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beauty in the breakdownsometimes i like lists and sometimes stories April 10 booksI’ve somehow managed to read all these in the past couple weeks. They’ve hardly made a dent in my to read list, but 11 in a couple weeks isn’t bad.
April 02 no words "To say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more
or less than what you really mean; that's the whole art of joy and
words." -C.S. Lewis "Till We Have Faces" Local musician, university alum killed in ‘freak’ crash I have no words tonight. At least not a single one that can come close to saying what I really mean. Four people I went to college with each played a role in a tragic "freak" accident and only three walked away. My heart aches for those three and the fourths family. Lives have been forever altered and their worlds thrown off kilter. March 24 Grandma's Favorite HolidayI'm posting this a week late in honor of St Patrick's Day, since I managed to completely bypass posting in honor of one of the best holiday's of the year. I actually wrote it last year, but I still like it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I think my St Patrick's Day fascination originated with my maternal grandmother. Ever since I can remember she was taken by anything with shamrocks or leprechauns on it. I'm sure the local drugstore loved her this time of year. My sister, brother and I always ended up with some form of light up pin or crazy hair thing in honor of the day. She lived a couple hours from us, but she and my grandfather were a huge part of our lives growing up. Grandma was part Irish and in love with Ireland. She often spoke of traveling there and was thrilled with the knicknacks I carried across the ocean for her when I beat her there. My grandfather enlisted in the military and spent WWII in the Pacific theater, which seemed to be enough traveling for him. He loved the farm and really only left to visit his children and grandchildren. Grandma was a different story, she seemed to want to see and do everything she came across -- something I can relate to. She married young, was an RN and soon become the mother of 6. She loved to learn, later in life going to midwifery school and interning deep in the Ozarks in her 60s despite arthritis and awful living environments. She was an incredible cook although her love of salt, gibblets, and onions seemed to manifest itself in higher and higher ratios the older she got. We loved going to their house -- the farm was our own childhood fantasyland much better than the Disneyland I have never seen could ever be. We'd explore the nooks, crannies and endless closets of the home my grandpa built and hide in the laundry shoot my mother had hidden in with her siblings as a child. We'd pick raspberries and apricots and swing in the hammock in the yard. We'd cross the board over the canal, chew on mint leaves, and hide easter eggs in the loft of the barn. We'd daydream of our uncle and aunts stories of growing up. Of milking cows, weeding sugar beets, and grandpa jumping a 7 ft fence and chasing a bull with a railroad tie. These were our legends of childhood, amidst Paul Bunyon, Jonah, Moses, George Washington, and Abraham Lincoln. While grandma made my favorite swedish meatballs, grandpa would come in from the farm and sit at the table singing silly made up songs -- "I take my shoes off when I'm in the house..." We adored it and we adored my grandparents. That table now sits in my apartment, a piece of history that I love. Countless holiday dinners were served to crowds packed around it's edges. Numerous bowls of 'porridge' and my grandmother's burnt black toast graced it's surface as did a seemingly endless stream of walnuts that we always seemed to be cracking while grandpa grumbled about ever having planting them. Grandma made it to Ireland a handful of years before she passed away. After Grandpa died she joined a tour group with a friend. They did it all -- kissing the blarney stone and giving us all copies of a picture of her looking wistful on a stone wall in front of a peaceful cottage. She relocated to Zimbabwe as a nurse with a missions organization, returning home early due to safety and health reasons. Starting yet another adventure she went to work at the local HS creating a brand new program. She taught basic nursing and science classes and threw her life into her students. She helped them get into nursing school and college, feeding their interests, offering encouragement, and creating futures for many kids who didn't think them possible. I dropped by her house one afternoon in college and to find it overflowing with her students for a year end party. I was startled by the realization that my grandmother had a life I knew almost nothing of and exceedingly proud to be her granddaughter as student after student sang her praises. She went in for yet another back surgery on St Patrick's Day 2004 and to everyone's shock never came out. I think that's how she would have wanted it. She would have gone crazy slowly dying and I think would have wanted the big stir her sudden death caused. Her funeral was just what I think one should be -- a celebration. There were tears and immense laughter. She lived a beautiful, imperfect, very full life. She was often frustrating and always loved. She couldn't let her favorite holiday pass without recognition despite the scheduled surgery. It's still comical to think of her long time surgeon discovering the shamrock stickers on her backside and yes, you can bet that my dad mentioned that admist laughter at her service. On my bed sits a beautiful quilt she finished the night before her surgery. She was working her way through the list of grandkids, but I was the last to receive one and the only of my siblings. We picked out the fabric together and 2 years later she finished quilting it by hand -- in the shape of shamrocks. Here's to a beautiful woman in honor of her favorite holiday. Here's to a woman who was everything a grandmother should be - lovable, loving, an amazing cook, a little bit crazy, and who spoiled her grandchildren. A woman I miss and a woman whose granddaughter I'm proud to be. March 23 impatient perfection: 2007I am not a patient person. I am 26 and debt free save a quickly dwindling almost interest free student loan. I love my job. It seems a little weird to write that sentence, but it’s true. This May marks 5 years since college graduation and 5 years since I started with my employer. I’ve helped to form and create each of the three positions I’ve held, nearly doubled my income and had the indescribable privilege of working for a manager that’s become not only a friend, but also one of the best mentor’s I’ve had. I’ve built a community of friends that have become family, travelled and paid off a car that hasn’t once forced me to hitchhike off any mountain passes. I’ve taken classes, completed certifications and read countless books. I am a perfectionist. By all counts my 2007 looks great on paper. I crossed off a lot of things from my life list, completing my first cross country road trip and spending the bulk of my spring, summer and fall weekends camping and hiking around the NW. I took up biking, developed a friendship with my new brother in law and cut off 20 inches of my attention getting (I’m serious, it really doesn’t matter if I’m at home or in India) naturally blonde hair. I read books on writing and attended writing workshops, danced while Patty Griffin sang in the rain at the zoo and stood in line for half the night with my pregnant sister in law for the new Harry Potter book and autographs from a fake Dumbledore who struggled to spell his own name. I am not a patient person. I am a perfectionist. He may have flaws, she faults and you may be slightly imperfect – I will want to learn your story more because of these. But I may not have imperfections. I will look at 2007 and chide that I didn’t take the GRE in August. That I didn’t see and protect myself from the aftermath of my roadtrip before I ever purchased flights. I will angst over money not saved, the shape I’m not quite in and the books I didn’t read. My stomach will churn when I remember the mistakes, stupid things I said and the tears I shed in front of others. I am a perfectionist, impatient with myself to no end. I want to be a peaceful person. A person content in my own skin. Maybe there's hope for 2008. February 08 the yes we can song
I'm still mulling over what I think of this video, the primaries and the upcoming election. I don't usually expend a huge amount of energy this early in the process, but the passion in some of the candidates this time around has piqued my interest. I first came across this video a few days ago and keep happening upon it over and over ever since. The hope it in resonates with me. Hope in our potential, in change, in coming together to address what faces the world today. Hope in the impossible as possibilities. I know that our next president won't be the answer to all problems -- whoever he or she may be. But I do think it will be a good election -- and one I actually track and care about throughout the process. That alone -- that I and so many others are beginning to really care is a step towards the impossible. (For the record, I've never missed voting)
--------------------------------------------------- The Yes We Can Song I was sitting in my recording studio watching the debates... I was never really big on politics... The outcome of the last 2 elections has saddened me... So this year i wanted to get involved and do all i could early... And i found myself torn... But this time it’s not that simple... So for awhile I put it off and i was going to wait until it was decided for me... And then came New Hampshire... And i was captivated... Inspired... I reflected on my life... and I’m not talking about a "black thing" That speech made me think of Martin Luther King... what America is "supposed" to be... freedom... and thats not what we have today... this is not the America that our pioneers and leaders fought and and then there was New Hampshire it was that speech... It made me think... but that speech... it inspired me... 1 week later after the speech settled in me... it spoke to me... because words and ideas are powerful... I just wanted to add a melody to those words... so i let it.. I wasn't afraid to stand for something... so I called my friends... Usually this process would take months... then we put it on the net for the world to feel... When you are truly inspired.. "love, and inspiration" change happens... "change for the better" "Positive change"... no one on this planet is truly experienced to handle the obstacles we face today... Martin Luther King didn't have experience to lead... no one truly has experience to deal with the world today... they just need "desire, strength, courage ability, and passion" to change... America would not be here "today" if we didn’t stand and fight for I'm not trying to convince people to see things how i do... that’s all... Let's all come together like America is supposed to... that was less than 65 years ago... they did it together... "We can't?... Are you serious..?.. WE CAN!!! Yes we can... We can do it... Please visit www.yeswecansong.com Thank you for reading and listening...
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