January thaw

   Nodding off in front of my computer, after a satisfactory lunch with a high school friend, I perused my archives for something to amuse my devoted followers and came across the following.
Santé et bon appétit

***

(First published in January 2015)
Bonjour cher,
   Here I sit, having toasted some small homemade pretzels and brewed a pot of Mystery Tea: while working, had thrown a small baggie of various teas in a satchel, to have on break. Found them after retirement.
   Temperatures here are mild for this time of year, in this zone. Woke to *Anthem of the Hoover Queen:* somewhere above me, one of my neighbors persists in running vacuum at least once or twice a week. Thankfully, this does not commence until after 8AM, while the pacing/clomping about, ensues anytime after 0500 hours. Fortunately, am not a light sleeper; never would have survived childhood in a large family if I were.
   Last I heard from you, a passel of college students lived downstairs: you commented on savory but unfamiliar cooking aromas. Do they play much music? As long as it is melodic and not too loud, it doesn't bother me.
   Today's mail brought two beautiful postcards from a penpal in Argentina, as well as a couple letters with Carolina postmarks. All that mail shall brighten this overcast day. Had some snow accumulation earlier; looked like a feather pillow had been torn open.
   Attended auditions last night and read quite well. Have not been active in theater for decades. Now waiting for call from director. One of the monologues he had me read was about getting fitted for a new bra - a subject to which I can definitely relate. The other was about what a bother purses are. I really think my chances are pretty good.
   Guess after supper, will go visit Man Upstairs. One of my neighbors asked why I go up there so often. Told her, he's good company and makes me laugh. Then she wanted to know, "Well if all you want is company, why not get a dog?" Are you kidding me? Pet deposit is three hundred dollars and ya gotta clean up after them; Man Upstairs is house broken and free.
   It's a chilly Friday night here in Tecumseh, Michigan, as we head into the fourth weekend of 2015. It has been a reasonably productive and most enjoyable week, particularly in the Bingo department: Monday at senior center, made back my fifty cents; Wednesday at the library, netted four books; and last night, here at the apartment complex, made a grand haul - head of cabbage, bag of carrots, frozen dinner, tube of blueberry refrigerator biscuits, dish soap and small box of candy!
   My errands for this twenty-third day of January included lunch at senior center and purchase of six pounds boneless beef short ribs. Got home, put three pounds in freezer, other three in deep pot, topped with water, bit of salt, pepper, thyme and turned on burner. Rinsed two cups Basmati rice, adding to meat. Friend called, we went to dinner  and I got back in time for evening card game.
   Perusing collections of stories I had written, came across one I hope you will find amusing.

***

   After fifteen or sixteen years, I had begun to suspect maybe I had been too long in Texas, but the time came when something happened to confirm my suspicion as certainty. I was, as Poirot says, "Exercising zee little gray cells" by working a crossword puzzle, when I encountered the clue *Red Bordeaux.* This much information was available to me: _ _ A_E_. All that came to mind was, "Who is Red Bordeaux, and what team does he play for?" Obviously, I had been dazed by Friday night lights.
   Now I will have to join Oenophiles Anonymous, because the other wine lovers won't want to acknowledge me in public. What's next? Will I embarrass myself by requesting a sommelier to bring a bottle of Chateau Ripple, or a glass of vintage Boone's Farm? Don't get me wrong, I'm no snob - I love Boone's Farm but come ON! Really, I did one of those V-8 forehead slaps when I finally deduced the word I'd been seeking was "claret." Which reminds me, did you ever see that Bellagio commercial with the LL jumping out of the name, running after the grape, and stomping it?
   Am reminded of world history professor who regaled us with following anecdote; While traveling, he had stopped at a convenience store for something to eat. Going through the beverage selections, he encountered his first bottle of Ripple and asked clerk what it was, receiving this reply, "Ripple, my good man, is a fine 89-cent wine." [This was the 1960s.]
   Anyway, guess I should be thankful not to have misread Bordeaux as Boudreaux, but it is small comfort. I recalled an episode of Murphy Brown in which a truckload of potatoes was dumped on Veep's lawn, after Dan Quayle had put an "e" on the end of singular form of potato, and wondered if anybody would leave a bottle of wine on my porch. Because, that would be okay, you know.

Resolved: commit to an ideal

   I'm already seeing comic strip references to broken resolutions, so it seemed a good time to address the topic in a blog.

***

Mid-January
 Many individuals are reaching the point at which one's resolve to make changes and "be better" begin to weaken. While many aim at "self-improvement," it is largely within the physical realm that efforts are concentrated.

   On 1 January, the western world starts a new calendar year. New Year resolutions provide a way of
redefining ourselves. Perhaps we should consider a shift in focus from physical to: spiritual; intellectual; or even metaphysical (if, indeed, we even know what that is). Would that not be a step toward making our world a better place to live?

   If we took the time to consider how our everyday actions reflect on our ethics, would we still do most of the things we do? Of course, some would argue that "over-thinking every little thing" would bring life to a standstill. That is not my intent, but a little soul-searching could enhance one's prudence.

   Prudence and practicality dictate many of our everyday actions. But occasionally we encounter a situation that challenges us morally. How do we face the challenge? "Hemming and hawing" seems to be a time-honoured tradition, especially among those of us who tend to procrastinate. There are several "hot button" issues, some of global import, others more particular to certain countries or regions.
   There is a Facebook group called International Citizens United, (ICU) with the motto, "All for one and one for all." ("Tous pour un, un pour tous.") A phrase from the Statement of Purpose: The International Citizens United group page is a place for building unity and understanding between all people on the planet. Please check it out and, if you are so inclined, request membership.
   Climate change is affecting all of us, in one way, or another. Even the smallest everyday action has a consequence. The amount of rubbish one generates can have an impact on the increasing temperature of the planet. For instance, how often do any of us attend some group function and find food served on disposable plates, which will end up in a landfill? Not to mention, bottled water. If trash is incinerated, how many and what kinds of pollutants, go into the atmosphere? It may cause minor inconvenience and subject one to a certain amount of ridicule to take one's own place setting, cutlery, and reusable container for beverage but one then has the satisfaction of not contributing to waste which may well end up in a body of water; making said resource unusable for either consumption or recreation.
   Sometimes one can find a bargain, a two-for-one: maybe you could take public transportation, or even walk; that way you are responsible for fewer carbon emissions going into the atmosphere and you get exercise. Win-win.
   Make this a year of commitment: your future and the world's may depend on it. No pressure.

  Happy New Year.

Sleeping around

   I miss my trips to South Carolina and surrounding environs. Though in hopes of another sojourn this spring, it won't happen unless I can find a travel companion. Meanwhile, I shall attempt to amuse you, by recounting a previous adventure. Not all of the people I claim as family are blood kin and there are several I have not yet met in person. In many cases, geography decreases the probability of face to face encounters. Thankfully, the dear soul known to me as Brother is someone who has welcomed me into his life and has extended the hospitality of his home. My 2015 trip would have been nigh impossible, and not nearly so pleasurable, without him.

*****

December 2015
(Driving Miss Crazy)
Hi honey, did ya miss me?
   It has been over a month since my last letter to you: I've been away but now I shall bring you up to speed regarding recent adventures.
   On 22 November, 2015, Brother Eddie arrived in Michigan to whisk me away for Thanksgiving holiday, having spent previous day with other kinfolks along the way. I'm not altogether certain Eddie knew what he was in for when he opted to facilitate my adventure by uttering the words, "Road trip!" God bless him, he didn't bail on me; did not even falter. He arrived in Michigan to newly fallen snow, and was actually excited at the prospect of driving on it. Thankfully, roadways were clear and the only snow that Eddie's truck encountered was in Dad's driveway. Our original plan had been for him to come in Saturday evening and attend church with me on Sunday morning, as I was scheduled to read. Unfortunately, Whoever was in charge of clear travel conditions had apparently not gotten the memo. Reality: it snowed nearly all day Saturday, Eddie spent Saturday night in central Ohio and I did not go to church since A) road conditions were dodgy, and B) no one would have been around to let Eddie in if I had. So, he got here, we went to breakfast, made our goodbyes to Dad, and hit the road.
   Roadways had been cleared, giving us the luxury of enjoying glistening pristine beauty of snow-covered landscape. Daylight was eaten up as we made our blessedly uneventful way through Ohio and into West Virginia. What did surprise us was encountering three toll stations, at two dollars a pop. Fortunately, we had ready cash available, so the hurdle was not insurmountable. Got through Ohio and finally stopped for the night in Beckley, West Virginia. Had dinner in motel lounge. Back in the room, we plugged in our cellphones to charge, made our individual preparations for bed and took a little time to wind down. Shared a bit of free verse I had just written:

Cold town, warm beds

Children of the Great Brotherhood

walk their separate paths to Land of Dreams

This day they have covered a lot of ground

- and gone farther still in *miles* that cannot be measured

   Come morning, we realize clock on nightstand had not been reset to reflect time change, so we had another hour to wait for breakfast included in room rate. Brother used time to check in with social media but I was determined to abstain for the duration of my trip.
   Soon, staff could be observed making coffee and setting up dining area. Other travelers made their muzzy-headed way in to partake of the limited nourishment provided by processed foods. A goodly number of diners appeared to be college students, possibly an athletic team.
   After breakfast, we packed our bags, checked room for stray miscellany and checked out. Monday morning, having breakfasted before break of day, we found ourselves traveling in darkness, waiting for day to break over Blue Ridge Mountains. There was barely enough light to discern trees atop distant mountains. Of course, where there are mountains, there are also valleys. These were not just gentle slopes and dales, but veritable chasms. In the bottom of gorges were trees and it makes one's breath catch to realize how tall some of those trees must be.
   When driving an automobile without cruise control, it is important to find a pace car - which can also serve as decoy for highway patrol. We picked a presumably unsuspecting motorist with Quebec plates. Saw a sign which read, Speed enforced by air, which made me think of my "grammar nazi" friends who would no doubt insist - and rightly so - "Monitored, not enforced." Later in my trip, watched a news broadcast and heard, "*Be a cannibal* for your vehicle" which serves to demonstrate the importance of good diction, because what the speaker obviously said was, "Be accountable for your vehicle."
   At some point, one must cross the mountains, if one's destination lies beyond them. Our route took us through the East River and Big Walker Tunnels. Emerging, we noted Sun bathed top of trees, leaving three-fourths of the hillside in violet shadow; purple mountain majesty.
   Early sun highlighted glistening black rock, damp from seeping springs, which will dry as winter deepens. For now, icicles glint in daylight, delighting the eye. One glimpses red oak leaves, looking for all the world like stained glass.
   As one traverses mountain ranges, one notes grooves cut into Earth by gigantic mechanical maws which have left *teeth marks,* a testament to determination to get beyond obstacles. Different colors and textures indicate various mineral deposits. I was amused by a formation that resembled monstrous toes and thought of various "henge" monuments. As we proceeded southeastward, pinkness increased on eastern horizon and one lone star remained visible in western sky. People have an unfortunate habit of making their presence apparent by littering the landscape in greater and lesser ways. In two days of travel we saw at least three abandoned vehicles and I couldn't help thinking those orange stickers are like toe-tags for cars. A few states down the road, we stopped for lunch and I had to remember to specify unsweetened tea if I did not want to find myself trying to gag down a glass of treacle. Midday Monday brought us into central South Carolina, where I would make my home for most of the next three weeks.
   One of the household denizens was less than enthusiastic in her welcome: Lily, a Pug, groused at me every time I moved. I believe it was because I upset the balance of her world and she viewed me as an interloper. We maintained an *armed truce* for the duration of my stay.
   Saturday after Thanksgiving, Brother took me to Charlotte, North Carolina, where I was delivered into the safekeeping of a former classmate for a few days. Surrounded by Great Smoky Mountains, I slept well, nestled under handmade quilts.While on a brief sightseeing excursion, established contact with outside world. This excitement was eclipsed by awe at the heartiness of those who had long ago settled the region, and knowledge I would have proved unworthy - since I do well to cope even with modern conveniences. Wednesday after Thanksgiving, left scenic Smokies and returned to South Carolina; while being taken to rendezvous with Eddie, was surprised to hear cellphone buzz - it was registering several messages which had come in while I was out of range. My time in North Carolina was marred by incessant rain and, for most of my time there, an absence of cellphone reception but the scenery was nothing short of phenomenal. The company, both human and feline, was exceptional too. There is a chain of grocery stores called "ingles" which my mind perceived as inglés, which is Spanish for "English." What can I say? - I am easily amused.  
   Friday, 4 December, met people at bowling alley in Cayce, then I checked into Columbia, SC hotel.   Next driver was a Facebook friend, originally from Michigan, whom I met in Columbia, SC. We trusted modern technology to get us to Lake Manning, then to an address which I recalled from writing several letters. D and I celebrated our weekend by sharing a humongous burger called The Widow-maker: four quarter-pound beef patties, four slices of cheese, and four strips of bacon. This was accompanied by a large salad and red wine, which we hoped would minimize the threat posed by all that cholesterol. Next day, met another correspondent and we had a blast. After a leisurely lunch, we went for a drive and made an impromptu visit to a friend who climbed down from fixing the roof and welcomed us into his home - which, by the way, we found because I recalled his address from writing to him. Sunday, went to a potluck, where I was traded back to Eddie.
   It's a darn good thing I am not underage, because Eddie transported me across numerous state lines during the course of my visit. Anyway, planning to meet friends for dinner, we were instructed to rendezvous at Plum, on Bay Street. Arriving at that establishment, we found dark windows and a sign the place was closed that evening. I stayed in the truck, texting the other party, while Eddie asked a passerby to suggest a place for dinner. Walking to the suggested place, he learned they were closed to public that evening - for Plum's Christmas party. We gathered elsewhere and spent an enjoyable time together. As we went our separate ways, I informed the group the chronicle of my adventures would be titled, "Driving Miss Crazy," which seemed apt.
   Monday, the planets must have come into fortuitous alignment and I was able to meet a Calhoun County official, plus spend time with a friend whom it had begun to look like I would not get to see this trip. Tuesday night found me back in Columbia area, where I gladly spent remainder of the week.
   My time in the South was winding down and I had one more Facebook friend to meet for the very first time.    On 13 December, made notation that wine before 11 A.M. was probably not my most brilliant move ever, but consequences were apparently not dire, so presume neither was it my worst. Second Monday of December, made interim stop in Virginia. Here I met Susan, another Facebook friend, and lodged two nights. We attended a library Christmas party, then stopped at a winery on our way back to the house.
   Wednesday morning Susan made a hearty breakfast, before schlepping me to Charlottesville to catch a commuter train to Washington, D.C. My seatmate during the two-hour trip was a second-year college student whose major is environmental sciences. Good conversationalist. Got her address and shall write to her.Spent two nights in Virgina. Then, on a frosty Wednesday morning, hugged my friend and boarded a commuter train, which would take me to Union Station in District of Columbia.
   Got into the station and had a text message from someone I met in college. As I stepped through the door, four decades evaporated and we recognized each other in an instant. Spent a couple hours reminiscing and talking about what we had done during intervening years. Then it was time for her to return home so she could avoid District rush hour.
   Train 29, from Washington to Chicago departed from Track 15 at 4:05 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. At last, home stretch began and, amazingly, train got in on time, arriving in Toledo, Ohio 5:08 a.m. of 17 December - earlier than I had expected. Last year, had experienced significant delay on return trip, so had told driver not to come until 8:00 a.m. Why should he get up in the middle of the night if he didn't have to? Once I got into Toledo station, phoned him, notifying him of timely arrival. He showed up and had me home by 8:01a.m.(EST), Thursday, 17 December. As he was taking me home, I was glad we were headed westward and not into rising sun. My stomach growled and I thought longingly of the sausage and egg breakfast, consumed less than twenty-four hours previously but which seemed eons ago.
   Showered and dressed to attend Tecumseh Senior Center Christmas party: had already told friends I'd have to 'hit the ground running' upon my return. Just so you know, title for this piece came from the twenty-five nights I slept in a bed other than my own. Sorry to disappoint.

   If you ever decide to "go crazy" make sure you get a good driver and be sure to take the scenic route.

A holiday remembrance

   I started writing Christmas stories when I was in Texas, working at the Brady Standard-Herald. This one  centers around a wonderful Christmas memory involving Mom.
Whether you observe Christmas or another winter festival tradition, it is my hope you are surrounded by loved ones and you are safe, happy, warm.
Besos y abrazos.

*****

Christmas Eve, 2013

   Christmas is fast upon us. Heck, in New Zealand, it is well underway. So how do you feel about Christmas? Are you bubbling over with barely-contained joy or are you tempted, in your unnamed fear and dread, to try to outrun it? Perhaps most folks find themselves somewhere between the two extremes, depending upon what circumstances they face on any given day or even how they slept the night before.

   I am partial to the sounds of the season. Music stirs my soul. Some days the stirring is like trailing my fingers through a gentle stream. Other days I feel like I've been through a blender on high speed. No wonder James Bond wants his martini "shaken, not stirred." Regarding Christmas music, I have yet to hear a rendition of  "Carol of the Bells" that is not thoroughly enjoyable, while one of my sisters likes any and all versions of "Little Drummer Boy." There is a melancholy softness to be found in "What Child is This?" and "Coventry Carol." I feel sultry and sexy when I hear "Santa Baby" and I can hardly sit still when "Jingle Bell Rock" is playing. Undoubtedly there are incurable curmudgeons who despise all holiday music, which is their prerogative. So what does music do for you?

   What with the deplorable state of the economy, health care, morals, you name it, it is easy to be very cynical, despite the "magic" of the holiday season. The degree of cynicism is a choice we make when we get up every morning. It may start with the decision whether or not to drag oneself out of bed.

   Sometimes there is no choice: you have a job, therefore you must get up. Your job might be parent, student, rocket scientist or buffer but, whatever it may be, YOU have to do it.

   Besides my paid position, I feel it is part of my job to go out into the world on a daily basis and look for something to write about, laugh about or even sing about. And then share that with others. I enjoy what I do, both vocation and avocation. It is my nature to be a joy seeker but I also consider myself a cynic/realist, having once told a friend that cynicism ran so deeply in my family that we had developed a mutant chromosome and it had become a genetic trait.

   If you find yourself unable to capture that elusive holiday spirit with music, perhaps you can entice it with food and drink. Seasonal foods and beverages abound as do the traditions that surround them. One of my dearly departed friends used to host an annual homemade eggnog bash that heavily emphasized the "nog" portion of the concoction. Let me tell you, there is nothing quite like a three-story house filled with two or three dozen well-lubricated voices belting out Christmas music and show tunes to invite Christmas "presence."

   Tamales are popular any time of year and making them features prominently in many family holiday traditions. The first year my [late] sister Teri came to Texas, we made bean and cheese tamales, since Teri was vegetarian. By the second year we decided that was too much trouble and we settled for bean "borrachos" and masa sticks.
   Christmas 2007 found four of us sisters gathered together. The youngest sister had come to Brady from San Diego, California, one was visiting from Las Vegas and two of us resided there. Our parents came down from Tecumseh, Michigan.

   We girls were up to our elbows in masa, meat and corn husks, preserving a tradition. It was also something of a rite of passage as I realized that I am the viejita-elect. As the eldest of my generation, the torch has been passed to me. Will the flame continue to burn or will it sputter and die? Only time will tell. I think it may flicker but I will probably break down and buy some corn husks and at least make a few dozen masa sticks, from time to time.

    Christmas Eve church services are another wonderful tradition. I grew up in a home strongly influenced by church. It was with immeasurable joy that I joined my parents and the youngest of my siblings at the Brady Presbyterian Church on Christmas Eve 2007 and took Holy Communion with them. We wept unashamedly and it was good for the soul.

   Whatever this season holds for you, I pray you will be blessed with the grace to persevere. Big cry-baby that I am, I get all choked up by the simple phrase, "God bless us, every one." May you indeed be blessed and might we all hear "tidings of comfort and joy."

The Snark Before Christmas

Once upon a wintertime

Well my dear, here we are:
   I was writing out Christmas cards and listening to NPR (National Public Radio) when a pal texted me.
Pal: Can you believe November is gone?
Me: Christmas is right around the corner.
Pal: Yipee!!! Whatcha doin'?
Me: Writing out x-mas cards
Pal: Yeah, I gotta do that
Me: Starts to put me in holiday mood ... the rum and coconut coffee doesn't hurt ;)
Pal: I don't know what would put me in the mood
Me: Getting laid would work wonders for me
Pal: Girl, I don't know about you, lol [In case you forgot, that's textese for laugh out loud]
Me: I still have a healthy sex drive - so sue me

   The frenzy that began with Black Friday is gaining speed, much like a snowball rolling downhill. I recall hearing about Cyber Monday [for online shoppers] and 'Giving Tuesday' - apparently so one can *atone* for all the shopping one has done in previous days. Even when I could physically shop til I dropped, I had no interest in it: waste of time and money as far as I'm concerned.
   Friends are beginning to ask about my Christmas plans and whether or not I'm going to South Carolina. (Unfortunately, not any time soon.) On my immediate agenda: write out cards to global contacts, as those will need to be sent sooner to have reasonable expectation of timely arrival; get haircut; attend Christmas parties at Tecumseh Senior Center and Orchard Terrace; put up holiday decorations; get out of this funk I've been in.
   This is one of those letters that gets written over span of couple days. When I checked Facebook, learned a friend had tagged me in a post to let me know she appreciated my letters to her. It couldn't have come at a better time: had been feeling sorry for myself, thinking I didn't make a difference to anybody. We all need actual or virtual pats on the back from time to time.
   Got cards mailed to far-flung recipients - specifically those outside United States - and just as I had expected, next day brought postcards from Australia. I was a couple days late in sending birthday greetings to Tecumseh Senior Center participants; hope they are kindly disposed toward me and in a forgiving frame of mind.
   Still have quite a few actual cards to address. I readily confess some are postcards with holiday stickers and have already *forgiven* myself on grounds so few people even write anymore, that it will do. I'm big on self-forgiveness: it's good for my mental well-being.
   Out to breakfast recently, told my companion I wasn't sure whether to call this  The Snark Before Christmas or Visions of Sugarplums. Decided on former, thinking nobody even knows what sugarplums are. On that note, shall wrap this up and post.
Wishing you well, Jo Ann

catching the bus

Bus 2019: Destination: Rainbow Bridge

   When Angela woke up outside, she wasn't scared, just bewildered. She decided to look around; see if there were any interesting odors to sniff. She wouldn't go far, as she did not want Cecil to fret.

   Rick's bus had been leaving all year: he was dying of cancer. On the last day of November 2019, he got on and left town. As he boarded, he saw a dog across the road and asked the driver if it were okay for her to come along. "Sure thing, buddy: we're all going to the same place." This bus' destination was Rainbow Bridge.

   As Rick and Angela made their way down the aisle, he saw a familiar face. "Hey Mel, good to see ya again." "Howdy, Ricky Joe. Where'd ya get the dog?" "She was in a field across the road from where I got on. Weren't ya girl?" Angela woofed, "Yes; I figured it was alright to follow you. I'm pretty sure I won't be going back to Cecil's."

   Mel said, "There are people on here I don't know but my oldest daughter, Jo Ann, knew all of us. Did you know her, Angela?" "We never met but I heard of her: she wrote letters to my human."

   It was then Dad took it upon himself to play host, and show Rick and Angela around. The first guy they saw was Pat, a diabetic amputee, whom Jo Ann had met at the nursing home where she had gone for rehab. He had died on Halloween and Jo found out, early in December.

   Passing Carolyn, Dad explained, "I don't recall this woman but we sorta have a history: one of her daughters was married to one of my godsons. Frank died in her house." Both Rick and Angela were surprised. Others present were: Father Rick, a Byzantine priest who had gone to school with Jo Ann; Mary Jo, another schoolmate; Denny, an old fellow who used to have breakfast at Big Boy; Troy, a fellow who died in Virginia: during a trip south, Jo Ann had spent a night with him and his wife; Connie, the egg lady's mother; Hazel, who lived to be 108; Norma; and Dawn.

   "Norma was one of my wife's dearest friends," Mel said, leaning down to give the old woman a hug. Then he explained, "I remember Jo bringing Dawn and her son, Wolfie, over to the house. My wife told the boy, 'They call me "Wolfie" too because I like meat.' That made him smile and put him at ease. I sure will be glad to see Zulema again; it's been almost six years."

   At that point, the bus rounded a curve in the road and was no longer visible from Earth. A week after Rick's service, Bella, another old dog, caught the bus. The day after that, there was a memorial for Wynell, a 95 year old, whom Jo remembered lovingly from Methodist choir. She had died back in October but Jo didn't get the news, until it was mentioned in a Christmas card.
   Souls cross the bridge but memories linger in the hearts of those who remain earthbound.

Celebrate weeds

  Much has been written about the "indomitable human spirit." When one contemplates some of the horrors which have beset humans: famines; wars; pogroms; authoritarian governments; one sees how they were withstood through human endeavors to "rise above." In the space of one month headlines included: a murdered journalist and subsequent attempts at cover-up; several pipe bombs, mailed to prominent critics of 45th U.S. president;  threats by that same president to have military personnel fire at immigrants who throw rocks; and eleven people slain in a place of worship, by an anti-Semite. People are in serious need of good news. I found some.

Dear One,
   Remember when I used to write letters all the time? Then I got caught up in social consciousness and started writing about "issues." Issues are important, of course, but so is personal communication. I love writing letters - so I am getting back into it. After one of the residents here passed away, her family had an estate sale, raising money to cover her final expenses. I purchased the bulk of her stationery and related supplies.
   Saturday morning, I woke to clear skies, after spending the night in a bed not my own. Breakfasted on a piece of panettone, a delightful Italian sourdough bread with golden raisins and bits of citrus peel. This was washed down with a cup of stout tea. Bidding farewell to my host and the dogs, I got in my car, to drive home. 
   Trees around here are showing autumn colors; some of which are absolutely brilliant. Several trees were ablaze in vibrant reds and yellows. It was such a beautiful day, it almost made me wish I had a dog to walk. My canine friend in the mid-west has not felt much like walking lately but I'm sure this day would have roused his enthusiasm.
   Arriving home, I changed clothes and went for a walk. Returning to my apartment, I wrote a letter, then perused social media. Checked in with a friend and we made dinner plans: pizza and beer. I spent some time making notes on subjects to be addressed in upcoming letters and whiled away an hour or so adding subtle shading to my supply of illustrated postcards.
   The notion of weeds came to me because the term is used disparagingly for most part, if not exclusively. I like "weeds," seeing them as underappreciated flowers. That's kind of how it is with some people: they get called names and suffer other taunts and indignities because society doesn't know what to do with them.
   Retirement gives me an appreciation of life's slower moments and I find a vast richness in the mundane. Not everyone is so blessed as I, but a lot of people just don't know how to find joy. If it is within my power, and if a willing pupil should come along, I will try to share what I have learned. I am also a student, willing to learn from others.
   I'm sure I have rambled somewhat but hope you know, this letter was written with love. Maybe it has given you some thought to mull over. Even if it just provided a small diversion, it was worth the effort.

May peace and contentment be afforded you, 
Jo Ann