Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went with my friend to see "Late Show" with Emma Thompson and Mindy Kaling.  I laughed out loud a few times, and it was well written, but it certainly could have been better without the Cinderella touches for Kaling's character Molly and even the giant one for Thompson's Katherine.  I think the film would have benefited from more honesty about how they would fare in real life.  After all, we aren't exactly post Metoo.  The battle is still being waged.  I also don't know why Katherine's husband needs to have a dread disease.  But I'm happy to support a film written by a woman and directed by another woman, and Kaling is bound to be feeling a bit Pollyannish given her own success as a writer and actress.  There was a touch too much Disney in this version and it undercuts the anger and points being made.  Also, as all the other writers are white males, they get a disproportionate about of screen time, even though each has his funny moments.  Give Molly more standup and perhaps and let's leave out the phony romances.  Not necessary.  The movie is worth watching alone for Emma Thompson, of course.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I saw the documentary about Toni Morrison yesterday.  It's a terrific film and gives you real insight into who she is and how she thinks.  I was most fortunate in the early eighties to be in an MA program which brought her to our university, and I was chosen to accompany her various places, have dinner with her, and escort her to her lecture on campus.  She seemed so down to earth and easy to talk to and she laughed a lot.  That MA program also brought June Jordan and Paule Marshall to speak and they were similarly inspiring, and later, at a writer's conference in Saratoga Springs, I met and studied with Russell Banks.  I met Angela Davis through my older son.  She was an adviser of his at his university and she came to our party to celebrate his graduation.  She, also, was grounded and kind and relaxed.  All these people were and are good friends of Toni Morrison.  My favorite part of the film is at the end, when Ms. Morrison says the best thing you can say is:  She was loved.  None of the rest of it matters.  It's clear a lot of people around the world love her, and we are passionate about her writing. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I wisely chose not to see the debate last night.  I might have actually liked one of the candidates, and then where would I be?  MY candidate would end up not being THE candidate, and I'd be in my usual situation of voting for the lesser of two evils with zero enthusiasm.  Let the herd peel off and then I'll take a look.  I'd like a female candidate, but look how that turned out last time.  Misogyny poured from the rafters.  And if I have to fall back on what candidate could win, well, I'm not participating in that speculation.  Surprise, surprise is the new politics.  Vote with your impulses, your base impulses.  I will eventually read up on everyone, and try to make an informed, measured choice, but until some of the dust settles, I want to not be on that particular roller coaster ride.  It turns my stomach.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was standing in line at seven am today for renewing my license at the DMV.  Two hours later I got through the door, then was sent here, there and everywhere to get a vision test, a schedule for a driving test, and a photo.  I have macular degeneration in one eye, so I have to have a form from the eye doctor, take an eye test every year, and almost every year a driving test, but last time they let me go two years.  Of course my driving appointment is after my birthday, so I had to get a temporary license as well.  I was out by eleven thirty.  I am so exhausted, from the tension of failing the vision test in my bad eye, the sense that there must be a better system somewhere, when they put me through this yearly, and frustration that I feel like I'm fighting to keep my license, though I've had no accidents and my eye doctor reassures me I'm fine to drive.  I feel somewhat like a criminal, and punished, though everyone at the DMV is nice and helpful and the feeling is irrational.  The DMV forces me to confront my disability, and I guess I just don't like it.  But I'm grateful they take the time with me and give me the chance to prove I can drive safely.  And the truth is I've learned a lot about driving from these frequent tests.  I'm a much better driver now.  And alert and aware.  I don't take driving for granted.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I went to a museum in the city to see a Rubens show, but, though it was beautiful, we fell in love with a small show about French lithographs which had so many gorgeous pieces by artists such as Valloton, Redon and others.  I loved the works of an artist named Buhot.  The works were so detailed, and enchanting.  We both bought the book of the show and I purchased an extra to send to my older daughter, whom I know will love it.  We were thrilled to have happened upon this treasure of a show, and both look forward to reading about these artists.  Like Goya, the black and white graphics are powerful, mysterious and haunting.  We had a leisurely lunch outside at the museum, and then browsed through the permanent collection.  Then my friend, such a dear heart, stopped at the post office after we returned so I could immediately send the book to my daughter.   How's that for thoughtfulness?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a whirlwind week last week taking our granddaughter places and making sure she saw her aunts, uncles and cousins.  I even connected her with my foster granddaughter who just turned 14.  I had to be sensitive to a teenager's moods and interests as well as my preteen granddaughter, so we saw kittens at the pet store, shopped and bought smelly things at the cosmetics store, and I purchased earrings for them at a candy store with apparel in the back.  Then we had dinner at a pasta shop, and they both ordered exactly what they wanted, as the sauces and pastas were mix and match.  Then we hit the ice cream place, and headed back to drop my foster granddaughter off at her home.  I could see my foster had to struggle being around a "little kid", and her developmental narcissism was in evidence, as she touched her face, adjusted her hair and basically, and typically for that age, was focused on herself.  She will grow out of it and my granddaughter into it.  Thank goodness it's a temporary phase.  I could tell my granddaughter knew to be careful around the foster, and had a lot of tact and sensitivity.  And bless her heart, my foster granddaughter has been raised right and did the same.  Four years ago they were flower girls together at my younger daughter's wedding.  But the times, they are a-changing.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My granddaughter, who is visiting, is wearing a pair of my sandals I gave her.  She is eleven, and wears the same shoe size as I do.  She's changing in many ways, and will begin junior high this fall.  We shopped with her aunt this morning, and she picked out some great clothes, still in children's sizes, but near the end of that road.  This afternoon we're going with my foster granddaughter, who is about to turn 14, for dinner and looking in the pet shop, toy store, and sweet shop.  These are local places we've been to a hundred times, and are revisiting for old times sake.  Figuring out what to do and how it will change these next few years is challenging, but I have a road map because of my foster granddaughter.  I'm thinking of the county fair, a museum, and showing her the university campus, as she says she wants to attend it.  Who knows what will happen between now and college, but since she's interested, we'll see it.  I just love having time with her.  She's a dear heart, and easy to be with.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a full day yesterday, first with a Father's Day Brunch at our house, with a two year old and baby attending.  Then we rushed to see "Ruslaka by Dovorzak, which was sublime.  Gorgeous music and voices, amazing sets, lovely dancing, the whole nine yards.  We drove directly to the airport after, to pick up our granddaughter, and she was under the weather from three shots she'd had at the doctor's office, so she only wanted crackers for dinner and then headed to bed.  I'm about to wake her up in a minute.  We're planning on going to a matinee and shopping for books today, then her uncle and aunt and baby cousin are coming for dinner.  I'm planning on her not getting in a car today, so she can unwind.  Her last day of school was last Wednesday, so she's exhausted from everything.  I hope to get her rested up!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a nice visit to the zoo with our middle grandson.  The alligators were out sunning themselves a foot from us, the ringtailed lemurs were showing off, one in meditation position, the fruit bats were stretching their wings and then rolling themselves up like cigars with them, and when we got to the bears, the four two year olds wrestled, bumbled and goofed around until they all four fell asleep under the shade of a tree.  One slept with his head on his brother.  We took the gondola back down, waving and saying hi to all the people heading up.  Then we rode the train while a camp group serenaded us with a song about a moose and one about a bee.   Our two year old fell asleep in the car and was carried up for a nap in our bed.  When he awoke, we watched Daniel Tiger until his mom picked him up.  We had a very good day.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday, I returned from seeing a matinee with friends (Photograph) and there was a man sitting on the brick steps leading to our front porch.  He was confused, and couldn't rise, though he had a cane with him.  Talking to him I quickly realized he had dementia, and through talking calmly, I got his name and then his address which was up the street about a dozen houses away.  I opened the front door and called to my husband, who came out and drove up to the man's house, where there were two police cars and family and his wife frantic.  He had been gone three hours.  The police were very kind and gentle with him, and by supporting him on either side got him to his feet and in the police car to head back to his house.  Our house is hidden and way off the street, so no one had seen him, though there was a search up and down the streets.  My husband had not gone out and therefore hadn't seen or heard him.  Thank goodness it wasn't Monday, when the temperature was 100 degrees!  But still.  Three hours.  This morning his wife dropped by to thank us, and I was thanking my lucky stars he hadn't tried to climb the final brick steps and fallen backward and killed himself. 
Now I know why they are selling their house.  I had been curious.  This dear old man is going to have to go into memory care, or some supervised setting.  It's so sad, and I hope he fares well in his next stage of life. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, last night the heat really got to me.  My hair was wet with sweat, and sleeping without covers is difficult for me, and it just didn't cool off.  I could have gone downstairs, but I really doubt I could have slept there either.  My husband and I had watched a DVD, Hitchcock's "Notorious", and it's one of my favorite films of his.  So I spent my waking moments analyzing it.  What's not to like about Cary Grant, like ever, and Ingrid Bergman was incandescent on screen.  This one is crackling with sexuality, and the Code people wouldn't let Hitchcock film them in a long kiss, but he got around it by breaking up the kiss by them talking in between.  And since the dialogue is so delightful, it enhances the charge of the scene.  Their faces throughout the movie are a master lesson in acting, and the fact that they are both edgy and afraid of falling for each other makes their attraction greater for us.  These are flawed, complicated adults, with a lot of past pushing at them, and we root for them because they are real.  My favorite Hitchcock is "Rebecca", but that's because I loved du Maurier's novel as a teenager.  Joan Fontaine is really a little goody two shoes, though Maxim played by the great Laurence Olivier is complex and dark.  At the end, you really know they're not going to have a happily ever after, but Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman.  You betcha!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It was 100o here yesterday.  And there were fires, but quickly put out here, though a couple north of us are still burning but 50% contained.  I've had two kitchen fires that did damage, and long ago at the cabin when my younger two were still going up with me in the summers for a month, my son was burning pine needles and thought he put out the fire before the three of us left for the Ranger talk at the ampetheather, but when we returned, the fire truck had been there, and one little tree was blackened.  I'd trusted his Boy Scout skills.  Just as I trusted my older son when I took the youngest and went to 7Eleven to get popcorn, so we could watch Close Encounters of the Third Kind (fire kind more like) and when we returned after ten minutes, the house was surrounded by fire trucks.  My son thought he would "heat" the oil to get ready for the popcorn. Both sons were fifteen at the time, but hey, I've just been luckier with my carelessness.   I was so relieved the three kids were okay I didn't worry about having to replace a cabinet, paint three rooms, and wallpaper a wall. 
Fire is barely there and then whoosh.  It's like it's opposite, water.  They can do damage and take your life in an instant.  Respect must be paid.  So, yes I'm jumpy, but I have my reasons, and so does everyone else living in our state.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The heat of the weekend did spark a fire, but hopefully it will get under control quickly.  It's very quiet around here, as if people are holding their breath.  Today will be even hotter, and then some tapering off.  At least today the wind is not working against us.  I worry about my older son up north with his family, my older daughter way up north, and my two younger kids by me.  The grandchildren are especially vulnerable from the air quality, and I'm hoping it doesn't get too bad.  I never even had an air quality app on my phone until last year, or air filters in the house either.  But it's a brand new world, remade by greed, lack of vision and no discernible moral compass.  In this country I guess we are going to die hugging our cars.  We have caused so much of this pollution that we ought to feel responsible for the state of the world.  Why don't we?  Too busy eating hamburgers?  Watching TV?  Distracting ourselves?  If we are ashamed, it's clearly not enough to make ourselves the tiniest bit uncomfortable and act.  In the meantime, our leaders quibble and rant and posture.  Where is the will to save the planet?  I hope someone stands up and leads.  But who?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We are in the middle of a mini-heat spell, and so careful about closing the windows in the morning and keeping the shutters upstairs closed.  I love the heat, but here it jumps 25 degrees in one fell swoop, so it's a bit of a shock to the system.  The ominous part is the wind.  Heat and wind mean fire, so all our antennea are out, with the frisson of fear.  So many ways for fire to start, either man caused or nature. 
We are going to the opera today to see Handel's "Orlando", and since I know I'll adore the music, I'm happily anticipating the afternoon.  Yesterday I listened to "Where Ere You Walk", a piece of Handel's, and practically swooned with joy.  Today's production is set in a World War II soldier's hospital, Orlando a patient with post traumatic stress disorder.   A psychiatrist is attempting to help him.  The directors tend to set Handel's operas in strange times:  prohibition, the wealthy in Long Island, whatever bizarre setting they can come up with.  The thing is, it usually works.  Either Handel's music overcomes the staging, or he's quite modern in an inexplicable way.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent some time this morning reading about crocodiles in the New York Times.  My 2 1/2 year old grandson is fascinated by the "crocodiles" (really alligators) in our nearby zoo.  Since I like the sound of the word crocodile better than alligator, though both are great, I don't correct him.  We visited them last week and two were sunbathing and a third floating in the water with just his eyes above, as he was resting his head on a submerged log.  I like the fact that crocodiles, when their mouths are closed, have overlapping teeth that seem to be grinning.  I like the shape of their heads better as well.  But either will do.  They are huge, everyone has a story about a poodle snatched from a grassy area in Florida, there is the alligator wrestling, which is absurd but real, and they serve, like wolves, snakes, sharks and tigers, as the boogeyman for many cultures.  But in East Timor, they are eating the public, despite the local belief they are ancestors.  They are ancestors all right; both crocodiles and alligators are from the time of the dinosaurs, but they split off and survived.  They are our T Rex.  I think my grandson sees them as monsters, but is curious and testing his bravery.  Me?  I must have a little bit of toddler still in me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a sunny day and my friend and I took a walk toward cappuchinos then decided to do some errands on our way back.  I helped her pick out a card for her mother, who lives with her, to send to her granddaughter back east.  We decided on a movie to see, maybe tonight, and she asked if I wanted to take a class in October to write editorials for newspapers.  As none of mine ever get published, I agreed.  Then we discussed a class I'm signed up for for my granddaughter and I, and she may take her granddaughter as well.  We parted ways at the top of the hill, having challenged our quadraceps.  I'm sweaty but happy, as such ordinary things make me aware of my blessings.
Yesterday was all about the extraordinary:  the flower show, the art, the fascinator hats, the fancy clothes.  Today, a nice walk in the sunshine with a friend.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We went to a flower show at an art museum this morning, and it was amazing and delightful, despite the crowds.  Some floral arrangements were echoing the color of the art work, some the composition, some the figures, some all aspects, and others were a response to the artwork, without specific connections.  The creativity of the florists was extraordinary.  And fun.  Really fun.  We were forced to look at the artwork differently, and closely examine the floral arrangement and bounce our eyes back and forth to compare. 
Not only were the arrangements dazzling, but the volunteers for the museum had fascinator hats on the identify them, as they were selling raffle tickets to benefit the museum.  And then there were the ladies, ladies who lunch, with their big diamonds, their six thousand dollar purses, their fabulous sheath dresses and amazingly coifed hair.  I don't go places like Rodeo Drive to see this segment of the public, so it was a bit of a kick.  Some had children, usually girls, dressed in sister organdy dresses and shoes, who posed against the backdrop of the bouquets. 
It was all a little bit crazy, but like entering through the looking glass, to a world of artifice and glamour.  Fun!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I love the way my grandsons are still willing and thrilled with pink nail polish and rainbow shirts.  They don't see gender in most cases, though they both love trains and trucks over dolls.  They love to play with girls, and the girls are rough and tumble, as my granddaughter was at this age.  How it will all change is fairly predictable, though not certain.  But right now, they are free of all that stereotyping.  I can vaguely remember wanting to be Roy Rogers.  My parents bought me a cowgirl hat, vest and six guns.  But Dale Evans was not my hero, it was Roy, Trigger and Bullet.  My mother was sending me to dance school, so I had fancy, sparkly outfits she made for me and I still have my ballet and tap shoes.  Later, I had an affinity for Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley.  I still have the musicals and watch them once in a while.  But the lesson in those days was to pretty yourself up and be a bride at the end.  Submit to the male.  I'm not saying I regret switching gears, as being a cowboy was contraindicated considering I'm part Native American.  Who wants to be on the losing side?  But sometimes it feels like being female is being on the losing side, too. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I listened to a lovely dharma talk by my teacher yesterday about watching the ego.  He told a story of a student who wanted to study with a Sufi master but lost the will to continue and left for many years.  He realized he still desired to know the most important teaching of the master, and returned, expressing his regret.  The master reassured him:  You didn't miss anything.  The sum of all my teachings can be written on a fingernail:  Drop the ego. 
My teacher also related how obsessed he'd been when the film "Lord of the Rings" came out, and then he was waiting for the second film, and then the final one.  He was able to laugh at this craving later.  But he realized the Golem was his favorite character because he represents the struggle of ego.  Golem is switching sides from ego to right behavior back and forth.  It's funny, but he is all of us.  Trying to do the right thing, but hampered by greed, vengance, hatred, jealousy and all the rest of the concoctions the ego swims in. 
When we can watch ourselves as we lean toward ego, then we can see the humor in our antics and be of a forgiving, non-judgemental mind.  But the watching is forever, because the ego is strong and tricky.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My brother could have been a double for Elton John, and perhaps that had something to do with my love of the musician and his music.  My brother also had the world at his feet as a young person until alcohol and drugs tore him down.  Both of them went into recovery programs at the same time and stayed sober the rest of their lives.  But my brother never found the love he was searching for, and thank goodness Elton John did.  The new movie "Rocketman" is sensational.  Not a bioflick, but an evocation of the dazzling, amazing, craziness of Elton John and his power and talent.  Taron Edgerton is not a look alike, and he sings differently than Elton John, but with the same passion and electricity.  The film is thrilling, exhilarating and deeply moving.  I cried.  A lot.  Focusing on his early years is brilliant.  Each character is well acted, especially Jamie Bell as Bernie Taupin.  Maybe I was crying for my brother, but I think it was all my brothers out there, with gifts untold and a light meant to shine. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday our social butterfly grandson (actually the younger one) attached himself to a three year old girl and they played and played.  This was at the zoo, but they ignored the animals and ran and slid and fell on a grassy area over and over and over.  Eventually, her mother dragged her away, and we tempted our grandson with looking at the crocodiles (really they are alligators) and he was interested in the lemurs with their long striped tails and the huge tortoises, who were very active yesterday (that means their heads came out and one or two moved like snails).  After we returned home we watched Cinderella together and read ten books, heavy on Curious George.  Then he went on the front porch while my husband was talking to our gardener, and he hopped and chattered away to her like a magpie.  To fully impress her he spit on the cement, and she told him not to do that, but I believe it was a homage to her, albeit a toddler version of dazzling skill.  She, too, left after a while, and he was stuck with his grandparents until his mother turned up to reel him in and take him home.