Year in Review 2024…and an Ending

 

For a while I have been finding it difficult to get myself to this blog. I will write entire things out in my journal that I think I want to share, but somehow I never get to the blog. I feel an aversion.

On Saturday I had an epiphany. This blog I began in spring of 2017 has run its course. The life I had then and subsequent years is gone. Not just that. 2024, with my commitment to write every day (although not achieved) seemed to cap the entire experience. The trauma, drama, agonies, and difficulties of 2024 lay heavy in this blog.

Time for a fresh start. 

One of the things I've avoided doing is the Year in Review in Photos that usually I'd do on or about January 1st. I decided if I am going to end this blog, I need to do it with the Year in Review.

I will be introducing my new blog, which is already named and set up, very soon. Meanwhile, enjoy my walk through the joyful parts of 2024 that are worth remembering. The tragedies loom so large that it is good to remember it wasn't all doom and gloom. 

YEAR IN REVIEW 2024

Feeling Connected

Kara and I visit the Butterfly House

In January, Kara and I made our first visit to the Peace River Botanical & Sculpture Gardens. On a gorgeous day, we studied sculptures and plants and works of art and butterflies. It included a boardwalk out to the river where there was a gathering of loons migrating through. It is a simply amazing place, and I hope to get back there very soon.

Moments with Loved Ones

The captions under these pictures tell the story. I am grateful for every moment with friends and family.

Iris and I met at Copperhead Books. November

Amy and I dined at Lan Xang. August

With Braydon as he tried black grouper!

With Scott at Salty Papa's Shrimp

Seeing Hamilton with Pam--May

Feeling Hopeful

In early August Jim was moved to a rehab facility, where we believed he would build up strength to come home. There were many setbacks right from the start. But on the day this picture was taken, there was hope in the air. He had asked me to bring his razor, and he trimmed his beard. He looked so good, I took a picture.  A few months later I looked at this picture and saw the intensity of his blue eyes, and how closely he was looking at me.  A day or two later he would get COVID, and his decline would begin in earnest. I see this picture and I think of that last day I held out legitimate hope that he would come home and we'd be together again.

Highlight of the Year

Without a doubt, the day that marked one of my highest moments was the gathering on November 9th to remember Jim. After years of watching him decline, it was absolutely wonderful to hear all the memories over the last 40 years when he was young and vibrant and we interacted on a regular basis with family and friends. I had no idea this celebration of his life would lift me like it did. I have written about it previously and posted the pictures, but I am posting them again so they are part of this record. 

One of the things I will remember most about this day was when Scott said the ceremony made him realize he is more like his dad than he ever thought. 

Susan and Natalie were lighthearted in comments

Stacy provide moving memories

CLMS always shows up for me. GRATEFUL

Makes Me Smile

After Jim passed, I rejoined Iona-Hope Episcopal and made fast friends through various activities. Trish is by far one of my favorites of all my new buddies. We sat together at the Christmas dinner and she taught me how to do the Princess Diana look for the camera to eliminate a double chin. Her advice: head down, roll eyes up. Here we are doing our best Diana.

Meaningful Moment

Christmas morning I took a remembrance of Jim to Bunche Beach and left him in a meaningful place. He is now in one of his favorite places: out in the Gulf with the sky and the birds and the underwater animals. It is so much better than a graveyard!

Feeling Connected, Part Two

Jim and I ended up having several weeks apart. The entire time I was in the hospital and separated from him and just wanted to be with him to hold his hand. I kept thinking we had so little time left together, and honestly, I was afraid I'd never hold his hand again if I didn't get out of there. He was going through so much and no one was there to comfort him. It was heartbreaking for me.

When I got home, the very first thing I did was get to the rehab center, and then I just sat and held his hand. I am so grateful I had the foresight to take this photo. It means the world to me. It represents every day together, how we were always there for each other, even from afar. But, of course, this physical contact was way better. If anything represents 2024 it is this. 

Rest Easy

When I received the touchstone with some of Jim’s ashes in it, I was also given a vial of leftover ashes in case I wanted more things made. Instead, I wanted to to figure out a place to sprinkle those ashes. I decided on Bunche Beach.

It is tradition for me to walk Bunche on Christmas. I’ve done it for years. Last year, I felt strongly it was our last Christmas together, and I asked Jim to join me, even though he was too ill to walk. At the time he was just starting to show signs of what was to come.

This year has been one of turmoil and health issues, and I really am not sure if I’ve been there since last Christmas. There were a lot of changes. I was greeted by this message:

I knew where I wanted to send the ashes, and so made a short walk down the beach. There were more people there than usual—some years I have been the only one there. I wanted to have private space for what I was going to do, and thankfully that worked out.

My idea was to visit a tree I’ve been visiting for over a decade. It has been a place I went to reinforce visions I’ve had for what I want to do and be. It was not a living tree, but one that had a hole where I would drop shells I had spoken my wishes into. 

No surprise that after this hurricane season, the tree was just a leftover stump. But there, in that container, were the shells I left over the years. I sprinkled some ashes into it.

I then turned to the water. If Jim wanted to be anywhere, it would be on the water. I sprinkled the rest of the ashes into a waterway that will carry them into San Carlos Bay and eventually into the Gulf of Mexico.

This is the overview of where I left the ashes.

On the way back, rays came down from the heavens, completing the ritual. 

I didn’t feel the need to shed a tear.

It was perfect. 

Rest easy, My Love.

Solstice Gratitudes

 

I am grateful for books and music

I am grateful for my support systems

At Iona-Hope Church

Cypress Lake Middle School

My neighborhood

My enduring teacher friends far and wide

My classmates from SJA class of 1973

My family

Those that make me laugh

Those that cry with me

I am grateful for counselors and nurses

I am grateful for the level of health I do have

And that I am getting stronger every day

I’m grateful for my home

And that I have had so many holiday invitations

As the picture above illustrates

There appears to be duality in our lives

But it is all Oneness

Nothing is ever lost

So it doesn’t need to be found 

What a Busy Week

It’s late Friday afternoon, and I’m just getting to this blog. It’s been quite a week, but I seem to be coming to the end of the long road of financial and legal matters. I’ve had several ideas on where to take this, but will keep it short and sweet.

I picked up Jim’s touchstone today.

This is a flat stone in a display I can take out and hold in my hand. It contains some of his ashes.

When I die, there will be one made in purple for me. Well, not for me…I guess for whoever wants it. It’s already paid for.

Which, by the way, I highly recommend making your arrangements and getting them paid for in advance. It saved me a lot of angst and trouble when Jim passed. I was able to pull out a card with his account number and phone number to call. Quick and easy. I have a friend whose husband died in June and she said going to the funeral home to make the arrangements was the worst. It was traumatizing to her.

Here is where the stone will sit when not in my hand. 

Now I’m working on building in a lot of “me” time as Thanksgiving week approaches. I am grateful my friend Pam has invited me to share dinner at Lexington Country Club on Thursday. My friend Iris will be in Siesta Key, so we will meet in Punta Gorda for lunch on Tuesday. Otherwise, I have books to read and shows to watch and I really need to get a walk in at Lakes Park during this cooler weather. I am doing my best to take small steps forward and enjoy life just as it is. 

Thank you, friends, for listening and sharing your thoughts. It motivates me to keep expressing here, which I truly believe is something I need.

Another Sunrise

Yesterday I faced some real truth

That I may not be able to stay in this home indefinitely

It is too costly and I will need to let it go

Sooner than I anticipated.

When I woke today I heard you say

It will be all right, It will be all right, It will be all right.

I got up, wrapped myself in your suede jacket

Sat on the lanai on this cool morning

And watched the peach sunrise

Rejoicing in the love we shared

As I watched the light change in the sky

And on the water

And I knew for certain

It will be all right.

Great Memories and Smiling Faces

I have not been able to stop reflecting on how great the day went when we honored Jim. I knew right away something had shifted, although I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

But now I think I know. After Jim passed, I kept having these flashbacks of him in the hospital, and how miserable he was, and how he slowly was getting sicker and sicker. I didn’t want to think about those things, and I tried to replace it with other memories, but it never seemed like I could do enough. 

Once I spent time in a room with so many great people, and we read through the tributes sent to us by people who had known him for over 40 years, I finally got steeped back into who he really was, and all the things that he had done for other people. It made it really real. The family picnics. The way he helped people in large and small ways. And the dynamite grilled cheese sandwich he could make! His easy going personality, his patience with and love of children, and just the many dimensions our prism of life together took.

November 9th is a day I will never forget because of the great memories shared in front of a sea of smiling faces of some of the best people I know.

(The pictures below were taken by these attendees by request. I did not get pictures of everyone.)

With Susan and Natalie from Lehigh days

Stacy…friends since 1993

Katie, Honey, Wendy, me, Debbie, Angela from CLMS

Keep Me In Your Heart

I was listening to the new Willie Nelson album today. It’s called Last Leaf on the Tree, and contains the usual Willie offering of covers and originals.

Today his cover of Warren Zevon’s song “Keep Me In Your Heart” caught my attention. As a big Zevon fan, I know that Warren wrote this for his wife when he was dying of a brain tumor. 

Today as I listened to the lyrics in a new way, I felt like these words were much of what Jim would have said when he was in the same position. As he was slowing transitioning over many days, I wondered what he was thinking, or if he was thinking. He had very little energy for talking.

So I take this song now as another message to me—and actually, a joyful one. It makes me feel good to hear it because I’m taking them as Jim’s words to me—words he was unable to give. I am adding to my playlist.

Give a listen to “Keep Me In Your Heart.”

Thursday Thoughts

 

It has been one month since Jim made his transition. 

I could not write yesterday as I was totally numb from the election results. I had faith in the American people, so it is hard to accept so many are willing to exchange our democracy over racism and misogyny. I’m not surprised. I was just holding the highest good in my heart.

We are all a bit wiser now, knowing what we now know.

Here is some great healing news…I was able to sleep on my right side the last couple of nights  I’ve had to sleep on my back ever since the accident, but my preferred method is on my side. This has been amazing. Even more amazing is that today I will take my first shower since August 19th! My wound nurse brought waterproof bandages for me and said go for it. I was so over wiping down with cleaning cloths and washing my hair in the sink. The shower is another sign of my progress in healing, and is a game-changer. It brings back another element of normalcy I definitely can use.

I’m glad the rainy weather will be past us after today. I want nice weather for Scott’s visit and for the Saturday event, which will be emotional and wonderful. 

Everything is a step I am taking to re-form my life. I am grateful for all the love and support I have. 

Pic Collage 1991-93

 

JOY

Nine times we visited Cancun, Mexico and our vacation was never complete unless we visited Chemuyil, a lovely little beach off the beaten path. We were first directed there as a place to do some great snorkeling, and it was for a while. Eventually we witnessed the reefs dying from the suntan lotion, but the beauty of the beach and its smattering of palm trees never changed. One time when we were there, a boy band from England was shooting a music video. The beach had a bar and little huts where they would serve you fresh caught fish, cooked up with homemade tortillas, beans, rice, a steamed jicama. I know that since the days we were there, that part of the Yucatán Peninsula has built up into a huge tourist attraction called Rivera Maya. But we remember when it was jungle, and we would drive for 90 minutes just to relax on the most beautiful beach in the world,

ACHIEVEMENT

I wrote about this Mexican adventure a few years ago. I am pictured here on the steps of the El Castillo in the ancient city of Chichen Itza. When we first went there as part of a tour in 1987, I was afraid to climb the very steep steps. But in 1992 I changed my tune. I wanted the challenge of overcoming the fear. We rented a car and drove for hours to get there and it was worth it. Mission accomplished!

COURAGE

Before this year, 1993 was the year of our greatest challenges. In June of that year, some discs blew out in Jim’s lower back, and he had surgery to fuse them. Sadly, the fusion didn’t take, and he spent the rest of his life with a crack in his back which disabled him from working, golfing, and many other things. This was a huge adjustment for me, not to mention the financial strain we were under, given that he made a decent income and we had a brand new house. That summer, his aunt and uncle completed the cabin they were building on the New River in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and in the fall Jim’s doctor said he could make the trip there. It was our first visit, and we fell in love with the place. It became our home away from home for many years to come. I use the word Courage here, but what I really was building was Spiritual Courage. Earlier this year when faced with Jim’s terminal illness, I thought a lot about 1993 and all we went through, and it helped me know we could get through this year, no matter what. Jim took this photo of me standing on a petrified log in the river. It wasn’t until doing this blog that I can see how this photo mirrors the one that he took of me at Coe Lake eleven years earlier, the photo that began this series. In that picture, I was starting a new direction. In the picture above, it was the same.

And now I find myself once again gathering my courage to move forward into a new life. I know even though he is not here physically, Jim is here in spirit helping me find joy, achieve new goals, and continue to build spiritual courage. It has always worked in the past. I see no reason that would change now. 🌻

Saints and Souls

Doug, Dan, and Jim  (RIP all)

Favorite picture of Jim

Today was a combination All Saints and All Souls Day at church. We were told we could bring in a photograph in a frame to display on a table during the service. We were also allowed to send in a picture digitally for a slideshow. I did both.

The picture of Jim with his brother and youngest son is from 2003 at our old apartment building. It was the perfect picture to display because sadly, all three of these men have passed within the last few years. 

The picture of Jim in the woods I send for the slideshow. It has risen to the place of honor as my favorite photo of him. When we would visit the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina, he would take his coffee in the morning and go sit in the woods. One day, I think in 1999, I decided to take my camera and go find him. The look you see is his surprise at seeing me show up in his hiding spot. I saw him before he saw me, and that is why I had my camera ready for the photo when he looked my way.

There was one prayer today during the service that was especially meaningful. I was reminder that our loved ones on the other side are never far from us. They come to us as we go to them. Its a reciprocal relationship.

*

Today I changed where I had been sitting, and chose to sit by a woman that lives in my neighborhood. After the service, I had a brownie and some iced tea and talked to some people. On my way out, a woman named Trish stopped me. She is a member of the grief group, but hadn't been there the day I went. She lost her husband a year and a half ago. We had a good conversation, and then she pulled out this book and handed it to me:

She said she was looking for someone else she was going to give it to, but that woman wasn't there. After our conversation, she knew the book was meant for me instead. I was touched by her kindness and generosity and insight. This is a book with a reading for each day of the year, so I went home and read today's passage. It quoted from Charlotte's Web. I liked that right away, because I don't always just want to be reading Bible quotes. I think I'm going to love reading this book each day, and I have another new friend. I cannot say enough how supported I feel by this church community.

I will leave you with the final words from today's passage:

We never stop loving the one who is gone, and we will help our own healing and enhance the lives of others if, in some way, we open our arms to someone in need. I know I have love to share. I will be on the lookout.

Pic Collage 1988-90

 

DEDICATION

We loved visiting the Southwest, and enjoyed this trip to Arizona. At the time I owned a Money Mailer franchise, and their 1988 annual conference was there. We took a harrowing Jeep ride into the desert with a guy named Charlie, and had an incredible hayride under the vast desert starry sky.

FRIENDSHIP

One of the best things about being friends is that we like many of the same things. In December 1989 Money Mailer had their conference on Marco Island, back when it was a bit wild and wooly. During this trip we also visited the Everglades and then on to Orlando to see family. We had to visit our favorite park as well— Epcot Center. It was this trip that helped me learn I liked the southwest part of Florida best, compared to the other places we’d been. Later, it would help us make the decision to come to Fort Myers.

UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

Christmas morning 1990 with our Black Lab, B.J. I’m going to share here what I wrote to Jim on the frame:

“Traditions aren’t supposed to come and go…but unfortunately this one did. Every Christmas we have a picture of B.J. opening his dog biscuits. Remember how they would be wrapped under the tree and he’d go by and sniff them, but never open them? This was the last Christmas in our old home, and our last Christmas with the Beej. Boy, do I miss him still”

Escaping Tunnel Vision

 

In June, I began reading the book pictured above that was on the New York Times Bestseller list, with the idea that there would things to implement in my classroom. Needless to say, my life got interrupted and I only recently got back to it. I decided to keep reading it for my own sake, rather than my students’, and I’m glad I did.

In his book, Grant takes us through all the ways we think in shallow ways, or make arguments that don’t work, or lean toward our own biases. He talks about concepts like challenge teams and motivational interviewing, which caught my attention. His approach is easy to follow, with great examples, and lots of graphics.

I picked up the book once I got home from the hospital, and eventually I was taking it to read when I visited Jim since he was mostly sleeping. The text energized me and made me think in new ways.  I credit it with helping me through the difficult decisions I had to make regarding Jim’s care. It has caused me to turn to people to help me think things through, something I don’t think I typically did enough, unless it was with Jim.

The other night I woke to go to the bathroom, and found I was having a hard time getting back to sleep. I decided to finish the last 20 pages of the book. One of the chapters was called “Escaping Tunnel Vision.” There were two quotes that I ended up marking.

I realized that for years, I have been living a kind of tunnel vision, and for a very good reason. My husband was ill, and in a very slow decline, and it was demanding more of me — more of my time, energy, worry, and anxiety. I had gotten to the point I thought I would never want to travel again, that doing something just for fun seemed long ago and far away. I think this was preying on my mind more than I knew. I just thought it was where I was in life — but now I see it was the situation, not necessarily who I had become.

The tunnel vision was necessary, don’t get me wrong. I had to put first things first, and I will never regret I did. And now I am thankful I had this book in hand to help me see my way out.

Reading the last few chapters was exhilarating. Here were two important quotes to me:

At work and in life, the best we can do is plan for what we want to learn and contribute over the next year or two, and stay open to what might come next. 

Our identities are open systems, and so are our lives.. We don’t have to stay tethered to old images of where we go or who we want to be. The simplest way to start rethinking our options is to question what we do daily.

I believe Adam Grant has provided a blueprint for me as I forge a new life without my husband and enter retirement. A lot of people ask if I will sub, and my immediate response is NO. It feels like “been there, done that.”

I have felt for a long time, and REALLY feel now, that there is something else waiting for me. Something that will be fulfilling in a new way. I have no idea what it is, but since Jim’s passing and finishing this book, I feel like I have escaped the tunnel. And I don’t think this is disrespectful to Jim. If I know him — and I do — he is cheering for me from the other side.

You and Me

 

When Jim and I met, we were like two wildflowers.

Neither one of us was exactly where we wanted to be in life. We just knew we weren’t planted in the right spots.

In one of our early meetings right before we parted, Jim went to his car and pulled out a cassette tape that was called Neil Diamond’s Love Songs. He gave it to me.

I listened to that thing nearly nonstop.

It had some of my favorite songs on it: Joni Mitchell’s “Chelsea Morning.”  Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne.” Randy Newman’s “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today.”

And the song by Neil Diamond called “Stones.”

Yesterday I moved Jim to hospice care.

Today I went onto Apple Music looking for the Love Songs album. What I discovered is it’s really just the Stones album, perhaps with the songs in a slightly different order.

So I listened to Stones wondering if it would make me fall apart.

But it was the exact opposite.

It took me back to the beginning of our relationship when I felt that he was seeing things in me that no one else had ever seen. It took me back to that time when I started to gain a lot of strength in who I was and into understanding what my life could be. It’s amazing when this happens. I don’t know if it happens with everybody this way, but it sure was a great thing for me. 

I’d listen to that tape he gave me and I think, even if this doesn’t last, even if this relationship ends, I am now somebody new and I am going to be fine no matter what happens.

(Honestly, I felt the relationship would last, but I was ready either way.)

At 26 years old, this was quite a revelation for me

Now I’m 69 years old. And I know that I was right about my relationship with Jim from day one.

I’m about to retire from a career I would’ve never had without him.

I am about to embark on a new life without him here physically. 

He will always be with me in my heart and soul.

We’ve had a great life together.

We planted and we harvested.

We were wild flowers who grew together, supported each other, and never wavered in our love.

When he leaves this physical plane, I know once again I will be fine.

The depth of what occurred over these past 40+ years will carry me forward into an unknown future.

Once again, because of Jim, I’m ready.

Jim and I  Fall 1982

I loved this video for the song because it reflects what I’ve written here. 

The Love Remains

 My brother Matt is the caretaker of the big box of photos from my mom’s house.

He occasionally pulls our photos we have forgotten about.

On my birthday this year, this is the one he posted.

It was my 19th birthday in 1974.

I was working at a fast food restaurant and getting ready to go to computer school.

I’m wearing a top made for me by my friend Cathy.

It had little cartoon figures of Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

And wide leg bell bottoms, of course.

I never wore shorts.

I’m here with my brother Richie.

He would not make it to his next birthday.

By my next birthday this picture would not be possible.

I meditated on this photo this morning.

I find it curious the way I’m holding his arms.

I may have stopped him from playing to get in the picture.

I may be holding on because I know I’m losing him.

In 1974 there wasn’t much hope for those with leukemia.

Summer days and birthdays are universal

As is loss.

Health issues can devastate and change.

Thank goodness the love remains.

“We are but a moment’s sunlight…”

Journal entry today

I grew up in an era of political violence. I was all of 8-years-old when John Kennedy was assassinated that Friday in Dallas. The entire country was in shock, and I remember well the days that followed, the additional murder of Lee Harvey Oswald, the adult conversations, the televised funeral. Dark, dark days.

It was quiet for a while, but then came Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy in rapid succession. I was a 7th grader then, but it still made no sense.

In between all of that had been the rise of the hippie culture and the Summer of Love (1967). These things caught my attention and has never let me go. It was in the music and culture. It was part of everything. I still believe in the values I grabbed onto at age 12, and I don't see any reason to give them up. They define me now, even at age 68.

Now there has been an act of political violence once again. The target is someone I disagree with on every level. But to me violence is violence and is not warranted. It solves nothing.

I still believe love does solve everything. This is not airy-fairy because love is HARD.

Today I was reminded of a song that was out during the summer of 1969 -- "Get Together' by The Youngbloods. It begins:

Love is but a song we sing 

Fear the way we die

You can make the mountains sing

Or make the angels cry...

[Listen to full song here.The boy on the bicycle in the video reminds me so much of my little brother it was freaky!]

After the era of violence and unrest in the 1960s, we ended up with a "reset" of sorts. The Youngbloods' song was the anthem for what we needed to do. That summer we had the long-awaited moon landing and three days of peace and love at Woodstock. I was entering high school.

Everything felt possible.

This country needs a reset. The sooner the better. We have never been so far off. We are running on fear and threats of violence and whats-in-it-for-me.

Worst of all, some people are united by hate. How is that a way to live? How does that contribute anything positive to the American Experiment?

In the second verse of the song, we hear:

Some may come and some may go

We will surely pass

When the one* that left us here

Comes for us at last 

We are but a moment's sunlight

Fading in the grass

Life is fleeting. I'm feeling that more than ever these days. When will we get it together? Time is so short.

 

It is worth our time and effort to make a change.

 

The final verse says:

 

Listen

You hold the key to love and fear

All in your trembling hand

Just one key unlocks them both

It's there at your command

I believe love is possible.

I believe peace is possible.

I believe living the values of America is possible. 

I believe the power is within us

At our command.

And I will never stop believing.

 *The writer of the song, Chester Powell, had written the word WIND, not ONE. It was a Buddhist concept of the opposing states we live in: pleasure/pain, loss/gain, praise/blame, disrepute/fame. However, Jesse Colin Young, the leader of the Youngbloods, was Christian so he changed the lyric. You see opposing concepts in love/fear in the song.

Just Allow

I had so many plans on what I would write today.

Then I took Jim for some bloodwork, and in the car he expressed a 

great deal of anger about having to get tests and keep appointments, 

when it is so difficult for him to just get out of the house.

After having my anger moment last week,

I knew I had to just allow him this rage.

When back home, we talked about it.

We thought about what things can be canceled.

I told him he is the one who needs to decide when enough is enough.

When his quality of life is suffering too much.

His anger is good because it will help point the way.

His face relaxed.

I learned last week about joy, grief, and anger.

I told him that he has a right to be angry.

That what has happened sucks.

That he is trying to protect himself and me because of LOVE.

I have already run a million scenarios through my head.

And I know that I really don’t know what actually will happen.

But I know enough to allow what is.

To listen with empathy and understanding,

and respond with an open heart to his life path,

not for what I think is best for me.

I know there is no cure to any of this.

But I know healing is always possible.

 

Where You’re At

I had a relaxing Memorial Day weekend. Jim was feeling pretty dragged down from his chemo treatment, but woke up feeling better today. I am grateful for that. There are four days left in this school year, and I plan on making the most of them. I will leave work for a little while today to take Jim for his labs. Still trying to figure out how to make this all work! 

It’s where I’m at.

Meanwhile, I’ve been enjoying listening to a new station on Sirius XM: Chris Stapleton Radio (channel 63). I love all things Chris, and this station is curated in a way that speaks to me. Besides plenty of Chris, I’ve heard Fleetwood Mac, John Prine, Buddy Holly, Nicki Lane, Rodney Crowell, L.L. Cool J, Lindi Ortega, Hall & Oates and more. 

I’ve heard a few artists I’m not familiar with. One of these artists is Allen Stone. Apparently he's been around for a while and is in the soul/funk category. I listened to his Apart album and liked it a lot.

On the radio, Stone caught my attention with song lyrics that I can agree with wholeheartedly. I can’t find a lyric video, but this line alone sums it up pretty good:

The best part of living is loving where you’re at

This is a reminder I always need. Maybe you do, too. Give a listen…

This Poem Saves Me

 I slept for a very long time last night and woke to read this poem by Rumi:

Sometimes you hear a voice through the door

calling you, as fish out of water

hear the waves, or a hunting falcon

hears the drum's Come back. Come back.

This turning toward what you deeply love

saves you. Read the book of your life,

which has been given you.

A voice comes to your soul saying,

Lift your foot. Cross over.

Move into emptiness

of question and answer and question

I didn’t know what to do with this…I didn’t know if I was too sleep-buzzed to understand it, or that it was too impossible to focus on any one part.

After leaving and coming back to it, I decided that “This turning toward what you deeply love saves you.”

This is how we get through life, right? The things we love, when we experience them, lift us. 

I think this is part of the reason I find some of the rancor and bitterness in the world so off-putting. And yes, this I mean in a political sense. I wonder why we can’t agree to love our country, our democracy, the way those who fought for it did. This really hit me after I saw Hamilton again.

Today it was also about something floating around my periphery as I tried to figure out how to occupy a few classes on these last days. I discovered something I’d forgotten all about. Perfect. 

Despite all the insanity this year, I do love my learners and I’m trying to leave them with the best experience possible —art and games, yes, but some other skills to call on as readers in the future. It feels possible and probable. And that is something I love. It saves me.

Dear Addison

 

When they heard the Civics exam was three hours

a girl named Addison said,

“They must really hate us.”

What am I to say to that?

I took notice in the 1990s how little 

we actually care for our kids, 

how most anything related to them 

is for greedy or political purposes.

Standardized tests were based on a false premise

to start with, and have only gotten

worse as time has gone on.

Now they are “adaptive” which means

one wrong answer and your trajectory

changes and there is nothing you can do

to fix it.

Everything we have taught about testing strategies

no longer applies. We are forcing

bad habits and punishing honest mistakes

that in the past had at least a chance of correction.

And even worse, it has opened up a world

of horrible curricula that do little to engage

and everything to form a direction of thinking

that simply may not work for every learner.

And they can be boring as hell,

and not connect to who or where

they are in life.

Maybe nobody actively hates our young people,

but they don’t necessarily care about true success.

It’s about numbers, and in a large way

trying to demonstrate the failure of public schools.

Fortunately, the excellent educators in this country

are doing their best to NOT let this happen.

So I write:

Dear Addison,

Know that your teachers are on your side.

We are doing our best to give you something real

to hang onto, and to help you know

learning is valuable in its own right.

We are doing what we can to soften the blow.

We love you.

Ms Sadler 

and all the others 

Love is a Windbreaker

 Journal reflection:

Today I read the final chapter of AnneLamott’s book Somehow, and once again she brought tears to my eyes.

Love is a windbreaker, fashioned of people who sat and listened and got us tea, who did not run for their cute little lives when ours got dark. Who tucked us in, who got us to our feet and back outside, reminding us to lift our eyes to the hills. (pgs. 188-9)

Although nobody did those things physically for me, I know what they did do is just as valuable to me, and has been just as helpful. I know there are places I can reach out, to people who will listen and care, and will help me find shelter from the storm.

Anne reminds us again that all we need is love —because, somehow, it is everything.

I remind myself again to my commitment to LOVE and find joy.

What else is there to do?