Stickin' 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.

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 Jesus Christ Superstar. When I need to think something through, I often listen to Vivaldi's Four Seasons, 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 Homecoming. 

But when I'm out whatevering in an attempt to get my heart rate up and keep 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 shuffle 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.

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 inside 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.

Now that you know those two things, here's the rest of the story. 

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. 

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 been 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 they were way too close to me and it was weird. 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. 

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. 

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.) 

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 one random bracelet that was now turned to the outside of my wrist. 

At this point, we can cue the moment I thought this might be post-worthy. But it gets better. 

I'm standing there, thinking of Moses and burning bushes and "what is that in your hand" and still wondering what that was that had compelled me to stop in the first place, 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 stand and listen. And I thought (which you can read as prayed), "Whatcha got for me, God?" 

(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.)

And the minute I asked that question, a song came up in the shuffle that I had never heard before, 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.

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 work harder at this until it doesn't feel like such
hard work.

MESSAGE RECEIVED. 

I'm not writing this for any of you who might be reading it. I'm writing it for me. This just felt like one of those moments into which I needed to stick a pin.

Listen to Frank Turner's Be More Kind here.

Where to now, God?

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. 

I'm not sure I do, entirely. 

What I do 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. 

Scripture

Tradition

Reason

Experience

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. 

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. 

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. 

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 ever been content to leave us where we were.

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. 

My 2018 Arts and Entertainment in Review

Books

I read 55 books this year. 55% of those read from my Kindle , and about half of those were digitally borrowed from either the Autauga-Prattville Public Library ($15 a year for out of county membership) or the Fairfax Public Library ($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, Long Way Down.  This is a novel in verse that I believe should listened to, because the sense of immediacy, the emotional wallop, is made even more profound in the hearing of the story.

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.)

76% of my reading was fiction, and as top heavy as that number is, it it much, much improved from years past.

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.)

Burning Bright: Stories (Ron Rash) 

Destiny of the Republic (Candace Millard, read by Paul Michael)

Hannah Coulter (Wendell Berry)

Long Way Down (Written and read by Jason Reynolds)

I'll Be Gone in the Dark (Michelle McNamara, read by Gabra Zackman) 

Odd Girl Out: My Extraordinary Autistic Life (Laura James) 

Bone Music (Christoper Rice)

The Buddha in the Attic (Julie Otsuka) 

The Punishment She Deserves (Elizabeth George, read by Simon Vance) 

The Chalk Man (C.J. Tudor)

A Duty to the Dead (Charles Todd)

Movies

I saw 19 movies on the big screen in 2018. Favorites (linked here to their trailers) were: 

Lady Bird

Darkest Hour

Black Panther

Won't You Be My Neighbor

Green Book

They Shall Not Grow Old

Live Theatre

We saw 11 plays this year; 10 at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival, and one at Birmingham Jefferson Civic Center. The highlights were these: 

Fly  (ASF)

Lion King (BJCC)

Annie (ASF)

Every Brilliant Thing (ASF)

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, go. 

Music

I attended 5 live musical performances this year, which included organ concerts and performances by the Montgomery Chorale.  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.  

Television

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. 

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 800 Words, and are currently enjoying working our way through Foyle's War, the remarkably stunning and unusual Suspects, and No Offense, 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. 

We treated ourselves to a total binge of Doc Martin via Netflix and were bereft when we got completely caught up, because the new season won't be around for nearly another year. 

Notable documentaries, also watched via Netflix were The Staircase, and the utterly heartbreaking God Knows Where I Am. 

*****

What were YOUR favorites?  

Don'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.

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." 

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. 

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.  

And I reached over and hung the phone up. 

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 want to be having a medical emergency. 

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. 

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 that, 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 and 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. 

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. 

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.  

So, why am I telling you all this?  Because it could 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. 

Here's what I want you -- especially my women friends -- to take away from this:

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. 

Please take this to heart. One out of four of you, statistically speaking, will die of heart disease of some sort. 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. 

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. 

And don't be afraid or embarrassed to call for help when you think you might need it. 

A Word to My Generous Friends

Facebook'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.  Noblesse oblige, after all.

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. 

That's My Child

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.

Montgomery Chorale

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 Gospel Mass in two different venues, on two different days.  I'll be attending the Friday night performance at Hutchinson Missionary Baptist Church.  I hope to see you there. 

Respite Ministry of FUMC

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

Samaritan Counseling Center

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. 

********

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. 

Everytown for Gun Safety Support Fund

Organization for Autism Research 

Equal Justice Initiative

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. 

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!

The next time somebody cuts you off in traffic,
speak a word of peace instead of a word of anger. 

The next time you hear a child having a tantrum in a public place,
speak a word of gentleness to them and their caretaker. 

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. 

Think before speaking. 

Forgive. 

Find joy in something simple. 

Make your default setting kindness. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

My Year in Books

I've crunched numbers this morning, and here's what my 2017 reading habits were:

I read 62 books (Goodreads says 63, but it's counting one it shouldn't for reasons I can't quite figure out).

88.7% of them were works of fiction, and of those, 30.9% were mysteries/thrillers.

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.

19.3% of these were checked out from from either the Montgomery City-County Public Library or the Autauga-Prattville Public Library, some in hardcover, some in eBook format on my Kindle.

8 books came to me like manna from the sky: 2 through Goodreads' Giveaway promotions, 5 from Netgalley, and 1 borrowed from my sister-in-law.

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 it).

The oldest book I read was published in 1911, and the "newest" was an advance copy of one that will be published in 2018.

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.

MY 2017 FIVE STAR READS

(The top 5 are linked to my reviews. Other five stars are listed in no particular order.)

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine -Gail Honeyman

Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and Peoples Temple -Jeff Guinn, read by George Newbern

Fierce Kingdom - Gin Phillips

Educated: A Memoir - Tara Westover

I Liked My Life - Abby Fabiaschi

Wonder  (R.J. Palacio)

Rage Against the Dying  (Becky Masterman)

Keepers of the House  (Shirley Ann Grau)

The Last Ballad  (Wiley Cash)

The Risen  (Ron Rash)

The Lewis Man (Peter May)

The Scarred Woman (Jussi Adler-Olsen)

Robert B. Parker's Little White Lies  (Ace Atkins)

Before the Fall (Noah Hawley)

The Grownup (Gillian Flynn)

Olive Kitteridge (Elizabeth Strout)

MY 2017 FOUR STAR READS

(The "nearly fives" are linked to reviews, listed in no particular order.)

Dodgers - Bill Beverly

A Chance in the World  - Steve Pemberton

The Book Thief  (Markus Zusak)

If I Forget You (Thomas Christopher Greene)

Number the Stars (Lois Lowry)

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (Helen Simonson)

The Best Kind of People (Zoe Whittall)

I Will Send Rain (Rae Meadows)

A Morbid Taste for Bones (Ellis Peters)

The Rules of Magic (Alice Hoffman)

The Dry (Jane Harper)

The Time Traveler's Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)

Eveningland: Stories (Michael Knight)

Love and Other Consolation Prizes (Jamie Ford)

Fear the Darkness (Becky Masterman)

Because of Winn-Dixie (Kate DiCamillo)

Edgar & Lucy (Victor Lodato)

****

I'm currently reading this one, and hope it'll be a great kick off to my list of books read in 2018!

Why I Stood Up

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 process correctly in the brain.

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.

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.

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 people I know. 

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 him to love my hometown.

I walked because I needed something to do 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.

"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!!"

Best Stuff This Week

Spring 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 grand. 

*****

One of the surest ways that we know it's spring in our household is when our new zoo membership cards arrive in the mail. I am not kidding you when I tell you that this is the best investment we make every year. 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!

*****

I never, ever, ever win anything. Well, that's not exactly true, but I so seldom win anything that I can be forgiven for forgetting that it happened before it happens again. I'm using Goodreads to keep track of my reading these days, and especially to keep track of books I want 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 there. 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. 

*****

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 Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom 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 crushed.

*****

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 this.

 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.....

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I'm also out walking again, after a hiatus that has lasted too long. Part of that is down to having really zapped my ankle back in the fall and the impossibly long time it's taken to truly get it healed again, but it's at least 95%, and I expect that's as good as it's going to get. You work with what you have, and decide that it doesn't matter if you've gotten fat again (don't argue with me about that - I am owning it and naming it). Working with what I have, where I am means my walks aren't particularly challenging, and the best part of them is heading out to see what there is to see again. Yesterday I opted to head out to the Blount Cultural Park, where I used to get a fabulous cardio workout taking the "big hill" on the other side of the footbridge. I wasn't planning on doing that yesterday because I know I'm too out of shape, but when I saw that the footbridge was closed I was bummed! I hope it's a temporary thing, but the setting is still so pretty. 

 

After one short lap at Blount, I decided to check out Ida Belle Young Park again.  It provides a well-maintained flat walking track, and interesting glimpses at how nature gets along without us. In the streams that run through it, which serve as a filtration system and are therefore horribly littered, I spied several sets of nesting ducks and geese. The other thing I spied there were children on the playground with their parents -- all of whom were talking on their cellphones. Every single one of them. I can't go totally old-fogey on that, but I would very much wish those young parents could know how fast these days will be in the rearview mirror, with no way to go back. 

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Before I go from preachin' to meddlin, it's time to stop and smell my own rose, 
delivered to me yesterday from my back yard by my gardener. 

  

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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. 

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WHAT I FINISHED READING THIS WEEK

Rage Against the Dying by Becky Masterman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Read on Kindle

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.

Quinn has given up her career and married a gentle, widowed, retired priest, whose house"came with a set of Pugs, which are sort of a cross between Peter Lorre and a bratwurst." 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.

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.

WHAT I'M READING NOW: 

1965 Pulitzer Prize Winner The Keepers of the House by Shirley Ann Grau

 

 

 

One final note. I have no idea why some of the text showed up blue. I've tried to fix it five times. 

Life's too short to go for number six.