I’m not a car enthusiast, but I associate certain cars with certain events or periods in my life. For example, Honda minivans will forever remind me of my young parenting years. Those were the largest cars I ever owned.
On the other extreme, my parents owned a blue Volkswagen bug when I was very young. I have an early memory of stuffing myself into a tiny spot in the upper part of the back seat. I remember looking up at the interior ceiling. It had little dots or holes in the material and you could kind of blur your eyes and it created an optical illusion. The dots would seem closer than they actually were, like in a Magic Eye book.
I don’t have a photo of that car, but here I am, around the same time, stretching out my legs in my new red wagon. I fit perfectly!
Do you remember fitting yourself into a small space back when you were tiny?
I’m up early (7:30am) thinking of all the parents of all the young children around the world who have probably been up for two hours already. Santa came! Woo hoo! Enjoy it…these years are a lot of work, but will fly by in the blink of an eye. (Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard this once or twice – or like ten thousand times – before.)
I think my main creative outlet these days, besides singing and this blog, is photography. And I don’t even use a real (35mm) camera anymore, just my iPhone. Here’s a shot I got the other night on my way home from choir. I thought this deer was a holiday lawn ornament, then I realized he was real. I backed up my car, opened my window, and said “hey deer.” This made him stop munching the neighbor’s shrub and look up at me.
We’re not having a white Christmas here in New England, but at least we’ve got (rein)deer.
I hope you enjoy this recording that my choir made in 2021 during the pandemic lockdown. We each recorded ourselves singing alone at home and then sent the files to our choir director. She mixed them together using some sort of software and it really sounds quite good, especially considering she’d never done anything like this before. It was also very meaningful to the choir, and to the congregation, to hear our voices blended again after being separated for so long. Many were struggling with loneliness and isolation.
The text “Dona nobis pacem” means “Grant us peace.” The melody has been passed orally, although it is sometimes attributed to Mozart. English-language hymnals usually mark it “Traditional.” It is sung as a round, so you can sing any of the three parts at any time. You’ll never be wrong.
Beyond use at church, the round has been sung around the world in secular settings as a prayer for peace.
No, I am not a good judge of character. Prior to the 2016 election, I would’ve had a different answer. Back then, my idea of “good character” was still based on what I’d learned over the years in school and church and from my family. Lying and stealing were bad. Racism and misogyny were also bad. Nazis were the absolute worst. Sure, I had rejected the Catholic Church and become a Unitarian Universalist, but I believed that most people (liberal or conservative) had a common understanding of the differences between right and wrong. I did not vote for John McCain or Mitt Romney, but I understood why reasonable people would. They were men of good character. Then, 63 million of my fellow Americans, including the man I’ve loved and trusted since Day One (my dad), voted for someone who had been caught on tape admitting to sexual assault and I realized that I never really knew anything about anyone.
Back when things were clearer, my mom was a leader of Camp Fire Girls and took us camping. The Camp Fire Girls motto was WoHeLo, which stood for Work, Health, Love.
Today is my son John’s birthday. It’s also Taylor Swift’s birthday and Santa Lucia day in Sweden – so it’s a big day around the world. (Lucia is my daughter’s name, so it’s interesting that he was born on her saint’s name day. And by the way, I’ve added visiting Sweden to my bucket list.)
I waited a long time (six years) to have a second child. I was happy with my one little girl and didn’t think I wanted more children. When I started to second guess that decision, I really agonized about it. I made lists of pros and cons, saw a therapist, and read a book about the environmental impact of having more than one child in a First World country: Maybe One by the great environmentalist Bill McKibben.
In the end, my heart won out and we were so fortunate to receive the best Christmas present ever in the last month of the first year of the new millennium: an adorable baby boy. I was over 35, so I know I was lucky! On my first day as a mother of two, I felt that our family was complete. There was no turning back now. It felt like I had fully committed to this motherhood thing. It would be the most important part of my identity for the foreseeable future.
My family is the most important thing to me. If they’re OK, I can live my life and have fun doing things I like. If something is wrong with one of them, it’s hard for me to concentrate on anything else.
When I wake up in the morning, I sometimes think about all the people around the world who are struggling with so many things – from chronic pain or addiction, to loneliness, to war. I know circumstances can change for anyone, anytime, anywhere. I wish everyone could have at least one happy hour a day – pain-free, safe, loved.
On a related note, it’s been heartwarming to see some of the hostages released in Israel. The moment when they’re reunited with their loved ones is so powerful. I’m happy for those families.
I’ve always liked giraffes. I like their spots, their long necks and legs, their big eyes and eyelashes, and their gentleness. And the calves are so cute, wobbling around on those long legs. Maybe I’m anthropomorphizing, but I think giraffes are cool.
Now I know people have mixed feelings about zoos, but if an African safari is not in your budget, zoos are the only place you’re ever going to see a live giraffe herd. The very best giraffe exhibit I’ve ever seen is at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo in Colorado Springs. You should make a point to visit, if you’re ever in the area. The giraffe exhibit is a real showstopper 🦒
Visiting the giraffes at Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, 2009
Yes, I do tend to trust my instincts. I’m not one to sweep things under the rug. The downside of that is that I sometimes overreact to things.
I think parenting is one of those areas where it’s important to trust your instincts. If you think there’s something wrong with your pregnancy, baby, toddler, child, teenager, etc., you should act on it. It’s better to be wrong, than to let a real problem go unaddressed.
I’m not a big animal lover. I mean, I love the animal kingdom, especially the giraffes, but I don’t love having animals in the house.
I’ve had pets over the years. We grew up with a husky that we adopted when my mother’s tennis partner moved to Dallas, where it was deemed too hot for a cold weather breed. His name was Bunky. He was OK.
Then, when I was young and single, I agreed to take a really cute kitten from my sister’s cat’s litter. Kimba was beautiful, like Kimba the White Lion, but so so bad. I’ll never forget the time he jumped up on my refrigerator in my tiny studio apartment and nudged the antique toaster off of it. The toaster was plugged in and an arc of blue sparks flew through the air as the cord separated from the appliance.
Then, in 1993, I married a cat person. He had his own sweet little black cat named Sticky (Stick for short). He named her Sticky because she stuck to things, like curtains and pant legs. Sticky and Kimba learned to live together, but were never really friends.
Then, when my daughter was five and an only child, we got a dog. Teddy was a purebred Sheltie. He was nuts. The mailman was afraid of him. He ripped up our outdoor furniture. My daughter loved him, but then we had another child. I just did not trust this dog around the baby. One day, I accidentally stepped on Teddy’s tail while he was sleeping and he bit my foot — right through my canvas sneaker. That was it. I didn’t think it was safe to keep him any longer, so we gave him to a Sheltie rescue organization. That was rough.
This brings me to my last and best pet Cricket. Cricket was a moon-faced, greenish grey striped kitty that we adopted from a shelter in Lowell when the kids were both in grade school. They really loved her and so did my husband. She would sit in his lap at night and I could just see that stroking her was probably lowering his blood pressure. There were clear benefits for him.
It was tough when she needed to be put down during COVID after we’d spent a fortune on veterinary surgery to try to correct a problem with her back. I had to make the final decision to end her life because my husband loved her too much. She was a good pet. Our sweet Cricket.
A portrait of Cricket that hangs on our wall: a thoughtful gift from my daughter to my husband
Invent a holiday! Explain how and why everyone should celebrate.
Facebook is always inventing holidays, like “National Daughters Day” or “National Sons Day.” They tend to make me feel annoyed. It’s like why would I randomly post a photo of my son, who doesn’t even have a Facebook? Everyone loves their kids — we know this. No extra holiday needed.
I think a lot of people need a lift these days, so what would make most people feel better? Hmmmmm… thinking….this is hard
I liked Obama’s “National Day of Service” idea, but I’ve honestly never participated in it. Earth Day is good too. Remember “Hands Across America” day? Another nice idea, but I don’t think it actually worked.
How about creating a national “I Can Swim” day? One thing I really hate reading about every summer is drownings. It’s so sad. Every kid in America should learn to swim. All barriers (cost, access to lessons, etc) should be removed. Every school district in America should have a public pool.
Maybe every kid (or adult) who passes the “I Can Swim” national test during a given year, gets celebrated on “I Can Swim” day with cake, balloons, presents and a big splash party at the community pool?
Yes, I’m liking this idea. Make “I Can Swim Day” as big of a deal as all the other growing up holidays like First Communion, Quinceañera or Bat/Bar Mitzvah. I can say with certainty that learning to swim has provided me with far more lifelong joy and safety than whatever I was made to memorize for my First Communion.
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