I forgot my 6th blogaversary, which was just about a month ago. Tonight is the longest night of the year. Like the world around me and like my country, my life is going through a major transition, and I need to take along pause at this point and readjust, get unstuck, ride the lessening night into a new and brighter era.
And so I'm going to take a break from blogging, I need to come back refreshed and renewed and ready to post about more than just my current long personal and troublesome journey. I need to get back to reading other blogs, other thinkers. I need to remember how to think, again. I need to remember how I have always cared about so much more than this box in which I found myself as a caregiver. I need to learn to live with the guilt of abandoning my very old mother to my brother's care.
So much has slipped away as I move through my own personal winter solstice.
I hope that, with the New Year for this planet, the new leadership for this country, and a new base for my home and heart, I will be feel a new energy and a new purpose.
There has to be a dance in the old dame yet.
Meanwhile, I wish everyone a very Happy Holiday. I hope that you'll check back here in a month or so.
After the death of her father, Melissa Volker discovered some uncanny similarities between her photos and the poems in a collected, unpublished work of his.
As a tribute and a tether, she brings them together here -- a poignant sharing meaningful to parents, children, those who have lost, those who love.
Word and pictures. Together a common vision.
The above is the description of my daughter's book, which she is publishing online through Blurb.com.
The title of this book of her dad's poetry and her photos is the title he gave his collections of poems: "Seeworld: visions from the wonderground," and you can get a preview of it here.
The poems are as much for children as for adults. They are filled with unique images that reflect the simple wonders of nature. The photographs visually capture that simplicity and that wonder, adding to the delight of the poems themselves.
"Seeworld" would make a great holiday gift for any family that treasures the special relationship that a daughter can have with her father.
(Of course, this proud mama just can't resist plugging the publication.)
More to the point, I miss getting costumed up on Halloween.
At my last job (which lasted 20 years, and there's lots of reasons why), my boss loved Halloween, and every year we all dressed up and made the rounds of all the offices.
This is some of us as Snow White and some of her dwarfs. That's me on your bottom left, and that's my boss behind me. Other years we dressed as the Seven Deadly Sins, Hogwart faculty (I wish I knew what happed to my costume for that; I wonder if I loaned it to someone), gangsters, and, of course witches. I've forgotten some of the other themes we used. There are photos, somewhere, but it was all before any of us had digital cameras, and they were never scanned in.
Two years ago, when my boss retired, she chose Halloween as the day for her farewell party, and she urged people to dress in costume. Of course, I did.
About six years ago, I went to a few dance parties as Medusa.
I guess that's where my grandson gets his love of costumes. You sort of become whatever you wear.
Actually, as much as the weeds around here need whacking, they're not getting it. They are pretty much out of control. Weeds: plants considered undesirable, unattractive, or troublesome, especially one growing where it is not wanted,
It's not just the weeds around here that are out of my control. I am still living under the tyranny of my mother's growing dementia and dependence combined with my brother's demoralizing rules and realities.
Not much freedom for me here, on this Independence Day.
Maybe I should go out and buy my own little weed whacker, vent my frustrations on that army of undesirables that are intruding over every path from the door to the world. Whack! Whack! Take that, you creepy things.
I did murder a whole bunch of Japanese Beetles today as they attempted an orgy on my tomato plant. Whack! Whack!
One can only hold in anger and frustration for so long. Yes, I think I need to go out and whack those weeds, clear a path, clear my head. I know that those weed whackers are pretty loud, loud enough to muffle the yelling I need to get out of my system.
Someday I will be able to celebrate a real personal Independence Day. Until then, I need to go out and get a weed whacker.
On Independence Day back in 2002 I blogged that there should be a "Interdependence Day," and a commenter sent me to this page, where there is a Global Declaration of Interdependence, as follows:.
Preamble:
In acknowledgment of the many existing documents and efforts that promote peace, sustainability, global interconnectedness, reverence for life and unity, We, The World hereby offers the following Declaration of Interdependence as our guiding set of principles for moving forward into this new millennium. It is inspired by the Earth Charter, the essential values of which have been culled from the many peoples of the Earth.
Declaration/Pledge
We, the people of planet Earth,
In recognition of the interconnectedness of all life
And the importance of the balance of nature,
Hereby acknowledge our interdependence
And affirm our dedication
To life-serving environmental stewardship,
The fulfillment of universal human needs worldwide,
Economic and social well-being,
And a culture of peace and nonviolence,
To insure a sustainable and harmonious world
For present and future generations.
And tonight, as I watched part of New York City's fireworks, I couldn't help wondering how all of that money spent on fireworks all over this country could have instead been used for much more important and humanitarian purposes.
But rulers know how to pacify the people using bread and circuses, how to make them forget what the late George Carlin so eloquently reminded us about.
Some women take to mothering naturally. I had to work at it. And so I wasn't the best mother in the world. I would have worked outside the home whether I had been a single mom or not. But because I was, mine were latchkey kids, with my daughter, beginning at age 12, taking care of her younger brother, age 5, after school. I left them some evenings to go out on dates. Oh, I did cook them healthy meals, and even cookies sometimes. I made their Halloween costumes and went to all parent events at their schools. My daughter took ballet lessons, belonged to 4H (but I got kicked out as Assistant Leader because I wouldn't salute the flag during the Vietnam War) . I made my son a Dr. Who scarf and took him to Dr. Who fan events. I bought him lots of comic books and taught him how to throw a ball. But most of all, I think/hope I did for them what my mother was never able to do for me, -- give them the freedom to become who they wanted to be -- to explore, make mistakes, and search for their bliss. I think/hope that I always let them know that, as far as I was concerned, they were OK just the way they were/are. (Me and that dear now dead Mr. Rogers.) Not having had that affirmation from my mother still affects my relationship with her. I hope that my doing that right for them neutralizes all the wrong things I did as they were growing up.
So, you two (now adult) kids, here's to you both. You keep me young, you keep me informed, you keep me honest, and, in many ways, you keep me vital. I'm so glad that I'm your mother.
So, in memory of those not-always-good ol' days that you two managed to survive with flying colors, here you are, playing "air guitar and drums" -- enjoying each other's company sometime in the 70s and bringing so much joy into my life.
