TableTopics I ran across this box of cards the other day. We haven't used these converstaion starters before, because who needs help with conversing? Well I do now. I used them with my dad on the phone! What a nice boost. I didn't have to be the clever one, coming up with tricky strategies for conversing. Dad's been on lockdown for months. I've got to stop saying, "How's it going?" I told Dad I was pulling a card. I read and he was so quick to answer. "Beach!" I didn't know that Dad preferred beaches to mountains. He answered, "Me!" when I asked who was the most optimistic person he knew. Well, I guess. Every day he says he's perfect when I stupidly ask, "How are you?" Zoom With Kids On Sunday afternoon, Don and I had a "Cold Weather Zoom" with the kids. They were having chilly weather in OR and CA and it was in the 90's in Houston. We cranked the a.c. lower at our house and we all put on cozy clothes and drank drinks from mugs. I asked the kids about mountains vs. beach. I was surprised that more said mountains, than beach. But look at us, dressed for mountains! We talked for almost 2 hours and didn't need the cards. We talked about how we hoped to get together for Christmas. We wondered if it was possible to meet up in the west, if Don and I drove. We did a lot of laughing but the comment, "We just need to all live closer." was not a joke. We are all feeling the distance. Zoom with Sibs 10 minutes after we finished with our kids, we zoomed with my 3 siblings and spouses. This was our first. It was wonderful to see each other. We all wished that the 8 of us could meet up in Michigan, like we did a year ago. We needed no cards to help us talk. There was so much to share. My younger bro and wife showed us their new dogs and gave us weather updates. Hurricane Cristobal was making landfall in Nola. My sister told us about the peaceful protest she attended in Eugene, OR. My older brother told us how much more work he's getting done, working from home in Idaho.
We talked about current events... which led to my older bro sharing about his memories of being tear gassed when demonstrating at the Republican Convention in 1972. Oh, these conversations! And then we talked about what we missed most, since this pandemic started. No one talked about missing movie theatres or gyms or restaurants. We talked about travel and hugs (with friends) and seeing each other. I miss good conversation with family... in person!
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Church Yesterday I drove by Fountain of Praise Church in the morning. It was before the church opened for public visitation. I just looked from the car. Today, I watched the live coverage of George Floyd's memorial service on TV. It was moving to see over 500 guests filling the church. Many wore white and all wore masks. It was an eerie reminder that this has all happened during the trying times of the Covid pandemic. Homegoing Celebration The music was powerful. Sounds of an organ filled the space at first. Then gospel singers, with voices exploding with emotion. A choir joined in above the stage, carefully distanced from each other. None of this was like the Catholic church I grew up with. I was envious. When family members paid tribute to George Floyd, I felt their loss. I teared up, when I heard the pain in the voices, of his sister and aunt and brothers. I didn't understand all the pain behind their loss, but I tried hard to imagine what life was, is and will be for them. After two weeks of protests, it suddenly became very clear that this was the death of a real human being, not just a name. Cookies Baking is always a good way to lift spirits. The service went on for hours. I kept the TV on, but moved into the kitchen. I needed to make chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. It felt good to listen to the voices and to smell the sweet smells. But I was distracted in the kitchen. I should have noticed the batter was soupy, when I filled two cookies sheets. This is what cookies look like when you skip the flour. This was a problem, because I wasn't making them for me. I was making cookies for a friend, who just came back from the hospital today. Luckily I also had a plant to give, so off I dashed to put the plant and "Oatmeal Niblets" on her doorstep. I hope this plant that I re-potted, doesn't die. I've been flubbing a lot of things lately. 5:00 I drove home, listening to the radio. I wanted to stay connected to what was happening, just miles away. I returned home just in time to see the funeral procession heading to the cemetery. I saw the end of the the procession with horses and wagon. I saw people standing along the road watching. It reminded me of when I was 6 and my family drove to D.C. to watch the funeral procession for JFK. Don and I should have driven over to watch.
I'm glad George Floyd was being taken to his mother... buried next to the one he called out for, minutes before he passed. This was a sad day. George Floyd This morning I found myself stressing over the fact that there was a public visitation for George Floyd, 15 miles from our house. So close and it was open to the public. Two weeks ago his brutal death sparked protests. I've watched the marches and listened to angry voices about racial injustice and now there's talk of defunding police. It's been intense, but today felt different. I knew I wasn't up for a visitation. I have a hard time with visitations period. But, there was something that felt peaceful on this morning. The focus was on a person and I was drawn to that. Many of us have found that our cars can offer a little bit of escape, during these pandemic days. Our cars allow us to get out and see a little. I haven't done that much. In the Car But, today at 9:00 am, I got in the car with some water and a mask... just in case and I drove. I headed for Fountain of Praise on Hilcroft. It was early, so the Park & Ride shuttles hadn't started up. I was happy when the traffic halted off and on. I was able to see the flags flapping in the breeze and see the church ahead... with rows of porta-potties and numerous TV news vans. As we got a little closer I could see more people heading on foot to the church. Some were dressed in Sunday best, but most were dressed for the sweltering temps that had been predicted. They would be lining up for a long time. After I passed by, I turned down a street and spotted this tent selling tee shirts. Usually I would have thought, "How could they profit from this!" But not today. I was glad there was a reason for me to stop. I felt like I wanted to connect with anyone, before I headed home. I threw on my mask and headed over. The folks were busy setting up, but pleasant and happy to tell me that proceeds went to the family. That didn't matter to me. I just needed to buy a shirt to help me remember this morning. I just wanted anyone to profit from it. It felt good to talk a bit and head home with my purchase. When I got home, I needed to do one more thing before I could relax. I made a tiny sign and stuck it in the plant on the porch. No one comes to our porch anymore, but the UPS guys. Some are white and some are black. It's my little message for all of them.
Sunday Morning I sat with my coffee and watched CBS Sunday Morning. The show was a surprising reminder of all that has happened in just one week. During a week of protests across the country, our capital made some quick and symbolic changes, like changing name of a street. All week, cameras continued to capture some ugly moments, but I saw more and more good images. Peaceful groups of all races, marching together and wearing masks! People in uniform uniting with protesters... kneeling, hugging... During a commercial break, I looked at a Facebook post. My neighborhood evidently had a small "march" with families and signs, yesterday. How did I miss that?" Near Home The neighborhood photos, showed kids with homemade posters. A couple of signs said, "Black Lives Matters", but most just had words about kindness. I read the thread of comments on the post. Lots of praise for the kids. Lots of cheers for spreading the love. And and then there were a couple lame reminders, that "All Lives Matter!". Yes. We know. I was glad to see a few gentle comments explaining, why that is not appropriate right now. Black Lives Matter While some spent time this week griping about the BLM movement, others painted the yellow words on the road that leads to the White House. I'm sure many think this was vandalism. No. Those who have a hard time understanding, should remind themselves that the word "only" does NOT appear before those 3 words. Why is it so complicated?
Protests and Pandemic This is the 9th day of protests against police brutality. What is this... the 5th month of Coronavirus in the States?? There's lots on our minds and humor sometimes helps. But I absolutely can't tolerate the snarky stuff I see on Facebook, by people who aren't sensitive about others at all. New Yorker Humor This is the humor I can handle right now. Thank you, New Yorker magazine. Some of this quarantine humor is already dated, but it's simple and nonpolitical and just about right.
As for the virus that is killing people and racial injustice that is killing people... I just see no humor. Four Kinds in One Day Gloves are hot in the summer. Luckily the disposable ones aren't considered protective against Covid anymore. Wear a mask and wash your hands. But, for those of us who are still staying close to home... gloves are getting a lot more use! I did not hate wearing gloves, when I pumiced that stupid toilet ring today! Sadly, it will return before I know it! I wore a glove on one hand when I painted with oil base paint. I was really sorry I didn't wear one on my left hand. It took lighter fluid to remove paint from my skin. I'm a sloppy painter. I rarely wear gloves when I work in the yard. I'm lazy and my non-glam fingernails don't need protecting. But I wore them today, just for show. I didn't really need to use a glove when I treated my gray hair this morning. But it made me feel more like I was at the salon. What a fun thought!
Yay for gloves and home chores! Yay for all that's getting done, while we stay at home to slow the spread. No Stressful News I call Dad daily. He's been on lockdown in his room for months now. He tells me how many birds are at his feeder and I ask what's on the front page of the Springfield paper. But not today. The news has been too much for him. Today, I pulled out my purple and green diary from 1967 and I asked Dad to pick a day, any day. I remember when I was 10, asking my dad to fix the lock on this little diary. When he returned the repaired diary, I fretted that he had peeked. I'm sure he wasn't tempted back then. He probably already knew that my diary was filled with details about what I ate and watched on TV. Dad picked October 5 and I laughed as I hunted for the page, written in pencil. "I was 10, Dad. I can't promise anything very exciting in this diary!" Then I began, "Dear Diary," There wasn't much to that day, but Dad and I could both visualize our home in Tallahassee. When I read, "Then Dad and I made pizzas." we both laughed. We talked about Dad's pizza making days. Dad seemed amused, so I had him pick more random dates. We were both reminded of so many good moments. When our family went shark tooth hunting at Venice beach and I found 94! Summer evening, when Dad took the kids to his rehearsal at Asolo Theatre. Mom and Dad went out to dinner and the kids made prank phone calls... We had a birthday party for our boxer, Casey We went on for a little bit and then I grabbed another diary. June 3 1969 I told Dad I would open it up and see what our family was doing 51 years ago today. I tried to make him guess, but he had no idea. June 3rd, turned out to be the day we packed up and left our apartment in Florence, Italy. Our family of 6, gathered at "The Villa" with all the FSU students, headed back to the States. "The girls were all crying (sad to leave) and the boys were pitying them..." Dad and I laughed and remembered the emotional day, with college students singing, Leaving on a Jet Plane. My diary rambled on about traveling with the Florida State group to Pisa, then flying to NYC... Finally at JFK, Dad left Mom and the kids on the curb, with 6 cartfuls of boxes and luggage. Dad retrieved the car from storage and our Ford Galaxy convertible looked gigantic, after tiny Italian cars. Once the car was loaded, Dad barely fit. He headed off to Greyhound, while Mom and we kids followed in a taxi. (I guess we sent the stuff on to Florida, before hitting the road.) There was a stop for our first American hamburger in 6 months. Then we headed for Princeton, where we arrived at midnight, to stay with family friends.
Crazy! What a fun tangent with Dad. We both were transported back to a time, before the days of airport security or Ubers. No cell phones or GPS to help with travel logistics, and no car air-conditioning, for us. And long, long, long before Coronavirus! Quiet Bridge It was so peaceful when I ran this morning. I stopped and snapped this photo. As I headed under the bridge, I was reminded of another place and time. Sugar Land and Selma As I jogged in my suburban neighborhood outside of Houston, I was reminded of Selma, Alabama. The Pettus Bridge was eerily quiet, when we visited 8 years ago. It was sobering on that day, to remember 1965, when the civil rights protestors were attacked as they crossed. Today, I thought of the current marches and protests. March for George Floyd in Houston Yesterday, over 60,000 gathered in Houston to march peacefully, in the city where George Floyd grew up. There were no reports of clashes, until much later. I wasn't brave enough to be in that crowd, but I am supportive. If we weren't in the middle of a pandemic, would I? Maybe not. I'm hesitant about crowds period, even without tear gas or looting or virus worries. January 2017 Three years ago I was a little hesitant, but I did join a crowd at the Women's March in downtown Houston. It was a very different gathering, but it was one that was brought on by anger and worry, just like today. In 2017, there were marches all over the country. It felt good to be a part of something that could lead to positive change. A huge part of me wants to be downtown Houston, today. I hate it, that I'm doing nothing. I want to do more than sit at home and post my #blackouttuesday on Instagram. It felt too easy when I did it yesterday. Now I'm learning how that hashtag, has become a symbol of white guilt. I'm feeling confused. I want to understand more, so that I can feel confident about speaking out. 1968 "Poor People's Campaign" in Tallahassee I want to go back 50+ years and be that innocent, 11-year-old kid again, sitting with my sister at the top of the steps. I didn't totally understand the "campaign" that Dr. King had started, months before he was killed. But I knew that it was important, that blacks and whites were coming together, with concerns about poverty. I wasn't afraid to ask questions then. We were new to the south, so I had lots. I asked my parents why people said "colored" instead of negro. What did people mean when they called someone a n_____? Why didn't Mildred, our black housekeeper, know how to read? Why were the 2 black children in my classroom ignored and seated in the back?
Honestly I see this photo and worry that I'm still that timid, little girl. I was good at asking questions and listening. But, I wasn't that confident about speaking up and speaking out. At age 63, is it too late? It shouldn't be. I think I'll start by addressing a racial comment I saw on Facebook. Baby steps. Sugar Land Memorial Park Today, Don and I needed a change. Our usual walking path is getting more crowded, so we jumped in the car and headed to this park, a couple miles away. What a treat to see other people, without feeling crowded on the path. I never once had to pull on my mask. It was interesting to see different people for a change. I was reminded of how incredibly diverse our county is. I heard different languages and saw every color of skin. In a public park, I didn't expect that everyone would feel the need to smile or acknowledge one another. Sometimes that gets old. But today, it seemed like every single person on the path was wanting to connect. Some spoke, some nodded, some waved. We all made sure we had enough space as we passed. With all the news of unrest across the country, I felt at peace for an hour.
So grateful for this community, today. Cities Everywhere For months, the pandemic (in an odd way) has united many of us. We've had something in common with our friends and family all over the U.S.. We've shared our worries and updates. My family is spread out all over the country and it's comforting to be connected, especially now. Now, our focus has shifted and our conversations have changed. A week ago, we talked about the tragic death of George Floyd in Minneapolis. Now, we compare the worrisome happenings in our own cities... Change? There have been 7 days and nights of protests and rioting. I'm concerned about the people who have gotten hurt and the destruction of property. But, I'm more concerned about the racial inequality that brought this on. I hope this can be a turning point for change, but it's troublesome when I look back at history and my own memories. Detroit 1967 I was 10 in July of 1967. We lived 2 hours away from Detroit that summer. I remember watching the live coverage of the riots, that killed over 40 people. In my memory, those riots lasted all summer long. I think the riots really lasted only 5 days, but they made a big impression on me. Our family was just getting ready to move to the south, where I would hear the N-word spoken for the first time. Tulsa Massacre 1921 I don't remember when I first learned about the Tulsa race riots of 1921. We lived in Tulsa at least 5 years, before I learned about the city's secret history. Yesterday, was the 99th anniversary of the Tulsa Massacre. 99 years ago, in just 18 hours, hundreds of African Americans were killed and thousands were left homeless. For most of these nearly 100 years, the history of that day has been hidden.
Today, I pulled these 2 books off the shelf. My son used them for research years ago. I've been trying to keep the reading light, with all the pandemic stress. But, it's time to stop ignoring things. I've got the time to educate myself. Here I go. |
Not-So-Happy List
Cancer, Covid & Coronary... I started this complaining list/blog, in May 2016. I posted 200 gripes about my breast CANCER and then I was done. On March 13, 2020, I started venting all over again, when another disease (starting with a C) interfered with my life. This time it was the invasion of COVID and it affected every person. I ranted for a year, until I got my COVID vaccine in March 2021. CORONARY Artery Disease was the reason I restarted this blog on September 26, 2021. This time it was my hubby Don, who was dealing with a worry that started with the letter "C". Coronavirus and Cancer, Coronary Artery Disease! All are evil, but none can totally get me down... if I vent! I usually end up feeling a little more positive at the end of each post! Navigating This Mess! The most recent post is at the top, from coronary posts in 2022, back to cancer posts in 2016. To find past posts, look below the "Archives" section, to find "Categories". Archives
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