With trepidation and hope for the new year

2020 is a hard year to put in to words. The pandemic, the orange haired man, Black lives matter and weather events bringing their own mayhem through wind, water and fire- there is no shortage of abject pain and hardship. Living in my suburban bubble at the age of 68 and holding tight to a restricted universe in the hope of not catching Covid-19- life has different quantifiers than before. Are you loved ones Covid-free? Do they possess antibodies or better yet will they be vaccinated sooner rather than later? Will my young adult offspring continue to use good sense and practice social distancing with the requisite face mask and hand washing? Will the economy revive so that many of our fellow Americans- naturalized, native. green carded or living with the ever present fear of deportation- will their well being be restored when their means of employment return? Will a new president with a more humane agenda bring the decency, compassion and global vision so desperately needed? 

It's easy to wake up fretful in the night. I have never felt such anxiety on an ongoing basis. Yet there is much to hope for and in that vein, there is the call to action to stay steadfast, to ignore bullies and their angry followers, to stay clear eyed for my kids so that I may be the rock that they depend on and may I persevere to be my own rock as we forge ahead.

Wishing you all health, peace, happiness and success in 2021. With that I'll sign off for now.

and the vintage image of me, I hope, says it all.

9/11 (repost from September 11th, 2010)

It's September 11th. Such an ominous day for one and all. Nine years ago, we witnessed the tragedy and mayhem of the hijacked planes, burning buildings, and loss of life. That day was truly beautiful weather-wise. Much like today with warm temperatures, clear skies and brilliant sun. I remember sitting outside with my youngest, Jacob, watching him play in the garden as the butterflies and bees went about their business. Our little patch of suburban eden was untouched by the terrible events unfolding to the south. Observing all the well-intentioned folks going about their daily routines, I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Fear would be our new companion and worry its constant associate.

Many Swims (Revisited)

Here we are, late August and the light is changing- the end of summer hovers closer and it's bittersweet. I have a love hate relationship with summer and some days I am so drained by heat and humidity that my brain refuses to function much at all. But these crisp August mornings have created the divine opportunity to get up and jump in to the river whenever I can and it's been a sweet respite from the harsh realities of this year.

Thalia Menninger (and me)

I was born during the dawn of television and the impact of a lifetime of watching shows has had a profound influence on me. In those early years, before color and decades before multiple channels and on demand, gathering to watch a favorite program was an event that drew myself and my siblings together.

I wasn't old enough at the time to get the sophistication of Dobie Gillis. I knew that Maynard, his ball of string and aversion to work was pretty unique. That Dobie was often plagued with difficulties trying to accomplish any of his life goals. That Zelda always wrinkled her nose when Dobie appeared and a regular kid could be friendly with someone as high born as Chadsworth Obsourne Jr. I relished the prospect of being old enough to be in high school, to speak knowingly around my parents and have cryptic exchanges with my friends and teachers, but the true object of my fascination was Thalia Menninger, brilliantly played by Tuesday Weld.

Thalia was everything I thought I could never be. She was never tongue tied. She always looked fresh and pretty. And she often appeared to look right through Dobie, because as fate required, Thalia needed to marry well. Money was her particular focus (she was famous for sharing “My father’s sixty years old and has a kidney condition, and my mother isn’t getting any younger either. I have a sister who’s married to a loafer, and a brother who shows every sign of turning into a public charge.")
This was a woman steered by personal responsibility- of a sort.

My mother and father are no longer among us. My offspring are thriving and finding their way. But the Thalia in me, not obsessed with financial security, but with a desire for a relationship that better fills my needs. Let's just say, I can relate.

Solstice 2020

We are lumbering through the advent of summer along the Hudson. Despite all the trappings of privilege, it's still a hard passage to cobble together well being and the simmering pains and losses of the past can boil over so that the glass appears half empty and frustration absorbs all the oxygen in the air.

You have to focus on gratitude then. For lack of apparent illness, for the stability of a roof overhead, food to eat and the comfort of friends even as the house harbors more difficult memories than are easy to address. Then you have to hope today and tomorrow afford more chances to do better and put life in to perspective.

We all bear wounds that resist healing, Some do better with resolution or find a way to forgive themselves or others. As for myself, I am trying to coax more optimism from each moment and wish you the same.

(Brief) Thoughts during this pandemic

Words fail me. Last fall was a tough interval where I saw my on again off again relationship with former flame go south- well- I'll go with the "wasn't meant to be" line of thinking. And then this insanely horrible pandemic of Covid- 19 descended and things have gone to hell in a hand basket. I thought refraining from sharing (or oversharing) made sense, given how awful the devastation caused by this virus between loss of life and the economy reduced to its shell as we ride this wave of contagion out. There are just no words and only prayers as we plug along in our social isolation, hoping we are doing enough to protect ourselves from ourselves and one another.

Life pre-Covid shimmers as s recent memory of mobility, socializing and commerce and now it's all virtual from the relative comfort of being bound to the home. There will be a life post-Covid and I'll be grateful for what we didn't lose when life allows a return to old routines and vow to make greater efforts to count my blessings even more than before.