Saturday, September 26, 2015

We Must Risk Delight

Photo credit - Petar Boterri


A Brief for the Defense, by Jack Gilbert
Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that’s what God Wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.

Thursday, September 24, 2015

Perfect Love


Do you know what would be perfect? What would be perfect is to be loved with the depth and intensity of a grandmother loving her grandchild, to be made love to with the passion of a new lover who possessed the familiarity and skill of an old lover. That would be about a perfect love. I could stand me about a lifetime of that kind of love. ~GH

Monday, September 21, 2015

Autumn Equinox

My buddy Trinny shared one of her favorite verses with me, and I wanted to share it with you. ~~GH
 

  "Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves." ~~John Muir

I actually felt a bit of a chill as Autumn whispered past me just then. Did you feel it, too? She's right around the corner, Friends. 

Nature always energized me and Muir is spot-on as far as sunshine flowing into trees, winds blowing their freshness and storms their energy. So let your cares fall like autumn leaves and feel Nature's peace, accept the mountains' good tidings. Be well. Until we meet again. ~ GH

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Unsweetened T - Grab a Gallon or Two

Trinny's Unsweetened T
Wow, all I can do is deeply curtsy to the Mistress, Mistress Trinny that is. Go treat yourself to some real-life writing about ruro-urban West Virginia. I dare ya.

Here's a link: Unsweetened T

Thank me in the morning . ~~GH



Friday, September 18, 2015

Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman
will be at the WV Book Festival
Oct 23-24, 2015
Click for more info
I have a confession to make: I found the best blog on the internet, and I can't get enough of it - www.BrainPickings.org - and if you're a creator, it will be one of your favorites too.



Neil Gaiman's Eight Rules of Writing:
  1. Write
  2. Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.
  3. Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it ... [Click to read the rest]

Thursday, September 17, 2015

At The Food Pantry


The big man at the food pantry pushes me to take groceries I don’t want. He offers me boxed mac’n’cheese and I tell him I can’t eat powdered flavorings. He tells me not to be proud – I fib and tell him I’m allergic to them to get him to leave me alone. When I get home, I find boxes of powdered mac’n’cheese in the bottom of one of my bags anyway.

He offers me a big tube of toothpaste. I remind him I got one just last month and still have plenty. He tries to get me to accept it, but I hold steady. “No. I do not need toothpaste.” He offers me a choice of combs and I remind him I got a comb last month, but he chooses one for me anyway and slips it into my bag. 

“How about tomatoes?” he asks, “Do you need tomatoes?” I am delighted and say so. “How many do you need?” I ask him to show me how big they are so I can determine. He frowns and holds two up.

They are small but not grape-sized. I ask if I can have three or four. He parries with “Do you need more?” I tell him I can use as many as he wants to give me. He sounds gruff when he chides me that it’s not about what I WANT but what I NEED. I shrug, unwilling to fight with him about words or tomatoes. When I get home, I find ten tomatoes.

Another man asks me if I can use meat. I tell him ground turkey or chicken or beef is fine. He asks “Hot dogs or bologna?” and I answer hot dogs. He puts a package of hot dogs and one pound each of ground chicken, turkey, and Black Angus grass-fed beef in my bag. I’ve never even eaten Black Angus grass-fed beef before but I know it’s not good for hamburgers – too lean. This will be the first time I’ve had the too-lean problem, I think.

I tell him I have lots of peanut butter but he insists on knowing “creamy or crunchy” and I admit defeat and ask for creamy. 

I say I could really use some spaghetti and sauce, and I’d love some bread. They have dozens of loaves of bread, so much bread that it’s going moldy and they’ve started a stack of throw-away bread. I’m asked what kinds of bread I like and I ask if there’s any rye because I want to make a Reuben sandwich, but I forgot to ask if they have sauerkraut in a can. 

They give me a loaf of Jewish rye, and a large whole wheat, and a package of hot dog buns and hamburger buns. I have a lot of bread this time. They put a huge lemon torte into a bag. It was marked down for clearance to $5.99. I wonder how much it cost full-price. My birthday’s coming up so I don’t feel guilty for accepting the cake.

They make me take cans of beans and fruit and a tin of some sort of canned pork and a can of evaporated milk and some sweetened condensed caramel milk. It is a lot of food. I am grateful.  He always gives me a roll of toilet paper – one roll per month. My imagination runs free and I rein it in.

Sometimes I wish they had eggs, sugar, flour, ingredients to make more wholesome things with. Instead, they put three packages of Ramen noodles in a bag and set it down. He asks if I like carrots and I smile and say yes, and he puts a can of them in the bag with the Ramen noodles. He tries to get me to accept canned turnip greens and I decline, assuring him I would not eat them.


When I get home, I’m tired and I doze after the frozen meats are put away. I dream of canned carrots and Ramen noodles with caramel sweetened condensed milk and Jewish rye bread with no sauerkraut or corned beef, and I picture a can of black beans and a roll of toilet paper all jumbled up, and I’m grateful, grateful for those who donated food, grateful for these strange food choices, grateful for the volunteers, grateful for sleep.


Wednesday, September 16, 2015

"I Have What You Need"

What would you do if you had the ability to look into a person's eyes and predict their future? This Twilight Zone episode from the first season, "What You Need," is the story of a peddler with this ability who uses his talent to help sell his wares.

How would you apply this to your daily life? Think about your job duties and how a talent such as this could be utilized to make the world a better place. In the meantime, enjoy the show. ~GH


Friday, September 11, 2015

Just A Bite Before I Go



Just A Bite Before I Go - by Ginger Hamilton

"You can't feed a person who's on a ventilator. The machine's pressure forces the stomach contents out and up, and the fluid gets into the lungs. It's called aspiration. The patient can die." Jill's cheeks puffed out as she exhaled. It was hard enough being an outsider in this family; it was frustrating to be both a nurse and an outsider trying to instruct these country folks on the finer points of patient care.

"It doesn't seem right though, not to feed her. She hasn't had a bite to eat for a month now. How can she live?" Mike blew his cigarette smoke through a crack in the window. The wind propelled the noxious fumes back inside the car. Jill coughed and cut her eyes at him.

"Well, the doctor should have her on a feeding tube. That'll take care of her nutritional requirements." Jill smiled, hopeful the issue would be settled with that pearl of wisdom.

At the house, Mike's cousin Miranda met them at the door. Before long the hunger issue was broached again.

"But she's got to be hungry, Jill. We can't just leave her like that to starve. That little bit of gruel we put down that tube won't help her get her strength back." Miranda looked hopeful. She stood, toying with the hem of her sweater.

"She's fine, I promise. She's getting everything she needs from the liquid feeding." 

Miranda sighed. "Well, thank you for coming to visit. I know Aunt Donna will appreciate seeing you."

Jill walked to the old woman's bedside. The rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator was the only sound in the room. A thin line of ocher-colored urine in the catheter bag hanging from the side rail caught Jill's eye.

"How long since that bag's been emptied?"

"Oh, a day or two," Miranda replied. "Why?"

"That's not enough urine for that length of time. She may be in renal failure." Miranda's forehead wrinkles deepened.

"Ree-what?"

"Kidney failure."

"Oh, my." Tears welled up in Miranda's eyes. "That means… --"

"Does her doctor know about this?"

"I ain't sure, Jill."

Jill finished her cursory examination and joined the rest of her husband's family members in the parlor.

"I think Aunt Donna's very close to death. You should concentrate on making her comfortable now. That's about all you can do."

Uncle John looked accusingly at Jill as if she'd caused Aunt Donna's condition rather than defining it. "You damned nurses and doctors. You put folks through hell with all these tubes and things, then starve `em to death." He stamped out of the room. A moment later the front door slammed.

"Come on, sweetheart. We're going back to the motel, everybody. Our trip's about worn us out."

Jill and her husband left the house. No one stepped forward to hug them; no one even said goodbye.

* * *

In the morning they made the six-mile drive up Wolf Bend Hollow to Uncle John's and Aunt Donna's ancient log house. 

"There's a lot of cars here, Jill. Wonder why?"

"I see that. Wouldn't be surprised if Aunt Donna passed away in the night and no one called us."

Jill was right; the old woman had crossed the veil, as the family put it.

"How'd she go?" Jill's husband asked.


Miranda stepped forward. A gentle smile crossed her weathered face. "It was like this, you see. I just couldn't let her starve to death. You know how Aunt Donna loved her biscuits and gravy? I made her a mess of `em and cut them biscuits into itty-bitty pieces. Then I soaked `em in the gravy `til they was soft as oatmeal. It took me `bout an hour, but I fed her every bit of a soup bowl full. Why, she coughed a time or two and I'd slow down, but `fore you know it, she'd eaten every bite." Miranda sighed, her pleasure evident. 

"She had passed on when I checked on her next. She had the most peaceful expression on her face that you ever saw."


Wednesday, September 09, 2015

Confusing the End with the Means

It used to be that having a tan indicated you spent a decent amount of time doing outdoor activities, such as working outdoors and/or in the garden, going for walks, playing tennis, swimming, etc. The tan was a natural consequence of your activities.

Then it got to the point where people groomed the tan* so they had that look when they actually weren't doing those activities.

It used to be that people did things that they enjoyed doing -- gardening, riding horses, volunteering for charities, etc. -- and the natural consequence was happiness. Then it got to be that people started chasing happiness as the goal instead of the side effect.
.
I read about people who say they just want to be a good person, so they go out of their way to do good deeds in the hopes they will become a good person. Again, being a good person is a natural consequence that comes with doing the right thing. You don't do the right thing so that you become a good person; it just sort of happens while you're doing good things.
.
We have an awful lot of people nowadays who are at everything ass backwards. Be good for goodness sake. Don't cultivate a tan. Do the activities that you enjoy and that help you grow mentally, emotionally, and physically, and you will end up with happiness as the end effect. ~~GH
*Intentional tanning, of course, led to an unprecedented skin cancer epidemic. There has been a 200% increase in melanoma cases since 1973.
A writer friend of mine died last month two short months after diagnosis (I'm not implying my friend overlooked his health, not at all. Some melanomas don't even have external lesions).
Early detection is a must with that terrible disease. Please do a full body skin exam at least yearly, or have someone else help with places you can't readily examine.

Monday, September 07, 2015

Extravaganza



The walls are saturated in creamy light. Sunshine fills the room, exposing the floorboard's uneven shades of ocher. Backlit curtain folds reveal golden tiger stripes poised to leap from their hooks. A stream of light, escaped from the window's veils, reveals a dust particle storm. Locked in a riotous dance on warm air currents, they pirouette upward with the sun's strength.

A passing cloud, unaware of its detrimental effect, masks the sunbeams. The curtains shift color; eager tigers become the very shadows that hide them. The walls fade to gray. Dust fairies who cavorted in the heat now sink to the floor as the room's fever breaks.

With the show over, the floorboards groan in protest. ~~GH


Friday, September 04, 2015

Moments of Our Lives

There are moments that clamor, 
like births, deaths, and weddings, 
that we always remember. 
And ones that slip in 
like whispers in the wind -- 
a baby's first smile, 
the taste of melting butter 
on a biscuit fresh from the oven, 
the exquisite smoothness 
of a lover's lips -- 
that we never forget.
~~ Ginger Hamilton


Thursday, September 03, 2015

TomBoy

I was a mean little girl. Ornery, and meaner than a snake. I was cute, too. Think Ellie Mae Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies except I was chestnut-haired, not blonde. I loved critters and the outdoors and hated dresses and girly stuff like getting my hair combed or sitting demurely with my ankles crossed and being seen and not heard.

Did my share of beating up fellers, too, although I don't recall ever throwing one over my shoulder and bringing him home to Pa and asking "Can I keep him?" I did, however, break a few bones, I'm afraid. Last count for sure included one ankle, one sacrum, and a leg in multiple places. Not mine! Oh no, unfortunate playmates or classmates who incurred my wrath.

To my credit, minimal as it is, I was only incidentally responsible for the fractured leg. There was a boy in our neighborhood who had brittle bones (but we didn't know), and while playing football one day, my entire team piled on top of him as was our custom. He screamed in terrible pain and all the boys ran away. I went for help and heard later that his leg was broken in three places.

We didn't pile on after that. In fact, I wasn't even allowed to play football anymore because the neighborhood women got together and determined it was unseemly for a girl as "big" as I was to play contact sports with the boys. I had developed "bosoms."

So while my breasts ended my football playing days, they didn't end my interactions with football playing guys. But that's a story for another day. ~GH

Tuesday, September 01, 2015

Please Don't Feed the Elk

Last week I decided to augment my cat Momma's special dry chow with wet food. The idea was it would improve her quality of life and enjoyment.

Well, she quickly became Miss Entitled Queen Kitty Give Me Some More Right Now Dammit. I was too ill and weak to do anything but scoop some chow into her bowl all weekend and when my helper Lucky #13 returned Monday morning, Momma complained LOUDLY and ANGRILY, telling Lucky #13 how useless I was, that either I didn't know where the New Wonderful Food was kept or else I didn't know how to open the cans or something.

Lucky #13 saved the day by opening a can and mixing it with some chow. Momma gorged herself on it and she has forgiven me for the time being.

Here is a rowdy insistent young bull elk who had become accustomed to being fed by humans, to his detriment and eventual death. The Park Service had him destroyed because of prior aggressive behavior and this incident as recorded. Trust me, it's intimidating enough to have a cat bully you; you don't want an elk  bull bullying you.

Please never feed wild animals. It's not cute, it isn't cool, and it doesn't lead to good outcomes. Thanks. ~GH