We Are All One

I’m going to try to avoid controversial / political posts for a couple weeks, so I can focus on the things that make me happy, and that bring us together as human beings, as I get a desired frame of mind for Christmas.

As a bridge to that mode, I offer this story from the life of Mahatma Gandhi.
The transition from British rule to independence in the Indian subcontinent was marked by horrific violence, as communities fractured along sectarian lines. Massive riots happened in major cities, resulting in many deaths and injuries, and ignited a cycle of revenge and anger.

Gandhi began fasting to bring attention to this, and hopefully to bring peace to his land. One day, a man came to him, begging forgiveness for a wrong he had committed during these riots. His son had been killed by a Muslim mob, so in retribution, he took the life of a Muslim child. He asked Gandhi how he could avoid going to hell for this.

Gandhi’s answer, I believe is worthy of Solomon. He said that for this man to redeem himself, he should find an orphan of Muslim parents killed in the violence; adopt him, and raise him as his own. But the kicker is that he must raise the child not a Hindu, but in the Islamic faith if his lost parents.

We are all one. Gandhi said it; Jesus Christ said it as well. Wise people from time out of mind have shared this view. As I prepare to celebrate Christmas, this will be in my heart, and I hope in yours as well.

Peace on Earth!

Maddie Senior Memories

Maddie, you are a delight!  

You are bright, beautiful, loving, and gentle – and always have been. 

Watching you develop from the sweet little girl in these pictures into the still-sweet, intelligent, principled young woman that you are has been an ongoing source of joy to us. 

We learn so much from you and enjoy seeing you with your friends, sharing laughter, ideas, love, and respect.   

We are excited for your next adventure, and know you will accomplish whatever you put your mind to!

But the love will have been enough.

What do you say about the first person you ever loved – the sweet lady who taught you how to love?  

There is no way to sum up Mom in a few minutes. Fortunately there is no need to.  We are all sharing this time together because we already know her and love her.  

So let me just share a couple of memories and impressions of Mom.  

We have so many wonderful pictures of Mom.  One that is very special to me was taken when Maddie was less than a year old.  Mom is standing in our living room, holding Maddie in her arms as they gaze into one another’s eyes.  Mom was softly rocking her weight from one leg to the other; back and forth, back and forth – the slow, gentle dance that Mom often did when she held children.  

I honestly don’t know what Mom was saying to her in this picture, but I backfill with one of Mom’s classics.  I remember so often, as she held a baby, she would softly say—almost sing—‘Oh, Heavenry days!’  

Mom may be the only non-Japanese person in America for whom ‘heavenry’ is a word.  And she said it with such love, that it was heavenry to witness.  The joy Mom felt, and expressed when she was around babies was a thing of beauty.  

Mom had a way with words and expressions, with a few which are uniquely her own.  Instead of ‘For crying out loud!’, or ‘For Pete’s sake!’ she would say … ‘For crying out Pete!’  

One of my favorites is one she used at bedtime when we were little … ‘Skin-a-bunny’.  Now, we all know the drill … you assume the position – the same one as for ‘Hands up! Don’t shoot!’  Then she’d pull your shirt off, then the jammie tops go on the same way.  When I think of this – I can almost feel her helping pull a warm pajama shirt, right out of the dryer, down over my head.  

I tried this expression a few weeks ago, when some friends were over with their twin two-year-olds.  One of the girls got some chili on her shirt, and we wanted to change it before she climbed on my white couch.  I said ‘Skin-a-bunny!’  Her mom just stared at me – half laughing, and half “What did you just say … ‘Skin a bunny?’  Nice image to share with a child!”  Really made me laugh, hearing this with new ears.  It’s still a fine expression though – and those girls will hear it some more!

Mom was brilliant, with a mind full of a wonderful range of knowledge.  She wasn’t showy about it, but she enjoyed knowing it.  Among many other legacies, she passed on to us a love for Jeopardy.  We watched the original daytime show with Art Fleming and Don Pardo – well before that interloper Alex Trebek stepped in.  Mom would sit down with her little Snickers bar.  Well, they weren’t really bars per se – she would refrigerate them, then slice them into quarter-inch-sections, to create something like little miniature chocolate truffles.  But I digress.  She would have these Snickers treats on a plate, and slowly eat them as we watched Mom run entire categories.  Now, as generous as Mom was with the show, and her subtle demonstration of knowledge, we learned early that we didn’t want to go to the Snickers well too often – too often being defined as ‘ever’.  She was raising seven kids and shared everything with us, but this was her escape, and there were just enough Snickers sections to get her through the episode.  

As part of holding up my end of the legacy, Maddie watched her first episode of Jeopardy at the ripe old age of seven hours.  

I used to think of Mom as kind of frail; maybe because we see her alongside Dad, who always projected such strength.  But when you look at what she dealt with, and bounced back; serious bouts of diverticulitis, cancer, heart attack … I think she was more a Mac Truck than a delicate flower.  I thought we were going to lose her something like thirty years ago; but within a few weeks of her return from the hospital, she was getting up each day, and working out with her Jane Fonda exercise tapes.  

But even a Mac Truck needs help to get through rough patches – and there aren’t many patches rougher than the last ten years have been.  We who love Mom will never forget, and will always be humbled and grateful for the amazing care she has received.    

The drawback to living a long life is that by the end, virtually everybody you have loved has gone ahead of you.  After Dad passed away a few years ago, and with Uncle George being the last of her brothers and sisters to pass away … aside from those of us here, and a few others, this was the case with Mom. 
In a way though, that didn’t matter.  Because of her strong Catholic faith, and with the love that filled her heart, she knew how to be with them.  In the final words of The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Thornton Wilder writes:

‘But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.’  

Mom knows that bridge well, having spent much of her life reaching across from this side. We know who she is with today; I hope we can each find comfort in knowing that she now gazes back across with love to each of us.

Vegetable Soup

My friend Kim has sent me this soup recipe twice now.  To keep from losing it again, I'm posting it here to the cloud.



It is every bit as good as it looks.  I made it this week, and plan to have a pot of it going much of the time this fall and winter.

It's completely vegan, as long as you use a vegan bouillon - but I imagine if you diced up a mess of sauteed beef, an omnivore could enjoy it, too.

The pot in the picture is a double batch.

And Kim suggested using a product called 'Better Than Bouillon' in place of the bouillon, so I did, and am really happy with the results.



Vegetable Soup

1 large can of whole tomatoes (or fresh tomatoes out of your garden)

1 small can (14.5 oz) of diced tomatoes

1 can corn 4 large celery stalks

4 large carrots

1 large onion (or two smaller ones… you can’t overdo it)

1 large or two medium/small potatoes

4 cups fresh spinach (optional)

1 small pkg frozen green peas

3 T. vegetarian (beef or chicken will do) soup base or granulated boullion

2 T. oil (lighter flavor olive oil or vegetable oil)

1 t. salt

1 T. pepper

Wash, dry and chop celery.

Chop onions. Saute celery and onions in oil on medium heat until onions are translucent. Salt and pepper in veggies.

Pour juice from tomatoes into pot. Rough chop whole tomatoes (I put them in a bowl and rough chop into fourths)

Put tomatoes into celery and onions. Fill large tomato can ½ full with warm water and dissolve soup base in the warm water. Pour into soup.

Slice or dice carrots and add to soup. Peel and dice potatoes into 1 inch pieces. Put into soup.

Bring to slow boil and then turn down to simmer. After one hour add spinach (rough chopped) corn and peas Add more soup base if necessary.

Ready in two hours Makes about 6 servings.

Six Months Since Back Infection

Today is a landmark anniversary for me.  This is the six-month anniversary of my ambulance ride to the hospital – possibly the worst day of my life.  My lower back was so infected and painful, that I was totally immobilized – it took me three hours to roll over on the couch enough to reach into my pocket for my cell phone to call Maddie and let her know what was going on.  My kid was awesome; I am amazed and delighted by the way she kept her cool when she got there; working through who we needed to notify, what furniture we would need to move around for the paramedics to get me out of the house, and making sure Jazzmine was taken care of.  

The next six weeks are a blur of hospitals, skilled nursing facilities, and a diet rich in opioids – which I hate, but absolutely needed.  I didn’t set foot into my house again for three weeks; and when I did, it was only with the help of a walker.  

What I remember clearly, even through the drugs, is the kindness: Paul and Jendy showing up in the emergency room to stay with me as the doctors tried to figure out what the hell was wrong; Pam visiting me, and being my advocate – drawing on knowledge she has earned through too much past experience; Andras and Adrianne lending me a room in their home for as long as I would need it, so I wouldn’t have to climb stairs; and Maddie, who—along with Cindy—visited me, and took care of things to make sure my house didn’t fall into its foundation while I was away; and the people who dropped by to cheer me up when I was stuck in facilities where cheer is in short supply.  

I didn’t post much about this on Facebook at the time (and, aside from this note, probably won’t again).  I was feeling so sorry for myself, that I don’t think I could have faced the sympathetic response.  

I’m not 100% back, but as long as I take precautions, do my stretches, and don’t short myself on ibuprofen, I can do much of what I could before.  I am is very, very lucky – lucky that this was something that can get better, and lucky that my kid was nearby, and able to help.  But mostly I am lucky for the love and support that surrounded me when I needed it.  I probe my memory for some of the sincere oaths regarding all the ways I would become a better person, if only I could get better – but somehow, I can’t recall most of them. 

 But I will not forget the kindness.      

Grocery Store Checkout

Note to the woman in front of me at the grocery store this weekend …

It seemed to catch you off guard—after your newsy little conversation with the checker—that the store was going to want you to give them money in return for all those groceries. 

Well, I’ve been to a lot of grocery stores, and have found that this is usually the case. And many shoppers prepare for this eventuality by getting their purse or wallet out, and beginning the process of getting their money ready, even before all the groceries are bagged.  I’m not saying one way is any better than the other – just different. 

Oh, and that drawer where the checker put your money … you know, the one with all the coins and bills?  In the event that a shopper can’t find the precise amount of money needed to pay for his or her groceries—even after an exhaustive search of purse, wallet and pockets—they can just give the checker a little extra, and the checker will take money out of that drawer and enough back to exactly cover the cost for the groceries. 

They don’t mind doing that, and they’re pretty good at it.  

Pokeman Go ... Away

The contrast at the Six-to-Sunset concert last night was stunning.  The littlest ones were in the moment; joyfully dancing, twirling, and chasing each other to the music.  Meanwhile, many of their parents, big brothers and sisters were totally checked out from their surroundings; numbly bumping into one another, as they stared at their mobile phones, searching for imaginary creatures.  

It was like a scene from some dystopian science-fiction movie – I can’t imagine Ray Bradbury coming up with a bleaker contrast.  

Birds

We so love and admire birds;
their grace and beauty – their freedom. 

We wish to be like them – to be near them.

We have no wings to join them,
so we bring them to us.

We set them in a gilded cage
near a window,
and as they gaze out –
we listen to their beautiful songs
of the sky, the trees,
and freedom.  

Rain-Words

Rain-Words

The Inuit are said to have
a dozen words for snow. 
Each describes a picture of
the sky, a mountain up above,
or quiet valley blanket down below. 

In our valley, we don’t see much snow –
or mountains – or the sky. 
Our winters – quiet, gray and dull,
but poignant, and so beautiful
that every passing cloud can’t help
but open up and cry. 

And for these tears we have a few
expressions on our list. 
It can shower, sprinkle, rain,
or pour - like cats and dogs
who beg our door
for shelter from the drizzle, spit, and mist.   

Intermittent, only partly clear – 
the meanings we ascribe.
But these rain-words, we all understand –
we denizens of sodden land;
as snow-words speak to members of that 
bundled northern tribe. 

Each year we say we’ll leave this place
of scant, infrequent sunshine.
We’ll scrape the moss from ‘tween our toes,
and go where only cactus grows,
and everything is warm … and dry … and fine.   

But with the spring, the sun returns
(or with the summer, maybe).
Our hearts rise up to greet it, like a daisy. 
In its heat we get forgetful and so lazy,
that we can’t imagine why 
we’d ever want to leave our valley.