Coast (Eliza Gilkyson)

Today was a win on the Grief Scale, as I finally made it "back to the garden" after a month-long absence.  Thanks and love to my Hope peeps Amber, Claire, Tim, and Kiana for their strong hugs (and Jessica's, Alejandra's, and Joe's in spirit).  I cried a lot, but they were healing tears.  I am beyond grateful to them for allowing me to honor Eric in one of my favorite places on the planet.  As long as he is remembered, he lives... 🌞

"Don't know what I'm gonna be for awhile, don't want to try to understand", sings Eliza.  Who am I?  Who *will* I be after this life-changing event?  I am in need of a trip to the beach/the coast.  I am beginning again.  TBD.

SONG:  Coast by Eliza Gilkyson

BOOK:  Lamentations of The Sea: 111 passages on grief, love, loss and letting go by BethAnne Kapansky Wright

POEM:  Wild and Precious Life by Jeannette Encinias

Begin again. 

Little moments. 

Tending to the flowers. 

Cutting the fruit. 

Opening the curtains so that the entire sky can greet you. 

It’s never easy but, no matter. 

Steam from the tea so quiet. 

An open book, and door, and arms.

You have time. 

Time to create a life that you can stand up straight in. 

Even though life may beat you down. Hard. 

Even though things, situations, and people you love may be taken away from you so that your arms can memorize the grace of letting them go. 

Even then, especially then, begin again.

Remind yourself that nothing really dies, rather, it transforms. 

Everything and everyone you have ever loved lives in the mysterious memory of your cells. 

Turning. Healing. Renewing itself. 

Until one day, a photograph of something or someone very dear, long gone, visits your mind and you bow your head with appreciation.

Meanwhile, take your pain to the sea and your trouble to the mountain. 

Leave it there and walk home clean. 

When failure knocks and rattles and quakes, let it. 

Watch it make a fresh canvas of you. 

Failure, that great teacher, is kinder if you thank her as you are getting up off the floor. 

She knows something that you don’t know: that she is usually the last face you will see before breaking through. 

Such a little light in the crack of the door.

But today, if you are wading through the waters of loss or confusion: begin again. 

Open the avocado. 

Draw the bath. 

Call your best friend. 

Gather the books. 

Play your favorite album. 

Write. 

Create art. 

Open your arms. Move your legs. 

Lovely, little blessings. 

Whispering to life that you won’t give up. Not ever.

QUOTE:  Trust the wait. Embrace the uncertainty. Enjoy the beauty of becoming. When nothing is certain, anything is possible.." ~ Mandy Hale 

“I do believe in an everyday sort of magic – the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone.” ~ Charles de Lint 

"The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next." ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Through the Looking Glass (Eliza Gilkyson)

Wonderful to see Girlock and Jennifer again yesterday after their Tour o' Florida; since their flight back to PA left later that night, we had a chance to view the local burrowing owls (awesome!), walk around the Broward College Lake to see more wildlife (Egyptian geese!), go out to lunch at Don Pepe's (Cuban/Mexican!), and head back to my place for a few hours for more conversation (in the A/C; yesterday's high was 96 degrees!).

Lovely day, but more social than this hermit is used to lately, and I was exhausted; ended up taking a Cortisol Manager pill to ensure a good night's sleep, and didn't wake up until 9 a.m.  Bliss... 💖 

As soon as I hit Send, I am curling up with the (NR) book below, for this Tuesday's book club Zoom gathering.

NR:  The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz 

SONG:  Through the Looking Glass by Eliza Gilkyson

BOOK:  Change Your World: How Anyone, Anywhere Can Make a Difference by John C. Maxwell, Rob Hoskins

POEM:  Confusion by Judith Viorst

I can't figure out if it's gas or a coronary.

I can't figure out if it's hostile or benign.

I can't figure out if I'm turning into a hypochondriac, or just being sensible.

I can't figure out when we stop supporting our children.

(At twenty-one? At thirty? Forty-nine?)

I can't figure out if not bothering to change the sheets in the guest room in between houseguests is ever an option, or always reprehensible.

I can't figure out why men won't ask for directions.

(Is it genetic or could they be retrained?)

I can't figure out when dressed in the height of fashion, if I'm looking incredibly chic or slightly ridiculous.

I can't figure out if my tale is enthralling or boring.

(What are those facial expressions? Spellbound? Or pained?)

I can't figure out if I wanting all the hangers in my closet to face the same way means I'm obsessive-compulsive, or merely meticulous.

I can't figure out if I've gone from stable to stodgy.

(Is "reliable" what I want as my epitaph?)

I can't figure out if helping yourself to a shrimp from your spouse's plate ought to be viewed as intimacy or intrusion.

I can't figure out if I've lost my sense of humor

Or if, after fifty, it just gets harder to laugh.

And I can't figure out if everyone else has figured everything out, or whether we are all in a state of confusion.

QUOTE:  "The realization that each day's 24-hour offering is abundant and more than enough is a fairly recent one. In a more renewed sense, today, personhood for me has begun to look like a home that is being lived in — where the light goes out sometimes, pipes break, sinks get clogged, wires trip, paint on the walls chips off." ~ Anjali Menon

All Day Long (Chloe Langford and Paul Langford)

[ Google Doodle for April 21. 2020:  "Stay home. Save lives. Help stop coronavirus." ]


Much to feel good about this week.  I gave Sarah authorization to use my Costco card, and she found everything on my list (got groceries for herself as well). Nancy gifted me with some cherry tomatoes, a container of antibacterial wipes (cherished currency), a loaf of vegan carrot-banana bread, and four ripe mangos (which I peeled, cut up, and put in the freezer to make sorbet).  I finally signed up for a Hulu account, mainly because of all the miniseries based on books (High Fidelity, Little Fires Everywhere, The Handmaid's Tale, Normal People), and have already binge-watched the first two...  :-)

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


~ Tonight! (5/15/20), ElizaLive, Let's Get Political, Live Facebook Stream, 5:30 p.m. Central Time:  Over the years as things in the world and our country get more divided, I have been motivated to write socio-political songs. I’ve been slipping them into my records more and more confidently as I have slowly educated myself. This Friday on ELIZALIVE I will choose from my now fairly-long list and pick a variety of songs and perspectives. Please let me know any requests you have that fit the theme. ~ Eliza  


~ So You Had a Bad Day…  Here are some tips to pick yourself back up again, regain some dignity and soldier on after the lousiest of days.


~ Elmo's Dad Sends a PSA to Overwhelmed Parents at Home: "You Are Doing an Amazing Job":  Our beloved Sesame Street pals are social distancing right along with the rest of the world, which means Elmo's dad, Louie, can sympathize with all the families staying home. In a sweet PSA published on April 5, Louie applauded moms and dads for their tireless efforts to keep their kids healthy, safe, and entertained, but acknowledged this time can be "overwhelming." He encouraged parents to take a moment for themselves: listen to a favorite song, stretch, or just breathe.


~ Smash a Coronavirus Piñata. You’ll Feel Better.  If you cannot join, beat. Such is the resolve of creative people bashing piñatas to defeat a pandemic (or at least, excise some of their feelings about it).


~ Photographer Has Been Taking Free Family ‘Porchtraits’ to Capture SweetSilver Linings During Social Distancing:  Rather than letting social distancing keep him from his passion for photography, Dave Puente has found a way to join local families in celebrating the silver linings of quarantine.  The photographer from Minneapolis, Minnesota has been taking free family portraits that document the joyful part of community members being at home with their loved ones—and he does it all while simultaneously respecting social distancing guidelines.


SONG:  All Day Long by Chloe Langford and Paul Langford

BOOK:  A Mindful Year: 365 Ways to Find Connection and the Sacred in Everyday Life by Aria Campbell-Danesh, Seth J. Gillihan

POEM:  Japanese Aquarium Urges Public to Video-Chat Eels Who Are Forgetting Humans Exist by Sonia Greenfield

hey eels aka carpet of
writhing grass aka sinews
of sea floor aka silver speckled
& smiling sand spitters

the world has gone
bonkers & even humans
can forget humans exist like
that tiny grandmother whose

white hair looked like a moon
jelly bobbing in the dry
ocean on the other side of
your glass she’s gone now &

the nurse in subtidal scrubs
that soothing blue is gone too
hey eels we have a sickness
rippling through this sea

of humanity so I’m taking
a Zoom meeting with you can’t
roll up to your window & smile
back can’t be jostled by

a family of seven edging
me away from my vantage that’s
how we are we humans we’re
just like animals hey eels I like

how you duck into your home
in the sand how you suck
yourself into your safe space
and now humans are doing that

too sucking into our safe
spaces & shrinking away from
faces coming too close
which is to say I’m just like

you hey eels beyond your
invisible walls beyond the four
walls beyond your aquarium
beyond the teeming of Tokyo

I hear wildlife is reclaiming
its spaces that pumas wander
the streets that waterways are
becoming more uncluttered by

the detritus of human indifference
hey eels every time I would take
my son to see you he would sit
by your side & I think he saw

something of himself in the way
you’re alone in your hole & in
the fear that guides your hiding
hey eels it’s where we all are now

QUOTE:  “Think of a wave: it washes onto the shore, and then it rolls back. Likewise, each of your activities has a backside of stillness. To be with people, you must be alone. To listen, you need silence. To exercise, you need rest. You do not need to inflict rest, silence, or aloneness. You can simply surrender to your existing urges for these essential actions.” ~ Veronika Tugaleva

New Mexico (Carrie Elkin)

[ I ordered a Carrie Elkin T-shirt during her and Danny Schmidt's live Facebook concert Saturday before last.  It arrived only a week later, wrapped in this beautiful painting.  Thanks times a bazillion, Maizy Rae...  💚 ]

It's Feel Good Friday.  Zippity!  Five items below of beauty, interest, and humor.  As Carrie sings in the blog title song, "I can hear the heartbeat in everything around me".  I hope you can, too...  :-)


~ One Bright Thing:  Need a little lift? Amid the bleakness, 18 New York Times writers shared moments that lightened their mood (be sure to scroll past the jump to read them all.)

~ QuaranToons:  Broadway.com illustrator Tug Rice has been thinking up what our favorite Broadway characters are doing while theaters are closed and they're at home social distancing.

~ Coconut Macaroons, Two Easy Ways:  I am not a baker, so I am shouting this recipe from the virtual rooftops.  (I used JustEgg to veganize it, and added cinnamon and a splash of vanilla.  Easy-peasy, and so yum!)

~ ElizaLive!  Songs of Comfort and Consolation, Friday April 17th, live from Eliza's Living Room via Facebook @ 5:30 pm Central.  
From Eliza:  Dear Friends, it has been disappointing to not be able to tour my new record  “2020”  when it was designed to motivate and inspire during a critical election year. But the Coronavirus puts things in a whole other perspective. And while I remain focused on making sure we can and will be able to vote come November, I also want to perform music for my friends as a way of reaching out and staying connected in a more communal way. We need to stay sane, grounded and hopeful, aware of each other and our vulnerabilities as well as our strengths... Someday we will gather in person again and we will speak of this time in our lives as the challenging and deepening process it has been. I look forward to that with all my heart. 

~ Help Luna Star Cafe Survive the Coronavirus
When Luna Star Cafe is closed there isn't any trade.
No one’s sitting at the bar, no music’s being made.
No one’s drinking any beer or ordering from ‘the board’.
No one’s tipping Monica who’s much loved and adored.
No one’s there with any cash, no one’s there at all,
Now Alexis’s cafe bank account is seriously small!
So send in your donations.  Help Luna Star Café!
If you live in another state, send something anyway!
Imagine you drank a beer or two and paid the cover charge.
 Imagine you ate a pasta dish served on that plate so large. 
It’s easy to thank Alexis with applause and words of praise  
Now let's thank her with with donations till the VIRUS goes away!


SONG:  New Mexico by Carrie Elkin

BOOK:  Journey to the Heart: Daily Meditations on the Path to Freeing Your Soul by Melody Beattie

POEM:  Heart by Maggie Smith

A child of, say, six knows you’re not the shape
she’s learned to make by drawing half along a fold,
cutting, then opening. Where do you open?
Where do you carry your dead? There’s no locket
for that—hinged, hanging on a chain that greens
your throat. And the dead inside you, don’t you
hear them breathing? You must have a hole
they can press their gray lips to. If you open—
when you open—will we find them folded inside?
In what shape? I mean what cut shape is made
whole by opening? I mean besides the heart.

QUOTE:  "A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened." ~ Albert Camus

Beautiful World of Mine (Eliza Gilkyson)

Today is Easter Sunday.  I am not necessarily a proponent of the religious aspect, but I do appreciate the metaphor of rebirth, renewal, and resurrection... a bit odd in that this virus has most of us in hibernation mode, and our Spring may not come until late-summer.

However, rituals are touchstones and our sweet Sarah is embracing the holiday, especially because Colin is at an age to really appreciate.  Yesterday they dyed eggs, she put together an Easter basket for him, and she even made a bunny cake, traditional in our family for decades, beginning with my mom, segueing to me, and now Sarah.  My mom would actually pluck straws from her broom for the whiskers, I used bamboo skewers, and Sarah creatively came up with licorice Twizzlers.  Would have loved to be the proverbial fly on the wall when Colin first saw it!

They, and the boys, will come over about 10 am, and we will do a social distancing egg hunt, followed by bubbles (blowing as well as popping!), playing on the golf course green (which Colin thinks is his own private sandbox), and using sticks to draw in the sandy path.

Not bad for Plan Q...  :-)

P.S.  A few hours after I initially posted.  Our kiddo with his basket of eggs.  HEART!!!

SONG:  Beautiful World of Mine by Eliza Gilkyson

BOOK:  A New Beginning: Celebrating the Spring Equinox by Wendy Pfeffer, Linda Bleck (Illustrator)

POEM:  The Way Wings Should by Rumi

What will
our children do in the morning?
Will they wake with their hearts wanting to play,
the way wings
should?

Will they have dreamed the needed flights and gathered
the strength from the planets that all men and women need to balance
the wonderful charms of
the earth

so that her power and beauty does not make us forget our own?

I know all about the ways of the heart - how it wants to be alive.

Love so needs to love
that it will endure almost anything, even abuse,
just to flicker for a moment. But the sky's mouth is kind,
its song will never hurt you, for I
sing those words.

What will our children do in the morning
if they do not see us
fly?

QUOTE:  "The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it and to foster its renewal is our only hope." ~ Wendell Berry

The Party's Over (Eliza Gilkyson)

One party (in all definitions of the word) is over... and another is just beginning - zippity!

I sat in front of the television last night from 7 p.m. on, wearing my new Dar T-shirt and my My Vote Counted! sticker, burning my purple candles, eating thin-crust veggie pizza, thinking positive, watching as blue states began to overtake on the Rockerfeller Center ice skating rink... and finally cracking open a bottle of Voyant chai cream liqueur (served over ice) at 11 p.m. when Barack Obama hit 284 electoral votes and was declared the 44th President of the United States... :-)

Thankyoujesus... I *finally* live in a blue state! - let's turn this country upside down... and start over, thinking about the *people* and not the politics. I don't envy our new president, faced with a war in Iraq, an economy in crisis and a constituency in discord - however, I firmly believe Obama, with his obvious charisma, his long-range vision and his articulate speech, has the ability to unite, to heal and to provide long-overdue and much-needed leadership. What's so funny 'bout integrity, compassion and fiscal responsibility? - I'm so looking forward to 2009... and beyond...

I wept at the initial announcement (I kissed my husband, I hugged my son, I called my daughter... and my other son called me)... and again when Obama spoke passionately (oh my god, a president with vocabulary, poise and the power to inspire!) to the crowd of half a million in Grant Park in Illinois (so different from McCain's by-invitation-only ballroom setting) - the beaming faces of black, white, male, female, urban, suburban, gay, straight reflected the world in which I live who deserve to have our rights protected and our voices heard (yes... we... can!).

I must say that McCain's concession speech was gracious, well-intentioned and inclusive - refreshing...

And as I go to bed, the electoral vote numbers read Obama 338/McCain 156 (with Montana, Missouri, Indiana and North Carolina still pending) - it is heartening, it is gratifying... and it is ultimately validating... <3

P.S. Did you see the Google logo yesterday? - priceless!

SONG: The Party's Over by Eliza Gilkyson (scroll about 1/4 of the way down)

BOOK: Loving What Is: Four Questions That Can Change Your Life by Byron Katie, Stephen Mitchell

POEM: Let's Remake the World by Gregory Orr

Let's remake the world with words.

Not frivolously, nor

To hide from what we fear,

But with a purpose.

Let's,

As Wordsworth said, remove

"The dust of custom" so things

Shine again, each object arrayed

In its robe of original light.

And then we'll see the world

As if for the first time.

As once we gazed at the beloved

Who was gazing at us.

QUOTE: "The wheel of change moves on, and those who were down go up and those who were up go down." ~ Jawaharlal Nehru

Runaway Train (Eliza Gilkyson)

The Sarah Palin pity party
Everyone seems to be oozing sympathy for the fumbling vice-presidential nominee. Please. Cry me a freaking river.
By Rebecca Traister
Sept. 30, 2008

Is this the week that Democrats and Republicans join hands -- to heap pity on poor Sarah Palin?

At the moment, all signs point to yes, as some strange bedfellows reveal that they have been feeling sorry for the vice-presidential candidate ever since she stopped speaking without the help of a teleprompter. Conservative women like Kathleen Parker and Kathryn Jean Lopez are shuddering with sympathy as they realize that the candidate who thrilled them, just weeks ago, is not in shape for the big game. They're not alone. The New Republic's Christopher Orr feels that Palin has been misused by the team that tapped her. In the New York Times, Judith Warner feels for Sarah, too! And over at the Atlantic, Ta-Nehisi Coates empathizes with intelligence and nuance, making clear that he's not expressing pity. Salon's own Glenn Greenwald watched the Katie Couric interview and "actually felt sorry for Sarah Palin." Even Amy Poehler, impersonating Katie Couric on last week's "Saturday Night Live," makes the joke that Palin's cornered-animal ineptitude makes her "increasingly adorable."

I guess I'm one cold dame, because while Palin provokes many unpleasant emotions in me, I just can't seem to summon pity, affection or remorse.

Don't get me wrong, I'm just like all of the rest of you, part of the bipartisan jumble of viewers that keeps one hand poised above the mute button and the other over my eyes during Palin's disastrous interviews. Like everyone else, I can barely take the waves of embarrassment that come with watching someone do something so badly. Roseanne Barr singing the national anthem, Sofia Coppola acting in "The Godfather: Part III," Sarah Palin talking about Russia -- they all create the same level of eyeball-squinching discomfort.

But just because I'm human, just because I can feel, just because I did say this weekend that I "almost feel sorry for her" doesn't mean, when I consider the situation rationally, that I do. Yes, as a feminist, it sucks -- hard -- to watch a woman, no matter how much I hate her politics, unable to answer questions about her running mate during a television interview. And perhaps it's because this experience pains me so much that I feel not sympathy but biting anger. At her, at John McCain, at the misogynistic political mash that has been made of what was otherwise a groundbreaking year for women in presidential politics.

In her "Poor Sarah" column, Warner writes of the wave of "self-recognition and sympathy [that] washed over" her when she saw a photo of Palin talking to Henry Kissinger. Palin -- as "a woman fully aware that she was out of her league, scared out of her wits, hanging on for dear life" -- apparently reminded Warner of herself. Wow. Putting aside the massively depressing implication that Warner recognizes this attitude because she believes it to be somehow written into the female condition, let's consider that there are any number of women who could have been John McCain's running mate -- from Olympia Snowe to Christine Todd Whitman to Kay Bailey Hutchison to Elizabeth Dole to Condoleezza Rice -- who would not have provoked this reaction. Democrats might well have been repulsed and infuriated by these women's policy positions. But we would not have been sitting around worrying about how scared they looked.

In her piece, Warner diagnoses Palin with a case of "Impostor Syndrome," positing that admirers who watched her sitting across from world leaders at the U.N. last week were recognizing that "she can't possibly do it all -- the kids, the special-needs baby, the big job, the big conversations with foreign leaders. And neither could they." Seriously? Do we have to drag out a list of women who miraculously have found a way to manage to balance many of these factors -- Hillary Clinton? Nancy Pelosi? Michelle Bachelet? -- and could still explain the Bush Doctrine without breaking into hives? This is not breaking my heart. It is breaking my spirit.

The Atlantic's Coates takes a far smarter, but ultimately still too gentle, approach to Palin in his blog. He writes, compassionately, "There are a lot of us lefties who are guffawing right now and are happy to see Palin seemingly stumbling drunkenly from occasional interview to occasional interview." Coates asserts that McCain "[tossed] her to the wolves" and notes that while she surely had some agency in this whole mess, "where I am from the elders protect you, and pull you back when you've gone too far, when your head has gotten too big."

Where I come from, a woman -- and especially a woman governor with executive experience -- doesn't have to rely on any elder or any man to protect her and pull her ass out of the fire. She can make a decision all on her own. (Palin was more than happy to tell Charlie Gibson that she made her decision to join the McCain ticket without blinking.) I agree with Coates that the McCain camp was craven, sexist and disrespectful in its choice of Palin, but I don't agree that the Alaska governor was a passive victim of their Machiavellian plotting. A very successful woman, Palin has the wherewithal to move forward consciously. What she did was move forward thoughtlessly and overconfidently, without considering that her abilities or qualifications would ever be questioned.

Christopher Orr writes sympathetically about the scenario that Palin may have envisioned, in which she tours the country on the wave of adoration that buoyed her out of St. Paul and through a post-convention victory lap. In his mind, she might well have continued to give winning, grinning interviews, charming the pants off regular folks all across the country, if the accursed McCain campaign hadn't nervously locked her in a no-press-allowed tower. Orr compares Palin to a talented athlete who, as a result of being over-coached, doesn't soar to new physical heights but instead gets "broken down, [loses] confidence in his game, [becomes] tentative, second guessing himself even to the point of paralysis."

Surely if Palin's political muscles were as taut and supple as Orr suspects, the campaign would not have been so quick to put her on a special training regimen.

It was so predictable that we would get to a pity-poor-helpless-Sarah phase. The press was already warming up for it on the day McCain announced her as his running mate, when NBC reporter Andrea Mitchell speculated that McCain's choice was designed to declaw scrappy Joe Biden, whose aggressive style would come off as bullying next to the sweet hockey mom from Alaska. Now, of course, we know about the hockey moms and the pit bulls; the more-powerful-than-expected Palin juggernaut forestalled the pity/victim/mean boy/poor Sarah phase.

So here it is, finally. And as unpleasant as it may be to watch the humiliation of a woman who waltzed into a spotlight too strong to withstand, I flat out refuse to be manipulated into another stage of gendered regress -- back to the pre-Pelosi, pre-Hillary days when girls couldn't stand the heat and so were shooed back to the kitchen.

Next page: When you stage a train wreck of this magnitude, then I don't feel bad for you

SONG: Runaway Train by Eliza Gilkyson (scroll about 2/3 of the way down)

BOOK: The Powers to Lead by Joseph S. Nye

POEM: The Book of My Enemy Has Been Remaindered by Clive James

The book of my enemy has been remaindered
And I am pleased.
In vast quantities it has been remaindered.
Like a van-load of counterfeit that has been seized
And sits in piles in a police warehouse,
My enemy's much-praised effort sits in piles
In the kind of bookshop where remaindering occurs.
Great, square stacks of rejected books and, between them, aisles
One passes down reflecting on life's vanities,
Pausing to remember all those thoughtful reviews
Lavished to no avail upon one's enemy's book—
For behold, here is that book
Among these ranks and the banks of duds,
These ponderous and seemingly irreducible cairns
Of complete stiffs.

The book of my enemy has been remaindered
And I rejoice.
It has gone with bowed head like a defeated legion
Beneath the yoke.
What avail him now his awards and prizes,
The praise expended upon his meticulous technique,
His individual new voice?
Knocked into the middle of next week
His brainchild now consorts with the bad buys,
The sinkers, clinkers, dogs and dregs,
The Edsels of the world of movable type,
The bummers that no amount of hype could shift,
The unbudgeable turkeys.

Yea, his slim volume with its understated wrapper
Bathes in the glare of the brightly jacketed Hitler's War Machine,
His unmistakably individual new voice
Shares the same scrapyard with a forlorn skyscraper
Of The Kung-Fu Cookbook,
His honesty, proclaimed by himself and believed in by others,
His renowned abhorrence of all posturing and pretence,
Is there with Pertwee's Promenades and Pierrots—
One Hundred Years of Seaside Entertainment,
And (oh, this above all) his sensibility,
His sensibility and its hair-like filaments,
His delicate, quivering sensibility is now as one
With Barbara Windsor's Book of Boobs,
A volume graced by the descriptive rubric
'My boobs will give everyone hours of fun'.

Soon now a book of mine could be remaindered also,
Though not to the monumental extent
In which the chastisement of remaindering has been meted out
To the book of my enemy,
Since in the case of my own book it will be due
To a miscalculated print run, a marketing error—
Nothing to do with merit.
But just supposing that such an event should hold
Some slight element of sadness, it will be offset
By the memory of this sweet moment.
Chill the champagne and polish the crystal goblets!
The book of my enemy has been remaindered
And I am glad.

QUOTE: "You can't lead anyone else further than you have gone yourself." ~ Gene Mauch

Pools of Eden (Eliza Gilkyson)

We returned from our beach vacation this past Saturday, August 9 - the days following have been full of overload and catch-up and life re-entry, oh my!

Preparations the night before leaving had me almost pulling an all-nighter, getting in the bed at 4:00 a.m. to be up at 7:00 a.m... only to find there had been a power outage somewhere in that time frame - we had hoped for an 8 a.m. departure and, two hours later (no surprise there) we were on the road. My husband R and I took turns driving and, with the iPod on shuffle (everything from Roberta Flack to the B-52's to Joni Mitchell), the miles flew by. About an hour from our destination, I blipped on navigation and missed a turn (too busy singing along to Cat Stevens' Father and Son), adding another hour to the trip - sorry, family!

As we drove along the coast, we could see the island of St. George in the distance, and it seemed forever before we finally reached the bridge to get us across and over - each house we passed looked more beautiful than the next, as we drove by Whelk Way, Coral Street and Dolphin Drive. We finally pulled into the driveway of Seaclusion, our rental for the week (pictured above) to find my mom, brother, sister and her family (hugs all around!) had made themselves at home - organizer Mari had their food and supplies already stashed in the refrigerator and cupboards, drinks had been poured and bedrooms assigned. R and I were generously gifted with the master suite, with a king-size bed and a view overlooking the Gulf - thanks, Mare... :-)

Since it was close to 8 p.m. before we had our stuff unloaded and stored, we decided to order pizza and sandwiches from a bar and grill in town - Mari and Sarah went to pick up, and sweet S paid the tab. Our first night on the island was spent having dinner on one of the two decks, watching the waves and smelling the delicious salt air, sipping beers and anxiously anticipating the next 6 days - who knew how quickly they would fly by... yet how tangibly embraceable the magic moments would be...

Highlights:

~ our first full day there (Sunday, August 3), as we each followed our own path (getting up early or sleeping late, gravitating to the heat of the beach/pool or staying in the shady comfort of the deck, eating a heavier breakfast/lunch or snacking throughout) - I loved the hit-and-run pockets of conversation at various points and places along the way...

~ the island and surrounding area is called "The Forgotten Coast" because of its lack of development (what a concept), thereby presenting an amazing blanket of stars in the dark sky night after night - we could even view clusters of galaxies and constellations...

~ my brother took us all out to dinner at The Blue Parrot, and I had fried local oysters and broiled Gulf shrimp - washed down with a Yuengling, I was in seafood heaven!

~ finding sea turtle nesting in full swing on the island - we rented lounge chairs and umbrellas the first day, left them on the beach and woke to find everything tagged by the sea turtle watch volunteer organization, asking us to move the items off the beach each night, as they were in the path of the egg-laying females. There were also notices throughout the house, reminding us to turn off outdoor lights at night, so as not to be confused with the pull of the moon - it's a very respectful, protective emphasis on the birthing cycle...

~ we took turns cooking throughout the week, my husband and I serving up grilled bacon-wrapped fillets, roast potatoes and steamed veggies; my kids cooking plain and blue-cheese-stuffed turkey and regular burgers, corn on the cob and french fries; my sister making baked salmon and grouper one evening and chicken parmesan with homemade pasta (more on that later) another few evenings - yum!

~ we vowed to have Cocktail/Happy Hour each night, and we lived up to the promise - cheater that I am, I had bought frozen mini-quiches and sandwich spirals for our turns, while Martha Mari whipped up bacon-wrapped water chestnuts and salmon spread (god, she's good... :-) My son Rob (the bartender) mixed up frozen and over-ice concoctions each night - my fave was a spiced rum mixed with kiwi-lime sparking water with a wedge of lime run around the edge of the glass and then added to the mix).

~ one my favorite things to do at the beach is to immerse myself in a good book and, although reading opportunities were less optimal because of wanting to spend time with mom (and everyone else), I still managed to savor three terrific novels, the first of which was one of Mari's library books (but which I begged to read first because I'm such a fan of the author, and hadn't yet picked up the new one): Run by Ann Patchett, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer and The Probable Future by Alice Hoffman - I also had my sister read Broken for You by Stephanie Kallos (my new favorite novel), and urged mom to take it home with her to enjoy.

~ we celebrated my 54th (yikes!) birthday at the beach with a key lime pie, presents and cards - my brother had given me money and I had a grand time spending it during our souvenir shop excursion Thursday, picking up a very cool white lacy straw cowboy hat with shells around the crown ("borderline WT", Sarah told me), perfect for shading my face at the beach/around the pool, and some sun readers - who knew there was such a fabulous invention?!? (for the last decade, ever since I needed reading glasses, I'd just place my sunglasses over them... two inconvenient layers). We also came home with pirate mugs ("time flies when you're having rum" and "Surrender your Booty" from The Jolly Roger Shop for co-workers and friends and a sea turtle windchime for my next-door neighbors who brought in the mail) - photos of trying on hats and glasses: priceless!

~ I was proud of myself for walking my usual 45 minutes 4 of the 6 days we were there - I had brought my walkman as accompaniment but, given the solitude of the island, chose not to use it, instead concentrating and meditating on the breeze, the sounds and the smells.

~ our beach house faced south, so we had to drive to the northwest side of the island for a sunset angle - our three visits delivered one better than the other two but none perfect. No problem - you know what they say: "even a bad sunset at the beach is better than a good evening anywhere else!"...

~ our weather was perfect the entire trip, with about three drops of rain one afternoon (what? - gone!) - I slathered enough sunscreen on each day so as to tan but not burn (mission accomplished). We experienced daily dolphin sightings (mostly in groups of three or more) - there were dragonflies everywhere on the island (Dave, Dave, Dave... :-)

~ so, we did make a gigantic batch of pasta (under mom's expert tutelage), dried it out on the kitchen table for a few days and boiled it up to go with Mari's Thursday night dinner - it tasted even more delicious because of the memories embedded...

~ we are proud to claim we recycled all week (although it was frightening the amount of beer/wine bottles and soda cans we went through), and made two drop-off trips to the bins in the middle of the island - yay, us!

~ dear Sarah borrowed her office camera and documented all the snippets of magic moments that came together to make this a trip to remember (Julia on Eric's shoulders, our sandcastle decorated with shells, beachgrass and Corona bottles on the turrets, Rob playing Guitar Hero, etc.)... and she'll be uploading them to Shutterfly to make a bound book (complete with captions) for mom's birthday September 9... as well as for the rest of us.

Needless to say, mom was beyond thrilled at our ability to pull this trip together on such short notice (not to mention being able to take the week off), our desire to help her have this family vacation and our commitment to spending quality time together each day - she smiled, she laughed, she cried tears of joy... and she couldn't stop repeating how blessed she felt, surrounded by her children, he grandchildren and her sons-in-law...

As long as we retain the memories, we can return any time we choose... and we're already thinking positive and planning an encore trip next August - there's no place like St. George Island, there's no place like St. George Island, there's no place like St. George Island... :-)

SONG: Pools of Eden by Eliza Gilkyson (can't seem to find the lyrics anywhere... but here is an audio sample)

BOOK: Chicken Soup for the Beach Lover's Soul: Memories Made Beside a Bonfire, on the Boardwalk and with Family and Friends by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Aubery, Peter Vegso

POEM: The Gardener of Eden by James Broughton

I am the old dreamer who never sleeps
I am timekeeper of the timeless dance
I preserve the long rhythms of the earth
and fertilize the rounds of desire

In my evergreen arboretum
I raise flowering hopes for the world
I plant seeds of perennial affection
and wait for their passionate bloom

Would you welcome that sight if you saw it?
Revalue the view you have lost?
Could you wake to the innocent morning
and follow the risks of your heart?

Every day I grow a dream in my garden
where the beds are laid out for love
When will you come to embrace it
and join in the joy of the dance?

QUOTE: "I find myself at the extremity of a long beach. How gladly does the spirit leap forth, and suddenly enlarge its sense of being to the full extent of the broad, blue, sunny deep! A greeting and a homage to the Sea! I descend over its margin, and dip my hand into the wave that meets me, and bathe my brow. That far-resounding roar is the Ocean's voice of welcome. His salt breath brings a blessing along with it." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

Beautiful World (Eliza Gilkyson)

I am beyond excited... in that I am leaving for the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival first thing tomorrow morning - last year's preview and review posts pretty much sum it up!

This will be FRFF's 20th anniversary... and my 10th - in addition to dear Dar Williams, artists performing are Janis Ian, Patty Larkin, Tracy Grammer, the above-mentioned Eliza Gilkyson... and so many others. I am delighted that Danny Schmidt has been chosen for the Artist Showcase - there will also be a Dave Carter song circle early Sunday morning... and, despite my probable lack of sleep, I will most definitely be there...

SONG: Beautiful World by Eliza Gilkyson

BOOK: A History of Folk Music Festivals in the United States: Feasts of Musical Celebration by Norm Cohen

POEM: Not to Sleep by Robert Graves

Not to sleep all the night long, for pure joy,

Counting no sheep and careless of chimes

Welcoming the dawn confabulation

Of birds, her children, who discuss idly

Fanciful details of the promised coming —

Will she be wearing red, or russet, or blue,

Or pure white?—whatever she wears, glorious:

Not to sleep all the night long, for pure joy,

This is given to a few but at last to me,

So that when I laugh and stretch and leap from bed

I shall glide downstairs, my feet brushing the carpet

In courtesy to civilized progression,

Though, did I wish, I could soar through the open window

And perch on a branch above, acceptable ally

Of the birds still alert, grumbling gently together.

QUOTE: "In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, for in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." ~ Kahlil Gibran