Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We spent some time with our daughter, son-in-law and two grandchildren, as well as our son-in-law's parents visiting from the east. There was a supposed block party, but it was unplanned and the hours too long, and it was kind of depressing. Somebody should have organized it. We had a good time anyway, seeing the next block's over-the-top decorations, maybe between twentyfive and fifty. Lots of blood and gore, blow up cats and hearses, and a frankenstein being electrocuted. We keep the little boys away from the gory side as much as possible. The the boys and their dad played games in the street and another boy joined in. We had sandwiches on a card table on the sidewalk. Then my husband and I went home, so the other grandparents could have the trick or treating experience by themselves. Our area has the little parade then candy passed out or left by the door for two hours. We are doing the honor system, because our block has a lot of stairs. I'll leave the candy out and whatever happens happens. Last year I sat on a chair on the garage roof and watched the costumes for a while, but really our hub is not that active. There are certain streets we used to take our children to when they were at home with us, but now, we don't bother. We're happy with the photos sent from our kids. It's their turn now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I closed down our cabin yesterday. We drove up three hours, dragged the deck furniture inside, put on the heavy wooden shutters, drained he water tank, shut off the water, and most exhausting of all, struggled with the canoe to get it under the deck and on its side so water won't fill it. The canoe only weighs seventy pounds, but you'd think it was seven hundred pounds. And it's long and awkward. Luckily, the guy who rakes our pine needles carted it up the hill for us, but he didn't have a key to get it under the cabin. Anyway, we were exhausted but relieved when we got back home at six pm. I had cleverly ordered dinner and it arrived on our doorstep a minute before we did. So we ate mediterranean food and watched "Practical Magic", continuing our Halloween theme. The night before it was "Arsenic and Old Lace" and maybe tonight "Shawn of the Dead". Anything to help take my mind off my vision problems, which now include flashes of scenes and other strange stuff. I may have to call the eye doctor again on Monday. In the meantime, texting and talking with friends is distracting and tomorrow we will see our grandsons for lunch and a bit. Today we Facetimed with another grandson who was thrilled with the felt kitty on a pumpkin I sent him. Children do adore this holiday.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The last two days have been scary for me, because I have macular degeneration in one eye, and I rely on my "good" eye to read and drive. But on Tuesday shadows were forming in my good eye, and I was afraid it was a bleed. That means you need to get to your retinal doctor pronto, so he can give you laser or an injection in the eye, after taking antibiotics in the eye for several days. Time is of the essence. My anxiety level shot up like a rocket. Luckily, I got an appointment yesterday morning, and still luckier, it was my doctor's first day back from his vacation, and after laser scans and looking carefully, he said my eyes were stable, but I had two big floaters from the back of the retina which had come loose and were causing the shadows I saw. I have to see him in a couple of months again, but what a relief to know it wasn't glaucoma or a bleed. I have lived with my eye condition for nearly twenty years, but I shove the fear aside most of the time. I even still drive, as my bad eye has lots of vision, just not the central part. I think the trauma of my daughter's death, then the recent virtual service, shook me up so much I really, really didn't feel able to face the blindness threat. Not now, maybe later. Of course that is not the way life works. When my brother died, I had an eye bleed and squamous cell carcinoma on my forehead, which required MOHs surgery. So I've been worried my skin cancer or eye would act up again, because what can you do about that kind of stress? Swallow it? It wraps you up in a snake like vice. So, needless to say, I feared the worst. But it was not the worst, and I have an eye doctor I'm crazy about, and I do count my blessings, every single day.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I vacuumed this morning and dusted, and he washed the kitchen floor. We have a lot of maintenance tasks this week, with the plumber coming tomorrow to see if we can turn on the water heater, and the next day the furnace repairperson coming to see if we can turn the furnace back on, then Friday we are driving to the cabin to winterize it. Lots of chores, but kind of our own fault because we take care of things in spurts, then ignore tasks for weeks, then tackle something again. It's difficult to get behind these relentless tasks that must be repeated ad infinitum. It's a gloomy day today, with no sun, cool, and we of course have no heat. I'm toasting myself in my studio with an electric heater, and reading a delightful book about writing fiction "What about the Baby?" by Alice McDermott. It's lively and a kind of mini memoir. Her references to authors and the abundance of quotes are fun to read. I doubt it will inspire me to write, but that is not my purpose in reading it. I've only read one of her books, so it's not that either. It's her enthusiasm and it's contagious. She reminds me why I've always loved reading. Joy.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We stayed up half the night pumping water out of our basement. We had to shut off the water heater and furnace in case they shorted out. We went to bed around one am and awoke this morning to sunny skies. There are branches all over the yard, but no big ones. Our stairs out front yesterday looked like a waterfall, but now is just inert puddles. We needed rain so badly, but unfortunately, a pressure system like this caused a lot of runoff and waste. The dry earth couldn't hold what it needed, and a lot if it poured down sidewalks and roads. Hopefully, it helped put out the fires. And it's better than nothing - what we've had up until now. Our neighbor cat, Toby, came by and meowed. He's frustrated there is no seed in the bird feeder, therefore no dreaming of leaping six feet in the air and catching a bird. He visits every day, just to check. We have a delusion that he keeps the mice and rat population down, but probably he only eats Fancy Feast. I sent off Halloween boxes to my grandkids. And books to a couple of my kids. I LOVE mailing things.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The Women's group I'm part of had a lively discussion about misogny this morning, discussing the attacks in England at clubs of men injecting syringes with paralyzing drugs into the backs or arms of unsuspecting females. There has been a huge reaction and protests from women's groups there and demand for safety procedures and protections. Some of the women in my group thought that this kind of attack on women was from the beginning of history and others that media coverage has emboldened men to acts that they would not have done in the past. Misogny is on the rise or it isn't, but it's the elephant in the room is at least receiving more attention. Women are speaking out and no longer taking the blame for being victimized. Some powerful books have been published that force people with easy answers to rethink what risks girls and women bear in our culture and others. Women live in fear because of the patriarchy, and that's okay with a lot of men. Control. Violence and fear control women's movements, choices and actions. Enough is enough.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I talked a long time to a friend on the opposite coast, catching up, sharing stories, and laughing. She is having a very dramatic life these last couple of years and I don't mean Covid. We are a shared history from when we were eight. We took different paths, lived in different areas of the country, but we always held each other in our hearts, and our connection grows stronger. We've met each other's kids, but it's through our talks that we really feel we KNOW them. And we each have son/grandson with the same name. We are both horribly opinionated, and yet, not rigid. At least I hope not. I'm not sure if I'm the best judge of that! We're trying to plan a trip this coming spring, if Covid cooperates. Up the coast maybe to Vancouver. Anyway, it's nice to dream.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm reading David Sedaris' new volume of his diaries. It's quite reassuring, as many of his entries are a banal as my own, but occasionally I laugh out loud. He is vulgar, but it feels refreshingly honest that he exposes himself so ruthlessly. All his prejudices and quirks on display, which makes him so endearly human. And he admits to cowardice, quite bravely, I think. His emeshment with his family, the guilt, the judgement, the agony, the love, is so honest. An honest mess, you might say. He doesn't have one feeling, he lays claim to them all. And he is the absolute master of the serendipitous encounter, which is something that delights me in my own life. The revelations with a stranger while you're waiting for your car to be serviced. The talk with a dog owner while patting his beloved. The hug at the eye doctor's when you discover a woman your daughter's age is having eyesight problems from chemo for breast cancer, and your own daughter is dying from it. The giggles with a baby in his stroller just for the sheer joy of life. Sedaris is us.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday we took two of our grandsons to a friend's house to meet his tortoise. The tortoise is huge, and very amiable, and we got to feed him his dinner of veggies and fruits. He has a big shelter with a pad and heating lamp, and a good sized yard fenced in. The boys were delighted, and even the 20 month old was fearless. They petted his neck and touched his shell. We then walked around the terraced yard, saw the fountain and pool and when we came back around the younger boy opened the tortoise's gate by himself and walked right in. We had to be careful he wouldn't stick his hand out and be accidentally bitten, as happened to my friend one time. The boys arrived home triumphant, and we were relieved no mishaps had occured. We had an adventure, and have the photos to prove it!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today would be my daughter's 51st birthday. My younger daughter and I walked in a botantical garden this morning and sat on a bench and talked about the memorial service yesterday and our feeling around it. Then we picked up my husband and went out to lunch together. It felt healing. I've just finished talking with my friend, and tomorrow I'll be able to get on with setting up my new laptop and tackling the photos I wish to organize. The intense anxiety I suffered on Saturday is gone, and I'm going back to one day at a time. We only got a sprinkle of rain last night, but perhaps finally a real rain will come later this week. The darker days are coming, and the holidays, which I believe will be lighter than last year for us as a family. I pray the covid wanes as well, and people can relax a bit and calm down. I won't say return to normal, because that cannot happen, but at least a release of tension, and a focus on other things. I don't know if this is possible, but I'm hopeful

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our memorial service for our daughter was lovely. All the speeches were heartfelt with many tears, the photo montages were vivid and sweet and the montage of her paintings was well done. Our older son was the host and his wife was co-zoom coordinator with our son-in-law. Our granddaughter gave a beautiful reading of a Philip Levine poem, our two sons and our younger daughter gave profoundly moving speeches and her friends and co-workers expressed themselves beautifully. It was raw and deeply felt and moving and memorable. I believe our daughter would have been pleased and proud and touched. We have the service recorded, so our granddaughter will have it to show to her friends, partner and children, and the four little nephews will be able to understand how amazing their aunt was and how many people she influenced. I'm relieved it went well and also I do feel some closure, in that we will all remember her, and others will come to know her through the recording and website. I am exhausted in body and mind, but filled with love for her and my family and her wonderful friends. Love is the answer.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I thought it was bad before the last election, with texts and emails begging me for money. After the election, I was tired and drained and cynical about money. What seemed to work were grass roots efforts, postcards, calls and writing in to counter lies. But now I'm more beseiged than ever over the Congressional seats and the staggering amount of money already raised by both sides. We could feed the hungry of the world and have plenty left over. Everything about our system of government right now seems to be money based, and our culture is a mirror of it. Throw enough money around and you can hide and seek whatever you want. The more money you have, the better chance you have to evade justice, while the poor are crushed in the system. Is Capitalism all we have left in America? Are all other values dissolved? Good people still fight for a compassionate society, but even they are constantly begging for money. Election money should be controlled, as it once was, and buying elections should not be the norm. But it is. I'm ashamed and despairing of what we've become. There seems little hope with our current Supreme Court willing to step in like Big Brother and attempt to control our lives but protect corporations. The greed for power and money runs the engine that makes us use up citizens for the benefit of the rich. The rest of us are left grieving for an America that no longer exists, if it ever did.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I finished the thriller Louise Penny and Hilary Rodham Clinton cowrote and it was terrific. Hard to put down, educational, characters with depth and difference, issues that are hot button right now. It was fun and I hated to see it end. Now I'm reading a mystery that is light and funny and totally engaging, The Man Who Died Twice. Lighter fare after the heart racing of Penny/Clinton's book. I'm also slowing reading The Porch, a meditation on the author's porch and porches through time. I know it doesn't sound entrancing, but it is, because the language is so beautiful. I'm juggling books for my every mood. I've just gotten into this habit in the last couple of years, but it suits my life right now. And if I don't pick up a book I give it away. Life is too short to be reading something that doesn't absorb me, and I no longer care what others think of me or what I should or shouldn't be reading. It's freeing.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a phone conversation with one of my older daughter's childhood friends. She has been supportive of my granddaughter and the rest of the family, and grieving herself for the loss of her friend. She is wanting to be a life coach, and going to take a course online with Martha Beck, a columnist in O magazine. I'm skeptical but firmly staying in the "don't know" frame of mind. After all, it may prove beneficial to her personally, if it doesn't blossom into a profession. I felt I did succeed in having no judgement, and shared with her some wisdom from my Buddhist practice. But the whole thing felt strange. I wanted to hug her and felt great sorrow at some personal stuff she revealed to me. But I also know I haven't much to give right now, and absolutely no words of wisdom. Her mother is dead, but I'm not her mother, and I'm a grieving mother myself. It's difficult to balance these things in the best of times, but right now, not only do I feel a bit looney, but the world world is off it's axis. I cannot help anyone right now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I watched "Saving Mr. Banks" again last night. The acting is marvelous, and the story of P.L. Travers and her adventures with Walt Disney riveting. The compassion Walt Disney showed to her may be fiction, but it is touching, and I love that he knew intuitively that she had a childhood wound that had not healed, because he had one himself. By creating Disneyland he gave himself a different childhood than the harsh one he experienced. And ultimately, he offered Travers a different ending than the one she endured in real life. Paul Giamatti is wonderful as well, as a father with a handicapped child. Who was it that said that we keep struggling with what happened to us up to age eight for the rest of our lives? It's often true. Looking back, I see three big moves in my life, the death of my favorite uncle, and the loss of my huge family by moving first down South, then to the West Coast. Starting over three times. My sense of being "new" permeates my childhood, and also people I love dying, and no one willing to talk about it. We must take a good long look at early childhood, and as uncomfortable as it makes us, come to terms with it. A very challenging task.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This is the second day of wind, and wind makes us very nervous here. There are lots of branches down and not as many people walking. I was talking to someone on the east coast recently and she was surprised that I have emergency supplies in my front hall closet and in my garage. I told I'd had them for decades and they have to be replenished as they expire. The double threat of earthquakes and fires hangs over us. Today is sunny, but the covid news for us older folks is not good, as we turn out to be more vulnerable than tiny children or any other group, even vaccinated vs unvaccinated. Our immune systems just aren't up to snuff. And my daughter is having problems with rude parents in her school. The head of the school says they've never had these issues before, but even here, which is supposed to be liberal, rudeness and bad behavior and belligerence is rearing it's ugly head. As I walked back from a foray into a bookstore, cars were honking both ways, and my city is not a honking city, but all politeness and patience has evaporated, and as I cross in the the crosswalk drivers are turning in front of me and almost running me down. Drivers are nutsy. Strange days.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My Buddhist teacher talked yesterday about pride. I didn't think it would be very interesting, in the beginning, but of course it turned out to be insightful. He said people with outsized pride are inside insecure and unsure of themselves. Because pride is not healthy, but confidence is. Confidence helps make people around you want to be with you, and doesn't prohibit you from trying new things or taking certain risks. You don't think you will necessarily succeed, but you are interested in the process not success or failure. Pride compares yourself with others falsely and makes differences between people. Of course we are proud of ourselves for our college degrees or finishing a painting or helping others, but dwelling on it as something that makes us more important than another person is distortion and destroys equity. He applied it to people who think their political perspective makes them more "knowledgeable" or "rational", which sets us above people who do not agree with us. Pomposity is unattractive no matter what the argument. Congratulating oneself on not thinking like those other, more ignorant people, is ugly and distorting. A little warning to some of us liberals not to make difference where there are possibilities for consensus. Always be on the lookout for ego, it tends to sneak up on us and make us less compassionate than we can be.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had an hour long phone conversation with my ex-son-in-law's mother, who lives on the opposite coast. We are quite fond of each other, and talk every few weeks. She's ten years older than I, but we have a lot in common. We both had four kids, we both have one grandaughter ( the same individual), we both love Louise Penny, and are voracious readers. She was telling me about a TV interview she saw with Penny and Hilary Clinton, about their new book together. She said it sounds fascinating. We discussed Goldfinches, who are dying from a bacterial infection, then birds in general and how electric lights at night are disorienting millions of birds in their migrations, then, of course, our mutual 13 year old granddaughter, and the weather - she has a lot of it, we have none. I heard the story of her oldest son, who lived in Southern California, until an earthquake destroyed his house and caused him to relocate to Pennsylvania. I described the three fires we had to evacute for, none of which destroyed our house. We worried over the Sequioas burned and in danger as we speak. We laugh a lot, and she is my ideal of one of Jane Austen's "amiable" characters. The divorce of our kids has only strengthened our bonds, and I can count on her support whenever I call. It's a special relationship.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is our oldest grandson's birthday. He's turning six. Tomorrow the family is driving to Traintown to celebrate. I Facetimed with him when he was in the car after being picked up by his dad from kindergarten. He had on his crown birthday hat and was clearly thrilled. He's not a little boy anymore. He's getting gangly and his face is not a round baby face. How surprised we were when we were out to dinner with my cousin and his parents and my daughter-in-law handed me a card, and inside was an ultrasound of him. He was in profile and had the turned up nose of his mother1 We were so thrilled because they had been married over fifteen years and didn't seem interested in having a child. He's been the sunshine in their lives and a joy to us ever since. Our granddaughter is seven years older, and now she has four bungly boy cousins: 6, 4, 2, and 1. It's like having a basket of kittens. Andway, happy birthday to a dear fellow whom we love dearly.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Out of the blue I received an email that an old friend had died, at 66. They live in Illnois, and we have known them for forty years, yet they had not communicated for a while, so we assumed everything was well. But the wife had cancer, and today her husband emailed, including the funeral service, where to donate, and a video option to film a message. She was so young, and a school psychologist. Their daughter lived out here for a while and they stayed with us several times when they came out to visit her. I assume our friend chose not to share her diagnosis and treatment with others. Many people don't like to be considered a victim. They don't want the cards and flowers and fruit baskets and prayers and calls. I respect that, but it does leave my husband and I with the feeling that we've missed the boat, and cannot grieve adequately. The shock is too great. I feel for our friend, his daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter and son. But the lack of connection for so long makes this seem surreal and unabsorbable.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

There is a chill in the air that is making the arthritis in my lower back act up. I walked to the post office this morning and felt achy after. I traipsed down the stairs into the basement and brought out my Halloween decorations, little as they are after giving most to my kids over the years. But I have fake pumpkins (the squirrels eat real ones), a sign for the door that says Welcome My Pretties, a small crow, a black cat with a Halloween hat on, a felt cat on top of a pumpkin, a black plastic kettle where I put candy to give out, and some small pumpkin people and a moon and child with a black lantern. I enjoy Halloween because no presents are necessary, and I love to the kids' costumes, and some of our neighborhoods decorate so elaborately that it is fun to walk around, day or night. A couple of blocks away from us a house has these giant, car sized spiders around and over the front door, and this year some children have painted pumpkins in psycadelic colors. A lot of imagination is at play. My husband and I used to dress up and go to parties, and we made an effort with our kids' costumes. Now I admire how my kids dress their kids - witty and fun. I don't know what they are going as yet, but I am pretty sure I will be delighted.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm in a mood. Deciding not to try to fly up for the virtual memorial service is probably the right thing to do, but it's depressing. Hopefully, this Delta mess will subside and I can travel later. I feel kind of mired in quicksand. I'm bored, restless, afraid, feeling elderly and vulnerable. I saw today in the news that the people who are vaccinated are cautious and not testing the waters of inside dining or travel, etc., while the unvaccinated are out there on a limb drinking, dining, seeing shows and games and traveling. This is not reassuring, because if I feel brave, I'll be galavanting around with the unvaccinated. As I told my dentist yesterday, I don't really want to go to our cabin, because nobody there is vaccinated or masking, and they are downright hostile to people who wear masks. Their numbers of cases are way up too, so it's not a safe environment. And people become angry and belligerent if you wear a mask. I feel safer in my area, where people mask and are careful, and the numbers are low. What a mess! I'm weary.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I walked this morning, and she told me about putting her baby granddaughter in a kind of hammock her daughter has in her back yard, and somehow the baby flipped out and fell on the side of her face. Everyone was freaked out, and they took the baby to urgent care and spoke with their pediatrician and all was well. But it's pretty traumatic to feel responsible for your granddaughter's fall, and my friend was quite shaken. It's what all us grandparents dread, but with the normal outcome of no harm done. Luckily, babies are like jellyfish, and usually bounce back without disaster. When I was in Fiji, with my first child, a friend of my mother's had sent an infant seat, this was 52 years ago, and I put my son in it, and before I could strap him in, the seat flipped and fell on the floor with our big portable stereo coming down on top of it. I screamed, my husband came running, and the neighbor in the downstairs flat ran up and bundled us into the car to go to the emergency room. How relieved and grateful we were that he was absolutely fine. I never used that seat again, and never had one for my other three kids. But I never forgot how suddenly even little babies can move or twist. It's a wake up call to how on alert we must be.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I visited an elderly friend yesterday and took her out for a walk in a nearby rose garden. She is in a care center, after a heart attack and bad fall. Nevertheless, she is sharp as a tack and manuevered herself well in and out of the car and with the walker when we arrived at the park. We wandered around and tried to smell the various roses, but most we tried, after taking off our masks, were not scented. It was a warm, beautiful day, and she wanted to go for ice cream, but it was a Saturday, and the place was packed. Then she suggested a tea place, but the ones I knew of are closed, due to the pandemic, so we returned to her facility and she showed me around the public rooms and then up to her room, which was nice. We sat there and talked for an hour. I told her I have not eaten inside since the covid, and didn't really know anymore where to go and what had outside seating. I'm not sure if she has. Her situation is nice, and the people are friendly, but there is no outside space anywhere, and no balconies, so fresh air is a problem. The building is around big box stores, without any parks or public spaces close enough to walk to, and therefore it seems to me claustrophobic and sterile. She is dependent on family or friends to take her out, and most of the group activities organized inside she says are poorly attended or don't happen. She seems comforted by the safety of the place. But she's used to going out a lot and seeing art, music and other things. I felt a bit sad last night. She is 93, so she is probably not going home again. But maybe the change I'm witnessing is harder for me than her. Safety first at that age.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A column I like to follow in my local newspaper, dealing with animals, had a great story today. A woman wrote in that one morning she heard a cacaphony of crows in her backyard, and she looked through the window and crows were surrounding her swimming pool. She stepped outside and there was a crow lying on it's back in the pool. She grabbed a rake and gently lifted him out of the water and carefully lay him down on the path. The crows retreated to the trees, still watching and making a ruckus. The crow got up and began walking, at which point the observing crows went dead silent. She went back inside, and eventually the crows all left, including the floating one. The columnist suggested the crows had assumed the crow was dead and when he was resurrected, they were stunned into silence. She thought the noise was a warning to other birds that danger was near, and the silence was shock and awe at the rescue. She reminded the reader that maybe she should put out some food for the crows, so they wouldn't identify her somehow as the source of the danger, because crows remember faces, and leave gifts for friends and dive bomb enemies. I like to think that crows in that area are spreading the news of the miraculous recovery of one of their brethern. It's how religions begin.