My Poetry-Like Writings of Way Back When

 Searching

In the age of the new

We search for the old

Up mountains high

To gurus low

We Channel, We Chant

We Breath, We Pant

We Sweat, We Smudge

We Consume

Pond Sludge

We read the books that

Promise us riches

We retreat to the forest

To relieve our itches

We Empower, We Enchant

We Anoint, 
We Decant The Wine

That will Open our Mind

We Diet, We Cycle, 
We Walk

We Run
Searching for Answers

That don’t seem to come

Then we start again

Reading the books

Where someone tells us

All answers are within

Oh good, so no more

Dieting, cycling, walking or running?

I’m completing this poem

15 years after it was begun

And I’ve learned that while

The answers may be within

You must first

Love yourself

To access them

Liz 1996 and 2011

Letter Writing

The lost Art

Fax, E-Mail and telephone

Have taken the place

Of pen and paper

And I feel all alone

In wishing that

Letter writing could go

On and on

When I was a kid

Way back when

We wrote to grandmas

And aunts and cousins

And friends

We wrote to Gene Autry

And Hop-a-Long, too

And to our great thrill

They wrote us back; woo woo

My nieces still drop a note

Now and then

Their greeting to me,

“Hi, Aunt Lib”

Oh dear, no Dear Aunt Lib?

The times must have been

More gentle back when 
for letters to have included

so many 'dears' in them.

But like T-Rex

And predictable weather

I guess letter writing

Has been assigned to

The land of Never-Never.

Liz 1997

Reading this 14 years later
I laugh about

Fax and email

Now it’s Texting,
Facebook, Google+

And Twitter

And I’m still stuck

Wanting a letter.

Liz 2011

Mid-Life

Mid-life can be long and scary

The time that came 
way too soon

It’s heart burn and burn out

It’s weight and waiting

Divorce and dauntless

Confusion and consolation

It’s trauma and triumph

This must be my mother’s life

How can mine already include

Brittle bones and yet, bikini’s?

Creams and crumbling

Fiber and freedom

It’s that time between…

Neither young nor old

Its joint aches, yes and then

Wild abandon

It’s coming to terms with

Promises unmet

Figures unkempt

Nest now empty

Elderly parents and their death

My own mortality to be met

But in spite of the long and scary ride

It’s not all lost hormones and pride
It's just another chapter
in the book of my life

Liz 1997

ADDICTION

Sneaks up on you

And whispers,

“just a little won’t hurt

You’ll feel so much better

You deserve to feel good

Things have been so rough on you”

And – so you do

Just a little, that is

And, for a little while

You do feel better

But soon you don’t

Feel so good…that is

Matter-of-fact

Maybe it would feel good

Not to feel at all

So you drown in booze or horses or slots

or drugs or sex or shopping

or work or tobacco

or all

And down you go

And

D

O

W

N

You go

And

D

O

W

N

YOU ARE

Straight into the arms of the demon

 

Secrets

We met on Thursday at the local bar

The night you got lucky or spent the weekend alone

I was new to the scene

23, recently from home

He was 38, a man of the world,

Out for night, all alone

When I arrived, the bar was crowded

He give me his bar stool, he bought me a drink

He gave me his card

I went home to dream

The very next day

He gave me a call

We went to a movie

Had something to eat

I asked him first date questions

His answers..vague, if at all

He took me home, said

“maybe sometime we’ll go dancing”

I didn’t dance, but it didn’t matter,

He didn’t call

So that’s the end

Oh no

I couldn’t get him off my mind

I sent him a note

“what do you recommend for Spring fever?”

He replied

“distemper shots”

He took me to dinner

He took me to bed

Two years later 
his answers still vague

We got married 
to his surprise

Twenty-three years of marriage

Two children

Ulcers

Chronic Depression

I asked him to leave

He did 
his secrets intact

Liz

1997

RETREAT

Can I do what the poets do

In little lines of verse?

Can I describe to you

An early morning amidst

The Oaks?

The silence broken now and then

By the woodpecker pounding on a dead tree?

A rustle in the bushes

A family of deer with still spotted fawns?

Can you feel the beginning of

another

Hot, hot day – still tolerable at 6:00 a.m.

But just barely?

Can you smell the remnants of a wild fire

That came too close by?

Can I describe it to you in such a way that you would know

Why I feel such peace in this place?

Can you understand the solitude?

Nothing other than an occasional jet

Leaving a high trail as it flies East to

Dallas or Denver?

Can you understand that in that solitude

That quiet

I can listen…will listen to God?

Liz 1996

 

Help

Sometimes I live for hours or days or weeks

In a pit of darkness

Mired in despair

Finally I yell

GOD HELP ME

GOD HELP ME

GOD HELP ME

I extend my hand and cling

To The Divine

Who has always been there waiting for me

To come again into the Light

Job’s patience is rivaled only by God’s

How often have I hidden out of sight

Only to be welcomed

Back to the Light

Now God can speak to me

Not in booming voice

LIZ, LIZ

But rather in

The tomatoes

The flowers

The star thistle

I receive nourishment

In the beauty

And am lead through the sticky places

When the well pump comes on

I’m thankful 
for the water

That helps my plants to thrive

Just as the Living Water

Keeps my Soul alive

And in my solitude

Here on the farm

I can focus

Not on the weeds that still need pulled

Or the grapes that still need staked

Or the mortgage that still comes due

I focus on God

And I am called

To worship

To thanksgiving

To love

To service

To trust

To faith

And when I leave the solitude of this place

I am sustained

I am comforted

I am replenished

Liz 1996

DIVORCE

ACRIMONY

BROKEN PROMISES

CUSTODY

DEVASTATED DREAMS

FAILURE

FAITHLESSNESS

FINISHED

GONE

GRIEF

HEARTBREAK

INERTIA

LOST

LONELY

LEGALITIES

LAWYERS

MAD

MADDENING

NOTHINGNESS

NUTS

OVER

        Oh yeah

PAPERWORK

PALPITATIONS

QUIET

RAGING

STUBBORN

SAD

TALKING

TELLING

UNDONE

VENTING

RECOVERY

 IT COMES SLOWLY

AFTER THE LOSS AND PAIN

AFTER THE PAIN COMES FORGIVING

AFTER THE FORGIVING

FORGETTING

AFTER FORGETTING

REJOICING

BECAUSE YOU HAVE LOVED BEFORE

AND WILL ONCE MORE

 

Liz 1996

                                                                                                                       

Retirement - Year One

When I enthusiastically retired in late 2009 I had a lot of things planned for the first year and the luxury of not having a daily schedule beyond excited me.  I visited Mother in Texas, went to Hong Kong for two weeks with my sisters, enjoyed a two week car trip from New Orleans to Jacksonville, Fla., with a friend, another trip back to Texas when Mom was ill and yet another when she died.  In spite of the busyness of the year I still had plenty of time to realize that I’d retired far earlier than my financial circumstances realistically permitted and that there are lots of hours in the day to use. 

I was so needy of a period of time to recover from years of life, I wasn’t too concerned about rushing into anything; be it a part time job or volunteerism and I soon run out of travel resources.  So I read and read and read.  One of my retirement gifts was a Kindle and I loved it.  Having at my fingertips almost any book I could think of and immediately played right into my love of reading and my compulsivity.  It became very expensive as I was downloading 2 to 3+ books a week.  (Get a friend to share books on your reader). While looking through the 175, 178 books listed under Religion and Spirituality in the online bookstore, I came across, Louise Hay’s, You Can Heal Your Life.  I’d heard about her books for years but for some reason had never read. I quickly downloaded and soon understood why this book had come to my attention now.  “When the student is ready, the teacher is there”.  I was ready, and Louise, the teacher was there.  The premise of the book is about learning to love self.  One of the exercises is to use a hand held mirror, look into your eyes and say, “I love you Liz and I accept you exactly as you are”.  What the heck, I had the time and the mirror and I knew there was plenty of evidence that I’d never really learned to love me.  And here’s how it went.  I looked into the mirror and said, “I love you Liz and I accept you exactly as you are”.  And then immediately I said, “Wow, you need a facial, some of those blackheads look like they’ve been there for years and do something about those teeth!”  An important part of the exercise was not to criticize myself at all.  Suddenly this was getting much more difficult.  But I was committed to giving this an honest effort and for the next few days, several times a day; I repeated the mantra while looking into the mirror.  Stopping years and years of self-criticism was the most difficult part of the exercise, but I persevered. On about the 10^th day of this practice, I looked into the mirror and said, “I love you, Liz and…..and then I started to sob.  “I don’t even know what I love and accept myself means”.  When the wracking sobs stopped, I started writing what I thought loving me might mean.  And this is the list I came up with. 

I Affirm me.

I Appreciate me

I Approve of me

I Believe In Me

I Care for me

I Champion me 

I am Compassionate to me

I encourage me

I take the steps necessary to energize me

I enjoy me

I forgive me

I lift me up

I listen to me

I am Kind to me 

I nourish me

I nurture me

I am patient with me

I please me

I respect me

I speak well of me

I support me

I am generous to me

I am giving to me

I am kind to me

I am pleasant to me

I am tender with me

I became more comfortable with the exercise and could actually look into the mirror and not even see all the things I’d spent a great deal of time criticizing.  That was a huge step forward.  When I’d forget what loving myself meant, I could always refer to my list.  However, old, entrenched habits die hard and I needed to add to the mirror work. 

Recalling the effectiveness of religions creating an oft repeated Creed for the purpose of training minds and hearts to take on and in a particular set of beliefs, I created my own Creed.  It’s lengthy and covers everything I could think of to help me love me.  Year one I read that daily and the more difficult the day, the more times a day I read it.  I always, always felt better when reading it.  I tried not to have an expectation of what the outcome of learning to love me would be.  For the time being, I just had to trust that it was a good thing and so the outcome would also be good.  I did wonder how I would know when I actually loved myself.  Would I feel something?  Would I look different?  Would the weight I’ve wanted to shed for years magically melt away?  Would I suddenly embrace exercise and a healthy diet?  Would I smile more?  Would I be kinder?  It was still a mystery what healthy self-love looked or felt like.

There were certainly times when feeling dark or blue or unworthy showed up.  Thomas Moore’s, Dark Night of the Soul, helped me to understand that the dark side is part of the human condition.  However, I chose to believe that the more I loved me, the less the dark side would show up. The dark can be very seductive and I had to think about whether or not I wanted to go there.  I determined that I did not and could actually quickly pull myself from the ditch. 

After 6 months or so of the practices I realized that I felt good, day after day, week after week, month after month.  Wow, this must be a manifestation of loving me and a good one at that.  It sometimes felt strange and uncomfortable to feel good all the time since that had not been my history and there were times I struggled with that, strange as that sounds.  I had to make a choice that it was ok to feel good; I was worthy of that.   

To Be Continued....

Inspiration

Sunday, July 10, 2011 I was inspired to write back in April, but the inspiration waned quickly.  Hopefully, I'll pick this up with  musings now and then to this blog.  So here's what I wrote back in April. 
April 23-27, 2011I'm sitting in my chair tonight and reading the titles of the books in the shelf next to me, hoping one speaks to me with encouragement, a teaching, or inspiration.  I reached for a book, the kind with empty pages. I pulled it out and read on the inside cover:
You have a gift.You have a gift of words.
Taking them in,
Speaking them,
and a beautiful gift of penning your own.You have been given so many moments to show your strength.
You strive and come out strong, beautiful, and seemingly happy.
You are an amazing model.You inspire, you bring out good.You give and accept so whole-heartedly and graciously.You give gifts without realizing it, and always have the perfect touch to make a moment special.I thank you for all that you teach and show me everyday.
I admire you, for all of your unique gifts.  I admire you for being an amazing and powerful woman.I love you so much; I am so blessed to have you in my life, in ever facet you are in it, mother, friend, all of it.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.  YOU, I love You!  JAH (Jennifer Anne Holinsworth) Given in Deepest Love and respect and Awe for you my mother and friend.

This was written by and given to me by my daughter, Jennifer and sent to me as a gift sometime during the years she and her family lived near Naples, Italy. 
I’d never written anything in the book and only had a vague memory of what Jennifer had written to me.  But here in my need, the perfect book presented itself to me.
The first page of the book had this scripture at the top:  “This is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it” Psalms 118:24. 
And so today I finally begin to write in my book. My intention is to write only about the positive; things I’m grateful for, good memories of loving times, people, and events in my life.  I could write about why I live in a small apartment instead of my dream home; why so many people are giving and have given to me, but that 'story' would not lift me and this is about gratitude, living positively for and in this day and that does lift me.
That scripture has come to my attention in one form or another several times today. I wonder why?  It’s probably because I’ve been slipping into fear about the future rather than enjoying the moment I’m in.  Apparently it required several reminders that this day is perfect exactly as it is.Since it’s possible to find scripture for any and every belief, I’ll usurp this one as a biblical imperative for living in the NOW. So today I adjust my attitude.  I’m grateful to have a roof over my head and one I enjoy being under and that my daily bread has been provided and consumed and my health is good.  Who knows what tomorrow brings anyway, so why lose this one with worry.  It really was a good day.  I helped Jackie pick out fabric for her office chairs.  We found the perfect fabric in stock, at Garland’s Fabric, where the crotchety old owner was flirting with Jackie. 
I’m also re-reading, Elizabeth Gilbert’s, Eat, Love, Pray, for about the 5^th time.  What grabbed me today is the passage about the value of smiling…so I smiled and just in doing that, I feel lifted and lighter.  Why do I need to be reminded to smile?  What an odd thing that it’s not automatic at this late date in my life?  The same is true of my faith; it still pretty shaky at times.  I want my legacy to be that I walked in faith.  I’ve never had an “AHA” moment about what my LIFE MISSION is, so I’ve declared it to be that I walked in faith.   I’m still a long way from my faith being the stuff of legacy, so today I ask to be guided, helped, directed,  and lead to be faithful in knowing that God is in the details and that my shaky financial moment is just that…a moment in time.  I can’t see around the corner but that doesn’t mean that the sun isn’t shining around the bend and an income source right in the middle of all that sunshine or even in the shadows.  Oh, to let go into that belief!  Why do I make this so hard on myself?  Very little of my abundance is about financial resources (although I don’t discount how helpful that would be).  My abundance is about loving relationships with my children, in-laws, too; grandchildren, siblings and their families, nieces and nephews and all who make up my family.  I have friends, young and old, friendships recently made and those forged 40 to 50 years ago.  Just this week my  friend of 46 years, who retired to Tucson was in Sacramento with her husband, Art. They came by to visit and take me to lunch.  It was so good to see my beautiful friend, Sandy.  I hadn’t seen her since 2005 and it’s always good to see that her beauty, internal and external holds up so well. DJ, Mike and Erica were here that same week and we had a good time together.  Sean and Kathy came for dinner one night.  The Cookman's were lovingly generous to me.
Easter Sunday, April 24, 2011
I am happy this morning; drinking my delicious strong coffee; sitting in my comfy recliner, easy listening channel playing music that gently triggers memories and sometimes triggers, gentle memories.  I look around this room; a place for dining /TV watching/reading, and this is what I see:
The dresser/buffet setting against the south wall was given to me after my apartment fire by Joan, a colleague and friend.  Terry and Deci, our boss and his wife had driven to Oakland early on a Saturday morning to meet Joan at a storage unit to pick up the dresser and bring it to me.  It was a natural colored pine dresser that had belonged to Joan’s daughter, Amy when she was a child.  I painted the top and base white and the drawers’ celery green; added new knobs and voila…a buffet for my dining room.  Only a few months after receiving this from Joan McNeil, she died of cancer.  Terry retired about 6 years ago, so I have seen him and Deci only sporadically over these last years, but the kindness of all three lives on in my room.
On the buffet is a bottle of Lemoncello, homemade by Brian and given for Christmas in 2009.  I leave it unopened, because I like how it looks there and it reminds me of Brian’s good heart.  
There are the palest pink, tall glass candle sticks from Becky, with short chubby white candles. 
A perfect white ceramic artichoke I found at HomeGoods, is reflected in a pretty curvy, white framed mirror that from where I sit reflects a painting of Paris that hangs on the east wall between two white framed, white draped windows. 
The picture is a composite of Paris scenes in grey tones; a wistful glimpse of Paris, on a cold rainy day for sure, but with hints of springtime with sunny yellow daffodils popping up hopefully behind a couple huddled arm-in-arm, their heads hidden by a winy-red umbrella.  They are standing on a bridge looking at other bridges over the Seine and seeing the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Like this picture, most of my wall art is from discount stores and I love them all.  I choose scenes of places I’ve been and love (like Paris) or places that I’d like to see or ones that make me feel good just to look at every day.
There is a small white porcelain soup tureen from Portugal, once owned by my now deceased sister-in-law, Virginia. Above the tureen is a painting of a small crock holding a couple of large lavender blue hydrangea blossoms, near it rest two lemons and on the other side at some distance is a small robin-egg blue bowl, all sitting on a white table cloth against a pale yellow background. The artichoke sits on a stack of Italian cookbooks.  Those make me smile just looking at them.  The book covers are bright and cheery and just reading the titles, like, Culinaria Italy, transports me to Italy and good food.  If I’m feeling creative and industrious, they are a source for recipes from which I can transport myself with good Italian food.
There is a Llardro of a young girl holding a turkey, (Jim named it, “Liz and Jim”) given to me by Mimi and Bob during the years they lived in Nerja, Spain, probably about 1976.  That piece has survived a flight from Spain to California, a few house-to-house moves in California, a lot of room-to-room moves, a U-Haul move from California to Texas, an SUV trip back again to California, a house fire and yet another house move. 
On another small strip of wall to the north, hangs a three dimensional ceramic piece of 3 oranges with leaves.  I bought it on the Amalfi coast with Jennifer and Jude in May, 2001.  

There is a floor lamp next to those oranges that I bought at Tuesday Morning several years ago. It’s tall, gently curved and painted yellow with designs in oranges, rusts, greens and those outlined in gold. Oh, and the shade’s knob is a green leaf.  It’s perfect in this cozy (some might say, crowded), yellow-walled, lot of white trim and furniture, crisp white linen draped windowed, multi-use, cottage style room.
I see the draped, very sturdy, old, round-to-oval oak dining table.  Jennifer found it for me on Craig’s List.  It was a “free if you come get it” offering from a stranger.  The table has 5 sturdy, slat-backed oak chairs, given me by Jackie, when she moved from a large to smaller home and didn’t need kitchen dining chairs anymore.  In the couple of years since Jen and Chris brought me this table, many family and friends have gathered around to eat and visit, often in times of celebration. It becomes a craft table and place for Kaylie to lay out all the shells her dad and aunt had collected in their childhood. After Christmas Eve dinner, it became a place to put together and play with the tabletop toys just opened.  
Its scarred top is covered with a quilt I bought for my bed, but quickly cleaned and used instead as a tablecloth when Kaylie visited and told me, “Grandma, this isn’t cozy like your other blanket”.  Grandma is all about cozy.
You’ll Never Know How Much I Love You, is playing now.  The lyrics speak of the inability for a loved one to know how much we love them, and conversely, I think for most of us the ability to absorb, know or feel how much we are loved.
My purse is lying on the table.  The last time I visited Mom in her home in Grand Prairie was in January, 2010.  That’s when she gave me one of the two travel purses Lanora had given her.  I’d been looking for a compact purse with a long strap to cross my chest. This one is just what I wanted.  And as a bonus, it’s the perfect size for my Kindle; which now goes where I go.
Directly across from me is the TV that Clay and Jim gave me for Christmas in 2003.  I’d recently gotten hooked up with cable and Clay decided I needed a larger screen, if I was going to bother paying for cable.  He said the gift of a TV was all his idea but mostly Dad’s money.  
As I sit here, taking time to look at everything; I recall how it all came to me.  They are all reminders of how blessed I have been and am and how people love and support me.  This room cocoons me in a warm embrace.  And the furnace is on and that helps with the warming.  A couple of years ago I hosted a birthday dinner on a cold blustery, February 7^th night for Jennifer’s 32^nd birthday and invited her mother-in-law, Sandi and grandmother-in-law, Fran.  It was Fran’s first visit to my apartment and she was very generous in her comments about my home and said, “It’s just so warm and cozy”, to which our nine year old grandson/great grandson, Michael said, “That’s because she has two heaters”.  He couldn't understand why we laughed .
 To the immediate left of my chair is a painted white book shelf, mostly housing books that I’ve kept for reference, pleasure of reading or inspiration.  Since I have a Kindle, there are fewer novels on the shelves than in the pre-Kindle days.  One shelf holds a Waterford paper weight in the shape of Texas, given me by Don and Charlie when they moved from Texas to California in 1991.  Another holds a Courvoisier bottle filled with marbles; the kind of marbles we played, “shooting down” with when I was a kid. “Shooting Down” consists of lining up dominoes across the room from each other and shooting them down with marbles, which requires a lot of thumb action, as you actually shoot the marbles across the floor. That game requires a non-carpeted floor and we only had uncarpeted floors then, so that worked out well. On another shelf is a Wyland painting of happy children playing with diving dolphins, given me by the Holinsworths and signed for them by Wyland when they were stationed in Hawaii.  
Yet another shelf holds my books on Italy; novels, travel guides and memoirs of other people’s travels in Italy.  On another shelf a small, ornate silver frame, given me by Deborah Piccucco for helping her with some decorating decisions, sits next to a fat green and gold candle, colors separated by 8 rolls of tiny wooden brown beads, from DJ.  The ornate silver frame holds a photo of Jen, Chris, Michael and Jacey in front of their apartment in Griciano, Italy where all of them look oh so much younger, and not Italian, though little tow-head Michael was born in Naples.
On yet another shelf, along with books, in a brushed silver frame is a photo of Jacey and Kaylie, taken in my living room on Christmas Eve, 2003 when the Holinsworth’s were here on leave from Italy.  Kaylie was 9 months old and just toddling.  Jacey is behind her holding both her arms to help stabilize her walking.  It’s a favorite picture of mine of my granddaughters, one tow-headed blonde, the other Amerasian with black hair. Near those pieces lay two small cards.  One is, A Reminder from God - - “My name is I AM, not I WAS or I WILL BE”.  Ah, yet another reminder to me to live in this moment.  That card has been laying there for who knows how long without me looking at it. The teacher shows up when the student is ready!  The second card is an Indian Springs Hotel and Spa, Calistoga, business card.  Donny and Becky gave Charlie and me an overnight stay with mud bath at this spa for Christmas, which we enjoyed in March with Becky.  On the backside of the card, Charlie had written, “3/15/2011 – Dear Lib, Thank you for sharing this experience with me.  Thank you for the many ways you bless my life.  Here is a “gentle” cloak for you. Love, Charlie”.  She’d bought each of us a linen cloak, the type the spa uses to wrap one in for nap time after a mud bath, mineral soaking Jacuzzi bath and steam room session.  Among the books on that shelf is one called, Simple Prayers and Blessings, given to me by DJ during a difficult time.  I’ve used that book as inspiration over and over again in other difficult times.  I’m seeing a pattern here, there will be difficult times now and again and there will be people there to help me through.  There is also a copy of Barbara Kingsolver’s, Lacuna.  Jim gave it to me for my birthday, November, 2009.  I’ve yet to trudge all the way through the book.  I was looking forward to her new book after so enjoying her novel, The Poisonwood Bible, several years ago.  You just never know.  I waited 10 years or more after Pat Conroy’s Beach Music for his next novel.  I paid the $30.00 for a fresh off the press, hard-back price for South of Broad.  It turned out to be the same characters with the same angst as Beach Music, only in a different location with different names. But when I need a fix of Italy, I go to Beach Music for his description of Rome and once again I am transported to Rome and great Italian food. I quickly donated the new novel for a book sale, the proceeds going to children’s services at UC Davis Medical Center.  So, some good came from that.  A direct donation of $30.00+tax would have been better for UCD and me.
Looking toward the living room, a beautiful orchid in full bloom sits in a yellow bamboo pot. The orchid once belonged to my sister-in-law, Virginia.  Her garden was her salvation and her legacy. I’ve owned this plant for several years and this is the first time it bloomed.  I see many gifts in this one plant; a reminder of my ex-husband’s only sibling, of the wondrous blooms she could coax from plants, of the beauty of orchids, of both the delicacy and heartiness of this plant, of the breathtaking scope of nature’s colors, and that it has bloomed for a month now and still looks perfect.  The bamboo pot was a gift from Donny and Becky for my birthday a few years ago.
Unchained Melody is playing softly and I’m reminded of Al Hibbler’s version from the mid-50’s and listening to it on the radio with Lanora and Don.  The three of us got a bedroom which became available after our grandfather's death in 1955 and we'd listen to the radio after we went to bed. Don was a senior at Mineral Wells High, Lanora a Junior at Graford High and I was in 6^th grade at Graford Elementary.  Although maybe it was just Graford School since Grades 1-12 were in the same building.  That’s the school where I got into the first of my 2 “girl” fights.  The second was in Hilmar when I was in 7^th grade. Both times Lanora tattled on me at home and that meant double jeopardy; punished at school, then punished again at home.  In Hilmar, Dad came to the school and insisted that my teacher make me get up in front of the class to say that I was sorry.  I’m not sure the teacher thought it was necessary but he was a member of our church and Dad was the pastor, so Mr. Cantrell “let” me publicly apologize.  Lee Cantrell was also the Jr. Varsity football coach.  His family had moved from Oklahoma to Hilmar, California in the summer of ’57, as we were moving from Texas to Hilmar.  We were barely past the Dust Bowl era and all looking for a better life in California.  I've included that story because I’m assuming that being publicly humbled had the positive outcome of cooling my enthusiasm for girl fights.
And now playing, We Will Have These Moments To Remember, which was the theme of the “prom” Jim and I gave in October of 1989, mainly just for fun but also since I’d never been to a high school prom, I wanted to go to one and I wanted to be queen.  So I did and I was!  Though Jim and I have “gone our separate ways”, we do have “these moments to remember”.  
I have my personalized orange plastic water glass sitting on a shelf near me.  Kaylie drew my picture on it.  She gave me a snarly mouth and a thatch of dark hair.  I really have to smile more so when she draws future pictures perhaps I’ll have a smiling face.  
I’ve moved to the table for lunch and am looking over at that white shelf and noticing the things on the top.  There’s a pretty pitcher in greens and oranges with a large sunflower in the center; Tuscan style and colors, found in a Calistoga thrift store and given me by Charlie.  I coincidentally have a platter in the same colors and pattern. A glass pear in orangy-red, orange and yellow sits next to the pear picture.  Charlie and Don brought me that from one of their trips.  I think from Spain.  There is another sepia period costume (early 1900’s) photo of Jacey and Michael taken several years ago.  It’s in a clear glass frame with orange and brown leaves pressed between two pieces of glass.  That was a gift for a birthday from Lorraine Okabe, the League of California Cities librarian and known among many things for always giving the best cards  for all occasions. Thinking of Lorraine also reminds me of a Friday night in Anaheim at a League board of directors event where we had a private showing of Golden Dreams at Disney’s, California Adventure, theme park .  It was about the hopes and dreams of immigrants coming to the golden state.  I was sitting with Lorraine, a Japanese American, and Tony Cardenas, a Hispanic American.  I could relate to the Okies from the dust bowl era coming to California with promises of eternal sunshine and work.  Lorraine’s grandmother was a Japanese “picture bride” and she could relate to that part of the story. Tony’s ancestors had long been California’s salvation. We all sat trying not to weep as our own story was being told. We left wiping tears from our eyes.  All of us have prospered in the golden state.  And finally, there is another fat golden candle, resting on a black Asian style base.  The candle has twine around it with a coin strung on it.  That candle was part of a “grand prize” drawing I won at an Ontario Convention and Visitor’s Bureau client appreciation dinner at Luca’s on J Street, several years ago.  The big part of the prize was round trip airfare for two to Ontario, two weekend night’s hotel room, three day car rental and more meal vouchers at various restaurants than could be consumed in a month of weekends.  Deborah flew from Dallas to meet me for the weekend. I’m eating from a bowl that is part of a set of white Franciscan dishes given me by JoAnne, who was the League General Counsel then. It was after my apartment fire and the League and my fellow employees were instrumental in getting my new apartment furnished and me back on my feet in a very short period of time. That fire was the same week as the decimation of the twin towers and everyone’s heart was wide open.  My family and friends from around the country and work colleagues were all unbelievably generous in helping me get back on my feet.
I’ve taken a break to pick up yesterday’s mail.  There is a Budget Travel magazine with an article called, Barcelona, Eat like a Local, and I am reminded of visiting Barcelona on my honeymoon in 1970 and again with Mom and Lanora in 2004.  That’s another city I love.  The results from last week’s mammogram were also in the mail.  And here is the conclusion, “No specific mammographic evidence of malignancy and no significant interval change”.  There was also a reimbursement check from Blue Cross.  Now that’s a good mail haul…travel, money and a good breast health report.
To the right of my chair on the west wall is a 5ft x 4 ft. framed Renoir poster, that Jim and I bought on May 16, 1985, the day we attended the Renoir retrospective at the Grand Palais in Paris.  The same kind of poster was plastered all over Paris advertising the show.  As I recall, the poster cost $12.00 US, but to have it framed was the same as one airfare, Sacramento via Dallas to Paris and back.  
Memories have just triggered that I had a gross outbreak of poison oak while in Paris, first spots noted on the flight from Sacramento to Dallas portion of the trip.  However, that definitely is not a good memory story.  So I’ll leave it at that.  It’s curious though how one memory, triggers another.  I’m going to continue to weed out the less than pleasant that show up.   I’ll just bless them and send them on their way.
The page I’m writing on now in my “Jennifer” book says, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see”.
This translation of Hebrews 11:1 fits my faith belief, although it has the quality of driving blind and expecting the best.  But then, that’s faith!
Roger Williams, pianist's version of Unforgettable is playing.  That song triggers a rush of memories and feelings.  Clay bought me the CD of Nat King and Natalie Cole singing Unforgettable; and it remains a favorite.  My TV screen tells me that Roger Williams attended Julliard and was on the Arthur Godfrey show, Talent Scout in 1952.  Also, in 1919, Americans were buying 25 million RPM’s every year.  That date got my attention, as Mom was born in 1919 and just died, January 28^th, this year.  
Sometimes the Easy Listening songs bring out my melancholy, but today they are evoking sweet memories.

How Deep Is Your Love is being asked in song.  There was a time I thought my love for Jim was limitless but during much of the last 20 years through the dissolution of our marriage and the subsequent years, I felt a distinct limit to that love.  Time has tenderized my heart and I know that my love that had depth is still there.  Time can heal, but I had to invite the healing even with lots of time. And now, Misty is playing and I was getting misty thinking about love found and lost.  Oh, that darn melancholy again.
Monday, April 25
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven…Ecclesiastes 3:1
I’ve lived here 10 years.  It’s been the right location for this season of my life; single and now retired.  I walked to work for years. I have easy access to public transportation, am walking distance from grocery store and dozens of restaurants, and only five blocks from one of the most beautiful and my favorite parks..Capitol Park which surrounds the state capitol.
My home is in a two-up, two-down, fourplex built in 1907.  All the trim and there’s lots of it, is white.  The apartments have been marginally maintained, so much of my decorating is smoke and mirrors to cover cracks and some roughly plastered walls, but I’ve made it a pretty and cozy for myself and a place to entertain, nurture and feed, family and friends.  My friend, Sara came in recently and exclaimed, “It’s like a house”.  And as I tell the maintenance folks when they do a poor job of repairing a leaky ceiling or anything else, “I know someone else owns it, but this is my home and I want it to look good”. 
Front PorchThere’s a burgundy colored brick wall about 4 feet high that is on two sides of the porch with a ledge big enough to sit on.  The porch is covered, as I’m on the ground floor. My plants receive benign neglect from me, but they love the light and exposure and protection that the roof provides and so perform very well.  I have plants on the ledge on both sides as well as sitting room if needed.  The plants were all given me by friends and family and several of them bloom for several months.  Jackie gave me several plants when she moved and one is a Christmas cactus that blooms for 2 to 3 months every winter and has about 50 or more pale pink blooms at a time. 
  A big pot with now blooming dark pink geraniums sits where the neighbors and people walking by can see it as well. In a small garden plot between the porch and sidewalk there is a huge hydrangea bush; an orange tree with oranges still on it, and a colorful Japanese maple. Back to the porch; there’s a small round table with two chairs and a couple more can be added.  Many Sacramento days, in the course of a year, are weather-perfect for sitting on the front porch.  The neighborhood is fun, funky, and vibrant and it’s entertaining to sit on the porch and watch the people moving here and there.  The porch looks across the street to Fremont Park, which has a pretty fountain, wonderful old trees, mostly magnolias and redwoods and a playground.  It’s like having my own wonderfully well-kept park-like front yard, but someone else takes care of it. In this case, it’s the Public Works Department, of the City of Sacramento and Friends of Fremont Park.
 From May to October, there is a Farmer’s Market in the park every Tuesday with fruit, vegetables and olive oil, seeds and nuts, flowers and food vendors. And there's my favorite vendor, with the lavender spray which I use by the quarts to cover the old house smell that seems to be in the very pores (could be spores) of a house built in 1907.And every Tuesday for 5 months, I get my fix of homemade tamales. Across the park are Cape Cod style condominiums that have recently been painted individually in bright colors; one rusty red, the next green, and the next gold and then blue and then repeat.  They add great cheer to the neighborhood.  The park and the condos are part of the view from my living room.

Tuesday, April 26Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.  Proverbs 16:24For the past year I’ve made a concerted effort to learn to love myself and a big part of that is stopping the mental and verbal self criticism. Interestingly enough it hadn’t worked as a motivator for 66 years, so I was long overdue to get out of that rut.  It is wonderful to hear pleasant words from someone else’s mouth; it’s also good to hear them in my thoughts and from my tongue.  I've also learned not to accept unkind comments from others.  The unexpected benefit to speaking kindly to and about me is that I’m also doing that for others.  That’s a good thing.
Wednesday, April 27Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Matthew 6:34
Living RoomTo the right of the front door, facing into the living room, and in front of the large window that looks to the park, sits a rust-colored, micro suede chaise lounge.  In the spring of 2005, I saw a sample of this chaise in a small antique store on D Street, just off 16^th, which also sold a line of sofas.  I picked the fabric and decided which end I wanted the arm on and soon had this sexy, curvaceous chaise. Clay and Jennifer both really liked my new chaise.  When Clay got married a few months later, his choice of wedding present from me was the chaise or $400.00.  He choose the chaise which was worth considerably more than $400.00 and soon after the wedding, they rented an apartment and there went the chaise. In March 2006, when Jude and I visited Jennifer and family in Hawaii, I told Jen that Clay  got the couch as a wedding present and Jennifer, somewhat pouting, said, “I wanted that”. Jude responded, “It’s not like it’s a family heirloom”.  Actually, it was Jude, so what she really said was, “Oh for God’s sake, it’s not like it’s a family heirloom!” Clay’s relationship ended just a few months later and he kept the chaise. A year or so later he and Janyll met, fell in love and got their own place and they passed on the chaise to Janyll’s brother, John James.  When John James moved to the Philippines, Clay and Janyll were tasked with doing something with his furniture.  Clay called me and asked if I wanted it back.  I did.Now, it feels like a family heirloom!
On the east wall, a fireplace in that same burgundy brick that is on the porch sets between two windows.  Over the white mantle hangs a painting of lavender fields in the south of France.  I’m assuming the location.  

On the north end of the mantle, in an octagonal see-through brown glass container with lid is Jennifer and Clay’s childhood collection of shells found on the California, Hawaii, and Mexico (east and west) coasts.  For now, the sympathy cards I received from family and friends after Mom died in late January, sit a chrome bowl with blue glass handles. This past summer, Jennifer and I hosted a Women’s Weekend for the girls and women of the family who live in California.  There was a surprise field trip that weekend; a limo ride around the countryside to see the locations significant to our Cameron Park years, with a stop in Placerville.  
Charlie and Becky gave me the chrome bowl, as a thank you for organizing the weekend.  On the south end of the mantle, two very heavy glass fruit book ends (pear and apple) hold books about Italy.
Tucked behind the books, but visible from part of the room is a folk art angel, that Janyll, Kaylie, Abigail, Jack and Jacey gave me from that stop in Placerville.  The glass bookends were from the living room of Jim’s and my first home that was decorated by Hugh Jackson, a decorator for Brueners Furniture. The only pieces from us he HAD to work with were Jim’s long, sleek stereo cabinet and a shoji screen.  Other than that, he had carte blanche.  There was a wall the exact size of the stereo unit, over that he placed the screen, and hung a lamp over one end. He loaded us with furniture, pictures and lots of objects d’art or knick knacks. That’s when I learned the difference between the two; price!  It was a pretty room and taught me a lot about decorating. The bookends are the only pieces I have left from that room. 
Next to the books is a small icon of the Madonna and child, which I found in Corfu, Greece.  The island was a stop on the Mediterranean cruise I went on with Lanora and Mom. 
I’m musing here that I could never have accomplished this exercise except in a small, very pared down home.  It’s been enlightening how each piece I have evokes a memory or a story of places and people.  Opening the memory box is a mixed blessing, as memories don’t pre-select themselves; the good from the bad. So I continue to acknowledge the “not so good”, bless them and move around the room.  
Under the south/east window is a large antique Asian style orange tray used as a table. It sits on black metal legs.  On the tray/table is a blue Asian vase-like lamp with pale pink flowers with an occasional orange flower thrown in.  The lamp belonged to  my brother-in-law, Mike’s mother.  On the tray and facing the front door is an Buddha open palm in black metal on a black wood base. Next to the hand a green plant in dark blues and browns pottery pot completes the vignette.  
Next to the tray table and facing the chaise and the front window is an IKEA chair. Yet another after-the-fire gift from a co-worker. I did replace the cushion a few years later after I’d retrieved the chair from the back yard.  I’d given it to the upstairs neighbors, Rain and Ivan. They moved to Eureka and left it. I replaced the dark green cushion with other IKEA pattern; beige with a graphic leaf design in grayish brown. The view from that chair is the Japanese maple and the fountain at the park. 
Behind the chair is another shelf, with 9 cubicles.  Hanging above it is a tray, also from Donny and Becky for Christmas 2010 with 4 of Donny’s photos, scenes from Rutherford Winery under the glass.  On February 14^th of 2009, Donny, Becky and I had a rainy day picnic at the winery.  Donny went back before Christmas 2010 to take pictures for the gift.  The table where we picnicked has a bottle of wine and picnic basket with vineyards in the background.  
On top of the shelf is a tall, thin rustic basket (for hanging on grapevines, so both hands can be used to cut grapes before putting into the basket) with dark bronze lamp nearby. Several books are the resting place of a bust of Christ or Don Quixote, a gift from Charlie that she'd picked up in South America.  A stack of baskets complete the scene.  

In one of the cubicles is the stereo system Donny and Becky gave me after the fire. The evidence of  everyone's generosity still warms my heart after all these years.