Solstice Sister

Cheri my sister!!
Solstice daughter.
Winter birth.
Mom told me when I was little
That a great Gale blew you in through
The window,
And that is how you were born
So you were named..
Cherished Gale.
It is fitting

So right.
Solstice sister
Winter birth.
You are a gale of winter breath
Frosty, refreshing, beautiful.
You are the breeze
Of promised spring.
It is fitting
It is right!

A New, Clear Perspective

Just last week the terror of gun violence hit home hard in our family.  Two of our grandsons were in a school that was held on a 5 hour lock down due to a tweeted threat to “shoot up the school”.  Like many, when I heard, my heart raced, my throat dried, and I felt a cold, powerful fear.  And anger, I felt anger.  How dare someone put my children in danger!  Like many, I spent the afternoon worried about the outcome.  And anger, I felt anger.  And my daughter, the mother of my threatened grandsons presented me a new perspective, a clear perspective.

frightened child in boatThe boy, a 15 year old with a diagnosis of autism, had been in the school this entire time, unarmed, frightened, the tweet a misjudged political statement on gun violence and the ability of “adults” to protect our children.

It seems the school knew right away where the tweet appeared from, it was not a hidden account, knew the boy had a diagnosis, and knew he was with all of the other kids locked down in the classroom.  Yet, for hours, our news stations, ran non stop coverage of this new “threat”  Police, FBI, Helicopters, blocked roads, all this occurred with unnecessary alarm.

And finally, after hours of terror, the boy was arrested from his classroom, thrown in jail, and allowed 5 minutes a day with his parents.  He is still there, in jail, broken, suicidal, crying, in total despair.  Not receiving the help he needs to save his spirit, just being punished.  And me, I am ashamed of my hatred for him and ashamed of the Orono Police and Schools for politicizing this event, rather than help save this boy.

I am told he is gentle, kind, and has never been threatening.  Like any child with guncontrolautism he has poor impulse control.  And not thinking, thought he might be helping.

I do so believe in gun control, I believe in peace, I believe in helping our children survive.  I believe in preventing and healing, not terrorizing our young.

Please visit this site and donate what you can to help him, help his family, and help this community move forward into a future of light not one of anger and darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Auld Lang Syne

pagennewyearLately my words have failed me, not because I have nothing to say, but because when I sit down to write my thought, my mind wanders.

The concept of Auld Lang Syne for instance.  Recently I reconnected with a friend from my distant past.  Distant past! From two or three lifetimes ago.  Sue was a woman that I spent countless hours with in my youth.  We talked, we exercised, we had babies, we ate, we commiserated, we loved one another.  Life and I think the need of both of us to remove our selves to new worlds interfered.  We both moved, we both divorced, we both remarried, I divorced again, and had another daughter. We lost our connection.

When I finally found her on Facebook I was hesitant to reach out, would she remember me?  It had been over thirty years, all four of our children were grown, we were now grandmothers, no longer those immortal children of our early twenties.

We both had continued to live, both to grow, both to love, and had new friends, new lives, far apart from one another, in years, life styles, and distance.

But I messaged her, and waited, for about a week.  I was a tad anxious, would she still want to know me?

And then her message came.  And then a phone call. and we laughed, we chatted. I cried a bit on my side, so happy to hear from that beautiful friend.  I admit to stalking her Facebook page whilst I waited, and I was so relieved to know that her infectious smile was still the same.  And now we are making plans to spend a weekend reconnecting.

So what is the point of this ramble?  Although lifetimes pass, and we make new and beloved friends, create new families, new adventures, we can go home. And our home always lives in our hearts.

Happy new year to my friends, new and old.  I love you all!friendship

Solstice and Cheri

winter-boatMy sister Cheri was born a some decades ago on a stormy solstice night.  My mother once told me that her middle name was Gale because she blew into the window during a snow storm.  She is a storm, of goodness, and heart, and compassion.  The Solstice is the perfect time for her to be born.

A Solstice celebration is one of a new beginning, of letting in the opportunity for longer days, more sunlight, perhaps healing, perhaps joy.

My sister is that, she opens her heart to joy, to the opportunity of hope.

I admire her, I love her.  Happy Birthday Cheri, I am glad you are in the world.mom.cheri

Sweetest Sister Sandi

 

newkids

sandi,steve, mom and ed

Well, I missed your birthday my sister, I was away from my computer for a few days, and frankly, the date blindsided me until I saw it on Facebook.  How the heck did it get this late into the summer?

Sandi you are kind, smart, honest, beautiful, innovative, funny.  A great woman, a wonderful mother, and a fantastic Grandma.

You love with all of your heart, and for years I have watched you shower others with so much care, concern, and eagerness.  I have worried that you do not shower yourself with such bounty, but I have noticed in recent years you taking the time to think more of yourself, and I am so happy about that.

Your life has not been an easy one, you have lived through massive obstacles, pain, and you have always come out kicking, cept for that one time when your knee was smashed in a car accident,  you were not kicking so hard after that.  You did keep moving forward though, through everything.

sank and girls

sank, amanda, sam, mandy at the farm

You have learned to enjoy your moments of joy, to savor them, to imclude them in your memory banks, to create them.  I love that.

And sigh, I must apologize for locking you out of the house when I was babysitting you back on the farm, well, you say I did that anyway, I am not sure I acknowledge it, but…#notthebestbigsisterever.

beautysank

I love you sista, I honor you, I respect you, I admire you.  Happiest New Life Year!

 

 

Our mother made cookies

I have memories of spring, of May Day, whether they be true or not I have no idea.  Perhaps my sisters can tell me.

macaroonsI have memories of May Day Macaroons, the only time our mother made them.  I loved those macaroons, soft, warm and chewy from the oven.  I loved their pure coconut sweetness.

I have memories of small paper baskets, cone shaped, with a wild violetstiny paper handle, filled with flowers and cookies, and hung on a friends door.may basket

I love these memories of our mother.

I always will love macaroons and little wild violets

lovelymom

My Magnificant, Magnanimous Michael

wpid-img_2913.jpgyoung michaelIn my youth, a long long time ago, I never imagined myself having children.  I did, two fantastic daughters.  I certainly did not imagine grandchildren.  I do.  Two wonderful grandsons.

And Michael, the eldest just turned 12.  Oh gosh I remember when I was 12, young, full of ideas.  Now that is Michael.

Michael, when you were born I was awed, so amazed at you.  I held you and was just a tiny bit fearful about what type of grandparent I would be.  But you my darling, are a most marvelous grandson.

You stayed with me often when you were a baby, any weekends I could snatch you away.  You slept at the foot of my bed, safely tucked away.  And I knew the morning you climbed out of bed on your own, that I was in for a busy ride.

You have grown so strong, so smart, so loving.  You have an empathy for others that boggles my mind.  I love you. and I find such delight in watching you grow into a young man.  But hey, could you slow down, soon you will be taller than me, and a man fully grown.    Stay strong, stay safe, stay happy my love.mike2

 

The Dashing, Daring, Deliberate, Devon

handsomedevHappy Birthday to our Devon.  The Man who builds all, takes care of multitudes, Is an amazing father to Da Boys, and a wonderful husband and best friend to our Copy (3) of mags and devdaughter Maggie.

Devon, I met you when you were a boy, still baby face fresh in high school.  You drove about that whatever type of car it was with pride, worked hard, and proved to be a kind, and thoughtful man.  Your good cheer is always contagious, and your concern for all evident.

You have always helped me, spending countless hours fixing my cars, sheet rocking our Lakeville kitchen while you were still in high school, and oh what a wonderful gift that was to return home to.  You treat all of us like queens and kings.    You are a king yourself!

You still work hard, and with purpose, at your job, in your home, and at being a good man, husband, and father.  I admire you, I love you, I honor you.  Always be who you are Mr. Wonderful!  Happy Happy Day!  Happy Happy Life!!!devandkids

Day 22 And Day 23

I am just grateful these days.  Grateful for the opportunity to cocoon in my home, to live surrounded by the “things” I love.  I am grateful for John’s warm heart that love me.

And I am thankful  for Parker dogs scent…really.

I am thankful for Orange Cat patrolling our outside for the dastardly mice and hope he is thankful for his heated home in the garage.

I am thankful we have no snow, I really don’t like snow.

I am thankful for our full freezer, and the gas in our cars, the heat in our buildings, our electricity, just every little thing I often take for granted.

Today I am grateful for thankfulness.thankfulness

A slight romantic tale of fiction

youngHer  name was Tirion. A Kale from Wales. Often she was confused with the Gypsy. But was not such. Tirion‘s  kind has always traveled in Britain, from before even the Celts traveled to Ireland to conquer and control. They are not Gypsy, They are, and will always be, Travelers.

Even so, they share much in common with the Gypsies, journeying from place to place, and share much with our United States country’s own native tribes. They were persecuted for their beliefs, and often found themselves hiding  survive. Survive they did. Making their way, moving from village to city to ocean to mountain to plain, working hard; using the strength of their minds and their bodies.

Her own Gran, my Gran many times past, had a sight, theoldwoman ability to see past the veils of this world into others, and could reach into the soul of another to understand and hear their hidden secrets. From her Tirion was passed these gifts, and with them, she made her own small living.cards

From her words to my Gran’s Mother to my Gran and to me, I heard this tale…

“We look to the other world for our spiritual delight. Mab, Queen of all the Fairies we call our own, and the Fairies we are cousin to. My ancestors danced with the Fairies on many a midsummer eve, and many a hallowed eve, ensuring our prosperity and comfort. Together we drew down the moon, and made the small magic’s that kept our world turning.

I can tell you many a tale of my five decades here on this earthly plane, tales of visits with my cousins, tales of time spent with this United States own native peoples, and tales of my travels, sorrows, and joy. But I will begin, with just the small beginning. To say how I came to this vast and wonderful land of ours, this Western glory.

My Ma; as a Lass, came across the great ocean on a merchant ship bound from the port of Liverpool, in the year of 1825, headed to a port of New York City. Her passage was paid by a grand and fine Lady, and for this Lady my Ma fetched and carried, helping to achieve all of the fuss and froofa that great Ladies must have.

Her private time was little, but one fine morning she happened above decks, to stand with the salty breeze blowing through her hair, and the feel of the sun on her face. A swell rocked the deck, and she tumbled, crying out in alarm.

sailor in mastNow above her was the man who would be my Da, a Traveler as well, who had hired on the ship to earn his own safe passage to the Americas. He worked the sails, climbing up and down the masts, doing all those things that sailors do. Hearing her cry, he looked down, and saw her coppery curls glinting in the light, and her slight form tumbled about the deck. And she, lying on that deck looked up into the sky and saw himself, sun-browned and lean, hanging above her.

Quickly he clambered down the mast, and rushing to her, helped her back on to her feet. Looking into one anothers faces they knew, with their souls that they  to be together.

Later that evening, my Ma once more crept above deck, to find Da, waiting, where her heart knew he would be. And thus I was created, and still to this day, I hold in my mind a connected memory of the sound and smell of salty waves rocking against the wooden sides of a ship, and the sight of stars shining down into the water.”

I blushed as my gran told me this story, and was thrilled to know of the love running in my veins.

gypsy wagon

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