Redemption

Wendy’s daughter was getting married. We were all invited, all three of us plus the new one. We had all touched her daughter’s life and she wanted us gathered around, outside in beautiful Montana, along with her fun loving friends.

Since we had all been married to her father at different times, he would witness our connection. Three good choices, that ended due to his soon to follow bad choices.

The ceremony was beautiful. We all got to hear her father go on too long about his beautiful, bright daughter, making it all about himself.

Guests dispersed to sitting tables, bathrooms, food and drink tables. The brides grandmother, my ex mother in-law spotted me, grabbed me and insisted I find the other two for a photo opp. Forget that she has once sided with her son (I was the first) during our divorce. The two who followed me  became similar characters in the story of the cheating husband. His mother, then saw her son for the playwright that he was.

Dedicated to my sisters, Wendy and Suzy.

Tetractys Poem

I have a couple of Southern women friends, up in Montana. We bonded over our Southernness and since have shared good times, giggles, floats on the river, food, grief and beauty. We call ourselves, the Hellgate  Junior League. Hellgate Canyon  runs through Missoula, MT and of course the junior league is an identifier for most upstanding Southern women.

Julie Rae has a style that don’t stop. Hardly ever have I seen her without the perfect hat, or lip color. For our Southern picnic in the park, she brought fine china, cloth napkins and peach pie. If it’s not done in style, it’s not worth doing.

Caroline Keys can strum a guitar, or banjo and sing a song that makes you feel dreamy.  I first heard her band, Stellarondo, named for an Eudora Welty character. Strawberry Cake is my most requested song. She is a prolific musician. In addition, Caroline teaches poetry to children on the Flathead Reservation.

She shared her class assignment with us. Write a tetractys: a 10 line poem, numbered 1,2,3,4, 10,10, 4,3,2,1. Each number is the number of syllables in each line.

Here’s my tetractys:

I
prefer
sunshine to
grey clouds above
go play outside today and tomorrow
flowers will bloom and people will heal soon
don’t be alone
you are loved
me too
y’all

 

Reach out and touch

Creating contemplative  collage – As I stared at this one last night, I kept singing Dianna Ross’s song, Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand).

Reach out and touch
Somebody’s hand
Make this world a better place
If you can
Reach out and touch
Somebody’s hand
Make this world a better place
If you can
Take a little time out your busy day
To give encouragement
To someone who’s lost the way
(Just try)
Or would I be talking to a stone
If I asked you
To share a problem that’s not your own
(Oh no)
We can change things if we start giving
Why don’t you
Reach out and touch
Somebody’s hand
Make this world a better place
If you can
Reach out and touch
Somebody’s hand
Make this world a better place
If you can
If you see an old friend on the street
And he’s down
Remember his shoes could fit your feet
(Just try)
Try a little kindness and you’ll see
It’s something that comes
Very naturally
(Oh yeah)
We can change things if we…
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Why I Write

I’m trying to write. I write lots of stories in my head when I walk, when I wake. Putting them on paper is the struggle for me. This morning, I’m sharing a piece of writing from the prompt, why I write.

I write to be heard, to hear myself
I write to be understood, to understand
I write to remember, to forget
I write to forgive myself, to forgive others
I write to be surprised
I write to be delighted
I write to bring hope and joy
I write to grieve, to mourn
I write to move forward with what I have

I write to be disciplined
I write to honor stories, mine and others
I write to not feel alone, connect
I write for perspective, maybe a new one
I write to prove I can!
I write to reveal, show
I write to laugh, even at myself

I write because others say, “you should write”
I write because I have good stories to tell
I write because I have some of those good Southern tales, better than fiction

I write to be published
I write not to be published
I write now because I should have been all along

I write to remember loved ones
I write because I am only a speck in this universe, what have I got to lose
I write because our stories matter

Hope

It’s been a good morning so far, thanks to a dear friend and an article by Rebecca Solnit.

“We have reached a crossroads, we have emerged from what we assumed was normality, things have suddenly overturned. One of our main tasks now – especially those of us who are not sick, are not frontline workers, and are not dealing with other economic or housing difficulties – is to understand this moment, what it might require of us, and what it might make possible.” Rebecca Solnit

I hope you read it: The impossible has already happened: what coronavirus can teach us about hope

Cheap Entertainment

I am amazed to find ways to entertain myself during this time. Also, amazed at how fast a day goes by. I live alone is a one room studio with covetous thoughts of people with gardens, big kitchens, pets, roommates and family. Although, I’m sure living with others locked up together brings a whole other set of issues.

On a recent trip to the grocery, I spotted a “tiger” facial mask. Knowing that I still needed to finish watching Tiger King on Netflix I had to buy it and wear for the occasion. Can’t say I love the Tiger King, but it is fascinating about a world I knew nothing about.

Stayed tuned, I am searching for the perfect puppy to adopt. It’s been on my mind for awhile. Now with no pet sitting in the near future, the time has come. It will need to be a small-medium dog with a good temperament so she will be able to come along with me once pet sitting picks up again.

Are you keeping yourself entertained?!

 

Are we listening now?

This from 2018, could have been written today.  Features dancer,  Quentin Robinson  from Missoula, MT. I once came across him dancing in the park. I felt lucky, as if I had gotten into a dance performance for free.

And we love you,  John Prine

Resilient by Rising Appalachia

Why I am writing this blog

This blog started as a way to stay connected on my solo journey to Baja from Montana a few years ago. I pretty much left it alone after that. Here we are on our solo journeys. We can’t meet for coffee. The title of this blog came from a friend, Marc Moss, as we sat over coffee. My daughter had cut off all communication with me. I was grieving, still am just differently. Choosing joy in spite of grief. My nephew had invited me to come stay at his place in El Pescadero. Fuck it, why not. So I write to not feel totally alone.

I think maybe I’ll post a picture each day with a piece of writing to go along, or I’ll just write as a journal or share a contemplative collage from my daily ritual to stay sane. Or I’ll share a recommendation of what I’m watching on Netflix or the like. Who knows, none of us know much right now. But we still got love.

Best diversion yesterday: Lola called to share that as she was looking out her window she spotted, Sam Elliott walking down her street. There’s that!

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