My most formative years began with the civil rights movement. A fraction of the people in our country were tired of being second class citizens. They were tired of not being able to sit at the same tables as most others, and they were tired of not being able to use the bathroom in public places. I can see clearly in retrospect.
But then I would watch the news, or happen to hear it when it was on, about how these people in the South were trouble makers.
They didn't use those words, but as a young girl of about 11, that's how I took it. There was nothing said on the news, or in the headlines, about how people were discriminated against because they weren't white. Nothing.
Fortunately my dad was jewish and taught me never to judge based on a person's color, beliefs or personal life style. I will always be grateful to him for that. One time he came home for a party and told us how he waked out because of some racist comments they made. He let them know too, why he was leaving. Good for you Dad!!!
The world started to become more complicated with the assassination of our young president.
It was like dominoes falling after that. Martin Luther King, Robert Kennedy, the Viet Nam war. My little world was slowly being turned upside down.
I am part Jewish, and really have felt more Jewish than anything else. Since this war in Gaza, I have been very defensive of Israel. It is part of my heart. I love Israel. But I DO NOT love Netanyahu. He has no interest in peace or innocent lives being blown away. It has been horrendous, and yes, sometimes I wake up thinking about it and it's horrors. As selfish as I am, I am only grateful it is not my family who live in Gaza and are Palestinians.
The people in power, their children aren't dead or severely injured because of the power issue there. They are in their bomb shelters, and nice homes and free of harm.
It is the innocentPalestinians who are suffering. It is the innocent Israeli's that suffering. And it is horrendous.
(suicide bombing in Israel)
I wanted to write this because I am grieved at the hell we have created. Will it ever be better? Will it ever end? My generation is extremely unsuccessful at bringing peace to a troubled world. We wanted to, we marched for peace, we sang about peace, we wrote about peace, we posted it on the walls of our homes, we wanted peace. It just seems it's a ghost of another time. I get made fun of because I talk about peace, love and unity. But lately I've been defensive of Israel, forcing myself not to think of the hundreds if not thousands of innocent people blown up by bombs and other horrible weapons. I had to force myself not to think about it. When I think about it, everything changes. Israel doesn't matter. War is bad for children and other lvining things. That was the slogan during the Viet Nam war. So easily we forget.
They are my heart, to say the least. Lexy is 14, Tasha is going on 3 and Milo is a little younger than Tasha. You know how some parents have children and all but one are easy? That's Milo...the "one".
About 4 weeks ago I finally bought pet insurance. And am I glad I did! Our deductible for the year is $250, which in the last two weeks we have not only met, but exceeded,we will now be able to file a claim. Let me back up a little. Today I looked at Milo's eye, after he had been scratching like crazy, everywhere on his body he was scratching, and the inside of the eye, around the eye itself looked as though it would pop out.
Of course I freaked, told the lady at the vet that yes, I would pay a little extra to be seen then and there. We walked over and of course, Milo hates the vet and anyone associated with the vet. It's actually embarrassing. However, she let me put both muzzles on him. Yep, I said both, as in two. She had to put some sort of stain in his eye (which she also let me do) and then look at it with a black light. His eye needed to open wide, which, yes again, I opened it wide so she could look with her black light for any abrasions. Which she did not find.
The whole prognosis was allergies. UG! One thing that is disturbing is that when I go to the vet they sort of just look at him, not a good look, not a bad look. But it's that look that the school secretary gives problem kids when they are waiting to see the principal.
Anyway, on my way out, waiting to pay, this man and his wife were there, obviously waiting to pick up their dog. He looks at Milo and gives him an endearing smile. All I'm thinking is, "Please don't try to pet 'my beautiful Aussie', he hates the vet and he'll probably hate you too." But alas, my thoughts did no good. He comes over and believe it or not, Milo walks over to him and sniffs. Well you know how that goes right? The man then reaches out to Milo, and surprisingly enough Milo is relatively fine. That is until the man reached over Milo's head to scratch his back. Milo proceeds to snarl and then snap. As you probably can imagine it all happened very fast. I humbly defended Milo by telling the man he hates being here and was a rescue dog, yada yada yada. The man persevered with his sweet smile and told me he understood. He then began to tell me that he has a mini Aussie and that they are prone to some sort of intestinal problems, and that this special enzyme will help. The symptoms, according to him, are the same as allergy symptoms. I listen with dread and curiosity. I can't stand complicated problems, in any genre of my life, I truly dislike them...you might even say I hate complicated problems... with a passion hate! Talking about intestinal problems in any living thing is definitely complicated.
"What food do you feed him?" asked the man in his kind, concerned voice tone. When I told him he asked me if perhaps I would consider holistic food. I wanted to ask him how much that would cost, and tell him that if it's expensive my insurance wouldn't cover it and oh, yeah, did you know I have two other dogs at home that eat quite a bit? YES, I realize holistic, organic food would be fantastic...but I am not rich. That stuff is crazy expensive. (By now I'm stressed not only because Milo's eye is bulging and looks sick and weirdly abnormal, but also because I realize I have a very high maintenance dog.) All I say though is, "I have two other dogs at home. I'm not sure." He smiles again, that kind smile of his as he tells me Milo looks a bit heavy. I just roll my eyes and tell him okay. He proceeds to tell me they are working dogs and really need a job. "Does he have a job at home?" (For God's sake, the guilt is piling on me like hot lava spewing out of a giant mountain.)
"Well, his daddy takes him for walks every morning on the mountain across the street. And yes, I have him chase the ball at the side of the house where there is a great area to run." UG UG UG....Again, he smiles sweetly and tells me that "these dogs" can work from sun up to sun down. UG UG UG UG... As he follows the lady to go retrieve his pet, (Which is probably the perfect weight. And his little four legged friend is probably everyone's sweetheart that is soooo gentle.) he tells me one last time about the enzymes.
Seriously? I have my Milo....the "one" who I apologize to strangers for and try to convince them he really is a sweet dog and wouldn't hurt a fly, the "one" whom the vet gave me a number of a dog psychologist that might be able to help with his "vet anxieties"...the one who has already reached the deductible on his pet insurance, so now we can start getting back. So that's a good thing, right? My boy is my boy and I love him with all of my heart and soul. He is like the difficult child with ADD. He is my one that no one else can really understand but me, and maybe his daddy.
So, I get to struggle with him when I have to put his eye drops in three times a day, but thankfully his eye isn't going to burst inside of his head like I thought it might. And I want to find that man and tell him he needs to get his facts right. I looked up the normal weight of a male Aussie and GUESS WHAT YOU IDIOT???? HE IS TOTALLY NORMAL...AVERAGE WEIGHT IS BETWEEN 50 AND 65 POUND. GEEEEEEEEEZ!!!!
I thought the guilt and regrets of parenthood were behind me. Not! I now have three more "children". Two of them are pretty darn easy to care for....but then there's Milo. Anyway, I hear that the dog psychiatrist is fantastic. I wonder if insurance pays for counselling??? I mean, it won't hurt to ask.
In the meantime, this song is to my baby Milo. Patty Griffin wrote it for her dog..I don't think she'll mind if I borrow it. To you Milo you and me? We'll take on the world!
Oh, heavenly day All the clouds blew away Got no trouble today with anyone
The smile on your face, I live only to see It's enough for me, baby, it's enough for me Oh, heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day
Tomorrow may rain with sorrow Here's a little time we can borrow Forget all our troubles in these moments so few
Oh because right now is only thing That all that we really have to do Is have ourselves, a heavenly day
Lay here and watch the trees sway Oh, can't see no other way, no way, no way Heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day
No one at my shoulder bringing me fears Got no clouds up above me bringing me tears
Got nothing to tell you, I've got nothing much to say Only I'm glad to be here with you On this heavenly, heavenly, heavenly, heavenly day
Oh, all the trouble gone away, oh For a while anyway, for a while anyway Heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day Heavenly day, heavenly day, oh, heavenly day
And yes, we all know she's not a baby. She's a grown woman, but if you're a parent, you'll understand that when I look at her, it's like this huge time slide. First I see the baby lying in her little bed in the hospital, then the slides start going, like someone is taking a film strip and fast forwarding over thirty years of a lifetime.
Then wallah! There she is, standing in front of me with all her beautiful glory, and yes, wisdom beyond her
years.
She is an amazing person, always has been. Sweet, sensitive, and a heart of gold. She wants to please, sometimes to a fault. I keep telling her to think of herself. The older she gets, the more she sees how right I am about that. Our mother - daughter relationship is very special. I am fortunate that although my child, my adult child, she is my friend. I would give her the world, the sun, the moon, the stars if I could, she stole my heart at first glance.
So, I have been busy the last few days planning her surprise birthday party. This is a significant time in her life as she is going back to the career she was meant to do, that she is gifted for.This is the career she has been practicing since she was a little girl of 8 playing school with her brother, teaching him, and yes, telling him what to do, what to write and how to behave. Because she has been so busy, I have been trying to make the transition easier for her. I wanted her to be able to feel loved, relaxed and refreshed this weekend. In her previous position, she was a personal trainer so I invited all of her former clients, and what a great group of people! They came, they surprised, they truly made her feel loved. And her ole' mom?...(me) She came, she cleaned, she cleaned, she cleaned and she helped out with the grand kids as much as possible. She also made sure there would be a great party at her clean, beautiful new home. Did I mention that I cleaned?
Anyway, I wanted to write something about my girl; a happy birthday tribute, something to celebrate her life, her presence on this earth. What a gift! Happy birthday beautiful Shauna...go out and continue to change the world with your love!
These lyrics say exactly what my heart wants for you my girl...Love you always and forever! I'll ALWAYS be there for you!!xoxoxo I Hope You Dance"
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder, You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger, May you never take one single breath for granted, GOD forbid love ever leave you empty handed, I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean, Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens, Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance, And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance, Never settle for the path of least resistance Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin', Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin', Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter, When you come close to sellin' out reconsider, Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance, And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along, Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone.
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean, Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens, Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance, And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
Today I have been married for 38 years. That's a long, long time. I remember when we were young, and yes, it seems like yesterday, that we used to talk about the Beatle's song "When I'm Sixty Four". We used to smile and say that would be us. Wellllll....here we are. Long ago, in that far away land of youth and adventure, our young minds couldn't really fathom that minutes would turn into hours, hours to days, and days to years. Until ....until...well...until now. Here we are, sitting together, watching tv, kids grown, grand kids yes, on our knee. It's that time.
Thirty eight years ago I had only been in England, my husband's home country, for about three days. I was starry eyed and all I knew was that he loved me. The two guys before him that I was serious about told me they loved me, and one asked me to marry him; I didn't believe him. I even told him that he just thought he loved me. But my husband....I was sure he loved me. I still am.
Listen, don't ever get married and think that you will both stay the "same person". That's just impossible. I mean, you will still have the basics, but so much will change. Things will happen that you don't plan, things will throw you for a huge loop and you'll find yourself wondering if you made a mistake. In my opinion, the only way anyone can make a mistake is to marry for the wrong reasons. It will be just quicker for me to tell you the right reason: love.
When I met my Phil, he was a wild young Englishman who had this presence and confidence. We were both living on a kibbutz in the Galilee region of Israel. We were living there, working a half day while taking Hebrew the other half. We didn't hit it off to a great start, but we became the best of friends and just hung out. He helped me with my Hebrew homework, hung around me on hikes through the Israeli desert and made me laugh. We were in my room one night doing homework and I got really frustrated, threw the pencil across the room, scowled and spit out, "I can't do this". He picked up the pencil, threw it back at me and said, "Yes you can!" That's all it took, he had me.
One afternoon he came back to his room after working in the refet (barn- milking the cows) and I told him we "had to talk." He asked me if it could wait until after his shower, and of course I said it couldn't. I let him know I felt more for him than "just a friend" and he smiled with a relieved look on his face and told me he felt the same. But he added that we should take it "nice and slow". Of course I agreed. Funny thing, it might have been a few days later that he asked me to marry him; on top of Masada, where all the Jews killed themselves. (Hmmmmmm prophetic???)
That was eons ago, at least it seems that. Marriage is more work and possibly more difficult than raising children. At least when you have two totally different, extremely stubborn, ridiculously passionate and opinionated people such as ourselves. But neither of us wanted to settle into a relationship where we just tolerated one another. We actually wanted to keep the "spark", the passion, the friendship. We had to fight, we had to fight hard, both of us....but so far, so good. Yes, there was a time we almost didn't make it, but in the end, we both realized we didn't want to live without each other; without growing old together.
He has been my only husband, and I am his only wife. I love that. I'm proud of that. We both deserve the benefits. We have the scars to prove it, and the love to bind us. It's not about staying together for the kids, (although that is important), it's not about being too lazy to do anything, because we weren't, it's about grace, prayer, love and miracles.
Here's to us Phil....."celebrate we will, cause life is short be sweet for certain. We climb on two by two to be sure these days continue!"
I'm the creative type. If I'm not "creating" something, or reinventing something, I get restless. I think this creative outlet is a blessing. If not for that, I would completely be lost in thoughts.......about life, love, gain and loss. Having children opened a whole new realm of speculation for me. Believe it or not, my mind turned to death more than I'd like to admit. Fortunately I'm not the only mother whose mental activities plummeted to such morbid musings. Chatting with a new mother the other week I confessed about the "death thoughts" thing after becoming a parent. Her eyes widened and she said in an almost reassured voice tone, "I KNOW! YES!" I don't think anything touches a heart more than a mother's love. Love in general is a very extensive subject for me; very intriguing and totally captivating. I think about it all the time; even when I'm being my creative self . These last couple of weeks I lovingly restored and redecorated my 1980's oak kitchen cabinets. It was a long, difficult and tedious procedure, but I enjoyed pretty much every minute of it. The reason is that I have always wanted to surround myself with beauty and things that I love. I do believe that walls have stories and houses have lives that were part of the previous owners. I am the future previous owner. To put love , care and affection into my walls and my space is important to me. Sitting here on a very, very hot desert summer evening, I look around at the home I've created and feel peace, joy and gratitude. Indeed, I am rich. Isn't it interesting though that there is still a longing? There is still a desire for something even more beautiful, more satisfying? My son posted a song on my facebook page; Flume, by Bon Iver. Included in the post was his note to me; "I love ya ma."
;
Listening to it I felt something deep inside of me come alive with an almost sad yearning. Yearning for more time maybe? I'm not sure, but I know that he was just a little guy about week ago and suddenly he's now a man. What happened? And can I go back and have another chance at being his mother? When I was in my 30's I proudly and superciliously told people that I had no regrets. HAHAHAH...the last laugh is on me. Regrets? Oh hell yes! I have so many!!! My son was truly wild at heart with a curiosity that couldn't be quenched. He too was creative, pensive and filled with young awe for this world. And I did so many things wrong. Firstly I listened to people in my church tell me how to discipline my children. Big mistake, on so many levels! The fact that he was around when his father and I were at our worst was tragic and I will always feel horrible for that. But enough of maudlin reminiscing. The fact is, we all have our deep longings, our profound regrets, our aching thoughts of beginning again and getting it right. Right? In the meantime I don't want to leave you with the idea that I'm unhappy because I'm not. I am very much in love with my life, I am very much in love with my family, with my dogs, with my home, with everything that I am fortunate enough to be a part of. So with that, I'll say good night.....
The world is blowing up The world is caving in The world has lost her way again But you are here with me But you are here with me Makes it ok
These are words to a Dave Matthews song called "Oh" In an interview, he said these lyrics are to his grandfather who has passed on. But it's true. I think so much that the world is blowing up and has lost her way. It makes me sad; heavily sad that most of the time I don't realize how it has seeped it's way into my soul and tainted my whole perspective By that time it almost seems too late to NOT think about how shitty things are. Then, of course, the whole brain washing thing has to begin again. Washing my brain of all the dirty, mean, horrible thoughts of reality, of people, of death and of meanness " Wow", you may say," she's gone way in over her head". Yep, indeed I have.
I made a friend on facebook. I'm not sure how we actually became friends other than she was my husbands friend via some other website about jews or Leeds, his old stomping ground. But she was so nice and we chatted via facebook about life, religion and world. Then one day, a few weeks ago, she went in to the docs because she thought she had gallbladder problems. But it was apparently a serious stage of cancer. She died today. I think it was today. Even in a virtual world there is grief and sadness when someone is no longer there.
So, should I bring up the latest? The young guy who was released from the taliban because we traded 5 pieces of shit for him? I think this is what disturbs me most. This is what I"m trying to escape most. According to a former friend of his he was quiet, shy and kind. He was philosophical and a thinker. Apparently he thought too hard when he was in Afghanastan and decided we weren't as pure as people thought we were. He wanted to leave. He probably had a break down. I can relate. All of his buddies escaped from the horrors of their surroundings with having beers and going out. They asked him to join them but he didn't. I get it. He probably saw the bigger picture and didn't know how to process it. So he left. How the hell do I know though? I don't.
Yes, the mean stuff that I read about what people say is enough to make me want to pack it in. Give up on humanity. I think it's the final straw. It's difficult to believe people can love one another. I chose the Christian faith because it is founded on unconditional love. I don't see that at all in my old circle of Christians friends. I see judging, fear and all sorts of darkness that I don't want anything to do with. One thing I don't see is any sort of hope,
Okay, enough of the ranting about others. Me? Myself? Oh for god's sake. Shall I just take a minute? Yes, I'm superficial I looked at myself in a video at Home Depot and there, in the camera is a woman whose eyes are framed by deep, dark circles of bags. OMG...is that ME? I'm not one to grow old gracefully...okay? So stone me for it. I'm just not there. Of course you have heard it before; I feel like my life is just beginning. But of course, it's not.
It's hot as hell in this Phoenix. The nights cool off a bit and I lie in my comfy hammock under the three palm trees and look up at the stars. Sometimes I ponder the greatness of God, other times I feel the presence of my loved ones who have gone on. But it's a peaceful time, the dogs make sure I"m okay, then go back in to the air conditioning. And I am alone. Just like I came into the world and just like I'll leave.
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wings in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.
Summer is here in Phoenix. The doors are shut and the air is on. Thankfully, this year, we have two wonderful french doors, side by side, for the light to shine through while the house is closed up. It's Memorial Day and I've been layin' low, just doing nothing really.
Memorial Day, no, I don't really think of the men and women who have served our country...wait...I mean yes, I do, but all my little life I have really thought of Memorial Day as the day we remember the dead. And because of that, I'm writing this...
I want to remember Dave...so, I'll write this letter to him...Here ya go Dave...
My Dear Young, Eighteen Year Old Boyfriend,
Wow...It's been so long, but I am remembering today. I remember our relationship. I think it was a good two years that we were together. I was young, but it was a very formidable time of my life;our
relationship had been going south for quite some time. Arguments, etc etc etc...I won't get into that. But it was then and the arguments were real. The arguments! So, my little 17 year old self decided that I would be the "woman", that I would be independent. I called it quits with you. The next night you called me...as you usually would when there were problems between us, and my sister answered. I told her to tell you that I never wanted to see you again. And that was that. I actually felt very good for standing up for myself and my feelings. But the next night you were killed in a silly accident. Your friend (whom I never liked) was driving...he took the turn too fast. You were in his jeep, and at that time, there were no seat belt laws. He took it too fast and you both were thrown from the vehicle. Supposedly you both died instantly of head wounds. I had a friend who was at the scene. He said he saw you both, laying there. He said that your hands were moving...but the authorities said you were both dead.
I was with my friend Sue that night. We had gone out "driving around" as there was nothing else to do. We drove by the accident site just after it happened. I remember commenting on it..something like "look, something is happening over there. Must be an accident." It was God's grace that I didn't stop and get closer to see. I have no idea what seeing you lying there all bloody would have done to my young self.
When I got home that night my mother was waiting for me. As I walked in, she looked desperate, but relieved. "Oh Peggy", she cried, "something horrible has happened." And I screamed at the top of my lungs, "If Dave is dead, God can go to hell.". And thus began a change in my life that would never stop.
I won't dwell on that. What I will write about is that I remember you. You have been gone since 1969, and I remember you. I remember the good times as well as the bad. I remember riding on you 650 BSA on the back; wind blowing in my hair, you driving. Life was young and good. I remember the two proms. You didn't like to dance, I did..but I didn't care. I really wanted to be with you. You were really my prince charming. You bought me wonderful things. I still have the gold bracelet....over forty years later, I still wear it. I remember you Dave, your young, serious face, your curly brown hair, your wide, deep blue eyes that spoke volumes. I loved you with the love of a seventeen year old girl who wanted to spend the rest of her life you.
You will always be the young love of my life. I'm married now, with grown children and grandchildren, but your life, your death had an impact on me that I won't deny anymore. When my husband married me, he said he felt like he was marrying a widow. Maybe. We spoke of marriage, but things got rough didn't they.
Anyway, I miss you and will always wonder. Whenever I dream about you, it's that you're not dead. It's in a situation that you haven't really died, but you're not with me. You're alive, but not with me. And in my dreams, I want you...still. Mysteries are part of our imperfect life aren't they?
A few years ago I felt like you were trying to talk to me, trying to say something. And the only way I can sum that up is that you were trying to say ," I'm sorry". If that is what you were trying to say, well...I forgive you. I want to say "sorry" too. I don't understand why you had to die so young..maybe some day.
In the meantime, I hear you in songs. That is the language I understand, and that is the language you speak. In my opinion anyway.
I have a great husband Dave. I mean, we've been together 38 years. I don't know if that would have been us...but in any case, I think you know. He's the type of guy who loves me so much, he accepts me exactly the way I am. Baggage and all. Oh, and no, he's no saint. I have accepted him, no holes barred. I'm a good wife. But you will always be under my skin, in my soul.
Because music is my language, this one's for you David Saxon.....
"Baby Blue"
Confess, your kiss still knocks me off my legs. The first time I saw you was like a punch right through my chest and I will forever, 'cause you'll forever be my one true broken heart, pieces inside of me and you'll forever, my baby be.
You will rest your head, your strength once saving. And when you wake you will fly away, holding tight to the legs of all your angels. Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, your blue, blue world, you're my baby blue.
Confess I'm not quite ready to be left. Still, I know I gave my level best. You give, you give, to this I can attest You made me, you made me. You and me forever, baby.
You will rest your head, your strength once saving. And when you wake you will fly away, holding tight to the legs of all your angels. Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, in your blue, blue world, you and me forever.
You will rest your head, your strength once saving. And when you wake you will fly away, holding tight to the legs of all your angels. Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, in your blue, blue world, you and me forever.
Bye bye Dave....Maybe it's not really bye bye...but maybe I should just say, "until next time".
