Vicki Lane's Blog, page 38

Veterans Day

                                                      Honoring all who served . . .

Josie's Song

This is me at the library. I am in my pajamas because it was Pajama Day at school.

There weren't any kids to play with, so I did Legos a while and then picked out some books.

Then I wrote a song. It took two pages.

This is the song. It is called "I Like the Light"
I am a star.I twinkle every night.I shine ever so brightAnd I like the light of the cityZoomin' around like they're so pretty.
I know where I am and I know where I'm gonna be going.
I am a star.I'm going and seeing the light.I shine ever so brightLike the lights of the cityZoomin' around like they're so pretty.Woooooo!I like the light!






 

Sixty-One Years --An Updated Repost

November 9, 1963

Sixty-one years!?! Where does the time go?



John's grandfather, with whom I am exchanging an air kiss here, and his wife had just celebrated their fiftieth anniversary a few days before our wedding. Back then, I thought they were really old . . .



The reception was held at my maternal grandparents' house, which had, in 1941, been the scene of my parents' wedding, and the wedding cake was a duplicate of theirs, baked by the same lady and in the same cake pan.

Of course there were little silver dishes of homemade butter mints on the table. It wouldn't have been a real wedding without them -- at least, that's what my mother and grandmother seemed to think.

Between mothers and grandmothers and the mandates of the Episcopal Church, John and I were swept away on a tide of This Is How It's Done -- lots of carrying on that, in retrospect, seems hard to believe.

Long ago and a galaxy far away. But it seems to have worked so far.

Time for Reflection

 Still feeling sandbagged by the prospect of four years of That Guy. I'm reading various articles dissecting the reasons for the outcome (misogyny, fear of 'wokeness,' the economy, immigration . . .)  and trying to assemble my own thoughts. 

Till those thoughts reach coherence, I'll keep quiet on the subject. Expect photos, Josie, recipes, critters, and random rambling.

Rebuilding Hope

Across the river, a team of Army workers are tackling the immense job of restoring the park that was the put-in place for rafting companies and other paddlers--groups that brought needed revenue to our county.

The flood uprooted trees, deposited debris, and left a huge gouge in the middle of what had been the parling area. Now many hands are working to restore the park--as they are working all over our devastated region.

I can't help seeing an analogy here--our brutally divided country in need of repair.  
Like many, I am sick at heart over the election of this incredibly flawed man and am apprehensive of the future. 
I cling to hope. But it's going to take some heavy equipment to heal this divide




 

Do Not Be Daunted

                                                   

“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief.

 Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now.

 You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” 

 (from a commentary on the Talmud)

Take a Break from Stressing

                                                                         

This pretty critter landed on my laptop while I was doom-scrolling. It seemed like a message.

I took it outside and we communed for a while. Then I moved it to a plant and went in and read Mary Oliver's lovely poem The Summer Day-- a nice change from the news and appropriate at all times. You can find it here. 
And remember to breathe.

A Wish for November

May you grow still enough to hear the small noises earth makes in preparing for the long sleep of winter, so that you yourself may grow calm and grounded deep within.

                                                             Br. David Steindl-Rast

My friend Barb posted this on her blog last year. It seems especially appropriate in this fraught November.

 

Going, Going . . .

 

The Razor's Edge

                                                                 

                 Come Tuesday or Wednesday, most of these leaves will be gone. And so, I hope, will be our uncertainty about the election.

I'm still reliving the night of the 2016 election. I was in the rehab/nursing home, recovering from the accident that broke my left ankle and boogered up my right shoulder, leaving me bedridden for months. I'd watched the debate with the Orange One looming behind Hillary as she spoke and still, in my innocence, that she had the election in the bag.

I had underestimated the misogyny and gullibility of many of my fellow Americans. I'm trying not to do it again.

Watching the Former Guy unravel, spewing vitriol, alienating one segment of our society after another, I find myself thinking that surely this time, people will see him for what he is.

Then again, for those who get their 'news' from Fox and the like, well, those folks have their alternate facts.

And here we are, teetering on a razor edge, balance between hope and fear, democracy and oligarchy.

May all be well.