2020 (Ben Folds)

[thanks to my daughter Sarah for this most perfect meme!]


It's the last day of July, significant in that normally (ha, I don't think that word means what you think it means, Susan!), I would be attending the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival in The Berkshires.  Except that we talked about going to the New Bedford Folk Festival instead... and now both plans are moot... null... kaput.  Anne and Bub, the powers-that-be at FRFF have actually managed to present it online this year, starting at 1:30 p.m. today.  As someone said in the chat of Dar's livestreaming concert last night, "I won't miss the porta-potties and/or the mud", but it will be fun to pop in over the course of the weekend to enjoy the music and community, virtual though it is.  Also, my friend Sheila (who I've known and loved forever, and watched her girls grow into beautiful and kind young women), whose husband Bob volunteers for the parking crew, sent this brilliant and hilarious video... 😄

Had a lovely walk with my friend Dave Wednesday evening, and he gave me some chives from his garden, the better to vegan-cream-cheese-and-bagel with, my dear!  Great phone chat with my sister on the way home, which continued another hour sitting in my car in my condo parking lot.

Yesterday was another perfect beach day with Nancy and SusanP.  Not to jinx it, but we always manage to have perfect weather.  Ack, speaking of... there is some sort of crazy hurricane watch in effect for this weekend, a name whose pronunciation is difficult and counter-intuitive.  What?!?  Anyway, sounds like it won't make it past a Category 1, and we do have a stockpile of supplies, but hoping for the best... and I will update on Monday.

Wonderful livestreaming concert with Dar Williams last night, Histories and Mysteries.  It's archived, if you missed it! 

Taking dinner to my former UUCFL minister and her husband this afternoon.  They were in a tragic car accident earlier this month (Rev. Susan's mom was killed), and I wanted to do something.  For Italians, food is our love language... 💓

NR:  The Second Home by Christina Clancy.  Not very far in, but already enjoying... :-)

So, it is indeed Feel Good Friday.  As is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy!

~  ‘The Moms Are Here’: ‘Wall of Moms’ Groups Mobilize Nationwide:  The movement that started with a few dozen moms in Portland now has offshoots in cities across the country. (I loved the idea and the intention but now, two days after this article was published/updated, there seems to be controversy.  Such a shame!)


~ From Bob Dylan to The Beatles: 8 songs horror hero Stephen King couldn’t live without:  There are few more imposing names in the world of horror, both on-screen and off, than the extraordinary writer Stephen King. A huge figure in the world of film, King’s works have always been underpinned by the expert use of music. But what were King’s most cherished songs?


~  GEE, ANTHONY FAUCI!:  A Randy Rainbow Song Parody (thanks to SusanP for the heads-up!).


~  Without Music, Tanglewood Is Empty, Eerie and Beautiful:  The usually tourist-packed Berkshires confronts a season without the music festival that anchors its summers.


~ Danny Schmidt and Carrie Elkin, Online Together, Saturday (tomorrow!), August 1, 2020 - 2pm CDT, Facebook Live:  Once a month, Carrie and I have been trying to do a full show of our own, swapping songs back and forth, and singing harmonies with one another. The shows are totally free to watch (though donations are much appreciated) and usually last about an hour and a half. We try and mix up the sets so they're very different shows each time. We hope you'll come join in the festivities!


SONG:  2020 by Ben Folds

BOOK:  What Time Is It? by John Berger, Selçuk Demirel (Illustrator), Maria Nadotti (Introduction)

POEM:  a homeopathic remedy for longing** by Maya Stein

Return to the edge of the ravaged garden, vines stripped while you slept.
Stand mute at the piles you keep adding onto, the leftovers you keep forgetting, 
the trash can that keeps filling and filling and filling. Pause in the brute light 
of unmet plans, the rusty edge of old wounds, the plaintive vacancy of what you 
didn’t say and didn’t do when you had the chance. Roll these losses in your hands. 
Steep in the tea of the stain that follows you everywhere. Gather regret’s knotty fibers 
to your body and enrobe your bones in the steely wool of dread. And now,
now that you’re nearly buried by your own blight, pitch your heart to the sea. Watch it
bobble and weave in an unseen current, tip and tumble as the wind rakes through.
Remember, there is no right answer to where you are going, except forward.

**I borrowed this title from an Instagram post by photographer and writer Lisa Field.

QUOTE:  "What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us." ~ Henry David Thoreau

[Don't] Stand By Me (a parody by The Rock Bottom Remainders)

[Leave it to Melanie to send me the perfect meme for today's post.  Thanks and love, MH!]


From the New York Times article, A Viral Epidemic Splintering into Deadly Pieces by Donald McNeil:  "Overall, the scientists conveyed a pervasive sense of sadness and exhaustion. Where once there was defiance, and then a growing sense of dread, now there seems to be sorrow and frustration, a feeling that so many funerals never had to happen and that nothing is going well. The United States is a wounded giant, while much of Europe, which was hit first, is recovering and reopening — although not to us."

I can certainly relate, as do other friends I've spoken to recently.  Some are upping their mood-stabilizing medication, some are arguing with strangers on the Internet, some are numbing their emotions with alcohol and sleep.  Netflix and Hulu are a double-edged sword.  Retail therapy, whether Amazon Prime or Instacart groceries at the click of a few buttons, is entirely too easy. The first month or two was a challenge, but fun:  Stay upbeat, healthy, and moving... and we all mostly did.  Now it's just same-old same-old, with massive amounts of worry thrown in, as we mainline (or ignore) the news, watch the numbers climb, and try to avoid situations that bring us closer to a premature death.  The routine I had crafted for myself has gone by the proverbial wayside.  Having lost my structure, the days pendulum between interminable and warp speed.  I am reading like a motherf*ker.  Radical self-care and walking, not so much.  My sciatica is still a problem, and I don't seem to care, treating only the symptoms and not the cause.  I need to channel my inner Cher in Moonstruck:  "Snap out of it!".

The song/video below came along at the perfect time!  You would have to be living under a rock to not know who the Rock Bottom Remainders are.  If you didn't already, welcome to the sunshine!  I've been lucky enough to see them twice, both times at the Miami Book Fair.  They are known for self-admitted minimal talent, a love for rock and roll, and maximum hilarity.  You can always count on Wild Thing, G-L-O-R-I-A, and Amy Tan's dominatrix persona in These Boots are Made for Walkin'.   To quote the B-52s, Dance This Mess Around... :-)

NR (Now Reading, a new feature):  Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson (finished it last night.  5 stars!!!)



SONG:  [Don't] Stand By Me by The Rock Bottom Remainders (a parody) (thanks to MaryL for the heads-up!)

BOOK:  Mid-life Confidential: The Rock Bottom Remainders Tour America with Three Chords and an Attitude by Stephen King, Amy Tan, Roy Blount, Ridley Pearson, Dave Barry, Barbara Kingsolver, Al Kooper, Robert Fulghum, Kathi Goldmark, Dave Marsh  (I actually own this book.  Is it really selling for $920.99?!?)

POEM:  Resume Redone (with apologies to Dorothy Parker) by Ellen Meister

TV bores you;
The web is a fright;
Your spouse ignores you;
And hobbies are trite.
Films are offensive;
Gardens weed;
Shopping's expensive;
You might as well read.

QUOTE:  "Scientists have found that one dog year does not equal seven human years.  In fact, the only thing that equals seven human years is 2020." ~ Magnolia Animal Clinic

Uncle John's Band (The Grateful Dead)

I posted the following to our sf_folk discussion list on Saturday:

Robby Greenberg called me yesterday to share some sorrowful news.  Ford passed away from complications of COVID-19. 

Most of you remember him as the wheelchair-bound young man who transcended his disabilities in pursuit of his passion for music.  At the Labyrinth Cafe, he was always front and center, sometimes shouting out a comment, and fighting his instinct to sing along unless the audience was given permission to do so.  Thank you to Amy Carol Webb for always allowing, and encouraging, him.  I even unexpectedly ran into him at an Avett Brothers concert a few years ago at a Boca outdoor amphitheatre!

At our last Labyrinth Cafe concert in May 2019, I had a long list of acknowledgements, one of which was to Ford for having attended the most concerts in my 14-year run as coordinator, and probably even before that under Robby's tutelage.  I know he used to be one of Robby's clients, and was a regular at River of Grass shows too.
RobbyG, is there something we as the sf_folk community can do to let his parents (Reid and Barbara) know just how special Ford was to us?  A collection, a plaque, something named in his honor?  Please ponder and let us know how we can put into tangible terms our deeply emotional connection with this dear man who had an unbridled love for the songs.

Amy Carol Webb shared this on her Facebook page:

My dear friends and family, if you attended any concert of mine in Broward County over the last decade (at least!) you will remember my friend, Ford. With great sadness, I am sorry to tell you he died last week from COVID-19. Ford always sat in the front row, and sang with full-hearted gusto -- especially, "When the Horses Go Down to the Water." Every time I came to the closing of that song -- "Mama calls us up around the kitchen table, lifts her hands and offers ...... thanks" -- I waited to hear Ford's voice finish the phrase with me with his hands raised high in the air. It was a precious moment we shared every show. Thank you, Ford. I will miss you, and forever hear you singing when I lift my hands, and offer thanks.

RobbyG posted to our River of Grass UU Congregation Joys and Concerns yesterday morning, and I wish I had copied-and-pasted so I could quote her accurately.  Ford had Cerebral Palsy, and was one of her clients (she is an advocate for developmentally disabled adults) as far back as 20 years ago.  When she found out he was a Deadhead, she promptly introduced him to the folk community (and him to us), thus beginning his joyful dedication to our music.

There were many lovely comments on the sf_folk list, in response to my initial post.  He was *always* there and, even though live concerts are on hiatus right now, it is hard to imagine a world without Ford when we are able to resume... 💔

SONG:  Uncle John's Band by The Grateful Dead

BOOK:  Tiny the God by Becky Brooks (thanks to River of Grass UU Congregation for using this lovely story as the cornerstone of yesterday's lovestreaming (TM Amy Carol Webb) service)

POEM:  Like You by Roque Dalton (translated by Jack Hirschman)

Like you I
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky-blue
landscape of January days.
And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the buds of tears.
I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.
And that my veins don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.

QUOTE:  "I hereby appoint you a dissident Bodhisattva in charge of overthrowing the sour and crippled mass hallucination that is mistakenly called "reality," and replacing it with an authentic reality built on the principles of insurrectionary beauty, ingenious love, voracious curiosity, ecstatic gratitude, and reverent justice." ~ Rob Brezsny

Dr. Anthony Fauci (Scott Hoying of Pentatonix)

Busy day, first to the UPS Store to return an item to Amazon... then to the library to pick up some books on reserve... then to the Alterations place to leave some items for repair... then to scoop up Nancy to head to Parlour Vegan for items ordered earlier this morning (Sarah and I are splitting a few sandwiches, plus I scored a delish assortment of cookies on the day-old shelf!).

Home to a phone conversation with my brother, and then to cobble together today's blog post while eating a vegan spinach empanada.  Yum!  About to curl up for a few hours with my current book, Rodham, a novel about what would have happened if Hillary hadn't married Bill.  Loving it so far.  Thinking dinner is leftover pizza.  This cooking-every-night deal is getting old... 😃

So, it is indeed Feel Good Friday.  As is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy!  


~ We Are Freestyle Love Supreme documentary on Hulu:  Well before the world knew of the Tony Award-winning Broadway musicals Hamilton and In The Heights, Lin-Manuel Miranda was in an improvisational hip-hop group called Freestyle Love Supreme along with director Thomas Kail and performers Christopher Jackson and Anthony Veneziale. Filmmaker Andrew Fried began chronicling the group in the summer of 2005, documenting the early days of Freestyle Love Supreme beatboxing and rapping on the sidewalks—unaware of how their story would unfold. Fourteen years later, Fried captures them reuniting for a series of shows in New York City that led to a triumphant run on Broadway. Both poignant and inspired, We Are Freestyle Love Supreme calls the creative dreams of youth and why this show still means so much to these accomplished performers.


~ Tackle Reopening Choices as a Couple:  The world is reopening, and differing levels of anxiety can strain already tense relationships. Here are some strategies for getting through it together.


~ Make Beads From Your Newspaper:  All it takes is your trusty Times, a little glue and these templates.


~ 2020 First Novel Prize: The Long List:  We are so pleased to announce the long list for the 2020 Center for Fiction First Novel Prize. The twenty-seven titles were selected from 119 submissions with U.S. publication dates between January 1, 2020, and December 31, 2020. The shortlisted titles will be announced this fall.  The First Novel Prize, first awarded in 2006, was created to honor the best debut fiction of the year. The winner receives a $15,000 prize with each shortlisted author receiving $1,000. In these particularly challenging times, we are enormously grateful to a generous donor who has made it possible to increase this year’s prize from the previous amount of $10,000 in order to be more supportive of talented emerging writers. The winner is announced in December at our Annual Benefit and Awards Dinner. (thanks to MaryL for the heads-up on this, via the Miami Readers with Attitude Facebook group... :-) )


~ Beet Bourguignon:  If you google the french dish Bœf B-o-u-r-g-u-i-g-n-o-n (phew) you will see Julia Child’s classic recipe everywhere. Talk about making an impression and leaving a footprint. We were looking it up since we have been experiencing a couple cold winter weeks here in Sweden and couldn’t imagine a dish more suitable for this climate than a warm and hearty stew. The Beef Bourguignon is made on beef and bacon, so not the most appropriate dish for vegetarians. But we reckoned that there must be a way to transform that rich, wine oozing hot pot into something more in our taste. After a few experiments it turns out that we were only one letter away. We turned beef into beet. We also added large chunks of mushrooms to give the stew the right texture and flavor.


SONG:  Dr. Anthony Fauci by Scott Hoying of Pentatonix

BOOK:  A Little SPOT Stays Home: A Story About Viruses And Safe Distancing by Diane Alber

POEM:  [as freedom is a breakfastfood] by e. e. cummings

as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
—long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men’s hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
—long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common’s rare and millstones float
—long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words but joy’s the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
—time is a tree(this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough

QUOTE:  “True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.” ~ Brené Brown

You've Got a Friend in Me (Randy Newman, from Toy Story)

As promised on Monday, today is all about Colin's birthday celebration.  Two years old?!?  Wow... and Yep!  Despite the pandemic, Sarah planned a most wonderful day of fun and festivities, which took place this past Sunday (a few days before his actual birthday, July 21).  The theme was TWO Infinity and Beyond, as he is totally into Toy Story these days...  :-)

She had decorated the living room with crepe paper streamers, balloons all over the floor, and a Check-Off list of various activities, which delighted Colin as soon as he woke up!  

She had also arranged a Car Parade of various friends (the Besties, their husbands, and children; Nancy, her husband, and dog Lucy; Sarah's former boss, friend, and another co-worker).  We set up a 10' x 10' canopy in her apartment complex parking lot, where there is a natural round-about (all the way at the end, out of the way of traffic), and Sarah used the gates previously known as The Party Pit to keep Colin "contained" (so very smart!).  

Then began the progression of vehicles (from 10:00 to 10:30 a.m.) decorated with balloons, stickers, and people inside blowing horns, waving, and extending Birthday wishes.  He was enthralled!  

 Sarah made a Spotify playlist of songs with Two in the title (my suggestions were Two of Us by The Beatles, The Power of Two by Indigo Girls, Two Princes by The Spin Doctors, Love Me Two Times by The Doors).  Special Events habits die hard, so of course Sarah passed out goody bags with a Moonpie, a Starcrunch, and a few mini-Milky Ways for each person, gracing the children with juice boxes, and the adults with Sunshine beers... ☀

From set-up to breakdown, we were only there three hours, but I was exhausted afterward.  Two-year-olds are busy people!  I spent the rest of the afternoon/evening remembering this time two years ago when Colin came into the world, and feeling such joy being there to witness.  I was meant to be a Lala... 💖


SONG:  You've Got a Friend in Me by Randy Newman, from Toy Story)

BOOK:  Child of the Universe by Ray Jayawardhana, Raul Colón (Illustrator)

POEM:  On Children by Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

QUOTE(S):  "We find delight in the beauty and happiness of children that makes the heart too big for the body." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

"There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings." ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Circle of Life (Elton John/Tim Rice, from The Lion King)

[thanks to my sister Mari for this picture she texted to me yesterday, the cover of Mom's funeral mass program.  We wanted to run the full-length photo, but the church made us crop out her shapely legs...  ;-) ]


Yesterday, July 19, marked 11 years since my Mom's passing.  I was less melancholy than usual, since we also celebrated my grandbaby Colin's 2-year birthday (which is actually tomorrow, July 21) and I will blog about that Wednesday.  It was a very Circle of Life occasion, and I know Connie was peeking in from wherever she is, taking in the joy and the chaos.  She would have loved this little guy!

How can so much time have gone by?  Seems like only yesterday I flew up to Atlanta from South Florida in May 2009 to go with Mom to a doctor's appointment (Mari had been diligently holding down the proverbial fort), Mom asked what phase she was in, and the doctor looked her directly in the eyes and told her honestly that "it was the beginning of the end".  We called my sister and brother on the way home to share the news with them, and convened a meeting at Mom's house for the next day.  Talked about all the options, and chose to bring in home hospice a day or so later.  At that point, what for me started as a two-week visit lovingly morphed into end-of-life caregiving.

Mari, Brad, and I quickly circled the wagons, and affirmed to do whatever it took to keep mom happy and comfortable, also bringing in her dear friends/neighbors Claire and Steve, Ann, and Rose.  We spread the word, and other friends/family scheduled visits, always careful not to wear mom out.  I got my nose pierced with a tiny diamond, to always remind me of her:  shiny and sharp...  :-)  We made, and checkmarked, a To Do List.  We grocery shopped and cooked, and Mari was in charge of Happy Hour.  Brad came over every Sunday to vacuum the carpets and do odd jobs, and then stayed for our Family Dinner tradition.  We started keeping a daily journal to log Mom's ever-changing medical routine (pills and nebulizer).  We vowed there would be no woulda/coulda/shouldas, and there weren't.  No regrets.

Her body betrayed her (pulmonary fibrosis), but Mom stayed alert until the very end.  She is in all of us, with so many special character traits, most especially joie de vivre.  I experience memory sparks every day:  a song, a movie, a TV show, a philosophy, a laugh, a smile.  Constance (Concetta) Elaine Izzo Driskell Maresco knew how to live.  Despite occasional friction, I loved my mom fiercely and am grateful for the lessons she imparted and the love she bestowed... 💖


SONG:  The Circle of Life by Elton John/Tim Rice, from The Lion King

BOOK:  The Circle of Life: The Heart's Journey Through the Seasons by Joyce Rupp, Macrina Wiederkehr

POEM(S):  Still Falling for Her by Sharon Olds

The phlox in the jar is softening,
from the sphere of it a blossom flutters,
and the whole sagging thing makes me think
of my mother’s flesh, when she was elderly, and it was
wilting, keeping its prettiness
in its old-fangled gentleness.
It’s as if I’m falling in love, again,
with my mother, through the gallowsglass of my
own oncoming elderliness, as if,
now that she has been gone from the earth
as many years as a witch’s familiar
has lives, I can catch glimpses of my mother, at
moments when she was alone with herself, and would
pick up her pen, and her Latinate
vocabulary, and describe what it
was like, on their last cruise, when she rose,
by invitation, from the captain’s table,
and stood beside the black, grand
Steinway, in the open ocean,
and sang. I do not need a picture to
remind me of the look on my mom’s
face, when she sang—extreme yearning,
a yearning out at the edge of what was
socially acceptable
on a ship like that, and you could also see
how happy her face was, to be looked at,
and you could see her listening to her own voice,
to hear if it started to go flat, or anything
she needed to do to get the music
to its hearers intact as itself, I am falling,
and I do not feel that there are rocks, below,
I think I may go on falling, like my own
flesh, for the rest of my life, and maybe I’ll
still be falling for my mother after
my death—or not falling but orbiting,
with her, and maybe we’ll take turns
who is the moon, and who is the earth.


Eagle Poem by Joy Harjo

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear;
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

QUOTE:   "There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love." ~ Washington Irving

I've Been Everywhere - Covid 19 version (Jonathan Byrd)

Considering the circumstances, another good week.  Three nice Zoom calls, two of them in regular rotation, and the third with our book club, which hadn't met since February (our March meeting was obviously cancelled).  We kept thinking things would get better and, now that they aren't, we are pondering our options.  We were already scheduled through June, and will probably discuss those four choices September through December (or January).  It's sad to me that our longstanding tradition of theming the food around the book will be temporarily discontinued but... we can still drink wine, albeit in the privacy of our own homes.  However, none of that matters, as long as we can keep our book discussions going!

Yesterday was a lovely beach day with Nancy at SusanP's home... three hours of sun, sand, surf, spritzers, and scintillating conversation.  I have not been this tan in years.  P.S.  Yes, watershoes are a gamechanger, both on the hot sand as well as at the pebbly shoreline...  :-)

My dear grandbaby Colin will turn 2 this Tuesday, July 21... and we are celebrating Sunday morning, a few days before, with a car parade in Sarah's apartment complex.  Recap to follow on Monday, but let's just all sit a minute to let this impossibility sink in.  Two years old?!?  Crazy!

Cleaning house today (ugh!) but it must be done.  New library book as a dangling carrot.  Speaking of, I met my Book A Week Challenge a few days ago.  Every year I either get close to 52, or just barely hit it.  This year, between retirement and the pandemic, I am 5 1/2 months ahead of goal.  At this rate, I might hit triple digits!  It's not a race, and it's not a gauntlet.  It's a pleasure as well as a coping mechanism, and I am truly enjoying vetting the books I check out from the library, so as to set myself up for success, interspersing fiction with non-, current with older, popular with classic.  Find me on Goodreads if you wish, and check out the sidebar on my home page to see what I'm reading... 💗

As is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy!  


~ Broadway Continues to Keep the Lights On:  Theatres across the country may currently be silent, but in every Broadway house, a lamp sits centerstage burning bright. It's called a ghost light, and it's a tradition that goes back to the late 1800s.  CBS Sunday Morning speaks with members of the Broadway community about how we are keeping the lights on during this dark time, onstage, and in our hearts.


~ This Pickle Is a Cake:  Welcome to the viral world of hyper-realistic cake slicing videos.


~ Alex Trebek Is Still in the Game:  In his new memoir, the longtime “Jeopardy!” host delivers clues and facts about himself, and looks back on his life as he struggles with advanced pancreatic cancer.  (Despite the fact my friend Stephen thinks he is "smarmy", I have a long-time crush on AT:  not tall, which is my usual criteria, but smart with mischievous eyes.  Heads-up that I have asked my husband to buy this book for my upcoming birthday... :-) )


~ Greetings from BookCation:  Vacation is wherever your book is


~ Hamilton Act 1 but it's Muppets:  This is a fan-made parody. It is no way affiliated with The Muppets or Hamilton, and I claim no ownership of either. This is purely parody. (cast and tracklist included in link)



SONG:  I've Been Everywhere - Covid 19 version by Jonathan Byrd

BOOK:  Private Investigations: Mystery Writers on the Secrets, Riddles, and Wonders in Their Lives by Victoria Zackheim

POEM:  first, we have to start with nothing by Maya Stein

We have to wake, nakedly, from the place of dreams. We have to stumble from the sheets
and gape, slack-mouthed, at the morning ahead, our feet shoddy on the floorboards.
We have to pitch into an empty kitchen, hands clawing toward a clean mug.
We have to feel shaken from what we’d carried, our bones awkward with the
unburdening that sleep was, everything that had looked so certain, so clear, even
when we knew it wasn’t. We have to squint against the sharpness of this rough canvas
of a day, the questions that scratch impolitely before we are ready to listen. We have to
remember how small we really are, how permeable. We have to linger in this raw reality
before the task of proving ourselves can begin. We have to marry what we wish we could
abandon forever. We have to be willing to save ourselves again and again and again.

QUOTE:  "Let's cultivate our capacity to be astonished... to be thrilled by every subtle mystery that sneaks into our daily rhythm... to make ourselves
fully available for the unexpected riddles that life is always setting in front of us." ~ Rob Brezsny

I Love Trash (Oscar the Grouch)

I well recall celebrating the first Earth Day (April 22, 1970) in my sophomore year of high school, when they educated us, along with setting up a recycling center... and I have been an advocate of the environment ever since.  I've been using canvas bags for grocery shopping and reusable containers for leftovers for decades, and my family can attest to my fanaticism about recycling.  About five years ago, I asked them for a composter for Mother's Day, but that never happened and now, with our move to a smaller space, we wouldn't have space for it anyway... :-(

My friend NW has had one for a few years, and I asked her the other day if I could collect compostable material at my house, and donate it to her... and she lovingly said Yes!  I bought a small tabletop bin, in which I've been collecting the obligatory banana peels, eggshells (my husband's), coffee grounds and filters, apple cores, vegetable scraps, etc. and my first delivery is today (hoping to do it weekly).  It's not a lot, but it's something, and it makes me feel better that this stuff will not end up in a landfill, but instead in a "compost stew" that will eventually nourish Nancy's garden.  Win/win!

SONG:  I Love Trash by Oscar the Grouch

BOOK:  Organic Book of Compost, 2nd Revised Edition: Easy and Natural Techniques to Feed Your Garden (IMM Lifestyle Books) Handbook to Sustainable, Low-Cost Methods, Community Composting, & More, with FAQs by Pauline Pears

Compost Stew: An A to Z Recipe for the Earth by Mary McKenna Siddals, Ashley Wolff (Illustrator)

POEM:  The Good, the Bad and the Inconvenient by Marge Piercy

Gardening is often a measured cruelty:
what is to live and what is to be torn
up by its roots and flung on the compost
to rot and give its essence to new soil.

It is not only the weeds I seize.
go down the row of new spinach—
their little bright Vs crowding—
and snatch every other, flinging

their little bodies just as healthy,
just as sound as their neighbors
but judged, by me, superfluous.
We all commit crimes too small

for us to measure, the ant soldiers
we stomp, whose only aim was to
protect, to feed their vast family.
It is I who decide which beetles

are "good" and which are "bad"
as if each is not whole in its kind.
We eat to live and so do they,
the locusts, the grasshoppers,

the flea beetles and aphids and slugs.
By bad I mean inconvenient. Nothing
we do is simple, without consequence
and each act is shadowed with death.

QUOTE:  "A program to make municipal composting of food and yard waste mandatory and then distributing the compost free to area farmers would shrink America's garbage heap, cut the need for irrigation and fossil-fuel fertilizers in agriculture, and improve the nutritional quality of the American diet." ~ Michael Pollan

Who Needs Wings to Fly (sung by Sally Field, as The Flying Nun)

I read Sally Field's autobiography last week (obviously self-penned).  Although the writing is meh, it is extremely honest.  I've always appreciated her as an actress but, upon finishing, I came away with a new-found respect.  She began her career with Gidget and The Flying Nun, two TV series that attempted to typecast her in a fluffy comedienne role, and a large part of the rest of her life was breaking through to be considered for quality roles, which eventually happened, much of it due to her diligence in taking classes with Lee Strasberg at the Actors Studio.  She won an Academy Award for Best Actress in 1979 for Norma Rae, and another in 1984 for Places in the Heart.

I was not previously aware of the childhood trauma suffered, which informed everything from her choice of men to her relationship with her mother to her parenting decisions, but she never stopped viewing her crossroads as growth opportunities, and finally integrated her various selves into wholeness (much like Sybil, for which she won an Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama or Comedy Special).

Subsequently, I've been working my way through Field's filmography of lesser-known movies; don't waste your time on Stay Hungry or Maybe I'll Come Home in the Spring... but I highly recommend Two Weeks, which not only brought up memories of the end-of-life journey with my mom, but also inspired me to fast-forward to the stage when I am the one in need of caregiving... 💔

I may even start watching her TV series Brothers & Sisters, which I somehow passed over when it ran from 2006 to 2011.  All this to say, I applaud Sally Field for overcoming adversity and life obstacles to become who she is now, both professionally and personally.


SONG:  Who Needs Wings to Fly (sung by Sally Field)

BOOK:  In Pieces by Sally Field

POEM:  The Threat by Denise Duhamel

my mother pushed my sister out of the apartment door with an empty 
suitcase because she kept threatening to run away  my sister was sick of me
getting the best of everything  the bathrobe with the pink stripes instead of 
the red  the soft middle piece of bread while she got the crust  I was sick with 
asthma and she thought this made me a favorite

I wanted to be like the girl in the made-for-tv movie Maybe I'll Come Home
in the Spring   which was supposed to make you not want to run away but it 
looked pretty fun especially all of the agony it put your parents through and 
the girl was in California or someplace warm with a boyfriend and they
always found good food in the dumpsters  at least they could eat pizza and 
candy and not meat loaf  the runaway actress was Sally Field or at least
someone who looked like Sally Field as a teenager  the Flying Nun propelled 
by the huge wings on the sides of her wimple  Arnold the Pig getting drafted
in Green Acres my understanding then of Vietnam  I read Go Ask Alice and 
The Peter Pan Bag books that were designed to keep a young girl home  but 
there were the sex scenes and if anything this made me want to cut my hair 
with scissors in front of the mirror while I was high on marijuana but I
couldn't inhale because of my lungs  my sister was the one to pass out
behind the church for both of us  rum and angel dust

and that's how it was  my sister standing at the top of all those stairs that 
lead up to the apartment and she pushed down the empty suitcase that
banged the banister and wall as it tumbled and I was crying on the other side 
of the door because I was sure it was my sister who fell  all ketchup blood and 
stuck out bones  my mother wouldn't let me open the door to let my sister 
back in  I don't know if she knew it was just the suitcase or not  she was cold 
rubbing her sleeves a mug of coffee in her hand and I had to decide she said I 
had to decide right then

QUOTE:  "I was raised to sense what someone wanted me to be and be that kind of person. It took me a long time not to judge myself through someone else's eyes." ~ Sally Field

Kindness (Ben Glover)

Life is better, thanksforasking!  I woke up yesterday morning with a skip in my step, a lilt in my voice, and a desire to re-engage with the world.  Had some great phone conversations, accomplished some minor but fulfilling tasks that had been weighing on me, made a delicious vegan lasagna-ish dish, participated in a great discussion with a few friends re: body image, which led me to choose my next book, Hunger by Roxane Gay (see below).  Saw an interview with Sarah Paulson, and will toe-dip into Mrs. America, her new series on Hulu (right up my feminist alley...  :-)

[2:00 p.m., edited to add:  spent some time online with my dear friend Brian earlier today, who fixed my laptop sound issues, which had made Zoom a plague rather than a pleasure.  Back in business to chat with friends.  Thanks and love, BLW... 😍 ]

As is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy!  


~ Whole 60:  The Laura Lippman plan requires that you eat whatever you want whenever you want to eat it, and declare yourself beautiful. We’re not going to lie — it’s really hard. (thanks to Judi for alerting me to this amazing article!)


~ Louvre virtual tour


~ By the Book:  Writers on literature and the literary life.


~ The Radical Quilting of Rosie Lee Tompkins:  A triumphal retrospective at the Berkeley Art Museum confirms her standing as one of the great American artists — transcending craft, challenging painting and reshaping the canon.


~ Hamilton's Secret Character: How Death Appears Throughout The Show:  A member of Hamilton's ensemble plays a character called "The Bullet," who represents death gunning for Hamilton and the other characters.  (thanks again goes to Judi.  I didn't know this!  Did you know this?!?)



SONG:  Kindness by Ben Glover (thanks to Amy Speace for the heads-up on this song; she performed it for the Camp Jews Don't Camp virtual Kerrville campfire, and I was immediately hooked... 💖)

BOOK:  Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay

POEM:  Flower Song / Flor y Canto by Francisco X. Alarcón

every tree
a brother
every hill
a pyramid
a holy spot

every valley
a poem
in xochitl
in cuicatl
flower and song

every cloud
a prayer
every rain
drop
a miracle

every body
a seashore
a memory 
at once lost
and found.

we all together—
fireflies
in the night
dreaming up
the cosmos


cada árbol
un hermano
cada monte
una pirámide
un oratorio

cada valle
un poema
in xochitl
in cuicatl
flor y canto

cada nube
una plegaria
cada gota
de lluvia
un milagro

cada cuerpo
una orilla
al mar
un olvido
encontrado

todos juntos—
luciérnagas
de la noche
soñando
el cosmos

QUOTE:  "A good way to become more fearless is to cultivate tenderness. As you expand your capacity to feel compassionate affection, you have less to be
afraid of.  That's the opposite of conventional wisdom, which says you become brave by toughening up, by reinforcing your psychic armor." ~ Rob Brezsny