Last summer, Mrs. Elm got some bad news; she was diagnosed with incurable Dutch Elm disease. I was crushed at her prognosis and wrote about it in an earlier blog post. In that post, I professed that there are many unexplained miracles and cures that happen every day and, if there’s no scientific cure for Mrs. Elm, then it is time to move to plan B–a miracle. To enlist a miracle, you must have hope, faith, prayer, and ritual.
Saturday is errand day. My husband and I are in the car when I notice he keeps rolling the window up and down. Finally, he asks, “Do your feet stink?”
Turning 65 was, of course, no accident. I proudly earned every year. But to have it happen in Mexico City…
My love of old structures and saving history is evident in the lifestyle choices I’ve made (i.e. the Dreamland Ballroom and my 1911 Craftsman-style residence). This preference began early. In 1975, upon returning home to Arkansas from Dallas, I took up residency in the aging Hillcrest neighborhood of Little Rock, Arkansas.
As I pulled out on to Markham a young dog, about the size of a standard poodle, runs in front of me and towards this bicyclist on the opposite sidewalk. The Bicyclist and I thought he was running to attack him. But no. There, in the oncoming lane, lay a big black lab. He’d been hit by a car and his dog companion was seeking help. It must have just happened.
Call me a tree-hugger, and you would be right. Last week I lopped off a branch from my 50-year-old elm tree and took it to the Pulaski County Cooperative Extension office. A few years back, I noticed spots on Ms. Elm’s leaves and wanted to find out how to treat it.
You may think this is weird, or awkward, but it wasn’t. This summer my husband Grady, son Matt, and his bride, Sara, vacationed in Colorado, where we stayed with my ex-husband, Ron, the father of my only girl-child, Meghan.
When traveling, I like to catch up on movies in my hotel room. The Ruth Bader Ginsberg movie, On the Basis of Sex, is a walk down history lane and should possibly be required-watching for all Americans. It is easy, when reciting a gratitude list, to omit and take for granted today’s equality for both men and women. It was a mere 40 years ago that men were not recognized in a court of law as care givers and therefore disqualified from tax relief and other compensations like women. Likewise, women weren’t recognized as head of household, thus unable to apply for credit cards or a mortgage without a husband’s signature.
Sometimes the thing that stays in your mind for the week is not about yourself but about someone else. This story is so unusual, happens to so few of us, and was handled so well, that I felt I would be remiss not to share it…just in case any of us find ourselves in the same situation.
This peripheral blog is about my sister, Kris, and her friends (I have changed the names to protect the innocent). Recently, Kris nonchalantly called me on the phone and after a few minutes, casually says, “Well, I had an unusual week.” Do tell sister.
It’s not the expensive, black jacket that I bought but, rather, the on-sale, red leather, fringed jacket that I didn’t buy that preys on my subconscious of regret.
When I was young, I envied those girls who were content to stay home on a weekend night and read or wash and set their hair. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stand to miss out on a single party.
As you can imagine, I had lots of comments about my decision to stop selling the Confederate battle flag. My favorite response was from a lady who was in favor of my decision. Her closing words were “Not today, Satan, not today!”
Shortly after my announcement, I got a visit from my friend, Randall, who also happens to be the President of the Sons of the Confederacy in Arkansas. He, as he put it, “Came in defense of my ancestors.” I was expecting him.
We think nothing of videoing weddings. They are all over Youtube. But what about funeral videos? Personally, I love funerals. It is a gathering of family and friends who tell funny or endearing stories and remember only the good of the person they’re saying goodbye to. It is a celebration of a person’s whole life, not just a single moment in time. And it is just as emotional, if not more, than other rites.
May 21st was my husband Grady’s two year sober anniversary. Two and a half years ago, during Christmas break from college, our youngest son sneakily invited his father out to lunch. Unbeknownst to Grady, much of the family, our priest and I lay in wait with a plan for intervention. The date was December 23, 2016.
As we all know, Spring is a time of rebirth, rejuvenation and reorganizing. Part of reorganizing is Spring cleaning. If you’ve started, congrats! If not, I’ve got some tips using the KonMari Method of tidying up: category-by-category, rather than room-by-room.
If you read about the history of the Arkansas flag you will see it has been modified several times. So, it is not out of the realm of possibilities that we revise it again, though thinking this will erase history may be in error. In the words of Carl Jung, “What your resist, persists.”
Much of our productive life seems to be a struggle against procrastination. But don’t let that fact keep you from trying to overcome it. There is good news.
In the words of Mark Twain, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”
My daughter frequently encourages me with the phrase, “Don’t give up before the miracle happens.” She first received this piece of advice from her allergy doctor. This is the back story on how this affirmation grew within me from cliché to gospel.
One of the things I like about getting older is that I don’t require as much sleep. When I wake…
While participating in a self-improvement, personality workshop called Enneagram, I identified myself as a #8 personality type. For years I…
In last week’s blog, I spoke of the opportunities that come from working outside the home. This thought prompted me…
Most people my age are settled. They have lived in their home for a long time. In fact, most of…
I’ve always been a wee bit jealous of those who love to read; because I don’t. For me, a nice…
After all, I’m a Southerner, like Mark Twain, and colorful expressions, like cursing and old idioms, are part of our language. It’s one of the reasons everyone wants to be a Southerner…’cause they like the way we talk.