We Don't Like Change

...I'll stand here, not budging!  I can and I will, If it makes you and me and the whole world stand still.

Of course the world didn't stand still.  The world grew.  In a couple of  years the new highway came through, And they built it right over those two stubborn Zax.  And left them there, standing un-budged in their tracks.    - Dr Seuss

Ted Geisel (a.k.a) Dr Seuss, has always been one of my favorite poets.  The quote above is from a poem called "The Zax" and is full of lessons about growth and change.  

Saturday, for the first time in almost a year I went to downtown Winter Park, something I've been doing for several decades.  With me was my friend Christie, who knows downtown Winter Park better than anyone (including me.)  She also knows the backstory on downtown development,  The following is one of those stories.  

Over the decades every single one of the homes in this corridor was torn down - except  one. The Kummer-Kilbourne house was built in 1915.  The owner's daughter, Christine Kummer, lived in the house her entire life until she died, at age 94 in 2011.  She and her husband, David Kilbourne  had successfully fended off buyers, mostly developers, for more than 50 years.  She was a member of my church during that time and that's why I began to take an interest in the house. 

But, much like the Zax in Dr. Seuss's poem, downtown Winter Park did not stand still.  I remember when Jacobson's Department Store was the house's neighbor to the North.  Now that block is full of fancy, upscale shops on the first flour and offices on the second floor.  

As the years went by and the Kilborne's aged, the house began to be in need of a facelift and some people (developers mostly) complained.  But to no avail. 

So, there it stood in the best location in the most desirable and expensive neighborhood in Central Florida.  In 2011 a developer named Allan Keen, negotiated with the family to buy the house.  The two biggest issues were price and the home's preservation.  Mr. Keen bought the green and white two story bungalow for $1,002,000 and an agreement about the home's preservation.  

Here I am on Saturday morning in front of the house.  Mr. McKeen's offices are located inside.  Beautifully landscaped and maintained, the house still has its green and white exterior.  The signage out front is all about the history of the Kummer-Kilbourne house.  

I was happy to see it - because I like beautiful old things and people. 

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The Sad Story of the Singing Cowboy

 Ken Maynard was a huge cowboy star in the 1920s and 30s.  He was the forerunner of the singing cowboy, and was one of the biggest western stars of all time.

He successfully bridged the gap between silent movies and "talkies," and was also a screenwriter and director.  He blazed the trail in Hollywood for Gene Autry and my personal singing cowboy favorite, Roy Rodgers. 

Ken also was a "sort of," a relative to mine on my mother's side of the family.   It used to be fun to brag about this because nobody had the slightest idea who he was.  But, to my surprise, several years ago I saw Ken Maynard posters on my grandsons bedroom walls. 

As I've mentioned before I'm on an email string of  40 plus story telling relatives.  This past week one of Ken Maynards's real relatives shared a bit of history about him.  He grew up in Columbus, Indiana.  He and his brother, Kerm (short for Kermit - forerunner of the famous adorable frog) were notorious for being rowdy bad boys, always into mischief.  One day there was a factory explosion in Columbus and the boys' parents first response was "what in God's name have you done now?"  

Both Ken and Kerm rode horses and were trick riders in circuses, carnivals and rodeos.  Ken eventually went to Hollywood and became a stuntman, Kerm soon followed but was never as successful as his brother.  But he was a good human being and lived a much better life.

Ken Maynard, along with all of his talent and success, was not a good person.  He was personally disliked by most everyone who knew him. He plowed through all of his money and ended up an alcoholic living in a trailer in South Florida.  A sad ending, indeed. 

For those of you who have my book,  New Day, there's a poem about him on page 16.

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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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