Life Expectancy

  

Billy Collins has been described as the most popular poet in America.  Some people say that poets are fixated on end of life issues.  I believe this because I'm a poet and I'm fixated on end of life issues.  In Billy Collins' poem below he deals with the life expectancy of animals and people.  I've often felt sad about the people close to me who have  animals they love, knowing they will lose them at some point.

On the other hand, many years ago my husband Ken and I made a trip to Atlanta to visit our family.  Ken, who was ill, was watching my son-in-law and his  elderly dog, Sampson play in the yard, and said "I can't believe that dog's going to outlive me!"  Bill Collins beautifully embraces that very issue in this poem.

LIFE EXPECTANCY

On the morning of a birthday that ended in a zero,

I was looking out at the garden

when it occurred to me that the robin

on her worm-hunt in the dewy grass

had a good chance of outliving me,

as did the worm itself for that matter

if he managed to keep his worm-head down.

It was not always like this.

For decades, I could assume

that I would be around longer 

than the squirrel dashing up a tree

or the nightly raccoons in the garbage,

longer than the barred owl on a branch,

the ibis, the chicken, and the horse,

longer than four deer in a clearing

and every creature in the zoo

except the African parrot and the big tortoise,

whose cages I would hurry past.

It was just then in my calculations

that the cat padded noiselessly into the room,

and it seemed reasonable,

given her bright and glossy coat,

to picture her at my funeral,

dressed all in black, as usual,

which would nicely set off her red collar,

some of the mourners might pause in their  grieving to notice,

as she found a place next to a labradoodle

in a section of the church reserved for their kind. 

- Billy Collins

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My Year in Masks

 

It's been a year - and I'm still wearing masks daily in order to ward off the COVID-19 virus.  As of today, the country's daily death toll has been over 4,000.  That's more deaths than happened on 9-11-2001 every single day. 

 In my mile and a half walk each morning I rarely encounter any mask wearing neighbors.  I don't question this.  I just wear my mask and listen to my stand up comics, especially Jim Gaffigan telling me how fat he is.

But positive mask experiences abound.  For Christmas, one of my families gave me the designer mask I'm wearing in this photo..  I love it but don't plan to attend any formal gatherings any time soon so thought I'd share it with you. 

Way back in the fall of 2020 an old acquaintance who's a current Facebook friend made 10 masks especially for me. Turns out she did this as a kind of ministry.   Last I'd heard she'd made over a thousand masks - at no charge. 

Over the months I've struggled with wearing my hearing aids, glasses, ear buds and mask.  Several times my $$$$ hearing aids went flying through the air as I finagled all the stuff over my ears.  I'd done the Internet search for hearing aid friendly masks but no luck. 

Then a close friend came by with a bag full of them!  I was overwhelmed with gratitude.  

Just before flying to Atlanta for Christmas my neighbor brought by two of the N-95 medical grade masks to wear on my trip.  Again, I was overwhelmed.  

Along with all the crazy, scary stuff that happens over and over every single day, there are also people rendering big and small kindnesses every single day.  And I want to be in that group as well.  It keeps me going.

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I Picked the Wrong Weekend to Watch Jojo Rabbit

 

Jojo Rabbitt was released in 2019.  It's won numerous awards including an Academy  Award for best screen play.  But it also was seriously panned by critics, especially for being "unrealistic."

It takes place in Nazi Germany.  It's about a sweet 10 year old boy who thinks he's a Nazi and has Hitler as his invisible friend.  And his mother is hiding a Jewish girl in the attic. 

It's supposed to be a comedy. 

There was nothing funny nor unrealistic about it,  in light of our country's events in the past four years and, especially, the terrorizing events of Wednesday, January 6th. 

I  could totally relate to the propaganda being fed daily to these Hitler youth.  Especially the casual brutiality and the  concept of repeating Hitler's name over and over and over.  

I could personally relate to the young Jewish woman who spent her time isolated in the house - mostly in the attic.  

In another time I would have been encouraged by the quote at the end of the film.  It's about hanging in there through thick and thin.  

"Let everything happen to you.

Beauty and terror

Just keep going

No feeling is final."

But, again, I picked the wrong weekend to watch Jojo Rabbit. 

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Bella and Me

 I spent Christmas with my Atlanta family as I have for the past twenty years. Theirs is a big family, including two dogs.  Last year I noticed that their Great Dane, Bella, was slowing down.  

She was probably thinking the same thing about me.  

Great Danes' average life span is seven years.  I'm not sure how old Bella is but the family told me she's getting close winning the oldie prize.

She used to intimidate me a bit.  Not by her behavior because Great Danes are devoted, friendly, confident, loving and gentle, but by her size.  She outweighs me big time!

I remember, years ago, when a cable guy was in the family room and the youngest child was sitting on the couch, Bella calmly walked over to the couch and stationed herself between my granddaughter and the repair man, as if to say, I don't know who you are or why you're under that table but if you want to come over to the couch you'll have to get by me.

Bella walked softly but carried a big stick. 

This past week it was obvious to me that Bella is truly an old lady.  She stayed on her bed much of the time, but occasionally got up and walked over to nuzzle one of the family members.  On Christmas morning she laid in the middle of all the chaos, obviously content just to be with her family.  

You know how I have a passion for how to do and share the aging process which ultimately leads to death and resurrection.   Bella reminded me that this process doesn't have to be awful if you're surrounded  by love. She's still living a life that matters. 

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For The Time Being

 

In yesterday's sermon my senior pastor, David Miller, outdid himself poetry-wise.  He quoted both Dr. Seuss and W. H. Auden.

W. H. Auden was a Pulitzer Prize winning, leading literary influencer of the 20th century.  Like Dr. Seuss he dealt with heavy subjects, but unlike Dr. Seuss he didn't make it easy for us (by "us" I mean me.)  Just try reading one of his 50 page epics. And he tackled the hard stuff.  

He, along with Christopher Isherwood, wrote Goodbye to Berlin which inspired  Cabaret,  the dark musical that showed us the decadent underbelly of Germany that opened the door for Hitler. 

The last stanza of Auden's poem The More Loving One helps me cope with our current crazy situation, especially the last line. I've found that, with a little time I can get used to a bunch of things  - including things I should not be getting used to.  

Were all the stars to disappear or die,     I should learn to look at an empty sky                                                                                           And feel its total dark sublime,      Though this might take me a little time. 

Auden's best known poem - because it was featured in the film Four Marriages and a Funeral - puts our fresh suffering into words when we are too bereft to do it ourselves.  As you know, I have been in this place and my guess is so have you. 

                                                                                                                                                                             Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,  

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,                                                                                       Silence the pianos and with muffled drum                                                                                                 Bring out the coffin, let the mourners com.  

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead                                                                                               Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,                                                                                               Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,                                                                        Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

He was my North, my South, my East and West,                                                                                        My working week and my Sunday rest,                                                                                                      My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;                                                                                                        I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;                                                                                   Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;                                                                                               Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;                                                                                                For nothing now can ever come to any good. 

W H Auden

Yesterday morning David Miller quoted  the last line from Auden's poem, For The Time Being. It's about the real meaning of Christmas.

Everything became a You and nothing was an it.

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Let's Write a Book

A few days ago I was talking with my smart friend about how many people dream about some day writing a novel but never do.  Novels are much more glamorous than non fiction books because you don't have to do that pesky research. 

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation we both revealed that we'd each written our dream novel.  Neither of us was surprised.  Nor were either of us surprised they had not been published. 

I wrote my novel over 20 years ago when I was confined to the house for long periods of time when my husband, Ken, was ill.  It started with an interest in Florida history, especially Central Florida where I live.  So, I started hunting down and reading everything I could find on Old Central Florida.  

Yes, I loved doing the pesky research, as well as the writing. 

And, no, it did not get published.  But I learned so much about Florida, about writing, about what it takes to get a novel published - and I learned some things about myself along the way.   

So, while we're once more confined for a chunk of time, I hope you're doing something creative that  you've put off for a rainy day.  Now's the time -we're in for a few more "rainy days" of confinement.

I'm not doing much writing nor heavy reading right now but, for the last several days, I've been reading my novel.  I was afraid it might be cringe worthy but I'm enjoying myself.   Maybe I'll work on it some day.  It needs a rewrite. 

But not anytime soon. I'm not up to writing or reading anything heavy.  Now I feel like Pete Rose who was  once quoted as saying, "The only book I ever read was the one I wrote."

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Memories in the Time of Covid

 

A while back my grandson found this collage hidden away in my condo.  I don't remember when it was given to me but it had to be late 1970s or early 80s because that's the time frame that my husband, Ken, was the minister at  Broadway United Methodist Church in downtown Orlando. And I recognized a handful of these Broadway folks. 

Today I took the collage to be laminated because it was in rough shape.  It's been fun to discover little clues about who these folks are - or were.  I still can't place many of them, but here are some fun finds. 

The little blond kid in the upper right corner is my son John.

The young lady in the lower left corner is my daughter Cathy.

Pat Moses was a dancer, among other things, who studied at the Buddy Ebsen Dance Studio in Orlando, and has remained a life long friend.  You can easily find her in the collage. 

Helen Hurt, pictured on the bottom row, had two sons, Maury and Pete, who were well known artists.  I don't own any of their work but my children do.  All those many decades ago when I visited Helen, there was a painting just inside her front door that I loved with a passion.  It's at the center of this college.  My picture is just below.  

And I could go on.....but the strangest thing regarding this college happened yesterday. 

In a totally unrelated matter, I posted a desk chair I wanted to give away on my Facebook page.  The first person to reply was a woman named Diane.  I had no idea who she was.  Her last name was unfamiliar to me.  Yesterday she and her husband met me in my garage to take the chair.  We, of course, all wore masks.  But when she removed her mask for a minute I immediately remembered her from the Broadway Church.  I grabbed the college out of the car - and there she was!  Forty years younger.

How crazy was that?

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