HELLO SUNSHINE

Winter isn’t all that bad. It just lasts too long.
As one who loves Spring and Fall, it has always seemed that here in the Middle of the World these two most wonderful seasons are almost always short-changed. We often get 3 or 4 months of endless Summer heat and humidity and the same amount of cold and gray in Winter.
But Spring and Fall get less time to play out their gloriousness except in rare instances when they somehow hang on for many weeks in a row.

After many days of endless cloud cover, a Sunday morning (today...but any morning is welcome...) blessed with a magnificent blast of sunlight is an uplifting thing - for the spirits and the body.

We are so affected by the weather. We are part of it.

Hello sunshine.

7 Glenmore Drive

The speed of things these days almost always astonishes me. It took me less than a minute to locate a photo of the house I lived in till age 5. I didn’t need to go back to my home town of Middletown. I only needed to look on Google Maps.

I have so few memories of this place. I know that it was decorated in wonderful 1950’s style. I still have a white marble coffee table (simple with slender, tapered legs) from that period. Much of the furniture went on to our next house....very modern, squarish and simple. I remember the floor-to-ceiling lamps (with 3 or 4 swiveling lights). I remember the white leather sofa. I covered the rear windows of my first-ever apartment in St. Louis with heavy curtains from this house at 7 Glenmore Drive. These curtains were inescapably 1950’s: dark brown (almost black) and covered with earth-colored vines, leaves and flowers.

I remember standing in the kitchen in this Middletown house, in front of the sink, which in turn was framed by a window allowing a view to the outside. A small portable radio was playing “You Ain’t Nothing But A Houndog” by Elvis Presley. I remember being mesmerized by this sound.

It is all much like a dream. I recall stories of a bulldog we had that was killed by strangers who put glass in its food. I remember stories of our German Shepherd named Baron who had to be given away when a neighborhood girl was bitten by a dog resembling Baron. I guess my parents could not prove his innocence. I remember playing with a girl next door who became a friend. She was a few years older and she may have been my first crush. Who knows?

It IS so much like a dream.

BOOK LOFT

What better reason to drive 100 miles (each way) with a friend on a frigidly cold Saturday afternoon (though a brightly sunny one) than to visit a book store? An eccentric bookstore that sprawls over many floors through mazes of aisles and varied shelves filled with a variety of subjects.

I was last there over a decade ago and the place was unchanged. A good cup of coffee to go purchased at the place next door and we were ready for the multi-leveled sojourn.

As chain bookstores struggle to keep afloat and electronic books continue their rapid ascension....visiting independently-owned bookstores that value the experience of owning and reading the real thing becomes an increasingly precious thing to do.

WINTER GRAY

It’s so gray that a little green goes a long way. I feel like a bug drawn to whatever light is nearby.
The rain adds a bit of swish to the lethargy.
The grayness coats our moxie with disinterest and sleepiness. I watch movies that are filled with extra moxie so that I might steal a bit.

Winter dreams are extra vivid. Against a backdrop of grayness, these dreams come loaded with more weirdness than usual.
I need four pillows at night to create a mass of comfort that is quite particular in its necessary arrangement. I have to be cradled just so in my winter bed because otherwise I might feel like the injured mountain climber left behind to die.

Winter gray is unrelenting and severe. The barriers between here and there, between in and out....are exaggerated and our bodies tense and our minds begin to imagine exotic escapes or new projects filled with mindless repetition.

The ancient world of marble and echo and stillness comes to life in the secret snows of midnight. Still, the rush-hour traffic gives life to desperate thoughts of special buttons on the dashboard delivering oil or nails on the road for the tail-gaters behind us.

Winter gray looks like what is left of the hair on my head. It’s brittle, ragged, wispy, dry.
The skin on my thumb always cracks open. Often this feels like what I imagine torture to be like. I suffer in silence and all the world ignores me.
Winter lumbers on.
Winter gray.

ADD TO CART

Hey kids! Look what I found in a one minute online search!

Even here in the middle of the world there are some of us who cannot understand how 2nd Amendment rights include owning weapons whose sole purpose is to kill as many humans as possible in the shortest amount of time.

It may be time to start a marchin’ on Washington to try and bring a little sanity to this madness.

Can't We?

Can’t we all just get along?

Can’t we turn state’s evidence into a giant Scrabble game?

Can’t we watch Andy Griffith reruns in a big group in front of a nice
crackling fireplace while eating popcorn?

Can’t we respect boundaries without giving time to jackasses?

Can’t we love life and this gorgeous planet without listening to Classic Rock at every moment of the day in every nook and cranny?

Can’t we love old things, regardless of their condition?

Can’t we get off our high horses about religion and politics and stop pretending that we really know what the hell is going on?

Can’t we enjoy things outside our own little comfort zone or at least give those
things the benefit of doubt and respect?

Can’t we stop believing that our own little “worlds” are somehow representative of
the entire cosmos?

Can’t we stop driving obscenely large vehicles and tail-gating everyone?

Can’t we give Jesus a break and let him rest in peace?

Can’t we be polite and kind to complete strangers?

Can’t we chill out?

Tucson NOW

The dreadful shooting spree near Tucson yesterday was carried out by a lone nutjob. That is a fact. His target was newly elected congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, who survived a direct shot through her brain. No telling what condition she will be in. Six others died, including a 9 year-old girl.

The NRA and its supporters continue their mad insistence on guns, guns for all, no matter how many or how powerful. They are clearly in the wrong and the cowardice of politicians to take a stand in favor of sanity is appalling. Gun control is not the banning of guns any more than driving laws are bans on driving.

Celebrity and power seeking types like Sarah Palin must at some point be held accountable for their words and behavior as public personalities. Strident vitriol in which violent behavior is hinted at or encouraged has no place in public discourse. Like it or not, it emanates more from deeply conservative elements of this society. Liberals can be as dimwitted and clueless and conniving as any others, but the hate-mongering is more prevalent on the right. That is how it is and the equivocating presented by the media needs to be corrected. That is, those who spread hate must be held accountable.

Until recently, Sarah Palin’s web site featured a map showing Democratic districts represented by those she held in disregard. And how did she mark those districts? With the easily recognizable symbol for the crosshair of a rifle. Congresswoman Gifford is at the left.

Palin also likes to use the term “reload” in reference to political reprisal.

This may have played no part in this tragedy in Arizona.

I believe that it did.