tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91530499974960256952024-03-13T09:52:07.148-05:00The Way I See ItLiterally. Figuratively. Occasionally.Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.comBlogger222125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-10589566150978397212019-11-23T15:39:00.000-06:002019-11-23T15:46:00.297-06:00Stickin' a Pin In It. I'm going to set the stage a bit, so that when I tell you what happened this morning to me on my walk you'll understand why it made such an impression on me. There are a couple things you need to know in order to appreciate it fully.<br />
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First is this: When I'm on my walks/runs (let's just call it "whatevering" and be done with it) I listen to music. If I'm just ambling along, I'll listen to any number of playlists that I just love hearing. For example - every year during Lent I listen, over the course of several walks, any number of recordings of <i>Jesus Christ Superstar</i>. When I need to think something through, I often listen to Vivaldi's <i>Four Seasons</i>, especially Max Richter's "recomposition" of it. And when I need to feel all "I am woman, hear me roar," I queue up Beyonce's <i>Homecoming. </i><br />
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But when I'm out whatevering in an attempt to get my heart rate up and <i>keep </i>it up, I listen to playlists I've thrown together over several years. There are so many songs on these lists I would never in a million years listen to in any other setting. Some would embarrass my children; some embarrass me. It's all about the pace and the energy, and very, very often, I'll just hear a snippet of something when I'm going through whatever albums iTunes throws at me and add it and move on, without listening all the way through. Seriously -- 10 seconds of the opening is all I pay attention to when I'm adding stuff. I don't listen to the words before adding a song, and often don't really pay much attention to them when I'm whatevering. I always hit <i>shuffle</i> when I choose a playlist, so I never know what's coming up, and because most of my lists have about 4 hours worth of songs I typically only hear about 1/8 - 1/4 of the songs thereon.<br />
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The second thing is this: I wear a bunch of bangles on my right arm that I never take off. All but two are from a company called Mantra Bands Each of them have some saying, or snippet of verse, or bit of inspiration that I chose as motivators. They are open on the back, so the fronts of them are usually on the <i>inside </i>of my arm (see picture) where only I can see the words. They are most comfortable this way, and only rarely do they ever get turned around, facing "up." In fact, the only time I intentionally do so is when one turns a bit, which happens sometimes when I'm getting dressed or when I've been fidgeting with them.<br />
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Now that you know those two things, here's the rest of the story. </div>
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I went out for my whatever this morning at the park in which I love to walk, and had whatevered about 2 miles when it began to rain. I decided not to get soaked this time so I took a break to get a small umbrella out of my car. Today wasn't about speed, so although carrying the umbrella messed with my pace a bit, I didn't really care. The rain slowed enough when I hit my 3rd mile I closed the umbrella up, and slipped the cord over my right wrist so I could keep an easy grip on it as I continued to walk. </div>
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At mile 3.5 I sensed someone was coming up way too close to me, as in seriously violating my personal space. That's unusual even when there are lots of people in the park with me, but I was the only person there this morning -- had <i>been </i>the only person there for more than half an hour, as evidenced by a parking lot empty except for my car. I figured someone may have walked into the park from the neighborhood, but <i>they were way too close to me and it was weird. </i>I wasn't frightened, just annoyed. I said, loudly, as I turned my head in their direction, "Good morning!" I just really wanted them to know I knew they were there, if that makes sense. </div>
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There was no one there. No one. That stopped me in my tracks. Literally. My heart was pounding and I just stood there in an effort to collect myself. </div>
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As I was now standing still, I became aware that one of my bracelets was pushing into my wrist, likely because of the umbrella strap twisting it. And I also noticed that I was standing right in front of this tree I'd already taken note of because it looked like it was on FIRE due to its beautiful autumnal oranges and reds. (The colors you see here don't do it justice.) </div>
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Well, you know me. I just had to pull my phone out and take a snapshot. I mean, my whatever pace was already shot because of the eerie interruption. As is my wont, I began do some free association -- the tree looked like it was on fire.... Moses and the Burning Bush.... yada yada -- while I was raising the phone to take the picture..... and when I lifted my right arm I couldn't help but notice the <b>one random bracelet that was now turned to the outside of my wrist. </b></div>
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At this point, we can cue the moment I thought this might be post-worthy. But it gets better. </div>
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I'm standing there, thinking of Moses and burning bushes and "what is that in your hand" and still wondering <i style="font-weight: bold;">what that was that had compelled me to stop in the first place</i>, and looking at that bracelet .... well. I'm not the brightest crayon in the box but I was beginning to think this was one of those moments in which I should just <i>stand and listen</i>. And I thought (which you can read as <i>prayed), "<b>Whatcha got for me, God?" </b></i></div>
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(Now, keep in mind, that I had had that random playlist running in my ears. I'd been listening to tunes by Meghan Trainor, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Queen, The Avett Brothers, Justin Timberlake, Beyonce, Pink, Sia, Gwen Stefani, Santana, Jaden, and Usher.)<br />
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And the minute I asked that question, a song came up in the shuffle that I had <i>never heard before, </i>one that I must have added at some point because the opening measures seemed like it might give me a nice gentle pace to walk to, and this was it.<br />
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I haven't always been kind. I'm not always kind now, even when I'm trying to be so very intentional about it, so what I'm guessing is that I need to <b><i>work harder </i></b>at this until it doesn't feel like such<br />
<b><i>hard work</i></b>.<br />
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<b>MESSAGE RECEIVED. </b></div>
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I'm not writing this for any of you who might be reading it. I'm writing it for <i>me. </i>This just felt like one of those moments into which I needed to stick a pin.<br />
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<a href="https://youtu.be/VwtAjv04pt8" target="_blank">Listen to Frank Turner's Be More Kind here. </a><br />
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<br />Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-53835319344994157532019-06-08T11:11:00.001-05:002019-06-08T11:11:30.315-05:00Where to now, God? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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My Church is in tatters. By that I mean, the United Methodist Church. Those of you who are (or were) fellow Methodists understand what I'm saying. Those of you who are not may know something of our plight, but may not understand the complexity of what's happened/happening/likely to happen. </div>
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I'm not sure <i>I </i>do, entirely. </div>
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What I <i>do </i>know for true is this: Since the day I became a United Methodist as a teenager, my Church has been my safe place. When anything - everything - in my life was going to hell on a trolley, I could always turn to my Church for guidance and grace. I have always been able to find my way back to the heart of my faith - and to a relationship with my God and with the people around me - through the Wesleyan Quadrilateral. </div>
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Scripture</div>
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Tradition</div>
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Reason</div>
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These four components have been the framework I've used any time I've needed to find my plumb line or my way home. The upheaval that is taking place in my Church right this minute seems to me to have its root in the abandonment of this Quadrilateral by many who have a much different vision for our future than do I. </div>
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And we are now clearly at a crossroads. Each United Methodist you know is having a struggle right now, no matter where they fall on the spectrum of the issues facing us. We all hold our local churches dear, and nobody wants to walk away from communities that have been part of their lives. </div>
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I'm not going anywhere; not yet. Using the Quadrilateral as my guide, I have come to realize and embrace that throughout time, God has always moved His people from one place to another, all the while knowing full well that they were filled with uncertainty. He's walked His people out of gardens, over flooded earth, through deserts and seas, out of the bellies of beasts, up sorrowful ways, and into the blinding light of transformation. </div>
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The crisis we are facing right now is not one brought about by evil people. It's a matter, I believe, of their deeply held belief that God has <i>ever </i>been content to leave us where we were.</div>
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He is a mover, and a shaker, and in these uncertain times I find myself exhilarated by the notion that He is not done with us yet. </div>
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<br />Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-64317698417664729692019-01-01T12:26:00.000-06:002019-01-01T12:32:45.662-06:00My 2018 Arts and Entertainment in Review<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Books</u></b></div>
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I read 55 books this year. 55% of those read from my Kindle , and about half of those were digitally borrowed from either the <a href="https://www.appl.info/" target="_blank">Autauga-Prattville Public Library </a>($15 a year for out of county membership) or the <a href="https://www.fairfaxcounty.gov/library/" target="_blank">Fairfax Public Library </a>($27 a year for out of state membership). I regret that my local library no longer makes digital downloads available for the Kindle, but I did borrow 5 "real" books from them in 2018. I listened to 12 books this year, the best of which was Jason Reynolds' gut-wrenching, beautiful, provocative, hypnotic reading of his own work, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iF5MRMtpEcI" target="_blank">Long Way Down</a>. This is a novel in verse that I believe <i>should </i>listened to, because the sense of immediacy, the emotional wallop, is made even more profound in the hearing of the story.<br />
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I ditched 7 books last year, and gave too many of those significantly more rope than they deserved. So, I'll be going back to my 75 page rule for 2019. (I'm not kidding when I tell you I got fully 2/3 of the way through one of those books before breaking up with it.)<br />
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76% of my reading was fiction, and as top heavy as that number is, it it much, much improved from years past.<br />
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The following books got 5 star reviews from me in 2018. The only criteria I really have to give a book 5 stars is that when I finished reading (or listening to) it, I wanted to go grab somebody and make them read it, too. These are listed in the order in which I read them. (Hyperlinks go to my Goodreads reviews.)<br />
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2255154212?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Burning Bright: Stories </a>(Ron Rash) </div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2265231848" target="_blank">Destiny of the Republic</a> (Candace Millard, read by Paul Michael)</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2283075208?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Hannah Coulter </a>(Wendell Berry)</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2321963799" target="_blank">Long Way Down</a> (Written and read by Jason Reynolds)</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2329458269" target="_blank">I'll Be Gone in the Dark</a> (Michelle McNamara, read by Gabra Zackman) </div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2366347721" target="_blank">Odd Girl Out: My Extraordinary Autistic Life </a>(Laura James) </div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2349117433" target="_blank">Bone Music</a> (Christoper Rice)</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2454352657" target="_blank">The Buddha in the Attic</a> (Julie Otsuka) </div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2244112873" target="_blank">The Punishment She Deserves</a> (Elizabeth George, read by Simon Vance) </div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2251869355" target="_blank">The Chalk Man</a> (C.J. Tudor)</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1958047947" target="_blank">A Duty to the Dead </a>(Charles Todd)</div>
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<b><u>Movies</u></b></div>
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I saw 19 movies on the big screen in 2018. Favorites (linked here to their trailers) were: </div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNi_HC839Wo" target="_blank">Lady Bird</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtJ60u7SUSw" target="_blank">Darkest Hour</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjDjIWPwcPU" target="_blank">Black Panther</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhwktRDG_aQ" target="_blank">Won't You Be My Neighbor</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZS5d9l8XL0" target="_blank">Green Book</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrabKK9Bhds" target="_blank">They Shall Not Grow Old</a></div>
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<b><u>Live Theatre</u></b></div>
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We saw 11 plays this year; 10 at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival, and one at Birmingham Jefferson Civic Center. The highlights were these: </div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uszndr9_M5o" target="_blank">Fly </a> (ASF)</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pgZtzDj_7o" target="_blank">Lion King</a> (BJCC)</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYW5J2aYBVo" target="_blank">Annie</a> (ASF)</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9ZiGVnK4vw" target="_blank">Every Brilliant Thing</a> (ASF)</div>
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Gospel of Luke (ASF) - Note: I could not find a video clip that did it justice in any way, but if you ever have the opportunity to see Bruce Kuhn perform this where you are, <i>go. </i></div>
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<b><u>Music</u></b></div>
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I attended 5 live musical performances this year, which included organ concerts and performances by the <a href="http://www.montgomerychorale.org/Montgomery_Chorale/Home.html" target="_blank">Montgomery Chorale</a>. I enjoyed them all, but if I could have one experience over again, it would be the Total Praise concert performed by the Chorale at Hutchinson Missionary Baptist Church. Not only was the music outstanding, it was true community experience, and one that I hope will be built upon in years to come. My hometown seems split down the middle in so many ways, and music - as it did in this instance - has the power to begin to knock those barriers down. </div>
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<b><u>Television</u></b></div>
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The biggest news here is that we finally let go of cable TV and now subscribe to Hulu Live, which includes every one of the networks (both live and archived) and most of the cable channels we particularly liked. The notable exception is BBC America, but the shows that my husband likes there that can only be watched there is also available for purchase via iTunes. That aside, we haven't missed a thing, including college football even when it's on some of the outlier channels. </div>
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But our favorite "new" thing is the monthly subscription we have to Acorn TV, which is a streaming service featuring mostly British series, both new and old. We have finished all seasons of the quirky Australian series <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFpNrsGHxJA" target="_blank">800 Words</a>, and are currently enjoying working our way through <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33XatWuJH70" target="_blank">Foyle's War</a>, the remarkably stunning and unusual <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5CuKVbg7UQ%27" target="_blank">Suspects</a>, and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9_lAFLVqME" target="_blank">No Offense</a>, which made us laugh about all manner of terribly inappropriate things through all the currently available seasons. I have marked my calendar for later in January, when a new season begins. </div>
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We treated ourselves to a total binge of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBgzdzrlA-Y" target="_blank">Doc Martin</a> via Netflix and were bereft when we got completely caught up, because the new season won't be around for nearly another year. </div>
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Notable documentaries, also watched via Netflix were <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bvv97sCcruY" target="_blank">The Staircase</a>, and the utterly heartbreaking <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJDGZeu378Q" target="_blank">God Knows Where I Am</a>. </div>
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*****</div>
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<b>What were YOUR favorites? </b></div>
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<br />Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-11616923478805330182018-08-11T11:52:00.002-05:002018-08-11T11:58:52.506-05:00Don't be still, my heart.It was July 26, and it was a quiet day at work. In fact, there were just two of us in the office that afternoon, and while both Jackie and I had work with which to busy ourselves, none of it was terribly pressing. She and I were visiting in her office when I was suddenly hit with the worst indigestion I'd ever had. I reached for a peppermint from the little candy dish on her desk, where she keeps a steady supply of hard candies for everybody in the office, popped it in my mouth hoping it would ease my discomfort, and went down the hall to my own office.<br />
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Moments later, the discomfort not lessened in the least, I began instead to feel jarring pain under my right shoulder blade, and put my head down on my desk to catch my breath. I was just beginning to sit up again when Jackie showed up at my door, asking if I could answer a question for a donor who was on the line. When I lifted my head a searing pain shot up through my jaw, and I just looked at her and said, "I think I'm having a heart attack." </div>
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I had read articles about how women tend to exhibit vastly different symptoms of cardiac distress than do men, and that the ofttimes much more subtle signs are often brushed off as heartburn, or hot flashes, or dozens of other generalized feelings of being unwell and unsettled. As women, we tend not to want to bother anybody, and surely we don't want to set off alarms only to be embarrassed later when whatever was causing us distress passed of its own accord. </div>
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But sudden onset, radiating pain to the jaw was so often a characteristic, that I just blurted out what I was thinking. Jackie moved quickly to grab the telephone in my office and dialed 911. </div>
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<i><b>And I reached over and hung the phone up. </b></i></div>
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Because I didn't want to be embarrassed if it turned out to be nothing. Because somebody who was in worse shape that I might need them more. Because it was a very inconvenient time for me to have a medical emergency. Because I just did not <i>want</i> to be having a medical emergency. </div>
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It took less than 30 seconds for 911 to call back, however, and in those seconds I had come to my senses and knew I might actually need help. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcEIpxX7w93iLjpXmXw-SkjffmJKWbZOJmpEuCAqgQjoaHjq1UOqaXhhwItj1Wi8uo384NaQFwG2PDY6CBpnaNVniudV-EpIx1oCQDtj-0bnUPFzYA8AXDDeHDB_Omc6Esy9NLmYzuMfIZ/s1600/Parmedics.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcEIpxX7w93iLjpXmXw-SkjffmJKWbZOJmpEuCAqgQjoaHjq1UOqaXhhwItj1Wi8uo384NaQFwG2PDY6CBpnaNVniudV-EpIx1oCQDtj-0bnUPFzYA8AXDDeHDB_Omc6Esy9NLmYzuMfIZ/s320/Parmedics.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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In a flash, paramedics were standing in my office, taking my vital signs, all of which seemed to be just fine. They were actually packing up and I was, as is my wont, rattling on about how silly I felt, but that when that pain in my jaw happened I had panicked. The minute they heard <i>that</i>, out came the leads for an 3-point EKG, and things got a bit real. Reading the results of that first one concerned one of them sufficiently that they called for an ambulance <i>and </i>insisted on doing a 12-point EKG. This pretty much shut me up -- a feat that many people in my life will have difficulty believing. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM1lhF6skpsVyJsEn5RIj_o0QKtDCIHU15YRpt_qfsqbvROVAUcQJoYrRYyHpqapS9M_XRuYS6bUCLb4iray5OSfBAooEUBaKEK0HWUJ4m4VkMkLOObLIye98_Fy5N90CzeMUDRLw0mvGm/s1600/Heartbeat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM1lhF6skpsVyJsEn5RIj_o0QKtDCIHU15YRpt_qfsqbvROVAUcQJoYrRYyHpqapS9M_XRuYS6bUCLb4iray5OSfBAooEUBaKEK0HWUJ4m4VkMkLOObLIye98_Fy5N90CzeMUDRLw0mvGm/s320/Heartbeat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The second EKG seemed to indicate that I was likely fine, but they still advised I jump on the stretcher that was now in the hallway outside my office and let them take me to the hospital. I declined, but did call to make an appointment with my doctor before they left the office. </div>
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I went for blood work the next day, all of which came back utterly normal. Turns out, I am a pretty disgustingly healthy 60 year old woman with a heart rate, blood pressure, and blood oxygen level that others would kill for. No Type 2 Diabetes, every single aspect of my blood chemistry is perfect. I do have a bit of a heart murmur, but it's very boring and nothing that my doctor or I can get worked up about. </div>
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So, why am I telling you all this? Because it <i>could </i>have gone a completely different way, and had that happened, and had I been foolish enough to wave off offers of help, you might be reading my obituary instead of my blog post. </div>
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Here's what I want you -- especially my women friends -- to take away from this:<br />
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Not a single medical professional in this scenario made me feel silly for having had this checked out. Not a single one made me feel like I'd wasted their time. To a one, they all insisted that I (well, my coworker, Jackie) had done exactly the right thing. They all said they'd rather do a dozen calls that turn out to be nothing than to have a single person die because they didn't want to bother anybody. </div>
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Please take this to heart.<i style="font-weight: bold;"> One out of four of you, statistically speaking, will die of heart disease of some sort. </i>While it is true that we are all going to go of something someday, I'm not ready to cede the point just yet, and I don't want you to, either. </div>
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Take care of yourself. Take a walk. Be mindful of how you're fueling your body. Be even more mindful of the hundreds of things you are letting steal your peace. </div>
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And don't be afraid or embarrassed to call for help when you think you might need it. </div>
Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-90354142029562779572018-04-14T10:27:00.003-05:002018-04-14T10:37:57.866-05:00A Word to My Generous FriendsFacebook's new prompt, asking participants there to set up fundraisers in advance of impending birthdays is arguably one of their better "think ups." I've donated modest amounts to a number of my friends' requests, happily. <i>Noblesse oblige</i>, after all.<br />
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I thought I'd join in with my own 60th birthday right around the corner, but I just have too many favorite nonprofits, and since I believe strongly in staying local I thought I might just list those that are of particular interest to me. If you are inclined to make a bit of a gift to any of them, I - and they - would be grateful. Here's the list, in no particular order. If you'll click on the name of the organization, you'll land on their website. Even if giving to any of them right now is not possible, I hope you will take a minute to learn about the amazing things going on in the city I love and in which I am fully invested. </div>
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<a href="https://www.thatsmychildmgm.org/donate/" target="_blank">That's My Child</a></div>
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Please click through the link marked "news" and read the whole story about founder Charles Lee. Don't you ever get "lost in the sauce," folks.</div>
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<a href="http://montgomerychorale.org/Montgomery_Chorale/Make_a_Contribution.html" target="_blank">Montgomery Chorale</a></div>
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Music is metaphor, and this season of the Chorale especially has endeavored to build bridges across this community. This coming weekend they will be presenting the same concert featuring Robert Ray's <b><i>Gospel Mass </i></b>in two different venues, on two different days. I'll be attending the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1671719019582732/" target="_blank">Friday night performance</a> at Hutchinson Missionary Baptist Church. I hope to see you there. </div>
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<a href="http://www.fumcmontgomery.org/respite/" target="_blank">Respite Ministry of FUMC</a></div>
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An amazing, God-touched ministry of my church that has engaged the entire community, serving those with Alzheimers and other dementia-related conditions. So remarkable have the results of this been that it is being adopted by households of faith in other cities as well. Donations can be made to them in care of First United Methodist Church, 2416 W. Cloverdale Park, Montgomery, AL 36106</div>
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<a href="http://tsccenter.org/" target="_blank">Samaritan Counseling Center</a></div>
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The SCC made a profound difference to my family during a difficult time. No one should be unable to get mental health or family counseling because they cannot afford it. Donations to SCC make it possible for individuals and families to get the help they need when they need it. </div>
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There are dozens of national organizations that I support, of course, and many of you do as well. These are the ones I am laser-focused on right now. </div>
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<a href="https://secure.actblue.com/donate/everytown-for-gun-safety-support-fund-1?_ga=2.32085630.1559608042.1523717441-948250341.1521295010" target="_blank">Everytown for Gun Safety Support Fund</a></div>
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<a href="https://researchautism.org/" target="_blank">Organization for Autism Research </a></div>
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<a href="https://eji.org/" target="_blank">Equal Justice Initiative</a></div>
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And honestly, giving to any charity of your choice, whether it's in my honor or not, is just the rent we pay for living in this world, so do that. Give to a house of worship in your community that needs your help. Give to a teacher in a local public school who is spending her/his own money to educate the people who will be leading our communities in the future. </div>
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Beyond that, if you are stretched beyond measure and any of that would be a burden on you, don't fret. Here's some other things you can do!</div>
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The next time somebody cuts you off in traffic,<br />
speak a word of peace instead of a word of anger. </div>
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The next time you hear a child having a tantrum in a public place,<br />
speak a word of gentleness to them and their caretaker. </div>
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The next time you want to tell off a waiter, or a retail clerk, or a parent at the ballpark, hold your tongue and remember that day you were struggling with something nobody else knew about and when you might have been at your worst. </div>
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Think before speaking. </div>
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Forgive. </div>
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Find joy in something simple. </div>
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Make your default setting kindness. </div>
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Breathe in. </div>
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Breathe out. </div>
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<a href="https://researchautism.org/" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-39514200486431456522017-12-30T12:28:00.003-06:002017-12-30T12:48:52.911-06:00My Year in Books<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="bmi25" data-offset-key="dmjft-0-0" style="background-color: white;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've crunched numbers this morning, and here's what my 2017 reading habits were:
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I read 62 books (<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> says 63, but it's counting one it shouldn't for reasons I can't quite figure out).</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
88.7% of them were works of fiction, and of those, 30.9% were mysteries/thrillers. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I read 43 books on Kindle (formerly referred to by me as Spawn of the Evil Empire); 9 hardcovers, 2 paperbacks, 4 paperback advance reader copies, and listened to 4 via audiobooks. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
19.3% of these were checked out from from either the <a href="http://mccpl.lib.al.us/" target="_blank">Montgomery City-County Public Library</a> or the <a href="http://www.appl.info/" target="_blank">Autauga-Prattville Public Library</a>, some in hardcover, some in eBook format on my Kindle. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
8 books came to me like manna from the sky: 2 through Goodreads' Giveaway promotions, 5 from <a href="https://www.netgalley.com/" target="_blank">Netgalley</a>, and 1 borrowed from my sister-in-law. </span></span></div>
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I ditched 5 books this year(not included in the above number), 3 of which I intend to put back in rotation for another time. (Sometimes a book doesn't grab you when you grab <i>it)</i>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
The oldest book I read was published in 1911, and the "newest" was an advance copy of one that will be published in 2018. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
My five star books aren't all created equal(ly) well; they just struck me as the best of their sort when I read them, or maybe they were just the right book at the right time, but I believe they are of special merit to most readers. If one isn't comparing genre to genre, there are plenty of four star books that are better (in a critical literary way) than some of those with five stars. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>MY 2017 FIVE STAR READS</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>(The top 5 are linked to my reviews. Other five stars are listed in no particular order.)</i></span></span></div>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1940369865?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine</a> </b>-Gail Honeyman</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2196574227?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and Peoples Temple</a> </b>-Jeff Guinn, read by George Newbern</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2015515062?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank"><b>Fierce Kingdom</b></a> - Gin Phillips</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2178065842?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank"><b>Educated: A Memoir</b></a> - Tara Westover</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1909947878?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">I Liked My Life</a> </b>- Abby Fabiaschi</div>
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<b>Wonder</b> (R.J. Palacio)</div>
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<b>Rage Against the Dying</b> (Becky Masterman)</div>
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<b>Keepers of the House</b> (Shirley Ann Grau)</div>
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<b>The Last Ballad </b>(Wiley Cash)</div>
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<b>The Risen</b> (Ron Rash)</div>
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<b>The Lewis Man</b> (Peter May)</div>
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<b>The Scarred Woman</b> (Jussi Adler-Olsen)</div>
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<b>Robert B. Parker's Little White Lies </b> (Ace Atkins)</div>
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<b>Before the Fall </b>(Noah Hawley)</div>
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<b>The Grownup</b><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Gillian Flynn)</div>
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<b>Olive Kitteridge </b>(Elizabeth Strout)</div>
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<b>MY 2017 FOUR STAR READS</b></div>
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<i>(The "nearly fives" are linked to reviews, listed in no particular order.)</i></div>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1594994435?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Dodgers</a></b><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>- Bill Beverly<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1952821285?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">A Chance in the World<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></a> - </b>Steve Pemberton<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
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<b>The Book Thief </b> (Markus Zusak)<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
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<b>If I Forget You (</b>Thomas Christopher Greene)</div>
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<b>Number the Stars</b><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Lois Lowry)</div>
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<b>Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (</b>Helen Simonson)</div>
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<b>The Best Kind of People (</b>Zoe Whittall)</div>
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<b>I Will Send Rain (</b>Rae Meadows)</div>
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<b>A Morbid Taste for Bones (</b>Ellis Peters)</div>
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<b>The Rules of Magic (</b>Alice Hoffman)</div>
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<b>The Dry</b> (Jane Harper)</div>
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<b>The Time Traveler's Wife </b>(Audrey Niffenegger)</div>
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<b>Eveningland: Stories </b>(Michael Knight)</div>
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<b>Love and Other Consolation Prizes </b>(Jamie Ford)<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
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<b>Fear the Darkness</b> (Becky Masterman)</div>
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<b>Because of Winn-Dixie</b><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Kate DiCamillo)<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
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<b>Edgar & Lucy </b>(Victor Lodato)<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
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<i>I'm currently reading this one, and hope it'll be a great kick off to my list of books read in 2018!</i></div>
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<style type="text/css"><!--td {border: 1px solid #ccc;}br {mso-data-placement:same-cell;}--></style>Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-72949489866495591862017-08-19T13:11:00.002-05:002017-08-19T13:17:38.919-05:00Why I Stood Up<br />
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I take a walk most days, a habit that I hope keeps me at least a bit healthier as I continue to age than I might otherwise be. Research seems to be consistently on the side of this activity even regarding its ability to promote cognitive and emotional well-being. That's certainly been the case for me, I think. My husband can testify that if I take too long a break from my regular walks, I'm a little pricklier than usual. I know I don't cope with stress as well as I used to without my walks. I think it has a lot to do with time spent just letting events and perceptions and new information <i>process</i> correctly in the brain.<br />
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Most of my walks are uneventful, although over the last few years I've had some that stood out. There was the time I got forced off the road by an inattentive motorist and came away with an injury that you're tired of reading about, but which left me forever changed. There was a morning I got cornered by a vicious dog, and couldn't make a move without it lunging at me, and was finally rescued by a couple I know from church. The second (and, likely, last) half marathon I walked concluded with a phone conversation with my mother, which would be the last time I ever heard her voice.<br />
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I took another walk last week that will always stand out for me. It was a walk up Montgomery's historic Dexter Avenue, from the Court Square Fountain that exists in close proximity to what was once Montgomery's slave market, past the Winter building from whence the telegram instructing Gen. Beauregard to fire on Ft. Sumter on April 11, 1861 was sent, past the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church that houses the pulpit from which Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., preached a message of peaceful resistance, to the steps of the Alabama Capitol building. At the top of that staircase is a star marking the spot where Jefferson Davis was sworn in as president of the Confederate States of America. I didn't need the reminder, but it is very true that no matter where you stand in downtown Montgomery, you stand on ground that was part of this country's darkest moments in history, as well as some that shone so bright they changed the world.<br />
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Last Sunday, August 13, I woke after a night of literal tossing and turning in bed. I don't often let what's happened in the world invade my sleep, but I could not shake the vision of scores of angry fellow citizens who assembled in Charlottesville, Virginia, some dressed in Nazi attire and sporting an assortment of firearms and combat gear, others waving the flag of the Confederacy, shouting that they intended to take back America. As horribly distressing as it was to hear about -- and then see footage of -- one of their sympathizers driving his car down a street crowded with people who were there to counter the protest with their own, striking and killing a woman and injuring scores of others, that's not what kept me awake. What kept me awake were the faces of raw hatred, no longer even concerned that they should hide those faces under sheets. What kept me awake was the tepid response of the President. What kept me awake was the support his response received from <i>people I know. </i><br />
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When I got out of bed Sunday morning, I opened Facebook and saw that there was a walk planned for that evening up Dexter Avenue. I checked the box saying I'd participate. After I had a cup of coffee and made plans to head to church I had begun to think maybe I wouldn't. I noticed that some groups whose agendas I can't really endorse were taking part, and began to worry that the focus of the walk would be lessened by a barrage of side issues (albeit issues that deserve attention). <br />
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I just wanted to walk because, as I went to bed Saturday night with the pictures of those Nazi flags in America in my head, I kept asking myself, "Where were the good Germans? Who were they? What did they do?" Surely there were activists among them, but for the most part I think they probably did what I usually do: they assumed that the movement they were witnessing was confined to a few loud people with an oddly charismatic leader. They assumed that the ideas they were hearing were so counter to human decency they'd not take hold. They allowed themselves not to wonder what might happen if they decided to just ignore it and hope it would die down on its own.<br />
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And then they were helpless to stop it, afraid to resist it, and became, by their silence, complicit in what is arguably the most wretched episode in the modern history of the Western world.<br />
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So, after a little more thought and prayer, and hearing my preacher's impassioned sermon calling us to "get out of the boat," I decided I would follow through. I was proud that my sons and my husband agreed to go, as well. So very, very proud.<br />
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The event was just as billed. There were folks from all walks of life, it seemed to me, about 150 of us (which is huge for what is ordinarily a pretty apathetic populace), mostly white. Some of the crowd wore shirts or buttons indicating their affiliation with various groups. My own "badge" was my t-shirt emblazoned with a quotation from 1 Corinthians ("Love never fails") and a cross around my neck, hoping to serve as witness for those who have come to believe otherwise, that there are still those of us for whom being a Christian means you'll know us by our love. When, at the terminus of the walk, people were invited to speak their minds, the messages never devolved into screed, never called for violence, never suggested anybody take up arms, never mentioned the president's name, never ridiculed people because of their political party or faith.<br />
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I am sure there were plenty of folks there whose causes I don't support, but that ultimately made no difference to me. I took that walk in opposition to those who espouse cleansing of our nation until it fits their narrow, hateful vision of who is fit to be an American. I will walk abreast of anyone who feels the same way.<br />
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There was no singing, no "We Shall Overcome." Instead, we were encouraged to walk with people we didn't know. A young black man and I talked most of the way. He's not from here, and was surprised to know that I was born and raised here. He admitted to me that he came to Montgomery with a pretty firmly held idea that if you were a white person raised in the South, you were a racist, even if you were polite about it. I pointed out to him along the way the church my great-grandparents attended, which is across the street from Dr. King's church. My roots run deep here. I love my hometown. I want <i>him </i>to love my hometown.<br />
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I walked because I needed something to <i>do </i>with my outrage. After nearly a week's reflection, I'm left with nothing more articulate to say about why I took part than what a friend said about her experience.<br />
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<i>"I don't show up thinking I will change the world by being there. I just hope somebody looks up and says "look at that nice old lady up there standing for what she believes. Maybe that's not such a bad idea!!"</i><br />
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-6551030190738368062017-03-26T08:53:00.001-05:002017-03-26T08:53:49.307-05:00Best Stuff This WeekSpring showed up on the calendar this week, folks! Spring typically hangs around Montgomery for about 47 minutes, and then we just dive right on in to summer. But those 47 minutes are <i>grand. </i><br />
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<i>*****</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1C-9NEmyYXH5_NIEPs6MhL1TiA8tvtSvkXxjl61h18-ZgUHhbmLP8C02m6rGNSZtHtM5uMPicdarqc-eOpP1RA-Qy3OaXuP80vEaqv4jHxAg0CemyEX-8wQXTQ9Lz5JRW0KBbv_SHPX7J/s1600/325+Zoo+Membership.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1C-9NEmyYXH5_NIEPs6MhL1TiA8tvtSvkXxjl61h18-ZgUHhbmLP8C02m6rGNSZtHtM5uMPicdarqc-eOpP1RA-Qy3OaXuP80vEaqv4jHxAg0CemyEX-8wQXTQ9Lz5JRW0KBbv_SHPX7J/s200/325+Zoo+Membership.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
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One of the surest ways that we know it's spring in <i>our</i> household is when our new <a href="http://montgomeryzoo.com/memberships.html" target="_blank">zoo membership </a>cards arrive in the mail. I am not kidding you when I tell you that this is the best investment we make every year.<i> </i>If you have kids or grandkids -- even if your grandchildren only visit a couple times a year -- you won't find a better value anywhere. I mean it. Our grandchildren have been utterly delighted by the new ringtail lemurs, and I am just holding my breath waiting for Stingray Bay to open!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypDIjvrpDaQnuCHYkhJNOk4aSzz5SvyKEiztdIXsivgBUwlVAPnObGD9rJvGeCSGLW8dVP_uLFb5M0NOOmmYFbBm-ad2x9yZOxxRWAnAvbQ9IRHZpQvvPGCaOSKauVWIsc3BfT2Y6GGpC/s1600/325+book+win.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypDIjvrpDaQnuCHYkhJNOk4aSzz5SvyKEiztdIXsivgBUwlVAPnObGD9rJvGeCSGLW8dVP_uLFb5M0NOOmmYFbBm-ad2x9yZOxxRWAnAvbQ9IRHZpQvvPGCaOSKauVWIsc3BfT2Y6GGpC/s320/325+book+win.jpg" width="320" /></a>I never, ever, ever win <i>anything</i>. Well, that's not exactly true, but I so <i><b>seldom</b></i> win anything that I can be forgiven for forgetting that it happened before it happens again. I'm using <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/" target="_blank">Goodreads </a>to keep track of my reading these days, and especially to keep track of books I <i>want </i>to read. That's something I didn't really have to do much of all those years when my job including being the the same room with books every weekday. I mean, my TBR list was just <i>there. </i>One of the cool features of Goodreads is that once you've marked a book as something you want to read, you begin to get notices of giveaways. It's really simple to enter, and of course the odds are usually pretty slim that you'll get one of, say, 10 copies of a book when 2,257 people have signed up for the same giveaway, but it does happen, and here's proof. </div>
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I hope you can make out the hawk in this photograph. I had gone to feed my boss' dogs for her this morning, and on my way back saw this magnificent creature perched on the fence around the high school's parking lot that's near my home. I couldn't believe it was so still, and turned around to go back to find it still there. What I'd missed on the first pass was that the mate had just made a kill, to which it was attending on the ground. I really do geek out over this stuff, y'all, but then I was raised on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGMf4QQdI9c" target="_blank">Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom</a> and I still miss Marlin Perkins, who outgeeked every present day geek there is. If you'll click on that hyperlink, you'll see a particularly harrowing episode of that great show. But come back afterwards or I will just be <i>crushed. </i></div>
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This was another sign of spring I discovered today. The tiller came out and this guy is getting around to do his planting. I'm not sure what's going in those beds this year, but I do hope I'll have some vote. I need cucumbers. I really get to craving them this time of year, and I eat 'em whole. They are really good for you, and if you have any doubt about that at all, watch <i>this. </i></div>
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Note: When I posted this video, I couldn't help but notice that the screen shot is of Macka B. holding up some okra, which I also hope makes it into this year's garden. Just in case anybody's with a tiller is paying attention.....</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6z-Xjna_U2W5IvVG6nsdnqqhnLMWTRta5YmdwHQS8Jx4tygg902r4SO7fuhh9fVX6qmjrRzfdac5lQ6ZrbAP2HiJ9_ykdY92fFWW68BADk0K0tplvLVi0v6gQf3xdrMuITnG91Mpkc4x/s1600/325+cultural+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6z-Xjna_U2W5IvVG6nsdnqqhnLMWTRta5YmdwHQS8Jx4tygg902r4SO7fuhh9fVX6qmjrRzfdac5lQ6ZrbAP2HiJ9_ykdY92fFWW68BADk0K0tplvLVi0v6gQf3xdrMuITnG91Mpkc4x/s320/325+cultural+park.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #0000ee;">I'm<span style="color: #0000ee;"> also out walking again, a<span style="color: #0000ee;">fter<span style="color: #0000ee;"> a hiatus that has lasted too long<span style="color: #0000ee;">. Part of that is <span style="color: #0000ee;">down to <span style="color: #0000ee;">having really zapped my ankle back in the fall and the impossibly long time <span style="color: #0000ee;">it<span style="color: #0000ee;">'s taken to trul<span style="color: #0000ee;">y get it healed again<span style="color: #0000ee;">, but it's at least 95%, and I <span style="color: #0000ee;">expect that's as good <span style="color: #0000ee;">as<span style="color: #0000ee;"> it's going to get<span style="color: #0000ee;">. You work with what you have, <span style="color: #0000ee;">and decide that it <span style="color: #0000ee;">doesn't matter if you'<span style="color: #0000ee;">ve gotten fat again (don't argue wi<span style="color: #0000ee;">t<span style="color: #0000ee;">h<span style="color: #0000ee;"> me about that - I am owning <span style="color: #0000ee;">it<span style="color: #0000ee;"> <span style="color: #0000ee;">an<span style="color: #0000ee;">d namin<span style="color: #0000ee;">g it<span style="color: #0000ee;">). Working with what I have, where I am<span style="color: #0000ee;"> means my walks aren<span style="color: #0000ee;">'<span style="color: #0000ee;">t particularly challenging, <span style="color: #0000ee;">and the best part of them is heading out to see what there is to see again.<span style="color: #0000ee;"> Yesterday I <span style="color: #0000ee;">op<span style="color: #0000ee;">ted to head out to the <a href="http://www.funinmontgomery.com/parks-items/blount-cultural-park" target="_blank">Bl</a><span style="color: #0000ee;"><a href="http://www.funinmontgomery.com/parks-items/blount-cultural-park" target="_blank">ount Cultural Park</a><span style="color: #0000ee;">, where I used to get a fabulous car<span style="color: #0000ee;">dio workout taking <span style="color: #0000ee;">the "big hill" on the other <span style="color: #0000ee;">side of the footbridge. I <span style="color: #0000ee;">wasn't plan<span style="color: #0000ee;">ning on doing that yesterday beca<span style="color: #0000ee;">use<span style="color: #0000ee;"> <span style="color: #0000ee;">I know I'm too out o<span style="color: #0000ee;">f shape, but when <span style="color: #0000ee;">I saw th<span style="color: #0000ee;">at the footbridge was c<span style="color: #0000ee;">losed I was bum<span style="color: #0000ee;">med! I hope it's a te<span style="color: #0000ee;">mporary thing, but the setting is still so pretty. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbtGexqAxUxG6b6U4SQnb4P8l5wlMsm4U9n_9pWY3YtZsEtO1pfFqged38-Ii8LoDK4UmORtBi3-OCBzx-UffclXYVCoAP0BpLCAjTbnrnsWrHGof7q6qTGMDelXdDf7p2kLmjEY3Be0wk/s1600/325+ida+belle+ducks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbtGexqAxUxG6b6U4SQnb4P8l5wlMsm4U9n_9pWY3YtZsEtO1pfFqged38-Ii8LoDK4UmORtBi3-OCBzx-UffclXYVCoAP0BpLCAjTbnrnsWrHGof7q6qTGMDelXdDf7p2kLmjEY3Be0wk/s320/325+ida+belle+ducks.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;">A<span style="color: #0000ee;">fter one</span></span> short lap at Bl<span style="color: #0000ee;">ount<span style="color: #0000ee;">, <span style="color: #0000ee;">I <span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;">decided to <span style="color: #0000ee;">c<span style="color: #0000ee;">heck out<a href="http://www.funinmontgomery.com/parks-items/ida-belle-young-park" target="_blank"> Id</a><span style="color: #0000ee;"><a href="http://www.funinmontgomery.com/parks-items/ida-belle-young-park" target="_blank">a Belle Young Park</a><span style="color: #0000ee;"> again. It provides a <span style="color: #0000ee;">well-maintained </span>flat <span style="color: #0000ee;">walking track, and in<span style="color: #0000ee;">t<span style="color: #0000ee;">eresting glimpses at how nature gets alon<span style="color: #0000ee;">g with<span style="color: #0000ee;">out us<span style="color: #0000ee;">. <span style="color: #0000ee;">In the streams that run through it, which s<span style="color: #0000ee;">erve as a filtr<span style="color: #0000ee;">ation system <span style="color: #0000ee;">and are th<span style="color: #0000ee;">erefore horribly littered<span style="color: #0000ee;">, I spied several sets of nesting ducks and geese. <span style="color: #0000ee;">The other thing I <span style="color: #0000ee;">spied there were children on the playground <span style="color: #0000ee;">with t<span style="color: #0000ee;">heir parents -- all of <span style="color: #0000ee;">whom<span style="color: #0000ee;"> were ta<span style="color: #0000ee;">lking on their cellphones. Every single one of them. I <span style="color: #0000ee;">can't <span style="color: #0000ee;">go t<span style="color: #0000ee;">o<span style="color: #0000ee;">tally old-fog<span style="color: #0000ee;">ey on that<span style="color: #0000ee;">, but I would <span style="color: #0000ee;">very <span style="color: #0000ee;">much wish those you<span style="color: #0000ee;">n<span style="color: #0000ee;">g parents could know <span style="color: #0000ee;">how fast these days will be in the rearv<span style="color: #0000ee;">iew mirro<span style="color: #0000ee;">r, with no way to go back. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;">*****</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;">Before I go from preachin' to meddlin<span style="color: #0000ee;">, it's time t<span style="color: #0000ee;">o stop and smell my own ro<span style="color: #0000ee;">se<span style="color: #0000ee;">, </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #0000ee;">de<span style="color: #0000ee;">livered to m<span style="color: #0000ee;">e yesterday from my back yard by my gardener. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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And finally, this. This is the reason I write this blog, really. It's for the people I'll be part of who'll never know me, but who might find themselves curious about me somewhere down the road. </div>
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<b>WHAT I FINISHED READING THIS WEEK</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33880803-rage-against-the-dying">Rage Against the Dying</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5709381.Becky_Masterman">Becky Masterman </a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1943977207">5 of 5 stars</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Read on Kindle </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Ex-FBI agent Brigid Quinn, in less talented hands than Becky Masterman, would have been the worst kind of caricature, but Masterman clearly figured out how to exercise the sort of restraint that would keep that from happening. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33880803-rage-against-the-dying" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Rage Against the Dying" border="0" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1484671004m/33880803.jpg" /></a>Quinn has given up her career and married a gentle, widowed, retired priest, whose house<i>"came with a set of Pugs, which are sort of a cross between Peter Lorre and a bratwurst."</i> When, however, she is made aware that a man has confessed to being the serial killer suspected of being responsible for the disappearance of Quinn's protege years before, she gets caught up in the investigation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is not a novel for the squeamish, but if you've got marginally thicker skin there is so much here to really get excited about. Quinn is 58 (like me!) and she's kick-ass tough trying hard to soften her hard edges because she loves her husband so and wants this very different life to work out for herself. </span><br />
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<b>WHAT I'M READING NOW: </b></div>
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1965 Pulitzer Prize Winner <b>The Keepers of the House </b>by Shirley Ann Grau</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>One final note. I have no idea why some of the text showed up blue. I've tried to fix it five times. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Life's too short to go for number six. </i></span></div>
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-72033945158513911182017-03-19T11:23:00.002-05:002017-03-19T11:23:50.673-05:00Week(s) in Review<i>Oh, I know. I missed a week. Things got a bit hairy around here last weekend, and my attention was divided in too many ways. By the way, if you really want to experience the feeling of utter humility, let a scheduled blog post go missing. Prepare yourself to hear a whole lot of this: </i><br />
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Anyway, this one will be fast and furious and to the point since there's so much catching up to do. <br />
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After a spate of spring-like days, I decided it was time to break out the sandals again. That means it's time to <i>expose feet</i> again, and mine were looking pretty rough. I treated myself to a pedicure a week ago Friday...... after which our temps plummeted again for another week of winter.<br />
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We took Jimmy and Rosemary to the zoo last Saturday to celebrate Zoo Weekend. It was a madhouse, but a happy one.<br />
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We even braved the playground area in order to get to the petting zoo so they could pet all the soft, furry animals.<br />
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Jimmy made a bee-line for the tortoise, and as you can tell, offered the poor fellow some directions on how he might best escape the crowds. <br />
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The zoo offered pony rides. Nothing doing.<br />
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Girl had to ride the camel. </div>
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I attended my Little Old Lady Literary Luncheon this week. The table arrangements were simple and quite lovely. When I got up close to this one I discovered that the arranger had used dried split peas to stick those roses and tulips in. I have <i>no-zip-zero-nada </i>esthetic abilities, so this sort of thing just amazes me. </div>
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Oh, let me back up to that whole zoo thing for a second. You might remember that I keep a pseudo-journal on my desk in the home office. I write notes like "got pedicure yesterday, but too cold to bare toes today -- bummer." You might also remember that Rosemary sneaks into my office at every opportunity, and that she has discovered my journal. She left a little Valentine message a few weeks ago, you might recall, but this time what cracked me up (and warmed my heart during this past week's cold snap) was discovering that she'd taken it upon herself to journal our zoo visit to save me the trouble. </div>
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We ended our week going to the rodeo last night, which was always a huge deal when I was growing up. My Grandpappy (who was inducted, posthumously, into the Alabama Cattleman's Hall of Fame in 2001) was a world-famous auctioneer. He died just before I turned nine years old, but to this day, because of the trips I took with him to the stockyards, the earthy-clean smell of dirt and animals summons the feeling that he is very much still a presence in my life. Henry and I used to take the boys when they were little, but we haven't gone ourselves in a number of years. It didn't take me 30 seconds after entering Garrett Coliseum to feel like a kid again. I want to come back as a barrel rider in my next life. I want to know what it feels like to be in control of that much beautiful power, that much speed. I cannot imagine anything more thrilling. </div>
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The week for our Rosemary ended with <i>her</i> experiencing a pretty big thrill. She and her Mama and little brother went on a camping trip with their Granna and Papa Marsh, where she caught her first fish! It was kind of a big deal, as you can plainly tell. I'm so grateful for modern technology - this is a moment her Pop and I were thrilled to be able to witness. </div>
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BOOKS I'VE FINISHED</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13510287-wonder" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Wonder" border="0" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1330839258m/13510287.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13510287-wonder">Wonder</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4859212.R_J_Palacio">R.J. Palacio</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1932051240">5 of 5 stars</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Sometimes the hype is <i>true</i>! I cannot wait until my grandchildren get to read this story about being different, and loving people who are. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Like all really great books for kids, this one works because, at its heart, it's about just how tough and glorious just being a kid can be. There are universal themes: being the new kid at school, the weird push and pull of not being a <i>little</i> kid anymore but not <i>quite</i> being ready to let go of that... all of that. </span><br />
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/94177.Garnethill" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Garnethill (Garnethill #1)" border="0" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1314622660m/94177.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/94177.Garnethill">Garnethill</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/54069.Denise_Mina">Denise Mina</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1597746584">3 of 5 stars</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This first-in-a-series had been on my TBR list for a long time. I jumped through lots of hoops to get my hands on a copy: the person I just <i>knew</i> had a copy was in the middle of a move and couldn't put her hands on it, the local library didn't have a copy, it wasn't available for Kindle download, and I am on a "book diet" trying only to buy bound copies when it's a book I am certain I want to have in my home library. I finally found a used copy on sale, and bit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Quite a mixed bag for me: strong start, enough interest to read the second in the series, and probably only disappointed because of heightened expectations I had for it. </span><br />
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31287352-in-farleigh-field" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="In Farleigh Field: A Novel of World War II" border="0" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1475508563m/31287352.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31287352-in-farleigh-field">In Farleigh Field: A Novel of World War II</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/202867.Rhys_Bowen">Rhys Bowen</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1934551187">3 of 5 stars</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Actual rating: 3.5 stars </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I chose this one because it was offered at a discount to download to my Kindle, and Rhys Bowen is an author with whom I was familiar, although I'd never read one of her books. One of my old bookselling saws is that there are great writers and there are great storytellers. Even when a writer is only <i>one</i> of those, I find their books well worth my time, and this novel was certainly that. Bowen is a solid writer, and a very good storyteller. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Set during WWII, when the German invasion of England was imminent, there were a group of British citizens who cooperated with the Germans. They weren't Nazi sympathizers, they were (in their view) pragmatists who didn't want their country's architectural and national treasures destroyed by bombing. It is from this piece of history that Bowen weaves her tale.There are many elements in this story that readers looking for different things can get hooked on: wartime romance, spies, the ongoing fascination that Americans have with the British aristocracy, and Bowen manages them all with nary a misstep. There were a couple of wild leaps, but hey!, it's fiction. Altogether an enjoyable way to spend a few hours. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.toms.com/women/embroidered-music-note-womens-classic-alpargatas?utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=Bing+Shopping&utm_content=c7AWa54F|pcrid|11642607004|pkw||pmt||&utm_term=1100005380627" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">What I'm Obsessing Over Right Now</span></a></div>
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-77792683166278220722017-03-05T07:15:00.001-06:002017-03-05T11:04:05.486-06:00The Weekly Whatever<div style="text-align: center;">
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My husband traveled to New Orleans this week, in time to celebrate Mardi Gras, although he was busy working the whole time he was there. Of course, while he was there, he suddenly remembered that he had a Twitter account <i>and</i> that his phone could be used as a camera <i>and </i>that those two things could work together.... just about the time I'd decided that, bless his heart, he was probably holed up in his hotel room wishing I were there with him. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6jaOk_i3-1y8AFx5STKzMHBqvqC2eaVl7aHqTcApnnTxxRdTYaqgnCPVrsnJexZDVSHqQ0MgKZGa-ZgarE-4VKzmfS23QNtepW6YvwVbyLnZCLFEyxFa07BdSDNs8v_Vz7x6rFBNJiya/s1600/Henry+at+Mardi+Gras.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6jaOk_i3-1y8AFx5STKzMHBqvqC2eaVl7aHqTcApnnTxxRdTYaqgnCPVrsnJexZDVSHqQ0MgKZGa-ZgarE-4VKzmfS23QNtepW6YvwVbyLnZCLFEyxFa07BdSDNs8v_Vz7x6rFBNJiya/s320/Henry+at+Mardi+Gras.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;"><b>UH HUH. </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNu7ZQZzrcc9a6HSMhFFt7f6UR4STjeTSdEE9e2rgoVFh3Tjuk-09HEI2nwuzQ198mvq8GF2TqZ81TprlkdwVUUFWDhhyphenhyphen3T7odg_6Cq29p3y0zPLiX_AOhoqG1A-MNuLvxUDnE1XSGOoSe/s1600/Mardi+Gras+Beads.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNu7ZQZzrcc9a6HSMhFFt7f6UR4STjeTSdEE9e2rgoVFh3Tjuk-09HEI2nwuzQ198mvq8GF2TqZ81TprlkdwVUUFWDhhyphenhyphen3T7odg_6Cq29p3y0zPLiX_AOhoqG1A-MNuLvxUDnE1XSGOoSe/s320/Mardi+Gras+Beads.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Meanwhile, back at the office..... </div>
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No holiday goes unobserved at the office, and Fat Tuesday was no exception. The table on the Board room was covered with beads, and there was a box of these beautiful iced cookies from <a href="http://www.ligersgood.com/" target="_blank">Ligers Bakery</a>, <i>and </i>a King Cake. It was almost <i>exactly </i>like being in NOLA, less the opportunity to wake with a hangover on the first day of Lent. </div>
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One hears lots of music when one is in New Orleans, but I'm betting you cannot find a 7 year old girl dressed as her favorite Pokemon character Pikachu practicing Tchaikovsky's <i>1812 Overture </i>when you're there. </div>
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.<b><i>.. and if there is music there should always be dancing. </i></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymWvG8opLPrRWSw72WKyTdvfWXLaIYRFjfH8r_DGjPvMU_CMREo0nYEnQ_EyLqdK0Ma_1UxVjevrEE4jB9bo89X5_dx1klLFUIy_YfTmnQDnaQLBXbhn9dbw37-5oMNCcIC0szay-4862/s1600/Tom+and+Sarah%252C+and+that+dance..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymWvG8opLPrRWSw72WKyTdvfWXLaIYRFjfH8r_DGjPvMU_CMREo0nYEnQ_EyLqdK0Ma_1UxVjevrEE4jB9bo89X5_dx1klLFUIy_YfTmnQDnaQLBXbhn9dbw37-5oMNCcIC0szay-4862/s320/Tom+and+Sarah%252C+and+that+dance..JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I have recently been in touch with my second cousin, Kitty. Our grandmothers were sisters. We've been exchanging old family photographs and filling in blanks for one another over the course of the last couple weeks, via email, so I decided to reopen an old valise that belonged to my grandmother, which contains a world of old letters, a scrapbook, and loads of pictures. Within the scrapbook I found this charming little bit of newsworthy gossip pertaining to my grandparents, Tom and Sarah McCord, and their behavior on the dance floor. Not only did this delight me to know, it delights me that my Nannaw carefully preserved it, and that it remained in this valise as a treasure for me to find. </span></div>
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<i><span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;"><b>*****</b></span></i></div>
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On Friday night, Henry and I began to work through our DVR queue and watched the episode of <b><i>This Is Us</i></b> in which Randall and his biological father William go on a road trip that becomes, quite literally, the journey of a lifetime. Let me just say this: I cry at the drop of a hat, so that's never a good gauge for anyone to use to judge what sort of emotional wallop a book, movie, TV show, or Coca-cola commercial might have on them. But honey? This particular episode threw me right into the sort of cathartic cry I haven't had in years, the kind that you're pretty sure -- if you went and got on the scales when it was finished-- would have meant you'd lost weight. </div>
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And, by the way, if you aren't watching <b><i><a href="http://www.nbc.com/this-is-us?nbc=1" target="_blank">This Is Us</a></i></b>, I'm not sure how we can remain friends. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9cFNeUXRqcDw0v9xJJNl0P7jHzYLaNnfP-wMmqfLj0MQ7PkaZEikJuDo5tebx1hUXIFgOBchpn0ACca7HLWx5plMiWiyDEzGUOkZqO89UIuTud5XXMUKJbsBJ0PIbXe3qmYndMoy5vTY/s1600/City+of+Dreams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9cFNeUXRqcDw0v9xJJNl0P7jHzYLaNnfP-wMmqfLj0MQ7PkaZEikJuDo5tebx1hUXIFgOBchpn0ACca7HLWx5plMiWiyDEzGUOkZqO89UIuTud5XXMUKJbsBJ0PIbXe3qmYndMoy5vTY/s320/City+of+Dreams.jpg" width="240" /></a>It's been a long week for this girl, and a couple hours before I picked her up for the ballet, she and her Mama made it home from a road trip to Texas. Her great grandfather, Jack Hanifan,was laid to rest just a couple days ago. I only met him once, when he was in town to see his granddaughter marry my son a decade ago, but I will never forget the sparkle in his eye, and the way he looked at his granddaughter when he saw her in her wedding dress for the first time. He was 92, and he had lived well, and was loved even better. </div>
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The ballet, a series of vignettes featuring the Disney Princesses (Aurora, Jasmine, Pocahantas, and Belle), was an enchanting presentation by the wonderful dancers of the <a href="http://www.alabamadancetheatre.com/" target="_blank">Alabama Dance Theatre</a>. Rosemary enjoyed it, and loved meeting the dancers (in full costume) afterwards, but she was just pooped. She wanted to walk down to the Court Square to see the fountain afterwards, and we did, but by the time we'd perambulated the couple blocks between the theatre and Court Square, she was <i>done, </i>just like this week's edition. </div>
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<b>Books I Finished This Week:</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30211957-the-sleepwalker" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="The Sleepwalker" border="0" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1473761116m/30211957.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://mccpl.lib.al.us/" target="_blank">Borrowed from public library</a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30211957-the-sleepwalker">The Sleepwalker</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3509.Chris_Bohjalian">Chris Bohjalian</a><br />
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1870019129">2 of 5 stars</a><br />
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I picked this one for a couple reasons: I have never been able to get his powerful novel, <b>Midwives</b> off my mind, and because one of my children was, for about an year-long period in his life, a sleepwalker. His were not benign midnight rambles: he suffered night terrors which, frankly, terrified me and my husband as well. They finally ended the way they'd begun: abruptly and with no explanation, even to this day. (Read the rest of my review by clicking <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1870019129?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">HERE</a>.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8049561-major-pettigrew-s-last-stand" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Major Pettigrew's Last Stand" border="0" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1377138529m/8049561.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8049561-major-pettigrew-s-last-stand">Major Pettigrew's Last Stand</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2995577.Helen_Simonson">Helen Simonson</a><br />
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1918686079">4 of 5 stars</a><br />
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Look, I'm not going to spend tons of time reviewing this book. It's another of those that everybody read when it first came out, and it had been on my TBR list for a long, long time. So here's my review: <br />
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This is a lovely, lovely novel, and you should absolutely make time to read it. <br />
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Favorite passage: <span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 16px;"><i>“Oh, it’s simple pragmatism, Dad. It’s called the real world. If we refused to do business with the morally questionable, the deal volume would drop in half and the good guys like us would end up poor. Then where would we all be?” “On a nice dry spit of land known as the moral high ground?” suggested the Major.</i></span><br />
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<b>What I'm reading now: </b></div>
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Garnethill by Denise Mina (bound book)</div>
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Wonder by R.J. Palacio (Kindle)</div>
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<br />Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-10797113871167305822017-02-26T08:54:00.002-06:002017-02-26T08:54:39.027-06:00Weekly Roundup <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The week started off with another <a href="https://www.facebook.com/cacfinfo/" target="_blank">CACF</a> staff Surprise Grant trip to the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Childrens-Center-Adult-Program-CCAP-243475489034799/" target="_blank">Children's Center Adult Program (CCAP)</a>. We got to tour the campus, tucked away just on the outskirts of Downtown Montgomery. The clients, all young adults with severe physical and/or mental disabilities, benefit from the passion of the staff and volunteers who provide an amazing array of activities. I spent most of my time in the art room, where I was intoxicated by the energy of the instructor and the clients who were taking her class. Art has a way of triggering reflection, and that was certainly the case for me. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artwork by the clients at CCAP</td></tr>
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When I asked the instructor to talk to me about the art projects I saw displayed on the walls, she started with this one. You know how you do those things: you plunk some paint on one side of a piece of paper, then fold the paper. What you get, when you open it up, is a mirror image of the design you started with. Perfect symmetry. </div>
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Of course, few things in nature are balanced perfectly this way. That was very obvious standing in that room with these young adults, many of whom live in bodies that are bent from their physical challenges. But it's true for <i>all </i>of us in less obvious ways. Speaking for myself, one eye is slightly larger than the other; hair on one side of my part refuses to lie the way I want it to, no matter how much time I spend trying to force it to so it'll "match" the other side; and one of my feet is just enough larger than the other that it can be challenging to find shoes that fit comfortably for both. </div>
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The most that <i>most</i> of us can hope for - figuratively and literally - is <b><i>balance</i></b>, symmetry's kissing cousin. </div>
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We all
get a fresh canvas every day, although that doesn't mean you get to
completely leave aside your experiences, or the wisdom you've gained
from coloring outside the lines of your life, or the messes that you
sometimes leave behind. It only means that you get another chance to
create something beautiful in the midst of all of that. </div>
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And would
it be too trite to say that seeing the whimsical garden outside the
otherwise rather institutional building reminded me to <i>bloom where you're planted</i>?</div>
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<span style="color: red;">BLOOM WHERE YOU'RE PLANTED. </span></div>
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<i>Okay, okay, enough of platituding my way through a post....</i></div>
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I've begun to revive a long dormant habit of keeping two books going at once, and most weeks make it a point to have a bound book at hand to read curled up on the sofa and another going on my Kindle. I was nearing the end of the bound book (an ARC) I'd chosen (<b>Edgar & Lucy</b> by Victor Lodato) when I flipped it over to read the back jacket. I thought it deliciously serendipitous that one of the blurbs on the back of it was written by the author of the very book I was simultaneously reading on my Kindle! </div>
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Yesterday my oldest son and I took his children to the zoo. Their Mama is away on a business trip, and it was just too pretty to keep them cooped up in their house. Jimmy, the two year old, was utterly fascinated by the dead leaves that were constantly skittering across the walkways, and, of course, was mostly interested in the ducks, never mind that they are pretty much everywhere in town right about now. How easily we forget that the ordinary <i>is</i> extraordinary? </div>
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And this final "dedication" goes out to anybody who finds they need this reassurance today. </div>
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<b><i>Out of the mouths of babes and all that, you know. </i></b></div>
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<b>Best meal this week:</b></div>
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Grilled Gulf Shrimp Tacos and a nice margarita (or two) at <a href="http://burritolounge.com/" target="_blank">El Rey Burrito Lounge. </a></div>
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<b>Book finished this week: </b></div>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1876525920?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Edgar & Lucy</a> </b>by Victor Lodato</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">click on title to find my Goodreads review</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Major Pettigrew's Last Stand </b>by Helen Simonson (kindle)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>The Sleepwalker </b>by Chris Bohjalian (bound book, on loan from the library) </span></div>
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<br />Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-90603777444272466542017-02-20T10:57:00.000-06:002017-02-20T10:57:13.068-06:00The Best of Week Six<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><b>Note: I'm late on the roll out of this one. Life happened!</b></span></div>
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The theme last week surely seemed to be love. Who am I to mess with centuries of tradition?<br />
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Last Sunday, I<i> loved</i> attending a benefit showing of Franco Zefferelli's 1968 version of <b>Romeo and Juliet</b> at the <a href="http://www.capritheatre.org/" target="_blank">Capri Theatre</a>. In my lifetime (and it was here before I was born) I've seen that wonderful space change and grow and claw to stay open. When it was rescued from its darker paths by Martin McCaffery, it became a not-for-profit independent theatre. The going has been slow, but it is truly a labor of love for all those who pledge their time and energy and money to it, and recent renovations have really given the old gal an extraordinary new look. <br />
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When I was a young teenager, it's where we'd go to watch those godawful B-horror pictures, many of which seemed to star Shelley Winters, like <b><a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?fr=mcafee&p=whoever+slew+auntie+roo+trailer#id=1&vid=797e945dd7a764d9d9dd49c52b941741&action=click" target="_blank">Whoever Slew Aunty Roo?</a> </b>and <b><a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?fr=mcafee&p=what%27s+the+matter+with+helen+trailer#id=1&vid=a360e007609432e152a4f2f56932ec54&action=click" target="_blank">What's the Matter With Helen?</a> </b> Here's what I learned from those, by the way: never, ever leave Shelley Winters alone in a room with children or rabbits.<br />
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But back on topic: the very best part about attending the benefit last week was having a friend from my college days (who was one of my bridesmaids, to boot) show up with her husband! They drove down from their home just south of Birmingham and we had a great time. It's probably a good thing we don't live in the same town, by the way. When we get together, we tend to revert! Love you, Rhonda!<br />
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For Valentines Day I got my husband a Kindle. He got me one for Christmas - over my oft-stated objections to them - and I have discovered that they can, in fact, co-exist peacefully with bound books. I've fallen into a habit of having a "real" book at hand to read when I'm out in the den, and having another book in process on my Kindle for bedtime/portable reading. This is working surprisingly well. He had begun to reread one of his favorite fantasy series (The Shannara trilogy by Terry Brooks), and it was painful to watch him try to read the tiny print of that mass-market book. I even hauled him down to the library yesterday to get his library card renewed so he can begin to check out ebooks from the <a href="https://www.overdrive.com/" target="_blank">Overdrive</a> app, as well. It's been a booklover's week around here, for sure!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our grandchildren spent the night Friday
night, and after they'd been picked up on Saturday, I headed to my home
office to do a little work on my computer. I discovered that Rosemary
had decided to add some illustration to my desk engagement calendar. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">No, we do not know who Ashlyn is or why Rosemary seems to know that her brother's birthday was on Valentines Day. It's just a Rosemary kind of thing to know. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">By the way, the Farmer's Almanac engagement calendar is my absolute favorite. I've used them for about 10 years now; they are hardcover, and are perfect for keeping not-really-a-journal-but-sort-of-a-journal type notes in. Plus, you learn about all sorts of fascinating things. Best thing last week? A quarter cup of maple syrup contains more calcium than a quarter cup of milk. Pancake time! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: red;"> </span></b><i><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">I feel like I should have awarded myself some Brownie points for not picking up this clearly very healthy cereal at the grocery store last week. </span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<i>Brownie </i>points.... get it? </div>
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Books Finished This Week:<br />
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show?id=1911384045" target="_blank">The Risen</a> </b>by Ron Rash</div>
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(outstanding)</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1914160065?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Number the Stars </a></b>by Lois Lowry</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1913801997?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Saturday the Rabbi Went Hungry</a> </b>by Harry Kemelman</div>
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Book Ditched This Week:<br />
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1911409556" target="_blank">In the Shadow of Lakecrest</a> </b>by Elizabeth Blackwell<br />
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<b>Best Meal of the Week: </b><br />
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The hot dogs that were delivered to us at the office by Charles Lee (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Thats-My-Dog-Montgomery-107401486088080/about/" target="_blank">That's My Dog</a>), in appreciation for our having awarded him the first of the Central Alabama Community Foundation Surprise 30th Anniversary grants for his nonprofit, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Thats-My-Child/122839837923298" target="_blank">That's My Child</a>. This was one of three trays of dogs we got. We had to sample some from each tray, of course..... these were the That's My Conecuh Dogs, but we also had That's My Nacho Dogs and That's My Gump Dogs. <br />
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-67512231284593893722017-02-11T17:31:00.001-06:002017-02-11T21:22:34.543-06:00Week's Best - Fifth EditionA bit of a departure today, before I launch into the "best of" list.<br>
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When our first grandchild was born we, like every other grandparent in the world, discovered that the most delicious part of parenting happens <i>after</i> your children are raised and start their own families. My not-really-all-that-tough old bear of a husband had pined for a daughter after we had our two sons, but he let me be the one to call the shots about expanding our family, and I was <i>done. </i>When our son's daughter Rosemary was born, then, it was especially sweet for her old Pop and, truth be told, for me, too.<br>
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When she was a toddler, we all noticed that she just wasn't hitting those <i>marks</i> that other kids do. What little speech she had was nearly unintelligible. She didn't invite people into her world, didn't ask questions about every little thing, didn't try to get your attention if you were busy doing something else.There was no doubt in the world that she was very bright, and very curious, but she just had a way of staying on her island with all of that. So marked was this delineation that neither my husband nor I will ever forget the first time she picked something up off the sidewalk, looked at it, then turned around to look at us and said, "Look! A STICK!" The moment was so profound we both teared up. She was about 4 years old at the time, and it was the first time she had chosen to initiate sharing one of <i>her</i> experiences with <i>us.</i> <br>
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Her parents undertook what has been an arduous, more than three year journey to discover what it was, exactly, that was at the heart of these questions we all had. From speech therapy to communication and occupational therapists, the support they asked for and got for her allowed her to blossom and thrive. She underwent an exhaustive battery of multi-disciplinary testing at the Communications Disorder center at <a href="http://www.uab.edu/civitansparks/" target="_blank">Sparks Clinic</a> at UAB a couple years ago, and what they learned was reassuring -- she doesn't have ADHD, she doesn't have any hearing issues, she doesn't have any of a very long list of other communication, psychological, or neurological disorders. But there was one final concentrated area of testing the clinic wanted her to undergo, and after more than a year on a waiting list, she and her parents went back to the specialized Autism Clinic less than 2 weeks ago. After an exhausting day of evaluation and tests and observations and tedious questionnaires and parent interviews, we finally got the diagnosis we had been advised we probably <i>would: </i>Our beautiful granddaughter lives her life and copes with the rest of <i>us</i> from her place on the autism spectrum. This diagnosis opens up avenues for further support for her, and while her diagnosis comes as a surprise to people in our lives who have been only casual observers, that is just testament to the unerring, utterly devoted and dogged determination of her parents. <br>
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Recently, an adult who is an important part of Rosemary's life asked me to help her understand. This is what I told her. (Keep in mind I am not a professional; I've done a great deal of research, talked with parents of children who have autism, and read whatever I could get my hands on that has been written by adults with autism to try to understand what it is <i>like</i>, and these are my general observations from all of that.) Every minute of our waking day, we are bombarded by visual, auditory, olfactory, tactile and gustative input into our brains. Typically, without having to make any real effort, our brains prioritize the information in a way that allows us to respond to the most urgent messages appropriately. The brain of a person who lives on the spectrum, though, gives equal or inappropriate weight to <i>all </i>those things at once. It is no surprise, then, that people on the spectrum struggle, each in their own way, with this chaos. That can evidence itself in so many ways: frustration, temper tantrums, locking down (<i>If I can't take it all in, I will shut it all out), </i>or one or more sorts of physical or verbal releases, called stims. Rosemary's most common stim is verbal: in response to stress or fatigue she "runs lines," generally from movies she's watched (often after only one viewing), and she's pretty damned good at it.<br>
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Of course, nobody hopes and prays that their child or grandchild is diagnosed with something that may well cause her to be a square peg trying to get into round holes for the rest of her life, so what's the <i>good </i>news about this?<br>
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It's that the elephant in the room now has a name, and that her parents made a choice to be public about this, and that Rosemary herself is now taking part in that conversation, although to be truthful, right now she doesn't find it terribly interesting. Nothing about her changes, of course. She is funny, and smart as a whip, and loving, and talented. We are all excited about where her road can lead, now that we know which one she's on.<br>
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So, on to what made this week's list....</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sister Barbara Ann has her standards. </i></td></tr>
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On Tuesday, my Central Alabama Community Foundation co-workers loaded up in a car and presented our third surprise $3,000 grant, this time to <a href="http://cityofstjude.org/" target="_blank">The City of St. Jude.</a> Sister Barbara Ann served as our tour guide through their food and clothes bank. <br>
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They truly serve the least of these every single day. The one-armed
statue of Jesus that overlooks their clothes closet stands as an
eloquent reminder that He was broken for us, and that He expects us
to treat those among us who are the most broken just as He would have.<br>
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I confess we all cracked up when Sister Barbara Ann showed us where she hides contraband clothes for the most firmly entrenched homeless men she encounters. They (City of St. Jude) generally don't accept donations of used underwear or socks, but there's nothing hot water and bleach can't fix, and if it's down to going without or having clean used things, she's going to err on the side of dignity every time. But honestly, folks? Next time you're at a warehouse store, grab a big old bag of new briefs or boxers or socks, send them to The City of St. Jude, and call that just a tiny bit of rent for being able to live on this planet, under a roof. <br>
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This guy was sitting on the curb in front of our office Friday morning when I got to work. I asked him what his cat's name was. "Emmaline," he answered with a big smile. She appeared to be very well-fed, and very much loved. I hope the same can be said for him. </div>
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One of the most famous landmarks in Montgomery is <a href="http://www.chrishotdogs.com/about.html" target="_blank">Chris' Hot Dogs</a>. It's been around for nigh on 100 years. During lunch in our board room on Thursday, I discovered that one of my co-workers had <i>never been there. </i>I was gobsmacked. The entire staff went to lunch there with her on Friday, because this situation just had to be remedied. I am very pleased to report that she was quite taken with the whole experience and with the hot dogs and the very special sauce <i>and </i>with being introduced to the most famous of the employees -- Eleanor the Waitress -- who promptly told us that one of the other waitresses was her granddaughter, whose mother she finally had to make "get fixed," because she kept "droppin' 'em like they was hot." Her words. At work we would hashtag that -- #YCMTSU. Chris' Hot Dogs is where you really can get an idea of my beloved hometown at its best, because folks are just folks there. </div>
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And finally, last night my sister-in-law and I attended the Broadway-bound production of <b>Because of Winn-Dixie</b> at the <a href="http://www.montgomeryadvertiser.com/story/life/2017/02/07/review-because-winn-dixie-surprisingly-powerful-musical/97588640/" target="_blank">Alabama Shakespeare Festival</a>. It was a real treat to see so many Tony award winning and/or nominated professionals in and around a production, but I'll confess to a certain prejudice for local actor Charlie Hill, whom I've known since he was a bun in the oven. He's going to go as far as he chooses in the performing arts, mark my words. </div>
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<b>Books I Finished This Week: </b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(click on titles to read my very brief reviews on Goodreads)</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1620496768?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank"><b>The Lewis Man </b></a>by Peter May<br>
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<b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1907573554" target="_blank">A Breach of Security</a> </b>by Susan Hill<br>
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<b>Best Meal of the Week (other than Chris' hot dogs and fries): </b><br>
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The Sunday Dinner Noodle Bowl at <a href="http://www.kudzunoodlebar.com/" target="_blank">Kudzu Noodle Bar</a>.<br>
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<b>(</b>Fried Chicken, Ramen Noodles, Soy Marinated Deviled Egg, Charred Okra, Grilled Squash, Chow Chow, Garnished with Diakon Sprouts)<br>
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-9273810406587114812017-02-04T15:00:00.000-06:002017-02-04T15:06:05.500-06:00Week's Best -- 4th edition<div style="text-align: center;">
This was sort of a "meh" week. We all have those. Even so, it had its moments. </div>
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We made the transition from January to February, which always prompts me to check the calendar to see if we are in a Leap Year. (We aren't. You're welcome.) And February means we all sit back and wait for a large rodent to tell us whether we should move the spring wardrobe back into our closets. </div>
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The way the weather has been going for us in Montgomery these last few months, any prediction he might have made would have stood a better than 50% chance of being right, so I could certainly forgive him if he wanted to pass the buck entirely. </div>
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My coworkers and I took a road trip yesterday into rural Macon County, Alabama. Despite having between us 4 smartphones with mapping software <i>and </i>a Garmin on the dashboard, we got almost hopelessly lost on the way to our destination. We all got to laughing so hard about this I almost could not catch my breath. To the list of things I love about my job, add that we laugh - hard - about something almost every day. Anyway, when we got where we were going -- the <a href="http://www.maconcountyhumanesociety.org/" target="_blank">Macon County Humane Society</a> -- we got to visit with all the dogs that are housed there, including two litters of adorable puppies. </div>
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I use the adjective "adorable" as though all puppies are not. </div>
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I like dogs just fine, but I'm not what you'd call a <i>dog person</i>. Even so, had that little one with the dark splotches been ready to find a new home, it would have been right here on Crawford Street with us last night. It's enough for me to know, though, that because of the surprise grant <a href="https://www.facebook.com/cacfinfo" target="_blank">CACF</a> gave the MCHS yesterday, those puppies and all the other dogs who are housed there will continue to be looked after with tremendous love and commitment until they <i>do</i> find their own people to adopt. </div>
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All in all, that made for a really nice day at work. </div>
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It was fun to see Bowling Green, Kentucky in the news this week. I'm <i>not</i> going to delve into those waters at all, but it was nice to see my Mama's hometown in the headlines, and to have the opportunity to remember another day that folks across America had cause to think of Bowling Green. It was the day <a href="http://wayiseeit-eleanor.blogspot.com/2012/07/her-monument.html" target="_blank">this blog post </a>launched. It became one of the most widely read and shared posts I've ever written. I never understand why one post "launches" and another doesn't, by the way, but I am still glad this one traveled around a bit. </div>
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<b>Books I finished this week: </b></div>
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<a href="http://wayiseeit-eleanor.blogspot.com/2017/02/the-way-i-see-surly-bookseller.html" target="_blank">They Left Us Everything </a>by Plum Johnson</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1901781409?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1" target="_blank">Because of Winn-Dixie</a> by Kate DiCamillo</div>
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<b>Quote of the Week</b></div>
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<i><span id="freeTextContainer9664301967778582148">At the end of our lives, we become only memories. </span></i></div>
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<i><span id="freeTextContainer9664301967778582148">If we’re lucky, someone is passing those down.</span></i><span id="freeTextContainer9664301967778582148"> </span></div>
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<span id="freeTextContainer9664301967778582148">~~ Plum Johnson </span></div>
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<span id="freeTextContainer9664301967778582148">*****</span></div>
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<span id="freeTextContainer9664301967778582148">And finally, this. When I told my husband about all those puppies at the Macon County Humane Society, he got all misty-eyed and said he would have another dog one day, when he retires, and it'll be a beagle, because a beagle was his first best friend. </span></div>
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-53898527406501116422017-02-04T10:57:00.002-06:002017-02-04T10:57:23.286-06:00The Weight of Him - Ethel Rohan<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29939242-the-weight-of-him" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img border="0" alt="The Weight of Him" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1464821419m/29939242.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29939242-the-weight-of-him">The Weight of Him</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3340306.Ethel_Rohan">Ethel Rohan</a><br/>
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1843676356">5 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
What a lovely, heart-breaking, heart-mending novel. Big Billy Brennan, all 400 pounds of him, is grieving the death by suicide of his beloved son when the notion occurs to him to raise money for suicide prevention. To do so, Billy will put himself on something of public display and invite the public to donate money for every pound he can lose. His family is not supportive: they can hardly bear being in the same room with one another as the fog of grief is yet so dense. But he plows on, putting his pain to use, finding unexpected ways to cope with the loss and to make whatever sense he can of it. <br /><br />Big Billy's weight has served as insulation from pain and from the people in his life. His efforts to shed himself of the weight of that baggage--literally and figuratively--speaks eloquently of the battle every one of us who struggles with our own weight fights. I cheered so hard for Billy from beginning to end; I think you will, too. <br /><br />Ms. Rohan has delivered something beautiful from unimaginable places.
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1300695-eleanor">View all my reviews</a>
Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-65556461001438136412017-02-04T08:19:00.001-06:002017-02-04T15:12:47.913-06:00The Way I See.... the Surly Bookseller<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30173366-they-left-us-everything" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="They Left Us Everything: A Memoir" border="0" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1463023832m/30173366.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30173366-they-left-us-everything">They Left Us Everything: A Memoir</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7222543.Plum_Johnson">Plum Johnson</a><br />
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1697800580">3 of 5 stars</a><br />
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Actual star rating: 3 1/2 stars.<br />
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My mother died in the fall of 2011; my father on the last day of the year 2014. Between those years my father moved into a dementia care facility and my siblings and I cleared their belongings from their home, each of us taking the things that meant something to us. By some process I became the person to whom the archives -- papers, letters, photographs, scrapbooks -- came. I am nowhere close to even opening the things on the tops of all those piles, as each time I begin I lose all track of time and continue to deal with what I have called the Little Landmines that seem to be around every turn. <br />
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I have become quite fascinated, because of this, when I have the opportunity to talk with others who are charged with this same task. How do they handle it? How do they decide what is worth keeping forever? After so many conversations, and certainly after reading Johnson's memoir, I come to a couple of truths about it. <br />
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First, it's almost never the biggest or finest things to which we discover ourselves most attached, when the time for pitching out comes. <br />
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And second, the process changes you if you are lucky enough to take the time to carefully sift. What Plum Johnson and I and so many of my friends have discovered in those dusty boxes and in the bottoms of pocketbooks and pockets of coats on their way to Goodwill are the people our parents were, when they weren't busy being our parents. What a gift. <br />
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<i>Pocket litter turns out to be ground zero, the debris left behind that no thrift store will take: small mounds of ash, yet mountains to climb, for me.</i><br />
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Reading that line, early in Johnson's memoir, brought back exactly the feeling I had when I opened one of my mother's evening bags and discovered a cigarette butt, stained with her lipstick. The moment I saw it the tears began to flow, and in short order I was little more than a puddle on the floor. This was months and months after her death, when I thought I was done with the deepest grieving. <br />
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What I wish is that Johnson had spent more time talking about this process, and all the discoveries she made, because when she did, this memoir was magic. When she chooses instead to write about her parent's histories I was less enamored. They had certainly lived interesting, story-worthy, lives, but I had come to this book as a fellow finder of "pocket litter," and could really only connect with Ms. Johnson over those moments. <br />
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I certainly do recommend this book, even so.
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1300695-eleanor">View all my reviews</a>
Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-67227367640666920672017-01-29T07:36:00.000-06:002017-01-29T07:36:14.073-06:00Week's Best - Third Edition<i>It wasn't a perfect week, folks. It was a week of situations in my personal life and in the world beyond that were ridiculously awful, but I've expressed myself quite enough elsewhere about those things, and this weekly feature is never going to focus on anything beyond the little things that made for nice moments and fun memories during the week before. </i><br />
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*****</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Used by permission of Alabama artist <a href="http://debbiedowdle.com/" target="_blank">Debbie Dowdle</a></td></tr>
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There <i>were </i>some awfully nice moments, like having dinner with my friend Richard at a <a href="http://www.wharfcasualseafood.com/" target="_blank">new seafood restaurant </a>that's opened here in town. Everything was perfectly fine except for the green beans which were even more tasteless than green beans should be, and I'm highly skeptical of hushpuppies that aren't <i>round</i>. When I was a little kid, the biggest treat we ever had during summers at Lake Martin was going to the restaurant at Kowaliga, where I would always have squealers and hushpuppies. (If you don't know what a squealer is, you might want to think twice before asking.) Those hushpuppies were always <i>round</i> and fried to perfection. I don't care where I eat them, or even how they are (mis)shaped, eating hushpuppies puts me in mind of those very happy days. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAge61yvWMNunzymAzotR0xkhu2wFODvqLs9wQ2VLydHEyFpgfOkF2Q1ezNlOGY7iuFOgL-InoZtfJpaKovYPQpHMFhqbbhuizW1DiARm3qR12VkP-OwqwXUWYywzpBX9t_VEYITmPXud/s1600/tim+in+a+panic.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAge61yvWMNunzymAzotR0xkhu2wFODvqLs9wQ2VLydHEyFpgfOkF2Q1ezNlOGY7iuFOgL-InoZtfJpaKovYPQpHMFhqbbhuizW1DiARm3qR12VkP-OwqwXUWYywzpBX9t_VEYITmPXud/s320/tim+in+a+panic.gif" width="320" /></a>My Mama always held that the more folks you let work an appliance, the more likely it is that something will go squirrely with it. Since our home was burglarized a month ago, one in which my husband's laptop and his 25+ years of Boy Scout history (not in anybody's cloud) walked out the back door with our thief, he's been using my very old-school desktop. Well, this morning I got up to do my weekly banking/finance work, and the spreadsheet I have developed and tweaked to near perfection over a year's time was GONE. More accurately, no version of it after November could be found anywhere on my hard drive, despite autosave. After an initial flurry of panic I remembered by my son had insisted we start using <a href="https://www.backblaze.com/" target="_blank">BackBlaze</a>, and I am here to tell you that it worked beautifully, and easily, and fast. I never had to call tech support. Heck, I didn't even have to call my son to ask what to do. I love it when something works like it's supposed to!<br />
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Now, I can't tell you beyond a shadow of any doubt that my husband's using my desktop had a thing in the world to do with what happened this morning, but a half hour after my Excel Spreadsheet was restored, my husband's new laptop got ordered. <br />
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<b> *****</b></div>
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I was very happy that my boss was able to connect me with a Girl Scout family, because this.....</div>
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Well, the week started with seafood, so it might as well <i>end</i> with some. We don't go to <a href="http://jubileeseafoodrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Jubilee Seafood</a> as often as we'd like, but we turned a sow's ear (the cancellation of a performance to which I'd already bought tickets) into a silk purse (using my refunded money to splurge). </div>
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Books I finished this week: </div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1884855587" target="_blank">Friday the Rabbi Slept Late</a> - Harry Kemelman </div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1655040284" target="_blank">If I Forget You</a> -- Thomas Christopher Greene</div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-15392608534206211402017-01-22T07:30:00.000-06:002017-01-22T09:33:17.247-06:00Week's Best - 2nd EditionThis has been quite the week, folks. We gritted our teeth through/enjoyed/raged about (depending on your viewpoint and disposition) the inauguration of our/their/your/not my (see earlier qualifier) 45th President of the United States, and although there were a couple of very small protests that got out of hand, we got to see democracy in all its creaky, sometimes irksome, sometimes noisy and unpleasant glory. But if you thought that was the big story of the week, you are mistaken.<br />
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The<i><b> big </b></i>story of the week is that every damned day, people got up and did the right things for the best reasons, took care of their neighbors, dug deep in their pockets to help others in their time of deepest need, hugged their spouses and children, held a door for a person struggling with their mobility, let a frazzled mom with a cranky toddler go ahead of them in line at the grocery, made somebody laugh, and spoke up to take exception when they heard someone being picked on. Folks got on their knees to pray for guidance, for patience, for peace, for forgiveness, for the strength to keep fighting their good fights without making enemies along the way. They prayed to God, or to Allah, or just to unknown gods known collectively, perhaps, as Hope and Faith in Humanity.<br />
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But nobody needs a reminder of that, right? So I'm just going to share the best things that happened in my very small orbit this week.<br />
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On Monday, I got a new back door. It's a very special door. It took a crew of 4 workmen 10 fulls hours to install it. This, my friends, is a door that deserves a name, so I have given it one. <br />
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Since the first of the year, every book
I've read has been on my Kindle Paperwhite, but this week I picked up an
actual paper and ink one to read. There is still just something about a book in my
hand that will beat a device every single time. Among the less lofty reasons for that is that a real book just looks more interesting through the eye of my
viewfinder. </div>
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Late Thursday afternoon, the whole local staff of<span style="color: blue;"> </span><a href="http://cacfinfo.org/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Central Alabama Community Foundation</span> </a>traveled to Chisholm Community Center to surprise Charles Lee and his organization <span style="color: blue;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Thats-My-Child-122839837923298/about/" target="_blank"><b>That's My Child</b> </a></span>with a surprise $3,000 grant. This was the first of 30 of these we'll be awarding, in celebration of the Foundation's <span style="color: blue;">30th Anniversary.</span> I slipped into the gym a few minutes before the actual surprise happened, and enjoyed watching some of the young men who take part in Mr. Lee's programs play some basketball. After I got home to cull the pictures I'd taken, I was surprised by what I discovered in this one featuring these two fellows, poised to play, wearing their jerseys numbered "3" and "0" right next to each other. </div>
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<b>WEIRD FAMILY STUFF</b></div>
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What I got to do on Thursday got me to thinking about something my Great Grandfather, the Rev. J. Russell Crawford, said back in 1889, probably in one of his sermons. Somewhere along the way somebody illustrated this nugget and presented it to either my Nannaw or Mama. I remember well that neither of them were altogether pleased with the "folksy" art, but it doesn't take away from what my Great-Granddaddy said, something that perfectly explains what I try to tell folks about the work of the Foundation. We help those "greenbacks" get from our amazing donors into the hands of the folks with "grit, grace, and gumption" who are doing really awesome things around this ol' River Region. </div>
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<b>WHAT I'VE BEEN READING </b></div>
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<a href="http://www.npr.org/books/titles/496454488/the-wangs-vs-the-world" target="_blank"><b>The Wangs v. the World</b> </a>by Jade Change (real book)</div>
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friday_the_Rabbi_Slept_Late" target="_blank"><b>Friday the Rabbi Slept Late </b></a>by Harry Kemelman (Kindle)</div>
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<b>BEST STUFF WE WATCHED</b></div>
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The last episode of this season's <b>Longmire</b> (Netflix) </div>
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<i>By the way, Lou Diamond Phillips, who plays Walt Longmire's friend Henry Standing Bear in this series, has played roles in a gazillion movies and TV shows. He shot to fame back in 1987 playing the role of Richie Valens in <b>La Bamba</b>. But before he did that, he was born...... an Upchurch. </i></div>
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The first episode of<b> <a href="http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/clips/victoria-s1-coming-in-2017/" target="_blank">Victoria</a> </b>on PBS </div>
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-54663760158879281432017-01-15T11:44:00.001-06:002017-01-15T11:44:57.837-06:00Week's Best <i>Okay, so it's not the most original thing -- doing a list of one's favorite things/moments/experiences from the previous week -- but since I'm not updating my other blog any longer I want to do something that will keep me on my toes. I have fear of commitment, though, so while I hope to do this on a weekly basis that might not happen. Anyway. </i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madwoman at work. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Monday was Clean Off Your Desk Day. My Daddy often told the story of the man for whom he worked in his early years in the insurance business, a boss whose desk was always very messy. One afternoon before leaving work, however, Mr. W tidied everything up, went to the airport and got in his small private plane.... and crashed. Since that day, Daddy didn't put quite so much stock in keeping things tickety-boo, and I have elevated it to an art.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wait, I'm where? </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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As I came over the rise on Perry Street on my commute to work a few days ago, I had the distinct impression I'd somehow taken a wrong turn and was looking at my beloved Blue Ridge Mountains. Nope. Just a really bizarre, low hanging, cloud formation. Oh, and just for the sake of history.... the church spire you see there belongs to <a href="https://stjohnsmontgomery.org/about-us/history-of-st-johns/" target="_blank">St. John's Episcopal Church</a>, which was the church attended by Jefferson Davis.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oops.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></td></tr>
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Turning from the access road off onto Perry Street on my way to work is often interesting, as the lanes are poorly marked and there seems to be no consensus as to which car belongs in which lane. These two motorists could not amicably settle that dispute on morning this week. When I was growing up, we had this family tradition: any time we happened upon a stranded motorist or an accident, everyone in the car had to yell out, "Howdy Doody, Mr. Kitty!" Woe betide the last to say it, for any car trouble that might befall us would be blamed on the straggler. I still mutter it under my breath every single time I come upon circumstances that warrant it. (And no, none of my siblings nor I have any explanation for this phrase, or who started it, although we all expect it came from my Grandpappy Tom McCord.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60tGihGNKduXOasxTnTU66r3iM1x09fBzsV1WjuYrEmoiKUbf9YzkIXtRTTXIRi4cFgefvQ9WME22Fyp4hyphenhyphenc7yN7oO770TpkjKouO4lfFPhCNPYbgDmHbrEJtwvxulZqMAlrLPey6kqJJ/s1600/Batmobile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60tGihGNKduXOasxTnTU66r3iM1x09fBzsV1WjuYrEmoiKUbf9YzkIXtRTTXIRi4cFgefvQ9WME22Fyp4hyphenhyphenc7yN7oO770TpkjKouO4lfFPhCNPYbgDmHbrEJtwvxulZqMAlrLPey6kqJJ/s320/Batmobile.jpg" width="293" /></a></td></tr>
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I'm gonna need to see this thing again to figure out what it is, exactly. I think it was actually a motorcycle with this two-wheeler front on it, but I was afraid the parking lot bar was going to come crashing down on my car if I didn't keep moving. Whatever it is, it's a good one.<br />
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INTERNET LAUGH OF THE WEEK</div>
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Books Read:</div>
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I Will Send Rain - Rae Meadows (heartily recommended)</div>
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Bitter River (Bell Elkins #2) - Julia Keller (meh)</div>
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LaLa Land - must see<i><br /></i></div>
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Longmire (streaming on Netflix) </div>
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-13545317036016232612017-01-01T14:20:00.000-06:002017-01-01T14:26:03.130-06:00The Rearview Mirror: What "they" say is so true: things often appear smaller when you are looking at them in the rear view mirror. What's true on the highway is mostly true in life, it seems to me.<br />
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There were things, sad and unhappy and infuriating things, that consumed me for bits of time during 2016. Most of them are now at least, if not quite forgotten, no longer in charge of my energy or my emotions.<br />
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The year now gone was one of the busiest we've ever had in terms of experiencing the arts: 9 plays, 7 movies on the big screen, 6 musical concerts, 2 ballet performances, numerous trips to the museum, including one very special exhibit.<br />
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There were trips to the zoo, a trip to Huntsville and a day spent at the Space and Rocket Center. We loved attending Biscuits games as a family, TavernFest got attended, and I got to sit on the stage at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival as a panelist for Theatre in the Mind. I enjoyed meeting with and/or presenting programs to several literary groups, and have had a ball "doing lunch" more than I've ever done in my life with friends and sisters-in-law. I've watched my husband begin to love what he does for a living again, working back in the heart of town which makes it possible for us to enjoy a much more sane and full life than we've had in years. I said goodbye to a job that defined and delighted me for nearly three decades, and hello to a new career that excites me and inspires me.<br />
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Alabama won a(nother) National Championship, had an(other) undefeated season, won a(nother) SEC Championship Title, and yesterday a(nother) trip to a(nother) National Championship Game.<br />
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I read a little less than usual, but read some outstanding books, the best of which you should read, too. You'll find my whole list <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/year_in_books/2016/1300695">here</a>. <br />
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And on Christmas Day my granddaughter and I sat down and played our first duet together, so there was that.<br />
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All of that stuff makes having had a raccoon in the attic, suffering yet another slow-to-heal injury from a fall, the death of our sweet cat Big Louie, having a dust-up with a major retailer, watching all the new cracks in the walls form because of the drought, and being on the losing end of a burglary to end the year with a bang, seem like so much background noise. And while for many reasons 2017 fills me with a sense of trepidation, I am yet to be stripped of optimism. There never has been a new year entered that held any assurances or guarantees or best-laid plans that wouldn't go awry, after all.<br />
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An acquaintance stopped me at the grocery yesterday afternoon to commiserate with me about the burglary, and what I said to her I'll say to you: Yes, the bad stuff stinks, but I can't do yesterday again. I can only do today, and today is good.<br />
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Moving ahead with your eyes on the rear view is a good way to make a wreck of what lies ahead.<br />
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Full speed ahead! Bring it on, 2017; I'm ready.<br />
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<br />Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-71418401094509792152016-12-24T09:59:00.003-06:002016-12-24T10:11:03.670-06:00Jest 'fore Christmas.....This has been an odd Christmas season for me, as it has been the first in nearly 30 years that I haven't worked in a retail environment. Enjoying the busy-ness and helping my customers find precisely the right books to give to people they loved became much of the way I celebrated the season. (Lest you think I'm blowing smoke, I am not: I really enjoyed visiting with my customers, hearing their plans for the holidays, sharing in their excitement as they made plans for travel or plans to welcome their family back home.) When you're on your feet, not to mention when you are <i style="font-weight: bold;">on</i> all day, no matter how much fun you're having you are still just worn out and depleted when you finally get home. As much as I wanted to go to lots of Christmas parties and events around town, I was just too wiped out to follow through.<br />
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But this year has just been so much fun! My family and I lit the first candle of the Advent season at church. I rang with both handbell choirs at church for the Hanging of the Greens. My sister-in-law and I attended the Montgomery Civic Chorale's truly spectacular Christmas concert. Henry and I took our granddaughter to experience the Holiday Lights at the Montgomery Zoo (never mind that things didn't go quite as planned), and just a couple days later, we took her to see <b>A Christmas Carol</b> at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival. And the season isn't over: we'll attend Candlelight Services tonight with our whole motley crew, followed by our annual visit to Waffle House for a cholesterol-be-damned meal to tide us over until Christmas morning. I cannot remember a time I felt so "filled" up by the Christmas spirit. </div>
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A new component this year has been the fun I've had at work processing Donor-Advised gifts to so many very deserving nonprofits. I verify each nonprofit to make sure of its IRS status, and in that process learn so much about these organizations, many of which are unfamiliar to me. I told a friend a few days ago that it's heartwarming to me that folks who have already received their tax benefit by establishing a fund with the Foundation make the effort to pass that money along in such a thoughtful way when there really is no requirement that they do so. I can tell you this for true: when you have your hands in this sort of giving every day, it inspires you to give more, too. We protect the privacy of all our Donors, so I can't tell you some of the most heartwarming holiday "miracles" that have happened because of their generosity, but suffice it to say that more than once because of them, prayers were answered.<br />
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It hasn't all been roses, of course. I had a bit of a dust-up with a large retail operation regarding fraudulent activity on my (now cancelled) account. Our beloved Old Master Cat, Big Louie, traveled across the Rainbow Bridge at nearly 20 years of age. And Henry, Thomas, and I are still trying to figure out what movie we'll see on Christmas Night (a new-ish tradition for the three of us), as the one we all <i>wanted </i>to see isn't playing anywhere in town.<br />
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But there have been far too many wonderful gifts of the season to focus on the things that might make me melancholic. I took Rosemary out yesterday for a bit, so she could get some of her Christmas shopping done, and her excitement at finding just the right things that SHE could give was a delight. Even sitting in holiday traffic wasn't horrible, for she and I had much of import to discuss. And best of all, a friend welcomed her first grandchild into the world at a time when her world needed a dose of newness.<br />
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The list of reasons to celebrate -- or at least to sit in contentment -- is so long. And I am so grateful.<br />
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I don't decorate our home anymore -- the last time was December 2011 -- but my heart is lit up with the light of my family's love, the generosity and kindnesses to which I have borne witness, and the assurance that we are held in the palm of the hand that grasped His mother's finger for the first time on That Night.<br />
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-77264712078622310162016-11-10T07:44:00.000-06:002016-11-10T08:09:43.725-06:00Feeling the Earth Move AgainA year ago yesterday the owners of the bookstore announced publicly that they had made the decision to shut things down after the first of the year 2016. I had received the news some weeks before, but until my bosses had time to hammer out the particulars we kept it, literally, in the family.<br />
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I was not surprised by the announcement, was glad for my bosses that they were able to make this decision for themselves when it was still a decision they didn't <i>have</i> to make. I was less glad for myself, of course. Not only would I be losing a job I loved, I'd be losing all the perks: the paycheck, of course, but also the privilege of being in the company of customers I looked forward to seeing, and, of course, the books I got my hands on months before their dates of publication. Most importantly to me, though, was that feeling of the earth shifting beneath my feet -- again.<br />
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In the several years prior I'd had a laundry list of times when I'd lost my footing, literally and figuratively. The death of my parents, my husband's medical emergencies, my own injury, my husband's period of unemployment. I had honestly not yet regained my sense of wholeness from any of these things, and in a very raw way I believed I was losing a vital part of my personal identity along with my job.<br />
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So here I am a year later, working at a new job that found me after several months at home, a job that I feel like I've been doing my whole life (even though I am forever still referencing notes I took in The Big Black Notebook my new boss gave me the first day in the office). I work with people who already feel like old friends, for a nonprofit that enables the good work of folks who believe in our community to come to life. It's a job that I am excited to get to every morning of the work week, and one that energizes me and encourages me about the future of my hometown.<br />
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Every change that has ever been thrust upon me has initially scared the bejeebers out of me. I am a "plan your work and work your plan" gal, thanks to my Daddy, so when things happen that are beyond my control I tend to unravel a bit.<br />
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Come to think of it though, from the moment the obstetrician told my Mama to push, I have been forced from one comfortable place into a place of frightening uncertainties, and made to adapt to a world bent on changing around me, without letting it change <i>me. </i> That you are reading this right now means you survived that same introduction into How Things Work Around HERE. It was a crash course; it's a lesson we are all invited to learn over and over and over again while we ride this planet.<br />
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But this is what has been true for me, and I'm betting it's true for most of you, too: those moments have always led to finding the right hand to hold, the right Higher Power to trust, the right moment to glory in what is right in front of our faces when it is too scary to look down the road, and the right place to plant my feet toward the next best thing that is out there, one I'd never have found had I not been forced to move from where I was.<br />
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And that's the way I see it.<br />
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Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-15250044759045594422016-05-13T15:59:00.002-05:002016-05-13T15:59:21.661-05:00Let All Mortal Flesh Yada Yada<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Anybody who has ever raised a child and has taken that child to church could retire at the age of 40 if they got a quarter for every time they whispered to that child to be quiet because the preacher was praying/preaching or the choir was singing. Folks sitting with you in the pews shoot ugly looks at you if you don't at least attempt to hush a talkative tyke while worship is underway. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, at FUMC, <i>worship </i>is defined as that time on Sunday mornings when people stop talking <i>after </i>we sit down <i>after </i>the processional hymn. Before that? Well, we are a congregation of <i>talkers,</i> and we regard anything before the processional as background music for our conversations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Visiting with one another is evidence of the"radical hospitality" we have become famous for providing, right? I'm here to say, as a world-class chatterer, that talking through the prelude is akin to getting all the scoop from last night's party during the pastoral prayer, or rehashing last night's ball game during the sermon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those of us who provide a prelude for the congregation as a time to gather their thoughts and center their hearts toward God appreciated very much our preacher's new strategy for making announcements <i>before</i> the prelude. We all hoped it would mean folks would take the gentle hint, and it actually worked for a few weeks. Unfortunately, I think he's had to crank up the volume on his microphone for the past several weeks because people are talking louder to talk over <i>him.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last Sunday morning a member of our youth group performed a beautiful duet with our assistant minister of music for our prelude. It broke my heart that, rather than show our support for this young man's gifts, the chattering continued as if there were nothing special happening because the choir hadn't processed yet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I recognize and appreciate that the leadership of our church has to walk a diplomatic line about this issue. I'm just rank and file, people, so that line's a little wider for me. I don't believe anybody in the congregation <i>intends </i>to be rude. I just think we've gotten into a bad congregational habit that has become increasingly worse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This Sunday, the two adult handbell choirs have a rare opportunity to be part of your (and our) worship experience for Pentecost. Each choir will be offering an extended musical prelude, and the Allegro Bells (<i>my </i>group) will also provide the Act of Praise at the 11:00 service. Both services begin earlier than usual to accommodate these extended preludes, and it is my hope that whatever service you choose to attend you will be there, seated and <i>quiet</i>, at the appointed time. We have all worked very, very hard so that we might be part of your Pentecostal experience. All we ask is that you allow us to offer <i>our</i> musical gift to God without having to feel like we're ringing in Babel. </span></div>
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Next time, we'll talk about how wonderful it is to sit around and listen to the POSTLUDE! </div>
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<br />Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-22658524482769882292016-01-17T15:25:00.001-06:002016-01-17T15:25:51.559-06:00Our New DogI always said that when one of us retired we would seriously consider getting a dog. <div><br></div><div>We have had a couple in the last nearly four decades, but realized we weren't in a position to be the sort of owner a good dog deserves. But maybe in retirement we could try again? </div><div><br></div><div>I've had my heart set on a Bull Terrier because I once saw a TV show about them, and the narrator said they are known for their desire to make people laugh. </div><div><br></div><div>Henry would love to have another Beagle, like the one he had when he was a little boy. </div><div><br></div><div>But I think we both figured that, when the time was right, the right dog would just appear.</div><div><br></div><div>I believe our wait is over. Perhaps realizing that Henry is still working, and I'm just resting and not <i>really </i>retired, the dog gods decided to have fun with us because <i>this </i>is the critter that keeps showing up despite all my efforts to relocate him from the corner of our bedroom to the great outdoors. </div><div><br></div><div>This has included <i style="font-weight: bold;">my</i> picking him up and walking all the way from one end of the house to the other to get him <b>OUT. </b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div>Today I decided to give up. </div><div><br></div><div>His name is Lyle Lovett. And we're keeping him. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hSu4sVSrThavLHP2-aEhYc4MA8b_6iLO1n-Vh6WGVU4YseydaeTH_yNxjAXMGRyq9i8kizRBlI-1HADNYiv-g1aNT5yxoEbU_RnzD83DiL50eTYUnNY2MLY15aUunp4vLtf_E7ZHFbKd/s640/blogger-image--928422661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hSu4sVSrThavLHP2-aEhYc4MA8b_6iLO1n-Vh6WGVU4YseydaeTH_yNxjAXMGRyq9i8kizRBlI-1HADNYiv-g1aNT5yxoEbU_RnzD83DiL50eTYUnNY2MLY15aUunp4vLtf_E7ZHFbKd/s640/blogger-image--928422661.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153049997496025695.post-24932353013499761072015-11-17T08:07:00.002-06:002015-11-17T08:09:05.969-06:00Getting back to that boat.....<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I wrote this blog post over 13 years ago. I still find myself wondering why it is that so many people who claim Christ's name seem to be consumed by so much fear, even to the extent that it would cause them to willfully ignore another passage in Matthew, that one about "the least of these." I am distressed by those who would stand on Old Testament laws as though bolted to the floor, but who brush off the very words of Christ when our own worldview is inconvenienced by them. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large; line-height: 18.915px;"><i>The original text is in standard type. My current thoughts are in italics. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /></i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;">On September 11, 2002, I joined with many of you in a Service of Remembrance commemorating the first anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. It was a deeply meaningful service, made even more so by the absolute quiet of those in attendance in the moments before it began, unusual for a normally chatty congregation, but there was a somber mood that night, fully appropriate for the occasion.</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;">The order of worship indicated that the chiming of the hour would mark the beginning of the service. There's a button the organist pushes to begin the tolling of the carillon, but on this evening something went awry. Rather than a chime, the opening bars of a hymn I can no longer remember rang out, and abruptly stopped. Again a button was pushed, with the same result. After several seconds of silence, there came the sound of a lone, low note played manually to approximate the cadence of the tolling of the hour. As that note was repeated - over and over - it began to sound to me like the signal horn of a ship returning home to port.</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;">The picture that plaintive sound evoked in my mind -- one of ships and seas -- reminded me of the story of stormy waters tossing a fishing boat about, nervous disciples, and a weary Jesus soundly sleeping.</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;">Frightened by the prospect of sinking, they roused him from his cot, and in a reply tinged with sadness that they still did not fully comprehend Who he was, he spoke words to this effect: Why are you so worried? I am here with you -- why are you so afraid?</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;">He could, I suppose, have driven his point home by returning to his resting place and letting them ride out the storm alone. He could have stood on the deck of that fragile vessel with them until it passed. But he chose to stretch out his arm and calm the sea.</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.915px;">During these days of war and uncertainties and insecurities that have become our own rough seas, it comforts me to know that even if Christ had not with a simple gesture stilled the raging waters, His presence would have seen them safely through.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 18.915px;">Of course we cannot and should not go through this life blissfully whistling past the horrors perpetuated by the evil choices human beings, gifted with the same free will we all possess, make. We rightfully, understandably, wonder where God is in all of this, and our fears make us trust more in human governments to protect us from all harm than in His sovereignty. </span></i></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.915px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have more questions than answers. I don't understand the ways of God. I don't know why it often seems He withdraws from us when we need Him most. There are so many platitudes that would attempt to explain that, and they all pale when measured against times like these. None of us like the helplessness that comes with saying, "I don't know," when asked the hard questions. I surely don't. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large; line-height: 18.915px;"><i style="line-height: 18.915px;">Which comes back to one of the hardest, most heartbreaking questions Christ asked of his disciples, the very people with whom he walked and rested and broke bread: </i></span></span></div>
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<i style="line-height: 18.915px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Why, knowing Me, are you so afraid? </b></span></i></div>
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</span></span>Eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03051028886041244993noreply@blogger.com0