself a friend, died following complications related to treatment for colon cancer. He left a devoted wife and a teenage son.

My Mom has been hit particularly hard. Two friends made during the early years of her marriage to Dad died within weeks of each other a short time ago. These weren't just friends made, but friendships that sustained and enriched Mom's life from that time forward in myriad ways. Dad died in between those losses. And roughly at the same time, the husband of my "other mother," Anna, passed away. 

About a week ago the father of another friend passed away. He was also a friend to me, as was the entire family during my early, seeking years of renewing faith. The spiritual mentoring I received, not to mention the love and support shared so generously from the hearts of that family, were of profound and significant importance in my life. 

It is not a shock that successive losses among my mother's peers, and the parents of my own peers, is taking place. People die in their 80's with some regularity. Still, when loss comes it hollows our hearts and parts of us are forever altered. It is our time to be caught in that cycle of loss, remembering, savoring, and endeavoring to honor whatever legacy has been our privilege to inherit through the people we love and the treasured saints who have shaped us.  

This has been, for me, a period of extensive reflection on the relationships I cherished, and the manner by which I honor, or fail to honor, the relationships I have now. I have a long way to go before I feel good about the latter. The good news is that I have begun to shift away from inertia and toward action--something of a challenge for an introvert. I believe that that, too, is part of the cycle of growth that is the fruit of loss, rooted in love. It is a shift past time, but not too late.

This post is written in honor of Hannah (beloved Sheltie), Eric, Bob, Dad, John, Sally, and Bill, late of this life, and to hold in the light those feeling their loss. May the souls of the departed rest in peace, and the souls of those who mourn be comforted.

it's about dignity, among so many other things

On my way home from work Thursday npr included some audio with their story about Maryland becoming the  eighth state to legalize gay marriage. The next morning it took some effort to track down these words, but I did so because I wanted to read them again and put them in a format to share them. I am so tired of the rhetoric from the religious right getting all the air time, and there seem to be few reported views so eloquently stated from what I will call the inclusive whole. This is one of them. You want a debate religious liberty? Bring it on. 

Please feel free to share as widely as possible!

friday five: gotta have it?

Yes, this scene is actually quite typical in my area!

At RevGals Kathryn writes:  I'm heading from unseasonably warm temperatures and no snow to a place of GREAT SNOW. Sadly, for reasons that don't need to be boringly laid out here, I am sans decent winter boots at the moment so I need to find some... NOW!

In the meantime I am shaking my head at myself. How could I possibly be without one of the key essentials for living in my environment?

Every area is different. What are the 5 key essentials needed for where you live?
And bonus - what have folks looked twice at you for because you wore it out of place.

Hmm. I live in a moderate climate (middle Tennessee) which rarely experiences extreme cold, and though it certainly gets hot and muggy in the summer, such a climate is hardly unique to Tennessee.  I don't think there is really anything that is essential in terms of living here, but there are a few things that help one "fit in" if you're a transplant, like me. Being something of a nonconformist, however, fitting in isn't high on my list. Therefore:

1) I'm proud of my Yankee heritage. Lots of it. If someone is giving me unending grief about that, however, a word about having ancestors who fought and died for the confederacy generally renders a running mouth still.  I've recently been reminded (in reviewing the family tree) that my great-great-grandfather was born in Connecticut and migrated south as a young man. He was a fairly new father when he went off to war, and I have no doubt that he did so with a conscience weighted with complexity. 

2) How could I forget bug spray?!?! Or the sweet tea!

3) I own a shovel, and I'm not afraid to use it. About ten years ago we actually had a snowy winter here, and after 8 inches had fallen one day I went out and shoveled my driveway like any good Yankee would.  I lived on a cul-de-sac and none of my neighbors opted to follow my wise example. I'm sure they thought the temperature would rise to melting by the next day, but after six days of below freezing temperatures they were still struggling to get in and out of their now ice-packed driveway and I pulled in and out free and clear. It's smug, I know.  I suspect none of them actually owned a shovel.

This tornado is getting ready to cross the street I now travel on my way to work every morning. 

It hit on Good Friday three years ago.

4) Under threat of extreme weather today with a strong likelihood of tornadoes, one essential thing to living here is a mindset of preparation in the face of such weather. The closest a tornado has come to us at home is that we heard the proverbial sound of a freight train from about five miles away, where the tornado passed through. We know where our safest place is, leashes for the dogs are always handy, and hardhats are tucked away with water bottles and flashlights. I keep forgetting that we need to include a substantial mallet in the mix. If debris were to block the door of the closet we would need to smash our way out. Note to self...

5) If you're going to throw a baby or bridal shower in this part of the world, mints and nuts are de rigueur. I don't get what makes them essential, so I don't serve them. I'd much rather make finger sandwiches and put out the veggie platter.

Bonus: You won't catch me in Tennessee orange. I wear my UConn Huskies sweatshirt with great pride.

I seem to have gotten caught in an email sparring match against my will, and am trying to step back to determine how to proceed. If at all. I share this because I would appreciate your wisdom, insight and input.

You all know (I think) that I'm working as an interim in a position that is responsible for some highly visible events on a state university campus. One of those events, the keynote address for National Women's History Month, occurs in a few weeks. For the last six months I have busted my you-know-what to pull this thing together, and am very pleased that Marlee Matlin will be coming to campus to deliver that address. There is a committee responsible for the event, but in reality they exist in name only. When I first came on board I was told by the head of a co-sponsoring department that it's too hard to have committee meetings because everyone is too busy to meet, so we conduct all our business via email. 

Yes, I know, this is not a good thing, and it is this very deficit that set the stage for the current unpleasantness. As the new girl in town--and an interim, at that--I opted not to take on that "tradition." With hindsight I could have pressed the matter, citing my lack of institutional memory and knowledge of how things have been done. There is no documentation of process related to how this event comes together. There are copies of occasional emails, and signposts of certain traditions: a calendar that is published, a button that is produced, and standard timelines related to contracts, etc. Nothing else is in place to serve as guide and land mine detector. Had I done things differently I don't think it would have helped.

I have been in contact with the committee throughout the planning of Marlee's visit, soliciting input, seeking counsel on occasion, and keeping the group informed. Sometimes they respond. Mostly I soldier on and get the job done. It has been a mountain of work, and no one from the committee has helped. No one. The expectation is that this is "my" job.

Two days ago I met with some of the key players in planning. People like event coordination (procurer of tables, chairs, and plants, etc. for a reception and to dress the stage), catering, the facility manager, parking services, student ambassadors who will serve as ushers, and so on. After that meeting I sent an email to update the committee, and WHAM! Someone was unhappy because I had broken form with what has always been done. "I wish the committee had had at least one meeting to assist you in making these kinds of decisions." Oh, that carefully crafted sentence just reeks of practice skewering the unsuspecting colleague.

I did a slow burn for a couple of hours. Talked out my anger with Marlee's agent since the issue at hand has an impact on Marlee (nothing phases her agent--she's one of my heroes), and after I had settled down sufficiently I spent considerable time crafting my own carefully worded email response. I was so good. I didn't make it personal, get defensive, or suggest that perhaps my critic might want to walk a mile in my shoes before dumping on me. I took responsibility for my ignorance, addressed the concerns and proposed a solution to allay those concerns. I opened the possibility of reviewing how decisions get made. All without rolling over or yielding my firm belief that this will be a great event for our community. I hit "send" feeling confident that my reply was professional and would be received graciously.

Ha! This morning I got treated to another masterfully written blurb that wants to lay at my feet the failure of the committee to be more closely involved. It is at this point that I can't decide what step to take next. It is clear to me through the pattern of what has been written by my sparring partner that I am up against someone highly skilled in manipulating language and circumstances to keep herself above the fray (a fray of her own making, in my view). I don't operate this way. I make every effort to be honest without causing offense or injury, take responsibility for my actions, apologize when necessary, and eat crow if it comes to that. I am not mean. I don't play power games. I don't jockey for position. I play fair, and if anything, I am too accommodating. 

If there is a further response from me, it will be directed solely to the individual in question. To this point all emails have been "reply all" to include committee members. I feel, however, that another reply takes this down a road where things can only degenerate. So I ponder, reflect, take time to let it sink in and get flushed out. It eats at me a bit, though, which is no doubt obvious by the fact that I've written about it!

But enough for now. If you'd like to share your thoughts I'd be interested in how this appears to others. Have your say. And have a great day. 

Long time no blog. I don't like that. 

The last few weeks have been a bit slammed: trip home to see Dad, back to the grind at work, Dad's death, full tilt at work heading into and then hosting a conference for statewide educators working with adult learners. The conference went great with only minor hitches that were related to the facilities. We had 115 registered, most of whom actually showed up. That was an increase of 46% over last year! This was one of two high-visibility events related to my job, so it matters a great deal that it went well. 

Ken picked me up at school at the conclusion of the conference and we headed to Melrose. Luke was playing in his first soccer game last Saturday, and the whole family was invited to come cheer him on. And did we! This was the first event since Ashley and Travis were married that all parents, sibs, and spouses were together.

  

We all concluded that although Luke did his part to play (he kept up with everybody else as they ran around the field), Cross is going to be the athlete of the family. He enjoyed kicking a ball around off the field with his other grandparents.

Kenneth and Trisha stayed with us at Melrose, and we enjoyed some time with them Saturday evening before a busy  Sunday with all kids and grandchildren out the next day for fun and food. As is apparent, I'm including a few pictures. Thank you for indulging me.

The weather Sunday was less than ideal and not conducive to young'uns running around outdoors. Fortunately Melrose is equipped for rain, and even kids when it rains, so we managed just fine. Luke enjoys puzzles. Takes after his Nana!

And of course here is the classic picture from the weekend. It's always a good thing to have the camera handy and ready.

And let's not forget Jude, our chunky monkey, as Trisha calls him.

Thanks for stopping by. Until next time, whenever that might be!

farewell

As facebook friends know, my father died early this morning. It was expected, and he was ready to go. As Linda, his long-time companion remarked, he's been wanting to be in a different place for a couple of years. As his health declined and his mobility diminished, his world became, in his word, desultory. He died at home, comfortable and at peace, and without pain. His last view of this world was of the one he loved. We all should be so lucky when that day comes.

I was fortunate to get a heads up when there was a shift in his well-being just over a week ago. I flew home for several days to see Dad, and found him alert and present, if not able to communicate much. I didn't say much to him, but in silence we shared a space and the warm of our hands in each others. I don't think there really was much need for words. I believe he was grateful for my presence and the knowledge that he was loved.

There was a sameness to the hours spent there at the house, since dad was confined to bed and slept a great deal. One memory, however, will stand out. The night before I returned to TN my older brother came by the house and brought his cello. We cranked the bed up so that dad could see, and Jamie sat at the foot of the bed with the cello and improvised some music. When he was finished, he recalled that there was a song that dad always sang when we were little. It is probably a folk song from somewhere in Eastern Europe, and the only words we knew were in the native tongue. Jamie began to sing it, and dad quickly chimed in with a robustness that defied the weak state of his body. It probably exhausted him, but the three of us sang until the end, all of us punctuating the finale: "Hey!" A broad smile extended across dad's face, reflecting his pleasure in that moment. I will cherish it always.

Rest in peace, Dad. You lived a life full of color and grace, and the world was a better place with you in it.

mid-week miscellaney

I’ve been absent for a while—the casualty of no time when I have energy, and no energy when I have time (which is the rarer commodity). Then, on those latter occasions, I wonder what to write here. My days are fairly consumed with work, and on the weekends? Somehow I don’t expect you want to spend your own precious time reading about our monthly trip to unload recyclables or our visit to Harbor Freight to look for hard hats.

As I drive to work I am inspired to offer my own commentary in response to the goings-on in the world, then by the time I arrive at my desk (with some time to spare, thank you) my mind has already moved on to other, more mundane, things.  Sigh. Nevertheless, I will muster up a bit of this and that to bring you up to date and attempt to amuse you.

Here goes…

·         On the political front: much has been written about Newt’s philandering, though adultery has commanded the most attention. Did you know that when he was 16 he “had a go” with one of his high school teachers? That’s the first documented dalliance, and the record follows from there. The guy’s a serial, sex-crazed narcissist, and he has made it abundantly clear that it’s all about him.  My comment today, however, is about Callista. You can call me out on this if you want to, but I really despise the idea of a First Lady who carried on an adulterous affair for eight years.  I despise his role, too, of course, but this is the first time that a sizeable chunk of our electorate thinks it’s okay for a woman with such a history to hold the most respected position a woman holds in this country. It does not work for me, does it work for you?

·         I made my first Etsy purchase last week, a gift for a friend. It felt like a landmark event and was a totally fun experience.

·         I am really sick of the coverage of the republican primaries. I think it’s a good thing that Tennessee votes on Super Tuesday, which means that the money spent between now and then will be divided among ten states. Hopefully that will result in fewer hateful ads and obnoxious robocalls.

·         Ken and I have both been accepted as postulants for membership as a knight and dame (respectively) in the Sovereign Military Order of the Temple of Jerusalem. Our investiture is in April at an event in western North Carolina.

·         Happy Groundhog Day Eve!

·         The work day has now commenced and my brain is shifting that direction. I hope your day is blessed and productive (if that is what you want from it).

a glitzy respite

I'd like to thank the Golden Globes for airing two seven days before the South Carolina Primary. When I logged into the Huffington Post this morning the first article wasn't about politics, for a change. It was a picture of Martin Scorsese savoring his winning moment with a GG award gripped appreciatively in his hand. Congratulations, Martin! And Meryl, and George, and all the other winners of the Globes.

And then there was the fashion, for further disruption from politics. I must say there were a lot of good looks out there on the red carpet, although I don't know what Meryl Streep was thinking with her western-look formal shirt-dress. In black, no less. I know Meryl likes black, and she likes to be a nonconformist with her attire, but really? There were some truly lovely gowns that didn't do justice to the women who wore them because the coloring was all wrong. It escapes me how someone gets to red carpet status without some clarity about knowing what colors do and do not flatter. Market niche! And like Victoria Beckham, I wonder if Angelina Jolie ever smiles unless directed by a script.

There was lots of color out there, which was a treat. Zooey Deschanel looked amazing in an interesting combination of black, silver and lime green. Stacey Keibler was stunning in simple red (and it doesn't hurt to be on the arm of George Clooney). I didn't recognize Sofia Vergara with her refreshing look in straight hair and lots of detail, and Kate Beckinsale was radiant in glowing and flowing white. There was purple, yellow, navy, fuchsia, taupe (why does anyone wear taupe?), red, lots of dark green, white, and some interesting choices of "multi." A feast for the eyes all around. Again, thanks, GG!

 Zooey, Kate, and Sofia

Today I'm enjoying the gift of a day off, and will spend it cleaning and tidying around the house. Christmas is mostly put away. The tree still lingers, cards are still posted around door frames, and my nativity set continues to collect dust, but it shouldn't take long to finish packing up boxes and get them stored in the attic. I love all the decor, but it is good to reclaim the living room for daily living.

The floors are a disaster--haven't been vacuumed in far too long, and then I think some shampooing will be in order. The lampshades are wearing an accumulation of dust and dog hair, so today I really need to take the vacuum hose to them.

Saturday I had the day alone to begin tackling my office. I ignored the piles on my desk, where I usually begin, and focused instead on piles of fabric and accumulated craft items that covered what might otherwise be considered my creative space. It was attention well given. I parted with some things, assembled others of similar ilk, dusted off containers and reassigned quarters for much of the above.  I'm not quite finished but the result, thus far, is breathtaking, if I say so myself. Before today is done I might just get the sewing machine out and repair a few items that are folded neatly and piled up waiting for their turn to resume their regularly scheduled use. 

The most dramatic change in the house is the presence of a new television. We are slow to get on board with the technological advances of the 21st century. We have no smart phones, iPads or kindles.  Until yesterday our TV was big and boxey. No flat screen, no HD. But then the big honkin' Sony bit the dust, and as we considered our options over the course of several days, a local electronics place posted a sale and 12-month financing. Sold! We are probably fortunate that our entertainment unit limited the size of what we could get because it kept our sights low, but the change, for us, is dramatic. And wouldn't you know, the first thing we watched when we were all hooked up and ready to go was football! Ken was ecstatic as we rooted for the Giants (sorry, Packers fans), and now look forward with great anticipation to the Super Bowl commercials with unrelenting glee. Some days it doesn't take much to make a girl happy. 

That's our exciting news from this corner of the world. Stay tuned, if you're willing, for further reports about the progress of cleaning and creating from our humble abode.