Iris Ruth Pastor's Blog, page 18
August 31, 2022
Looking out the window
September can be such a joyous month and, at the same time, such a cruel month. In nature, it marks the end of summer’s lushness and the beginning of fall’s crispness.
For me personally, it’s usually been a time of loss – so many family members I cherished and loved passed away in September.
September – for those of us who have kids – has always been a month of transition from the lazier days of summer to the hectic demands of yet another academic year.
September is a vivid reminder of the relentless pace of change.
Silently cringing inside as we put our five year-old on the school bus for the very first time
Calming a nervous fifth grader making a transition to a new school
Trying to read a moody teenager’s needs as he or she enters high school
And, then, the good-bye:sending our youngest child off to college – the exhilaration and sadness of the empty nest.
That’s September.
Below is a column I wrote years ago that speaks of the experience.
I rinse peanut butter off the knife and put it in the dishwasher.
I scrub dried mozzarella cheese from a plate and put it in the dishwasher too
I scrape carrot after carrot and painstakingly cut them into thin strips
I slice bagels for sandwiches, snacks, mini-pizzas and quick pick-me-ups
And all the time
I look out the kitchen window.
I see my children playing wiffle ball in the summer, their brows dripping with sweat
I see my children tossing a football in the fall, their feet slipping on the golden leaves
I see my children building snowmen in the winter, impatiently discarding scarves and hats as their cheeks get redder and their bodies warmer
I see my children pounding tennis balls against the garage wall in the spring, using muscles that have lain dormant over the winter
Sometimes it’s painful to look out the kitchen window.
I fry dozens of hamburgers and fill dozens of ceramic pitchers full of fresh lemonade for Max’s first party with girls.
I pop kernels and kernels and kernels of popcorn for after school snacks and Sunday football game gatherings for Louie and Frank.
I bake birthday cupcakes for Harry, painstakingly decorating each one with his name.
I melt bags of colored chocolate to mold into Valentine hearts for Sam and his gang of gangly guys.
And all the time –
I look out my kitchen window.
I see Harry teaching Frank how to properly load books, computer, and clothes into the car he’ll drive up to college.
I see Frank teaching Max how to back the car out of the garage
without hitting the tree (and his other brothers).
I see Max teaching Sam how to start the lawn mower after the motor is flooded.
I see Sam teaching Lou how to rake, bag and dump –
the leaves in fall and the grass clippings in summer.
Sometimes it’s painful to look out the kitchen window
and realize that one day
there will be no more lunches to pack,
carrots to scrape, kernels to pop, hamburgers to fry,
and children to watch.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
PS: How did you cope with the empty nest?
August 25, 2022
Where Have All The Children Gone?
Where have all the children gone?
Think of the song by Peter, Paul and Mary: Where Have All The Flowers Gone?
The flowers went to graveyards. The children – our children and grandchildren – thank goodness – have not, but they are nowhere to be seen.
I walk my neighborhood and see lots of garages filled with soccer balls and bicycles, but no one kicking the balls or riding the bikes.
I spot driveways with professionally installed basketball hoops, but no one practicing free throws.
And the sidewalks?
They are devoid of activity except for plugged-in adult power walkers immersed in what their particular ear pods are blasting into their ears.
And the merry-go-rounds and teeter totters of days past?
Replaced by carefully constructed, low-to-the-ground, low-risk playground equipment too easily mastered.
Where are the kids?
I don’t see them playing in their generously proportioned back yards – chasing each other around, rolling in the dirt, spinning dizzily around before falling in the grass.
It’s like that in Newport News, Virginia, where I visit my sister and brother-in-law at in my hometown of Cincinnati.
It’s like that in the suburbs of New York City, where my adult kids reside with my grandchildren. And it’s like that in Tampa, Florida, where I call home.
Where have all the children gone?
The children – our children and grandchildren – are encamped inside, playing video games, staring at screens, surfing the web, texting, e mailing, watching you tube. For about nine hours each day, research shows.
Oh – and one more thing they are doing? Falling out of chairs when in the classroom due to lack of balance.
What IS going on?
Overscheduled kids
Autism on the rise
Waves of attention deficit kids unable to sustain their concentration.
Sensory and emotional disorders increasing alarmingly.
I can tell you what is NOT going on:
Active and Unrestricted Play
Jumping rope
Spinning dizzily
Swinging high on a swing
Having the opportunity to play away from the adult world.
If you are relating to this post, you may want to listen to the podcast nonfiction4life with host Janet Perry, Episode #104: “Balanced and Barefoot” featuring pediatric occupational therapist Angela J. Hanscom
Here are two key points taken directly from the show notes:
In nature, children learn to take risks, overcome fears, make new friends, regulate emotions and create imaginary worlds. These experiences create healthy bodies, creative minds, academic success, emotional stability and strong social skills.
Outdoor play naturally motivates kids to move, strengthening their muscles and engaging all their senses.
If you are a parent or grandparent and concerned your kiddos are getting way too much screen time and not enough of the benefits of “playing outside” time, this blog may be of great interest to you. Angela J. Hanscom clues us in on not only the benefits of play, but how to get the kids to do it. And love it.
And here is the link: https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&sxsrf=ALiCzsYD3bNdNhvlOd18lZKLPGWlFarqNg:1661212008510&q=nonfiction+for+life+episode+104&spell=1&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwidsKf90Nv5AhW4VTABHRQMBHsQBSgAegQIARA1&biw=1366&bih=448&dpr=1
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
If you have a novel activity you do with your kids and/or grandkids that involves active outdoor play, give a holler: irisruthpastor@gmail.com
August 19, 2022
46 Tidbits of Wisdom for Each Year I’ve Been Married
46 Tidbits of Wisdom for Each Year I’ve Been Married
My husband and I had a fairy tale beginning. We re-met at our 10th high school reunion over the 4th of July weekend, 47 years ago. The following year, we were wed.
On Monday, August 15, we celebrated 46 years of wedded “bliss.”
Here’s 46 things I’ve learned in those intervening years
Cherish the past magic, especially on days it doesn’t appear to still exist.2. Trust that the magic will appear again.
3. Find comfort in being married to someone who has “your best interests at heart,” even when he tells you things “for your own good” that you would prefer not to hear, much less acknowledge.
4. Don’t short change frivolity for chores.
5. Be kind.
6. Say thank you.
7. Humor has been known to dissipate anxiety and keep things in proper perspective. Use it. Better than shrugging your shoulders and walking away when confronted with a moody spouse.
8. Prize the possessions willed to you upon his mother’s demise.
9. Pick your battles – there are worse things than resigning yourself to his messy side of the bathroom, living room and bedroom.
10. Nourish his spirit as much as your own. And nourish your own spirit as much as his own.
11. Sometimes an extra glass of wine is exactly what’s needed.
12. Binge watch at least one series together.
13. Err on the side of generosity of spirit and generosity of time even when it’s an effort.
14. Just because you think something, doesn’t mean you need to express it.
15. Just because you think something, doesn’t mean you need to express it.
(The above is not duplicated by accident.)
16. Slow dance in the family room every once in a while – remember Johnny Mathis and make-out parties? Don’t lose the art.
17. If practicing gratitude, include one thing each day concerning your partner.
18. Ponder the magical meaning of being loved by living in the moment. As we age, we forget the past and have no guarantee of the future anyway.
19. There are more important things than a neat kitchen, organized drawers and spotlessly clean wastebaskets.
20. How would you live your last day with your partner if you could plan it? Plan it.
21. Now, DO IT.
22. It’s okay to vent, yell and cry, but don’t make him your therapist.
23. Every conversation does not need to include a listing of your aches and pains and newest treatment options.
24. Remember what made you fall in love with him.
25. Honor your vows.
26. Write each other a love letter for absolutely no occasion whatsoever and detail the one thing you find most lovable.
27. Set aside time for one conversation a week where you are forbidden to talk about health or family.
28. Cook a meal like company is coming.
29. On each birthday, tell him what you valued and cherished about him in the last year.
30. Don’t ask him if you look fat, if you don’t want to hear the answer.
31. Ditto for the phrase, “You can tell me the truth, I can take it,” unless you are prepared for the answer.
32. Don’t compare yourself or your marriage to others.
33. Facebook shows faces of people, not their lives – don’t be fooled into thinking you are the only one who goes through miserable times.
34. Ditto for Instagram.
35. Buy a locket and put his picture in it – or put a picture of him on your screen saver.
36. He sent you a card that warmed your heart. Keep it in plain sight.
37. On days when the parts are jangling harshly, remember the Gestalt Theory – the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. So concentrate on the whole.
38. It’s always later than you think. Keep that in mind.
39. You don’t have to agree on everything. That includes politics, religion and your brother-in-law.
40. If you long for your husband to reduce his girth, hide the chips.
41. When your husband walks in the door, notice his body language, as much as listening to his words.
42. Make it easy for him to exercise more and visit the gym regularly – place his gym bag in clear view of the door to the garage.
43. Always praise the progress.
44. Always have his back.
45. Follow Billy Crystal, who said, “I’d like to think there is a heaven and it starts from the happiest day in your life. I’ll be 18 and Janice Goldfinger (his wife of many years) will walk by me in a bikini and I will follow her and it will start all over again. I’d really like to think that.”
46. Repeat all of the above.
And Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
PS: Just thought of one more! Train your husband not to expect a coherent answer to a substantive question when you are hungry.
August 11, 2022
The Height of Chutzpah 
It took a little chutzpah – I’ll admit – but I quickly got over my misgivings at how giving myself a party appeared so self-absorbed and self-serving. And I had a great time planning it too: Venue. Table decorations. Menu. Party favors. Guest list.
I started with neighborhood kids I had played with. I added cronies from elementary School, high School and adulthood. Each invitation included a written request to each of my guests to come up with one word that describes me and why they picked that word.
So, at my birthday party, it was kinda like being at my own funeral – tee hee – because I got to hear everyone say good and wonderful things about me – even though most were highly exaggerated. And, of course, I didn’t have to show up grotesquely made-up, confined to a coffin. I was carefully coiffed, greeting each guest effusively and then leaning forward eagerly absorbing every morsel of praise they heaped upon me.
It was glorious!
However, my husband’s remarks went in another direction entirely. Here goes:
Iris is the mirror image of the energizer bunny – talented with many diverse interests and always fully engaged in all aspects of life.
However, I don’t want to give you the impression that she is perfect. She is often illogical and misses the obvious. And there is no person, living or dead, who has ever aggravated me more.
Here are a few examples:
When we first married, we lived in a second floor apartment with Harry and Frank, who were then 4 and 2 years old. When we were moving into our first house, I was saying goodbye to our first-floor neighbor who was a resident OB_GYN always short on sleep. I apologized to him for all the noise he and his wife probably had been hearing from our toddlers running up and down the halls.
“Actually,” he said. “That wasn’t an issue. It wasn’t the noise of the kids that was disturbing, but the constant fighting of you and Iris that was so disconcerting.”
And he didn’t crack a smile when he said it. It was concrete proof of my wife’s ability to drive me nuts.
Steven continued:
There is a paper on your table labeled do not turn over. Please turn it over now and pass around the table. Before you take a closer look at it, let me explain the history behind it.
Our son’s Frank’s’ bedroom, when he was about three, was decorated entirely in blues and greens and Iris was intent on finding a print with those same colors to hang above his bed. She found one, had it framed and asked me to pick it up.
When I went to the frame shop to get it, the owner unwrapped it to show me the finished product. I looked at it and said to him, “There must be a terrible mistake, Iris would have never picked this out for our young son, even though the colors are correct and it LOOKS childish.
Here is the picture:
As you will note, there is Noah and his wife in the ark and the cute little animals walking up, around and into the ark two by two. But they are not just walking, they are also FORNICATING!
I called Iris and asked her if she had looked closely at the print.
“Yes,” she insisted. “I know what I picked – it’s got animals and it’s got all the right colors to match Frank’s room.”
Without hesitation, I turned to the owner and said, “Wrap it up!”
That picture hung, not in Frank’s bedroom, but in every master bath in every home we lived in as a constant reminder of my wife’s endearing cluelessness. And it will be willed to Frank upon our passing.
These days the nest is empty, but the squabbling continues. Mostly age- related issues:
You are mumbling. Speak louder.
Where’d you put the damn remote?
I can’t believe you didn’t write it down!
Iris and I soldier on in spite of age-related aches, pains and decrements, savoring our children, our grandchildren and each other.
The party was a great success in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Comments following the party centered on how wonderful it was to get together with people from our past – with people we played with, squabbled with, trusted and adored.
I highly recommend giving yourself that experience too.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
PS: How are you celebrating your milestone events these days?
August 2, 2022
A mere ten seconds hurdles me back to 1964
My friend Faye and I have been friends since first grade – we shared scraped knees, chicken pox, pimples and boyfriend woes. And then for many years we lost touch.
We reconnected recently and I invited her to go with me to see the Cincinnati Reds play the Miami Marlins while I was visiting my hometown.
Munching on peanuts and diet cokes, I pointed out that I had never run into one person from grade school while at a Reds game.
The game ends. We walk briskly to my car and I carefully back out – warily watching for clueless fans who meander around the parking garage without looking. As I accelerate forward, I spot two men to my right, instantly recognizing one of them.
“Omg! It’s Tommy!” I exclaim to Faye.
I jam on the brake, frantically searching for the power window release to roll down the window. I yell out – like a mad woman – “Tommy! Tommy! Tommy!”
Tommy turns quickly, instantly recognizes my friend and I and yells, “Pull over – pull over!”
And I do.
The conversation and intense hugging that follows among us is pretty predictable for grade school buddies who haven’t seen each other in years. But that isn’t what struck me so powerfully.
What did strike me so forcefully? Driving in a car
A good buddy beside me
Spotting a friend
Waving frantically to get his attention
It was one of the most powerful Deja Vu experiences I have had in years.
In those short seconds of initial connection with Tommy, I recalled vividly:
The joy of being sixteen years old
The freedom my driver’s license brought me
The happiness of having a friend beside me
And the sheer pleasure of running unexpectedly into another
I needed to be reminded of the pure joy being alive at age 16 could bring.
And I need to bring that sense of wonder and excitement forward as I turn 75 today.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
PS: What throwback moment hurdled you back to your coming-of-age years?
July 27, 2022
What Turning 75 Looks Like
Maria Shriver writes in her Sunday Paper column about what Kara Lawson, Duke University women’s basketball head coach, said recently: We wait for stuff to get easier. It will never get easier. What happens is you handle hard better.”
OMG. I love that statement!
Turning 75 is not easy. For me, it’s a difficult milestone, but the alternative is far worse. As they say, better over the hill than under it.
And my life experiences have made “the hard” somewhat easier
So here is what turning 75 years of age looks like from my vantage point:
Miralax with my first glass of water in the morning.
Lining up my very high heeled shoes to cart off to the Salvation Army Thrift Shop.
Here’s the more practical replacements:
The contents and titles of my file folders have also gone through some transformation.
I used to search the world wide web for challenging hiking trails out West and hot yoga classes in my neighborhood and sales for black stiletto shoes with bright red bottoms.
My recent internet searches reflect the growing number of decades I’ve been around:
Gel packs for arthritic knees
Chair lifts
Creams for saggy, crepey upper arms
And yet I’m still young at heart on the inside, though my outside reflects more wear and tear.
I still recall my teenage yearnings centering on puppy love and silly crushes. And romantic images still lurk below the surface of my now much more pragmatic, but very forgetful, mind
I realized this last night while watching an episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. The episode ended with the song Dedicated To The One I Love.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnLyypuGG6oI just wanted to jump up, grab my husband and slow dance around the family room, but he had already gone upstairs to bed …..
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
July 21, 2022
The Perfect Obit
Ann Lander’s advice column was the first thing I would read in the daily paper.
These days, I peruse the funeral notices – keeping a sharp eye out for the unique, the ones written with flair and humor. I usually leave those pages disappointed, as most obits are formulaic and boring. But not this one:
CANNELLA, Theodore Frank “Ted”
Passed away…at age 77, leaving the world without its most beloved, soft-hearted, and utterly irreverent tough guy.
Ted grew up in South Tampa as the son of a first-generation immigrant from Sicily and second-generation immigrant from Austurias, Spain. As a boy, he attended Christ the King, where he developed a faith that would be his rudder later in life, despite his distaste for rigid religion of any kind. Ted was…relentlessly doted upon by his loving mother…and spent his free time doing what he loved most, fishing.
Ted was unusually gifted with both brains and brawn…he was a dead-ringer for Elvis in his college years. He reveled in the fact that most southerners never quite knew what to do with the Italian from Tampa with the greased-back hair. True to form, he eschewed what he viewed as the preppy and pretentious atmosphere of Greek life. He focused instead on playing guard for the Rambling Wreck and raising absolute hell with his extended football family. He graduated in 1966 with a degree in financial engineering from Georgia Tech and more epic stories than most people amass in a lifetime…
He spent his happiest years living on Cabbage Key, where he had a front row seat to a beautiful mangrove sound every night next to his favorite person, his devoted wife Gigi. Guests walking down the nature trail could hear laugher and music coming from the house before it came into view. He and Gigi hosted countless guests…showering them with Jimmy Buffet music, Gi’s excellent cooking and Ted’s legendary Caesar salads. There may have also been some alcohol or what not involved, but no one can really remember.
Ted’s marriage to Gigi was long and happy. They worked together, fished together and weathered life’s storms (including two actual hurricanes) together, hand in hand, inseparable until the very end. Ted was Gigi’s fiercest protector and Gigi was his biggest cheerleader….laughter, a shared faith, and a refusal to sweat the small stuff was their secret recipe for a marriage that was both full of love and genuinely fun.
Ted loved his family deeply. He did all the things that fathers do, of course: he coached little league, attended dance recitals and stayed up till 3 am putting together doll houses and bicycles. But his unique style of love was to speak openly and honestly to his children, to admit his errors in life, to try to spare his own children from making the same mistakes he made. Although he only had two biological children, he was like a dad to many more. He took us fishing, philosophized with us, laughed with us, encouraged us, made fun of us and loved us. His laugh, his foul language, his cunning wit and his absurdly loud sneezes will be sorely missed by all who knew him…
This obit above is a perfect template for how I want to be captured when I depart this world – my imperfections acknowledged and my strengths celebrated – and all the words stitched together with forthrightness and humor. What more can I ask?
Well, one more thing: I wish I had known Theodore Frank “Ted” Cannella.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
The Perfect Orbit
Ann Lander’s advice column was the first thing I would read in the daily paper.
These days, I peruse the funeral notices – keeping a sharp eye out for the unique, the ones written with flair and humor. I usually leave those pages disappointed, as most obits are formulaic and boring. But not this one:
CANNELLA, Theodore Frank “Ted”
Passed away…at age 77, leaving the world without its most beloved, soft-hearted, and utterly irreverent tough guy.
Ted grew up in South Tampa as the son of a first-generation immigrant from Sicily and second-generation immigrant from Austurias, Spain. As a boy, he attended Christ the King, where he developed a faith that would be his rudder later in life, despite his distaste for rigid religion of any kind. Ted was…relentlessly doted upon by his loving mother…and spent his free time doing what he loved most, fishing.
Ted was unusually gifted with both brains and brawn…he was a dead-ringer for Elvis in his college years. He reveled in the fact that most southerners never quite knew what to do with the Italian from Tampa with the greased-back hair. True to form, he eschewed what he viewed as the preppy and pretentious atmosphere of Greek life. He focused instead on playing guard for the Rambling Wreck and raising absolute hell with his extended football family. He graduated in 1966 with a degree in financial engineering from Georgia Tech and more epic stories than most people amass in a lifetime…
He spent his happiest years living on Cabbage Key, where he had a front row seat to a beautiful mangrove sound every night next to his favorite person, his devoted wife Gigi. Guests walking down the nature trail could hear laugher and music coming from the house before it came into view. He and Gigi hosted countless guests…showering them with Jimmy Buffet music, Gi’s excellent cooking and Ted’s legendary Caesar salads. There may have also been some alcohol or what not involved, but no one can really remember.
Ted’s marriage to Gigi was long and happy. They worked together, fished together and weathered life’s storms (including two actual hurricanes) together, hand in hand, inseparable until the very end. Ted was Gigi’s fiercest protector and Gigi was his biggest cheerleader….laughter, a shared faith, and a refusal to sweat the small stuff was their secret recipe for a marriage that was both full of love and genuinely fun.
Ted loved his family deeply. He did all the things that fathers do, of course: he coached little league, attended dance recitals and stayed up till 3 am putting together doll houses and bicycles. But his unique style of love was to speak openly and honestly to his children, to admit his errors in life, to try to spare his own children from making the same mistakes he made. Although he only had two biological children, he was like a dad to many more. He took us fishing, philosophized with us, laughed with us, encouraged us, made fun of us and loved us. His laugh, his foul language, his cunning wit and his absurdly loud sneezes will be sorely missed by all who knew him…
This obit above is a perfect template for how I want to be captured when I depart this world – my imperfections acknowledged and my strengths celebrated – and all the words stitched together with forthrightness and humor. What more can I ask?
Well, one more thing: I wish I had known Theodore Frank “Ted” Cannella.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
July 18, 2022
Determining The World We See
I’m a firm believer in how you see the world determines the world you see. And I think my house reflects this.
I’m devoting this week’s newsletter to a glimpse of some of the plaques and signs I have hanging around my house. They give comfort, provide inspiration and provoke hope – all of which seems to be in short supply these days.
Beginning in the late 1950’s, my mom started adorning the walls of our wood paneled breakfast room. Here’s three that I would read every morning while biting into my toasted white Wonder Bread slathered with margarine:
(It must have been one of those “worst” days – doesn’t was spelled wrong!)
Humor dispels gloom. Dissipates the bad feelings. While raising my five rambunctious boys, I kept these hung up in MY breakfast room:
And when things went awry – and they did, I stared for many hours at these:
When my young adult children made (what seemed to me) not-so-great decisions, I bought this one at a local boutique and hung it above my dressing table. I probably cracked it one day in sheer frustration.
When I needed a boost of energy to tackle an ongoing issue, here’s where I planted my eyes.
And when that ongoing issue – in spite of all my efforts – continued to be an ongoing issue, I learned to adapt.
When the nest emptied and it was just my husband and me, I laser-focused my eyeballs on these two:
And when I need to be reminded that my attitude determines the world I see, I look at this. And look again.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
July 11, 2022
Subject Lint Correction: It’s All So Complicated
The next day, I receive the following text from a family member, who is passing this text on from a teacher who had the shooter as a student in grade school: He was very troubled even then. His parents were divorced….He was school averse. We had weekly meetings about him and with him and his family. Honestly, if you asked me to pinpoint, out of all the students I taught over 30 years, he would fit the “active mass shooter” profile the most profoundly! He was such a loner…he was so closed off…I have many vices. And one of them is binge watching – especially fast breaking news stories and enticing series. Whoa is me when I get hooked. House plants die. Texts and e mails go unanswered. Bills get paid late. And the wash piles up.
Just days before July 4th, I finished watching Outlanders – a seven-part saga centering on time travel back to the 1700’s. The last season prompted me to ask myself a tantalizing question about the American Revolutionary War that I had absolutely never thought about before: On whose side were the Native Americans? The British or the Colonists?
Having no clue, as always, I asked my friends – many of whom are retired teachers. Reaction: dead silence. Followed by, “Wow, I never remember learning about that in school.
What we all were taught was the Pledge of Allegiance, which we religiously recited out loud every morning.
Historian Rebecca Beatrice Brooks cites: Many Native American tribes fought in the Revolutionary War. The majority of these tribes fought for the British but a few fought for the Americans. Many of these tribes tried to remain neutral in the early phase of the war but when some of them came under attack by American militia, they decided to join the British.
Why we were not taught the Native American stance on the War? Probably because the colonists and the Europeans were all the interlopers – treating the tribal people, their land, rituals and beliefs shamelessly.
Liberty and justice for all?
Slaves counted as three-fifths of a free individual
Japanese-American West Coast residents were interred during World War 2
Women were denied the right to vote until 1920
We aren’t so perfect nor is our Union. And the intervening years have tested our resolve and commitment to those ideals.
It’s 2022 – controversy still reigns. Here’s just a smattering:
How to prevent mass shootings
The right to buy AR-style rifles
The need for better mental health
The status of Red Flag laws
The presence of incendiary websites
It’s all so complicated.
There is a way, however, to express our opinions and make our individual voices heard.
VOTE.
The primaries are fast approaching in August – followed by the general election in November.
If you haven’t registered to vote, click this link https://www.usa.gov/register-to-vote
Vote like your vote counts – because – thank goodness at this point – it still does.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom
Iris Ruth Pastor
