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

The Fourth Marches On!

Happy fourth everyone. 

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Our country, well, we are so diverse.  We are a people made of the cultures, beliefs and history of  many.  We have a great deal of goodness to focus upon,  so at this time I will.

Happy Fourth of July.  Celebrate this honest holiday with pride and faith!

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Time for a Wagon

Time for a Gypsy Wagon

Please take some time to check out my new endeavor!tyger voyage

Freedom

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children of the poor

Yesterday I watched a news story.  Women and children are coming to our boarders, believing that they will find freedom.  Believing in  the American Dream;  met at the border by rich US citizens, turned away, screamed at, disregarded as people.  We furiously protect what we have, forgetting where we got it!

Trail of Tears

We forget that our ancestors came from other countries; pushing out the native people who lived here.  In many cases with genocide.

We forget that our ancestors came, and lived in hovels, worked, scraped, struggled.  So that they could have the American Dream. We forget that they were scorned and terrorized, yet kept coming.  thp-ny-tenementWe forget where we came from.

This is not a treatise on immigration policy, I am not smart enough for that.  This is a call for understanding and love, for a return to our basic values of liberty and justice for all.  What are the words?

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

This is how most of us arrived here.  My great grandparents from Prussia and England with little, working their way here to the Midwest, coming to dream.

Today, everyday, remember and honor.liberty

 

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrate Earth Day!!!

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Trains in the distance

train_plum_blossomsAs a small child I spent time with my Grandmother Schumacher in the summer.  Nights I slept on the couch, next to her dining room window, and listened to the train  whistle blowing as the train headed through Marengo.  I dreamed of  where the train could take me, the mystery of adventures I would enjoy.

Now what seems like a century later, near our house, across the road and past the swamp is a railroad track.  The sound comes through our open windows in the summer evening,; drifts across on the cold air, like wisps of ghostly sighs, in the winter.  The glory of it’s song wakes me in the evening, and I lay awake wondering where it is heading, who else is hearing its music.

During the day, I can see the train passing, cars heaped with coal, tankers with oil, corn syrup, flat cars holding massive equipment, and trailer cars with names like Evergreen, Pacific, Burlington,Hanji.  The train for all of it’s fundamental use is a magical mystery for me.  Graffiti adorns the sides of it’s cars, art from place and people unknown.

At times, the train stops on the tracks across the road, across that swamp, and its brakes chime a large sweet chime.  The first time I heard this, I thought perhaps fairy had broken through the veil, bringing song.

I am happy trains exist, transporting life.

 

 

 

The Second Saturday Strikes Again

Mara1625492_10152266100397490_1998179080_nAn occasional store…a communal setting of joy…a great time is had by all…Cookies…palm reading…great gifts to browse and buy…time with Ms. Mara!

Call this what you want, I am so happy Second Saturday exists.  225 water Street is a store filled with beautiful stuff, magical mosaics, kindred spirits, and just plain good conversation!  Not to mention a few ghosties that may float by and send a happy chill up your spine.

I met Mara years ago, during the days I still lived above 225 Water Street, the days that the store was an empty shell; dusty and waiting for positive nuturing.  I loved the building there, loved my time spent living there and dreamed that someday, someone, would come and brighten the space below me.  Little did I know the lady would also kick me out of my lofty tower.  Oh well, Life moves on, and I happily continue to be a part of the place, dusting the area with my own brand of human haunting!

225 Water Street, the home of the Tile Gypsies; those women who spend time quietly decorating the streets of Jordan with tiny little baubles and beauty.  225 Water Street, the home of happy friends!

Come ommpalmsut one and all, come out for the fun, come out for the joy.  Brush up against the spirit of old, and engage the spirit of new.

Have your palm read, eat a cookie, buy a gift.  Just come out for the fun!!!  Celebrate that Spring is near!http://www.knaresborough.co.uk/

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