When I checked phone messages late last night after arriving home late from work and before going to bed, I found a message that Sophie, one of the most important family members during my childhood and early married years, died Wednesday. Her death was not expected, though she was in her nineties and in failing health. I feel sad about Sophie for so many reasons. We were very close for decades - she a major support to me in my teens and twenties when my mother was sometimes critical. As she aged and travel became harder for her - as she became less able to hear me on the phone, our communications became less frequent, and I wish I had made that different somehow. Thinking about Sophie I realize that, though I try to act like it doesn't matter, my inability to drive has been a detriment to connection. I would have just driven up to Waco to see her often if I could have just driven up to Waco - harder to ask someone to drive, to plan, to orchestrate trips. I wish Sophie and I had stayed closer longer.

But I also deeply value the closeness we had. She was one who always listened, seemed to care about the details of my life as a girl, remembered details. She taught me to play solitaire and played hours of dominoes for hours with me and Uncle Rudy and Grandpa Rudolf. She and my mother were raised as sisters - just two years apart in age. Sophie's mother died young and her father ran off to St. Louis, leaving Sophie and her older brother Noel to be raised by family - mostly my mother's parents. My other's Protestant parents promised Sophie's Catholic other that they would raise the children Catholic, and they did, taking them to mass each Sunday.Like my mother, Sophie spoke Czech before English and had to suffer through first days of school in a foreign language. She was the one my mother cried for when her turn came to be a new first grader with no English, and the one whose comfort helped.

All through my childhood Sophie and my mother laughed in the kitchen like sisters until, finally, one had to make a quick dash to the bathroom. They joked in Czech and English, sometimes shifting language rapidly. Sometimes they argued like sisters. I know they loved each other like sisters.

Sophie had polio when she was two and was left with a limp. I know that, during The Great Depression, when money was of course tight, the family found a way to send Sophie to St. Louis for surgery on her leg - surgery that allowed her to walk without a brace. There was not money for someone to go with her, so she went on the train alone - maybe nine years old - and was greeted and cared for by a family someone knew in St. Louis, then sent back, recovered, alone on the train. All through my experience with her, Sophie's attitude about her physical circumstances was cheerful. This positive determination of hers may have been my model for my attitude about my visual difficulties - you don't let things like that take up any more space than necessary. No unnecessary losses. I think I learned that part of my personal code of conduct at least in part from Sophie.

Joanna took me out to supper tonight and we talked about Sophie and other family members who have died - about times as they were. I haven't cried yet. Tears seem to come on their own terms with me - not on schedule. I thought writing would loose them, but not this time.

I'm waiting eagerly and a little anxiously for Bob to get here . Its way to late - he got a late start from Corpus and has misplaced his cell phone, so I can't check on hi I'm sure he's safe, but its a drizzly night and I know he's tired and just want him here already!

Brain dead tonight, tired after three busy work days - happy walking home from the bus this evening to see Christmas tree lights behind curtains - I love that sight, that flicker. Outside decorations are going up too and the sparkle pleases me, but its hte trees behind the curtains that seem sweetly mysterious.

Thunder in winter scares me. I don't know why. Saturday night we had thunder near freezing in the hours past midnight, lightning in the cold sky. I woke and felt I needed to stay awake, watching it, to keep us safe. That makes no sense at all. It wasn't a threatening storm, just thunder and lightening in winter. I identified, sitting up alone with my nose pressed to cold glass, shuddering each time the sky shuddered, with people from less scientific times who are reputed to have wondered if the sun would come back each cycle of seasons.

I've been taking the kids to mass for more than a year now (because their parents work Sunday mornings and can't and can't and raising them solidly Catholic is a priority for Joanna) I love St.Austin's Church - the choir, the atmosphere of welcome, the location near campus, the sense of social justice and worship working together. I am impressed particularly by Father Bob Scott - a priest in his late eighties who has worked most of his life on college campuses and speaks of his God and his Church with great passion and love. He donducted the mass yesterday, the Catholic Festival of Christ the King, and he was so caught in the beauty and power of it that he was singing with the choir in the final procession - Later out on the sidewalk I saw him blessing a saint for the hoe of a young couple, standing out on the sidewalk on a cold rainy morning after a long mass chatting, blessing. I lved all of that.

And I'm Jewish and this isn't my church or my world. I can half forget that most of the time when they're talking about social justice - but Christ the King? That's pretty specific.

I watched Jean's father take Communion yesterday. This man is near the top of my list of people I respect - a World War Two Veteran, wise, gentle, a man who has always been quiet about remarkable athletic and, I think, intellectual competencies. l Yesterday was maybe the fifth time during the almost forty years that I've known this lifetime Catholic take Communion. Every time I've watched him participate in the central action of his religion I've cried because the mindfulness and holiness in his participation is so beautiful.

I seem to have a habit of getting myself into situations like this - where I am immersed in the beauty of something but don't completely own it as mine - It's not even that hard any more - just odd. Maybe I should stop thinking its odd and just realise it is true of me. I am drawn to worship and people of faith and tradition, and don't see to be able to solidly stick in a single tradition.

OK - to start to fill in last night's list - Dogs. When Bob and I married he had a beautiful and beloved Golden Retriever companion named Poppy. I will always be thankful to that dog for having been Bob's hiking companion and solace during some lonely years. Poppy was not too happy about her man taking on three other females, but she put up with us and learned to live on our turf. As the girls grew up, each got to an age where she wanted a dog of her own and they did get puppies. Poppy never took to the girls; pups- Pirette, the beautiful if not bright Samoyed Pup Joanna had for a short time before the dog was stolen, Gwen, Ruth's Scottie who is now dead almost three years and Lilly, Joanna's sweet big Shepard mix.

Now Bob has Lobo, five year old Sheltie, as his canine companion and Lilly is the arthritic but elegant old lady of dogdom in our family. Last summer KK, at eleven, reached that point where she wanted a puppy more than anything in the world - and she saved her money and got Sammi, a black Australian cow dog mix. Now KK is working with the reality of responsibility for and to a very lively and sweet pup. Lilly doesn't much like KK's athletic, playful Sammi, but is learning to tolerate her as Sammi is learning some manners.

Mostly I'm writing about the dogs because, with their lifetimes shorter than ours, they show us the generations passing. I have pictures of Poppy as a puppy, even though I didn't know her then and remember holding tiny Gwen and Lilly in my lap - soft pups. Lobo too - bringing him back from San Antonio in a towel in my lap the weekend before the World Trade Center fell. I think Ruth was in middle school - having probably a thirteenth birthday the weekend Poppy died. This spring she'll be turning twenty seven. I remember - if not clearly in terms of detail, powerfully in terms of emotion, so many moments in the lifetimes of all of these dogs - moments in our human lifetimes too, of course.

So given that Poppy is long dead, Gwen dead, Lilly elderly - and KK clearly growing up - where am I in my own life cycle? Past half I know - but its so odd. I don't feel "older" in some quantifiable way. I sure don't feel close to my end. But I know human generations turn just as canine generations do - just more slowly.

I'm alone in the house, back to quiet normal after a busy vacation/holiday week and a day with a houseful. I like the quiet tonight, haven't started really missing Bob yet, though I know I will soon. This is probably the easiest part of the year to live apart. We've just had a whole week together and he'll be home for two weeks on December 19, which seems soon. After the new year, the period until spring break is a long haul with him being extra busy preparing kids for standardized tests and holidays being few and far between. But right now we will be seeing quite a bit of each other.

I want to write about the dogs in our family - past and present - about taking the kids to mass, The Festival of Christ the King, the venerable priest, Bob Scott who celebrated that festival today, thunder in winter. But All I'm going to do tonight is make the list. I'll fill it in after sleeping.

This vacation is almost over. Bob drives back to Corpus tomorrow. We have a houseful tonight - sleeping grand kids and Sammi pup (who is becoming much better behaved lately) Its cold out - rained all day, just a few degrees above ice. I'm washing and precooking and doing all the things I normally do on weekends - even got a good writing spell in while Bob took the kids to the Children's Museum. We had a great family supper and watched the excellent movie Duma, about a boy, a cheetah, wildness, connection, loss and other important things. Its been a great vacation and I even have a good mindset about going back to work - am eager to reconnect with any of my clients. Somehow though, my mood is just off tonight- a little disconnected when I wish most to be able to connect to Bob. I'm not sure what I'm doing - distancing before he actually leaves would be pretty dumb. Better to go put my head in his lap than sit here writing.

Thanksgiving was pretty perfect and the day after has been quiet, restful. I thought I would do some real writing but I was distracted by other needs - OK but need/want to get on track. I did make turkey soup, which makes me feel virtuous.

Home - I love our little house, so warm and familiar on a cold night after five sweet travel days. The trip home was uneventful - good conversation, great dinner at a German restaurant in Fredricksburg. Time to go to sleep and wake up for a family Thanksgiving.

November 20, 2007

Today is a transition day, out of the wilderness back into civilization. It seems fitting that, as a transition day, it has been marked by contrasts. This morning when we stopped at a little rural store looking for post card pictures of The Cat Walk, a sad flier on the store door greeted us. A family is looking for their missing son/brother last seen a week ago, distraught and off his meds for bipolar disorder, threatening to drive off into the wilderness to die. I’ve been thinking about him and his family all day – off and on, between magical nature moments. I hope he founded hope somewhere and will go back home.

Bob and I visited Pueblo Creek today, a wilderness area in which native people lived one thousand years ago. There were more people there then than now – a small agricultural community. We walked the hills and creek bed, noticing birds, listening for wolf song (signs told us we were in wolf country but the wolves stayed away) enjoying the total absence of human generated sound. It was like that yesterday by the lake too –and on the catwalk, only water and wind sounds, no cars or planes.

We made a last birding stop on the Gila river, saw mule deer and more sycamore trees flaming orange among the yellow cotton woods. We each selected a river rock as a memento of this trip. Mine is pale pink and shaped like an owl – Bob’s strong and solidly red. We left the river by sunset and moonrise - having a long intricate conversation about what it means to be a good listener (I love my husband so much – apparently the typical American male wouldn’t intelligently talk with his wife for three hours about what it means to be a good listener)

Dark fell, we got back into cell phone range, and I decided to be responsible and checked office messages – quite a number to deal with, but everyone safe. While I was in the midst of trying to write down phone numbers to call people back, we drove up to a little gas store. Just as we got out of the car there was a terrible noise from the highway – metal on metal, no shattering glass. It was a roll over accident, and others on the scene moved quickly to call 911 and offer aid. By the time we drove by no victims were left at the scene. It shook me though that horrible risk lurked so close to my happy vacation, and worries me a little that I didn’t instantly figure out what was going on and run to the scene as some others did. Bob raised the question of whether the police even want people to approach accidents before they arrive – perhaps we should not risk doing something wrong and hurting someone worse or getting hurt ourselves. We’ve decided to ask a police officer about this soon.

We’re in Deming now (and I’m THRILLED to have clean hair and be off the scary nighttime highway). We are at one of our favorite old-fashioned motels, one where I set a scene in Green Up. Tomorrow, in the daytime, we will drive home in tie to have Thanksgiving with family. Even with the sad moments today, this tradition of the Thanksgiving birding road trip with Bob is one I cherish even more than last year. I hope we continue it.

To check out Bob’s wonderful pictures of our trip go to:
http://picasaweb.google.com/RobertHHendricks/WhitewaterCanyonInGilaNationalForest

November 19, 2007

We are tucked in for our last night in our little Gila hideaway watching Vince Young try to pull off another comeback on Monday Night Football.. It’s fun watching Bob watch football. He gets so excited, especially when he cares about a player as most of Austin (probably Texas) cares about Vince Young. It’s also very odd for me, who doesn’t watch much TV, to watch all the ads for cars and phones, high on gimmicks and speed and humor I don’t get – until all of a sudden the ad is from UNICEF, talking about efforts to keep kids from all over the world from dying of AIDS. And then I notice that the football player and coaches in the ads are often making gentle fun of their own egos – for instance saying that reading the playbook to the kids always puts them to sleep – perfect bedtime story. I am aware one more time how much I am a twentieth century person in a new century and really don’t get the layers of too much of what’s going on.

Some things, like the beauty of a bald eagle flying over a mountain lake, haven’t changed a bit. Today we drove to Quemado Lake where, within three minutes of our arrival at the lake, Bob was greeted by both a bald eagle and a red tailed hawk. On this mild crystalline mountain afternoon we hiked around the little lake and up into the wilderness. From the overlook point above the wooded hills, we watched our eagle fish the lake, accompanied by a second bald eagle, a juvenile. It is so good for us to be out in the clean air, this time scented of pinon pine, to have unscheduled time to just be together and talk about trivial and important matters, relaxed.

November 18

Today has been one of those magical days – beyond any expectation. Bob and I hiked the Cat Walk trail in the Gila Wilderness and it (especially on this perfectly crisp fall day) is one of the most magnificent trails we’ve every hiked. Everywhere we looked was beauty. Most immediately striking was blazing golden sycamores with trunks I couldn’t get my arms around and white branches snaking against a backdrop of pink cliff and azure sky. The cliffs themselves were dramatic, layered by ancient volcanic action – pink, black, gray – gorgeous. The White Water River rushed through its canyon tumbling in classic falls. As we sit tonight in our comfortable room Bob is editing the glorious pictures he took all up and down the trail. He almost didn’t take his camera. I’m so glad he did. Not only are the pictures beautiful and great at communicating our experience, but also it pleases me to see Bob delighting in catching beauty with his camera.

November 17, 2007

Continental breakfast at the motel nearest Bosque DelApache Wildlife Refuge brought an encounter with Marianne, a recently retired kindergarten teacher fro New Hampshire who had just seen her first sand hill cranes. When I asked her about New Hampshire wildlife experiences she told me that her special interest is moose photography – that she goes out early in the mornings to places where she knows the moose will come and waits to take their pictures. She said she had come, over the last several years, to feel that she knows several moose a bit, and that they have become familiar with her. And yes, she does know Fred Small’s song “If You Were a Moose and I was a Cow” and even had the good grace not to make a face when I asked her if she knew the song. I realized later that she probably gets asked that question a lot.

The first bird I saw at the refuge was a road runner (always a bird that brings fond memories of Ruth’s childhood because she liked road runners). The last birds we saw were several thousand snow geese swirling noisily up into the sky from their pond – perhaps frightened by the bald eagle we had seen earlier. Most unusual sighting was of an aplamado falcon, beautiful bird that was once almost extinct in the United States. Reintroduction has been successful enough that this individual wandered unbidden into the Bosque, a very good sign and a delight to birders. The sand hill cranes are still the centerpiece of the refuge, stately and numerous – flying, walking, standing about in family groups of three.

Bob and I were both impressed by the human migrants to the Festival of Cranes – wildlife artists whose work captured the eye and the imagination and activists for many environmental causes. They came with an impressive number of rescued raptors we could see up close, a white wolf, post cards to write to Senators, information about global warming and wolf reintroduction, photographs of canyons and sky, silk scarves, glowing oil paintings, sculptures and statues of owl, wolf – so much work of many kinds in tribute to the glories of nature.

As we drove the windy road to the Lariat Inn in the tiny town of Glenwood at the edge of the Gila wilderness, the elk standing beside the road made it very clear that the “Elk Crossing” signs were for real. We were very happy to arrive at our cozy room – stone and wood – very simple, with a comfortable bed.. My only complaint is the lack of a bath tub or adequate hot water. Those lacks are more than compensated for by the presence of a long eared owl just outside who classically inquiers “Who?”

November 16, 2007

Bob and I did a good job of getting started on our trip calmly even though he was late getting in last night after a frantic afternoon facilitating a fourth grade fundraiser. I had been nervous about being completely responsible for trip groceries but ended up having fun making homemade Chex mix, baking brownies, and picking out trail mixes and salads at Central Market. Bob and I even got our flu shots at the Minit Clinic on our way out of town. That’s a bigger deal that it sounds because I have been feeling guilty about failing to make the phone call necessary to schedule a flu shot through our pharmacy.

Driving through west Texas was as much of a treat for me as it always is – something clean and big about the sky and land joining, especially on clear days in winter. Our old car still drives like a new car (and yes I am knocking on my wooden head) and with speed limits at 80 on the Interstate for daytime driving now, a long driving day didn’t seem long. We had supper in El Paso around sunset, choosing a local Mexican place full of locals – a place where English was spoken but Spanish was dominant and the mariachi band was setting up its sound system for a later show as we ate. I enjoyed watching a large extended family at a nearby table. There were six children, cousins I’d bet, and they surprised e by ordering cold tomato soup (gazpacho) on a cool evening. Our food was plentiful and tasty, and I enjoyed feeling a little exotic, visiting a city and world on the very edge of Mexico. The armed border guards at several checkpoints and the smoke from trash fires on the Mexican side of the border gave a slightly darker cast to the border.

I'm excitedly putting the finishing touches on our leaving for our trip preparations - not much left to do except wait for Bob to arrive and hope for a good night's sleep. I am between , having carefully closed up the office but unable to yey load the car since it isn't here yet. Between is an odd place. Could check the details again - could take a bath or a nap - hard to know what I actually will do.

I don't feel full of words tonight - good work week - I am steadily preparing for our road trip - Chex Mix made from scratch, brownies in the oven, six changes of underwear and socks counted into the suitcase, pet food stored away for the friend who will feed dog and cat in our absence, Thanksgiving shopping and cooking squared away with Joanna (She's doing it. I'm not.) I'm excited about going away with Bob and excited about going into nature. I've been dreaming for weeks now, almost nightly, about the sand hill cranes. But I think I'd still be excited about going away with Bob if we were just going to sit in a boring room somewhere and eat bland food for five days - I really miss that man.

A friend shared a poem with me today - a poem based on a poem. You probably already know Emily Dickinson's poem about hope but if you need a reminder here it is:

Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune
without words,
and never stops at all.

Emily Dickinson

The newer poem, which I hadn't read before, catches so well what I feel when I say things like "Love is stronger than loss." and "Life force comes back if you let it."

The Thing With Feathers

Chris Bursk

It's the first thing you hear in the morning,
the last you hear at night.
In the woods, in the swamps,
in the old steeple, in the ruined eaves,
over the wreckage of a car
your mother drove straight into a wall,
The bird won't stop singing,
It is perched on the rafters of a house that burned to the ground.
Whenever you move, it's one hop
ahead of you. Tireless
as a creek it's a tune that will not allow itself
to be forgotten. It keeps building
and leaving its nest, all chatter, all expectation,
water singing to itself
in the shadows as well as the sunlight,
That insufferable Optimist.
No matter how many doors you slam,
curses you shout, rocks you throw,
it pops up louder than ever
on this very branch of the very tree outside your house
-as if stones must be your way of applauding.
It was singing the morning you got fired
the day you brought grief to the person
you most wanted to protect.
the evening when the great cause you'd pledged yourself to
failed. It sang
while your father was writing his suicide note,
the night your dear friend told you he was HIV positive,
the night you could find nothing remaining
to believe in, when all you wanted
was to be left alone. It sings in places so dark
you can't see into them.
It is singing out there now.

Veterans Day - a day to honor all veterans. I especially think of Bob's Dad, who served in three wars. (Thank you Dubby) I think of a young father of two I know who is on his third tour in Iraq. I remember my friend Don who didn't come home from Viet Nam, and my friend Steve, who took decades to feel comfortable being home. I think of so many veterans - and say thank you. I can mouth "War is Hell." but hope I'll never know what I really mean, not at all its levels. All of you, veterans of wars know. I wish you didn't have to know. I hope my grandchildren won't have to know.

Again, thank you, veterans.

To mark this day I post a poem and a quote.

In Flanders Fields

by Major John McCrae
Canadian Officer

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.


And, From Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. when he received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964


"I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become reality. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.”

Pleasant Sunday so far - homework and companionship with the kids - a brief visit with Ruth and Chris when they came to get KK and take her for a bike ride and canoe expedition. I'm so proud of that kid. She's gotten a week ahead (as much as is possible given that thins will still be assigned) on homework which is good with her busy dance schedule. She works so hard. Zachary is beginning to understand school expectations better and grow into the student world. Danny is the only one who didn't have homework this weekend. He is working on learning his math facts though, so he won't escape his grandma's academic embrace. We'll drill flash cards in a few minutes - then go to the park.

Last night I read a Newberry winner that just blew me away = Out of the Dust,
a journal style novel in poems written in the voice of a musically talented (piano playing) girl from the dust bowl era of Oklahoma. The story is poignant, beautifully captures grief and recovery, as well as a phase of history my parents lived through, but didn't experience as painfully as this character. One of the last poems, about music, moves me and makes sense out of context of the story.

Music

I'm getting to know music again.
And it is getting to know me.
We sniff each other's armpits,
amd behind each other's necks,
We both are confident and a little sassy.

And I know now that all the time I was trying to get
out of the dust,
the fact is,
what I am,
I am because of the dust.
And what I am is good enough,
Even for me.

November 1935
Karen Hesse

Really great Saturday out and about town with the kids -Farmers' market ripe with fresh pecans, Texas tangerines, local art - fun sandwich shop called which Wich where you personally design each sandwich by marking choices for meats, cheeses, relishes, vegetables on the bag in which the sandwich will come - and afterward you get to draw on the bag and clip your artwork to a display if you want. Danny loved his turkey sandwich and I loved drawing on brown paper, school girl portraits of happy grandsons. The Children's Museum provided its usual high quality exploration activities for all of us. Among other things we simulated different kinds of atoms by putting different objects - bells, pennies, pebbles, beads, puffballs, into balloons and then blowing up the balloons and experiencing the differences between them - made as they were of different elements. When we went back to the dance academy to get KK, we had the privilege of seeing the the first run through of the complete Nutcracker choreography for the Bon Bons. Fun and impressive!

Later this evening I had the delight of helping KK find pictures to place in a personal life cycle project for school - including pictures of her past and present selves (baby, toddler and preteen) - and pictures of Joanna and me for future life stages (young adult, parent, and elder). She has done a beautiful job, and the assignment gave us a chance to look through family pictures - so many sweet pictures of happy times. Its easy to get caught in the struggle of daily life - good to have this focus on our many happy times.

After the life cycle collage, KK was still on a schoolwork roll and completed her D.A.R.E. anti drug education essay. Its really odd how time passes so fast, generation upon generation. It really doesn't seem long since I helped Ruth edit her prize-winning D.A.R.E. essay. Here is KK's:

As a dancer, I care about keeping my body healthy, I think D.A.R.E. is helpful and interesting. I'm glad I learned how much marijuana, tobacco, alcohol and other drugs damage the body and the brain. I think D.A.R.E. will help me say "No." to drugs and violence even when I am a teenager.

Knowing drugs are very bad for my body is enough to keep me from wanting to use them. D.A.R.E. helps me remember the consequences of bad choices. D.A.R.E helps me know when to avoid bad behavior, when to say "No." and when I need to get adult help.

It is important for me to be drug-free and safe from violence because my dream to dance all over the world can't come true if I'm not healthy. I also want a family that loves me and to raise healthy children. If I get involved with drugs and violence, that dream can't come true either.

I pledge that I won't ever try drugs or tobacco and that I will never abuse alcohol.

KK Sullivan-Scott

Confidentiality regarding work is a pain when I want to blog (sometimes)especially when the main feeling things going on with me on a given day are work related. What I can write tonight is that I feel extremely thankful to have been born with a brain that produces neurotransmitters and other chemicals in appropriate proportions - that I don't hallucinate, am able to learn quickly to do tasks requiring abstract thinking, never risked heavy drinking or drug use, am not living in a violent family or a war torn country. I will have enough to eat tomorrow and won't have to worry about having to kill anyone, or fear that anyone will be trying to kill me.

Happy tonight - after work Joanna made soup and apple cake and I read with the boys. KK is loving, thriving in dance - and has a real affinity for (and reciprocated by) - her male dancer friend Ian. She is so sweetly eleven in her fondness for him - counting hugs. He's fourteen, an awkward age difference - They are beautiful dancing together. We are trying to keep our adult impressions off of this young friendship - not trying to make it into something it isn't. She is just very happy right now, and especially in this friendship. If nothing else, their desire to be together is good for their dancing. They are both asking to go to extra jazz classes to have time together.

Chris turned thirty today - and I was pleased ot be included in the celebration with his family at a Caribeean restaurant - good decade more or less that I've known Chris and come to love him and love the way he loves Ruth, and she him. I wonder what the next decade will bring.

Ok, I've been taking the quizes at Blue Pyramid quizes to entertain myself - starting with the book quiz mentioned earlier, and am blown away by the country quiz results. Its silly that a few questions could nail a personality wo well. Those of you who know me - I'm idealistic and always trying to please everybody and get everybody to be at peace with everybody else, right? So here is my result. I think I should just go to bed!

"You're the United Nations!Most people think you're ineffective, but you are trying to completely save the world from itself, so there's always going to be a long way to go. You're always the one trying to get friends to talk to each other, enemies to talk to each other, anyone who can to just talk instead of beating each other about the head and torso. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, and you get very schizophrenic as a result. But your heart is in the right place, and sometimes also in New York."

On Friday afternoon I participated in a memorial tree planting at the park where Joanna and James got married. A client of mine whose husband died last February was planting a tree at the park to commemorate his birthday. The ceremony, conducted by members of their Unitarian Universalist community, was sweet and tender - informal, gave the young sons a chance to participate in adding earth and scattering flowers and rosemary for remembrance.

Yesterday the Catholic church had family Sunday school again, this time about family faith tradition, with emphasis on remembering our beloved dead. We brought pictures of those we have lost and talked about them. In addition there was a focus on remembrance and faith. We were directed to talk about whom in the family first helped us feel close to God. I was touched by being part of this process for these children.

It doesn't escape me that the service I was "too busy" seeing an emergency client to attend was my own Jewish Friday night service, which Ruth and Chris say I would have loved. Got to think about that and my time use and choices.

Our weekend was more relaxed than most recent weekends. Bob and I had most of Saturday to ourselves because Joanna wasn't working and kept the boys. We took KK out to breakfast at her favorite deli where she collected a hug from the owner, and delivered her to and from a day of dance class and Nut Cracker rehearsal. Mostly though we just enjoyed each other, walked the lake, grocery shopped, hung out. That night we enjoyed an opera concert . No costumes, just one aria sung right after the other. It was done that way because Austin Lyric Opera is awaiting completion of the new performing arts facility and the one they previously used is being renovated - so they had no where to put on an opera, just a concert. so they had no where to put on an opera, just a concert. It was held at River Bend Church, where Bob used to attend - not in the church he remembers but the bigger, newer one. It was fun to, by chance, meet Jean and Mark at the performance.

Yesterday afternoon and evening and all of today have been pleasant and ordinary- laundry and correspondence, helping the kids with homework yesterday wile Bob watched football. Life is sweet here.

Fun quiz for book lovers - Which book are you? To find out one opinion try out the quiz at http://bluepyramid.org/ia/bquiz.htm. I haven't read the book that was chosen for me - A Prayer for Owen Meany, but now I think I will. Oddly, I've read the other books which have come up for friends who have taken the quiz, but not my own.

I just got back from a beautiful All Soul's Day mass, at St. Austin's Catholic Church. The choir, in which good friends Jean and Mark both now sing, performed Gabriel Faure's Requiem with orchestral accompaniment. The effect on me was as if heavenly choirs had joined with the human choir. The homily was based on the beatitudes and the conflict in the human spirit between hope and fear. The alter cloth and vestments were white, and the mood tender and contemplative - all very healing for this spirit.

Its so odd about me and religion/spirituality. Other people seem to be able to choose one and believe it and belong to it. For me traditions, prayers and songs of many traditions have power and beauty. Its hard to stick with one, or care which one is being practiced. Spiritual seeking, beautifully orchestrated, moves me deeply, regardless (within reason) of theology.

It was good for me to end the day with a meaningful spiritual experience. It was a hard day of change at the office. I saw Ruth's studio half emptied of her belongings, on its way to becoming Melissa's office. I remember when Chris and Ruth were hopefully moving into the studio, laying floor, making plans. I remember delightful photo shoots there with her. It does seem like it is time for her to move on now - to explore all aspects of her talents, and that studio really is too small and the sounds of photography in one room and therapy in the two adjacent clash, so its good that the room will be rededicated to therapy. And I really believe Melissa is a compassionate and gifted young therapist who will do much good in the space, so all will be well. Change is just hard.

I spent the evening at Joanna's house - really fairly quietly, giving out candy to the very cute trick-or-treaters who came to the door and making an easy pasta supper for our crew. It was a good family Halloween - not stressful trying to go too many places , nobody in a bad mood- reminded me of neighborhood Halloweens when the girls were little and when I was little for that matter. One difference which pleased me was the ethnic diversity in the kids' suburban neighborhood - something I am aware of but which is especially evident on Halloween when the families are out en mass. There are several high tech companies near Joanna's and Ruth's houses which seem to hire from all over the world. I enjoy the different accents and the varied looks of the people.

A highlight of Halloweens for me has been Ruth's pumpkin carving. This year the one she did for me was a gorgeous, intricate spooky bare tree with a bat in the branches and an elaborately scripted "Happy Halloween" above.

An odd aspect of my grand kids trick-or -treating is that Zachary, at five, had enough of it an hour before his brother and sister and asked his Auntie to bring him back to the house where he helped me with food and willingly read to me and worked on a homework project that's due Friday. He didn't seem sick, grumpy, or even exhausted - just said he had enough candy and was ready to go home. Definitely not the stereotype of a five year old boy! I loved the one-on-one time with him.

There are so many interesting variants in celebration and noncelebration of Halloween and other holidays. A friend told me this morning about a dinner party she was attending at which each guest is assigned a role - (both costume and behavior- attitude, etc) by the hostess, and the guests come dressed as their characters and play out their roles throughout the evening. With this group the roles are pretty zany, but the hostess is kind, not pushing people to embarrass themselves. I think, with people I trusted, I could really enjoy a party like that, but can't see myself throwing one.

I'm a little sad Halloween is over. Its a holiday I enjoy with all the color and the costuming element - but I also enjoy the November decorating - got my gourds and Indian corn today and in the morning I will replace the jack-o-lantern banner out front with a cheerful raccoon among fall leaves.

My niece, who is involved in the care and support of a patient with early onset dementia has been researching the topic and found an intriguing health article last week, in the context of Alzheimer’s prevention and long term brain health. It is just a really nice overview of healthy choices, from diet to mental and physical exercise and is based heavily on research going on at Duke University: http://health.msn.com/centers/alzheimers/slideshow.aspx?cp-documentid=100155390&imageindex=1.

The short form of the eleven is:
1."Mediterranean" diet high on fish and complex carbohydrates and low on red meat and processed foods.
2. Specific dietary supplements including fish oils and folates - but more vitamins too, lots of B
3. a glass of red wine every day (for the powerful antioxidant in it)
4. anti-inflammatories daily (for some people) because inflammation may aggravate neurological decline
5. at least fifteen minutes of meditation a day - to reduce cortisol levels
6. laughter - to increase endorphins
7. keeping a broad and active social network
8. seven to eight hours good sleep a night
9. continuing to learn new skills on a regular basis
10 cardiovascular exercise
11. “neurobic” techniques outlined in a book by Duke researcher Lawrence Katz and author Manning Rubin.: Keep Your Brain Alive,. They outline an unusual brain exercise program that’s based on a solid foundation of neuroscience research. Specific kinds of sensory stimulation, they believe, like using the nondominant hand for common activities, are said to cause the brain cells to secrete molecules called neurotrophins that act like nutrients to improve cellular health.

My response to the list surprised me a little. Most of it seems easy but I feel rebellious about the dietary component. Part of my rebellion stems from the amount of red meat I prepare for Bob (fix meals to send to Corpus with him) since he is losing weight and keeping cholesterol down successfully on the Atkins diet. Its hard not to eat at least some of what I cook for him. But there is something deeper about food and me. I eat reasonably healthily if I don't think about it much, but once I start focusing on food and trying to to eat “healthy” all the time my rebel gets involved and then I want to stop eating altogether or eat a bag of Butterfingers. I wish I were saner regarding food. I need to find a balance - not an extreme.

The other area that is tough for me is laughter. I a a serious person and have never tended to laugh much. Very little makes me laugh out loud - except physical horseplay which I do enjoy. I think something like ping pong would be more likely to get me laughing than funny movies.

I wrote down the recommended supplements and want to talk to Bob about starting those for both of us, maybe anti-inflammatories too.. Meditation, exercise, and socialization, and trying new things are part of my life anyway. and this year I'm doing the best I have in years on sleeping seven or eight hours a night. I see to have gotten into the habit, which is a blessing after decades in and out of insomnia. I have red wine in the house but rarely drink it - could learn to - don't like it enough to want to overdo, but could get a glass a night down as medicine. The “neurobic” exercise and other emphasis on novelty and learning are intriguing. I want to get the neurobic book at least from the library. Just for fun I’ve been using the mouse with my left hand his evening. Tricky.

Our weekend was busy with pre-Halloween activities including a multi -generational party for members at the Children's museum. We took our crew and KK's best friend Allison, and we all had fun. I am such a kid, loved walking in the costume parade from City Hall to the museum flapping my orange feather boa behind the band. The party was skillfully planned and really delightful - with craft opportunities, a chance to get really creative balloon creatures, lots of friendly people in ingenious costumes, and lots of love for their kids.

The hours leading up to the party had been packed full with Nut Cracker related activities including the photo shoot. It was fun to see KK in her Bon Bon costume - a red and white striped confection, and even more fun to see her enjoying being in the costume with her dancing friends. Bob and I also took the kids to the costume store to pick out Halloween costumes, Batman(Danny), Robin (Zach) and an adorable witch (KK).

Lately I wonder about the balance in my life. I am spending lots of time with the kids, helping them, taking care of them, and being delighted by them. I'm working long hours. I read and write and kind of keep house. I talk to Bob on the phone most days and he and I co-grandparent on the weekends he comes home, which is most of the. I think I will be satisfied that Bob and I lived our fifties this way if we both live into our healthy eighties or later - but if he were to die or become terribly incapacitated soon I would feel pretty awful about giving him (and enjoying with him) as little as I do. If I were to die or lose function soon, I think I'd be guilty of not having given enough to this good man and my marriage with him. But when I think of trying to do a major redo on our life - with much more time together and less other focus on my part, I feel overwhelmed and don't know what I would or could change.

I am still feeling the residual horror of the southern California fires ( and distress that a human could/would/did cause such horror on purpose. I hope all of you and your families out there aren't suffering too much from poor air quality - deeply disturbing. My friend Peggy, who lives in Orange County, wrote the following poem about her experience with the aftermath of the fires.

The orange-gray sky of smoke
and flame hangs heavy like some
scene from Hell. It's clear why
Dante decided to make Hell burn,
surely a nightmare with stinging eyes
and rasping throat and the orange
glow that passes for sunlight. Yet
against this Heironimous Boschesque
sky a green humming bird hovers
unaware sucking nectar from the
cape honeysuckle flutes, a reminder
that even now life goes on.

Peggy GoetzOct. 28, 2007

I had an unusually full and stressful work week (just lots of people in lots of emotional pain and more than usual new clients). I'm tired and need to get clean sheets on the bed before Bob gets home in an hour or so. I've been good though - done the laundry, grocery shopping, and precooking for Bob's eals during the week. That way my mind and time should be more freed up while he is here. That feels good. I'm a pretty content but not particularly creative knid of tired tonight. Looking forward to arms around me soon.

Crazy day. It started early and ended late. Lots of client crisis and Joanna got locked out of her car at my house in a way which required that we scurry around to get KK a ride home from dance class. It all worked out and the last hour or so has finally calmed down. I enjoyed sitting with KK after dance class while she steadily and with discipline finished homework. Then Bob and I had a good phone conversation. He let me talk my way through the logistics and computer problems of my long work day and I listened to his frustrations and successes too. I'm proud of us for having gotten as good as we have on the phone. The first year of living apart, the phone conversations were hard. I always seemed to want more connection than I felt coming over the line. Now our talks are almost as good as laying in his lap or having him lay in mine - and that's a relief. Not that it won't be good, eventually, when we have only one home.

I had a fun interlude in the middle of the day when I took my friend and business partner Bill out for birthday lunch. Old friendships seem to be a theme this week - last night with Jean and today with Bill. I met Bill the year Ruth was born - 26 years ago, when he was dating my dear friend Marie. We've been through so many changes since- his marriage to Marie, Kerry's illness and death, degrees, starting and growing a practice together, my marriage to Bob, several health scares, developing together as writers, critiquing and enjoying each other's work, celebrating each others hobbies and interests. He has been an admirer of and mentor for both of my daughters, and now (as a man who grew up as a child actor at the Dallas Theater Center) is someone who enjoys and understands my stories of KK and dance academy. Happy birthday Bill! You are such a blessing in my life.

Terrible fires burn in southern California - in Orange County where I grew up. There have always been wildfires when the Santa Anna winds blew. I remember the searing heat and ash falling from the sky when I walked home from high school. But these fires are worse, longer, taking more homes. A number of them were caused by arson. The fire and the human madness to set fire frighten me. I think of the Terry Brooks books about the end of our world, about evil winning out and society as we know it being destroyed, and I am frightened. I want to fight for good and order and peace in the world even harder. And don't know exactly how. I also want to take cookies to the local fire station in small gratitude to the brotherhood (sisterhood too) of firefighters who work to beat back that one particular danger.

Tonight I had an unusual kind of fun. Jeannie (who was my college room mate almost forty years ago and is still a dear friend) continues to work on The University of Texas campus and to have access to information about activities held on campus. Tonight she and I attended an event called "The Big Yell" during which the attendees were treated to pizza, shown historic slides of UT buildings and sports teams from 1892 through 1950, and invited to participate in a recording of some of the old - long unheard yells. An example is the Rattle De Thrat Yell from 1896,

Rattle de thrat, de thrat, de thrat!
Rattle de thrat, de thrat, de thrat!
Longhorn! Cactus Thorn!
M-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- TEXAS!!!

Pretty silly and out of my normal mode, but tremendously fun. I have much pleasure and satisfaction and fulfillment in life. Not so much plain fun. This was FUN. I liked having a reason (making the tape sound authentic) to jump and shout and be generally silly. A sociometrist would call it role relieve, but tonight I'll be redundant and one more time call it simply fun.

Also, I was touched by my family's long connection with the University of Texas. My parents attended there in the 1930's, Mama worked in the bursar's office after graduation and Daddy was a professor there when I was born in 1950. There are buildings on campus named after people who were household names in my childhood, people of whom I have fond memories even into my adulthood. It felt both strange and sweet to hear mention of Arno Nowottney (who carried me across the street when I was three and for some crazy reason had no shoes in August) and Dorothy Gebauer (Dean of Women who was Mama's first boss and mentor, helped arrange my adoption, and remained my friend well into my marriage and her retirement). There's a Gebauer Building on campus now, and A Nowotteny room in the Alumni Center. They are part of history and deserve to be, and part of my memory too.

As it turned out, the weekend was busy but fun - not as frantic as I feared. My main personal growth goal for right now is to stop reving myself up with anxiety about activities I need to participate in. Its just silly and wasteful and it has to be possible to find a way to contain it. I think I've done harder things - but so far this one still has control at times. I got myself pretty hysterical Friday night when the option of staying in a hotel on the river to avoid going back and forth so much proved impractical- too expensive and some of my first choices were full. It is so hard in the midst of panic and overwhelm to act out of the perspective my mind never loses - that life is good and the problems I'm freaking out about minor. Have to keep working on this.

Watching day at ballet class was its usual treat. Its exciting to watch the young dancers progress. I've been watching some of these kids dance since they were three. Its so serious and professional now, with them going through positions, knowing all the French - receiving very subtle instruction about direction of palm and toe. KK's good, getting the technical things, the line and body mechanics perfect - strong, with great balance. She is still more technical than passionate, or was in class, but I suspect the love she feels for dance will become more obvious to the observer as her technique becomes even more second nature. Later in the afternoon I got a glimpse of the bon bon rehearsal - fun to watch the excited young dancers in rehearsal. The joy in dance was very evident then.

Even though the boys and I had the challenge of long waits downtown on Saturday, the day was over all excellent. KK was still with us on break when went to the farmers' market (near ballet) and the boys got the best face and body painting I've ever seen done by a neat woman who has a local children's' theatre company and was in Grease on Broadway for four years. She did arms as well as faces, and Danny ended up looking amazing with a glittery green gecko snaking up one arm and a golden tiger painted face mask with sparkling black nose. Zachary chose a Pokemon character whose name I can't pronounce on one cheek (think yellow science fiction cat) and a spider on the other. Both boys were delighted with the face painting and with the comments they got all afternoon about their appearance. KK was mature enough to accept that she couldn't get face or body painting because she had to go to the Nut Cracker
costume fitting next and couldn't risk getting makeup on the costumes.

While KK was at fitting and then rehearsal, the boys and I walked to the Children's Museum where I ended up having as much fun at the craft table as the boys did with gears and parachuting pigs. I love how frequently they change the exhibits, since we go often. Next week Bob will be home and we will all experience the Children's Museum's costume parade and party, as well as the Symphony's Annual Halloween concert. We've been going to that one since Joanna was on my hip - two? It has become a tradition looked forward to by a second generation of family kids now.

When the boys and I were walking to the Children's Museum, we had an unexpected treat. A fancy pet store near the dance academy was sponsoring a silent auction of designer dog houses. They were all kinds - bamboo, Plexiglas, metal, even constructed of tennis balls. And people brought their dogs to the event - ALL KINDS of dogs from tiny and easy to miss in arms to waist high and huge headed. Danny counted eighty six dogs! That was fun.

I kept up with Bob by cel phone (maybe I don't hate them altogether) while we were out and about Saturday. He had a great time taking a group of kids to the aquarium Saturday afternoon and caught up on sleep, reading and preparation this weekend when he didn't have to drive home.

The rest of the weekend was calmer. We skipped church and worked lots on homework. KK had a science assignment due - about adaptation of creatures to environment and she and I had a blast creating a little "Moss digger" out of a gray sock - think tundra prairie dog - to live in a cold world where the main predator is a big nocturnal cat. Digger of course, hides in his complicated tunnels at night and comes out in the day time. He is camouflaged by having fur the same color and texture as the moss he eats. It was fun watching KK's mind work on this project and having the supplies to help her easily create it.

Zachary followed through on last weeks promise and did not come home with unfinished work this week. He also was willing to practice his improving coloring and scissor skills for me, and happily read the small readers from his book bag repeatedly. Danny worked hard on his reading and spelling, and all the kids enjoyed the stack of old Halloween books I pulled out for the season.

Yesterday Ruth bought KK a green bike (as she has outgrown her old bike) . The Green Goddess is perfect for our girl and her arrival led to an afternoon of fun with bikes in the yard and down the street for Ruth,Chris, KK and the boys and I. It was a bright breezy mild afternoon - the kind that kept us outside until last light - KK and I on the bench reading Bella at Midnight to each other and the boys up in KK's tree and then bowling with pine cones for balls and pins both on the driveway.

Today is the first rainy fall day - fifties into forties tonight. I'm enjoying being inside watching it rain outside - but do want to get a walk in with a jacket. You never know here in Austin if it will get hot again. I hope not.

Some days are harder than others and today was one of the stupidly hard ones - no real problems, nothing to be distressed about, nobody sick or dying, but LOGISTICS everywhere I turned and a terrible time keeping my perspective. And tomorrow is full of logistic challenges too. I'm scared. I want to go to bed for a week with a stack of good books and room service. and somebody telling me how great I am every hour on the hour. But I know I'll be balanced again in the morning. It is watching day at ballet, which is actually a huge treat. In my current mood its hard to look forward to anything, but sleep will help.

Tired tonight but sitting at the computer anyway. How bright is that?

I had homework and dance studio tie with the kids this evening - really intriguing for me to watch them at different stages in the learning process - from learning to use scissors (Zachary) to capitalization rules (Danny) to doing perimeter problems with decimals (KK). I a,so feel a totally unmerited pride in the kids' willingness to eat a wide variety of not"kid stereotype" foods. Tonight the boys split a huge exotic salad with avocado and cheese, chicken, tomato - all sorts of lettuces - and really enjoyed it - wolfed their fresh fruit desserts - and yes, did happily eat brownies too. I can't take credit for the healthy eating, but it pleases me.

Summer is ending. The evenings are cooler and the mornings, though the sun still is warm in the afternoons. When I look out my window in daylight I still see the canopy of late summer leaves - fading a little but green green against the sky - I wonder how long before it starts shifting - One week? Two? It should be soon.

Golden crescent moon was setting in the west when I walked home from work - golden through a light haze, gauzy veil. The twilight brought me to an introspective place.

I've been thinking more about the issue of "everything happens for a reason" and realizing that it is a STRONG button issue for me. I am a universalist and believe there are any truths and many ways to truth, many paths toward wholeness and the divine. It is important to e to accept a multiplicity of paths. And here I sit , really distressed by and wanting to dissuade people from the "everything happens for a reason view.

Many of my friends who argue divine reason speak in terms of lessons and karma and a divine plan which puts us always where we need to be - so that when terrible things happen to innocents perhaps it is the plan that they face these terrible things. That scares me. i neither absolutely believe in reincarnation or rule it out. I don't rule out much or believe in much as absolutely true. the main thing I believe in is the importance of our individual choices. If I stand back and let things I believe are clearly harmful go on around me because I believe everything happens for a reason, that's dangerous. I think free will can get out of hand and I'm responsible for using my own free will to do as much good and as little harm as I can. I get scared by the "for a reason" belief because I think it can permit us to stand back when we should take action.


As far as terrible things happening to innocents and the way that can be framed to have a place in a reasoned universe, someone I once respect said "souls may choose, but children don't." I 'm not sure about souls. I know children don't choose and if I have to choose between protecting a child and possible denying its child a lesson its soul chose to learn through abuse or starvation, I'll protect the child.

the deep spiritual connection I feel with the divine and with my faith tradition is a source of comfort and strength, and is something I use to inform and strengthen my choices. If I have to choose between belief and action (and I don't think we do) I choose action.

My comforting thought, instead of "Everything happens for a reason." is more "Whatever happens I choose how I use it."

I found a quote tonight - by one who should know, that I resonate to:

if I stand back and let things I believe are clearly harmful go on around me because I believe everything happens for a reason, that's dangerous. I think free will can get out of hand and it takes I'm responsible for using my own free will to do as much good and as little harm as I can. I get scared by the "for a reason" belief because I think it can permit us to stand back when we should take action.

As far as terrible things happening to innocents and the way that can be framed to have a place in a reasoned universe, someone I respect said "souls may choose, but children don't." I 'm not sure about souls. I know children don't choose and if I have to choose between protecting a child and possible denying its soul a lesson that soul chose before entering a body to learn through abuse or starvation, I'll protect the child.

Whatever spiritual connections I feel with the Divine and my faith traditions are sources of comfort and strength,which I use to inform and strengthen my choices. If I have to choose between belief and action (and I don't think we do) I choose action.

My comforting thought, instead of "Everything happens for a reason." is more "Whatever happens I choose how I use it."

I add a quote that resonates to what I'm feeling tonight, from one who learned in most difficult circumstances.

Viktor Frankl wrote:

We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.

We cannot live for ourselves alone. Our lives are connected by a thousand invisible threads, and along these sympathetic fibers, our actions run as causes and return to us as results.
Herman Melville

What a weekend! I think the holiday season (as opposed to the past Jewish Holy Day season) just started. The holy day season was reflective. This newly opening holiday season is busy, full of events already. Bob and I had an interesting conversation in the car yesterday. He said that an outsider could look at American Halloween as a celebration of junk food and American Christmas as a celebration of materialism. Of course with Christmas the spiritual significance is obvious and many people make successful efforts to focus on that. But on one level Bob is accurate and that's really depressing, especially since I love Halloween. For me Halloween is a celebration of the turn of seasons, the shortening of days, the change of the light, everything turning orange and ripening, even dying, passing. That is part of the cycle after all. It's also a holiday about playing publicly, getting in costume, being someone or something else, walking in the twilight in the cool, in the dark, between.

The holy day associated with Halloween is the next day, All Soul's Day, the Day of the Dead in the Latin cultures. I loved the All Soul's Day mass as I've experienced it in Catholic and Episcopal churches, though it is not a Jewish observance. It is a meaningful one to me. I wrote a poem last week about the way I feel about the spiritual sense of this time of year.

Autumn, Between

Dreamer in me believes
as sun angles shift down
and air cools, spirits of
the beloved dead linger
closer to earth, shadows
through the veil, familiar.


but back to the earthly celebrations starting up, Saturday the neighborhood association in Joanna's neighborhood held its annual Hairy Man Festival in the park across the street from Joanna's house, and Bob and I and the kids attended. For an introvert who isn't great in crowds, I had fun doling out tickets and watching the grand kids meet friends from school and delight in petting alpacas and llamas, climbing inflated structures, and just enjoying being out in their community.

Saturday, also was the first day I really got to spend time in KK's dance world at the new, very impressive, Ballet Austin facility . If you want to know more about the company academy and facility check out http://www.enewsbuilder.net/grtraustinchamber/e_article000807313.cfm?x=b11,0,w For more about The Nut Cracker and Austin's version of it look athttp://www.balletaustin.org/documents/nutcracker_footnotes.pdf. but for me the coolest thing wasn't just the beautiful new openly designed building full, light air, and dancers and musicians of different levels busily perfecting their crafts. The coolest thing was that this is KK's home base. I went up the spiral staircase, clearly for the first time, gaping all around and a member of the company asked me who I was looking for. "An eleven year old redhead..." I started "Oh, KK, she answered with a grin - third door to the right. She's in tap."

And she was. This is the first year she's been in the open classes with dancers of all ages and she is so in her element, so happy, not even obviously tired after a day of four classes and a rehearsal with some Hairy Man festival in between. Her tap teacher, a young man she especially likes and admires, caught me ont he stairs and told me that KK is a delightful person and a joy as a student, but that there is clearly something exciting going on with her development as a dancer. She feels it. She's flying, that one.

And then there's St. Austin's Catholic Church, an odd place to have become such a station of hope and learning for this nontraditional Jewish girl. But that church is so alive with a real desire to help people grow spiritually and use that growth in service. Yesterday while the kids were in their classes, I started the adult Sunday School program, a little timidly. It was superb - about poverty in the US and our appropriate response. The name of the curriculum is something like "All Our Neighbors" The statistics are that one in nine Americans and one in six children are officially poor. Yesterday we watched a documentary about three working poor families - their circumstances and feelings. The film and discussion really pointed out the increasing bimodalism in our economy and the need for some kind of nationalized health care - things I knew about already but which were humanized by the film. I was also touched to be sitting with about thirty other adults of various ages, seriously thinking about, full of questions and ideas about, issues of poverty in our world.

Yesterday evening was hard. I had known KK had lots of homework, which she did during the afternoon and that Danny had some, which he did before supper, but at just as Bob was trying to leave around six, I looked in Zachary's backpack and he had a big stack of unfinished work from the week. He apparently had let the difficulty of cutting and coloring get to him as a kindergartner who hadn't gone to preschool, and hadn't done what he needed to do. I was angry and felt overwhelmed. Zachary also felt angry and overwhelmed. Within half an hour though, Zachary, Danny, KK and I were sitting at the kitchen table with all Zachary's oddly assorted work spread out, and the four of us made sense of it and with some help, Zachary did it. He is beginning to get the hang of scissors, which has got to help, and is coloring better and more willing to take direction about planning how to color something. I think he was as proud as he (and I ) were both relieved when we packed his pack full of finished work at the end. The last thing he said before going to sleep was "I'll do my best all week at school." and I really think he will.

I enjoyed doing ordinary things with Bob this weekend - grocery shopping and taking the kids back and forth. I don't miss having that during the week. I'm used to life being like it is and I'm so happy Bob is finding work that is good for hi at Menger. Sometimes I do wonder how it would be if we could live together like most couples. Its hard on him to have to drive back and forth weekends. Next weekend he will stay in Corpus and take another group of kids to the aquarium, which is probably good.

I was excited and comforted to wake this morning and learn that Al Gore has received the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts to educate us about global warming and to stop the process. What good news for the future of the world that circumstances of attitude are still such that Al Gore has won the Nobel Peace Prize. That choice indicates to me that the intellectual, emotional and spiritual climate of the planet may be turning in the direction of attempting to salvage the physical climate and the planet itself. I pray it isn't too late.

Soon after learning that Gore had won the prize, I received his email note to supporters, which I am including here for those who may not have received it directly. I so respect and admire this man. I just put the Alliance for Climate Protection link in my favorite places. I figure if he is giving his peace prize money to these people I should at least be reading their articles and writing letters on their cause's behalf.

Dear Victoria,
I am deeply honored to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. This award is even more meaningful because I have the honor of sharing it with the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change--the world's pre-eminent scientific body devoted to improving our understanding of the climate crisis--a group whose members have worked tirelessly and selflessly for many years. We face a true planetary emergency. The climate crisis is not a political issue, it is a moral and spiritual challenge to all of humanity. It is also our greatest opportunity to lift global consciousness to a higher level. My wife, Tipper, and I will donate 100 percent of the proceeds of the award to the Alliance for Climate Protection, a bipartisan non-profit organization that is devoted to changing public opinion in the U.S. and around the world about the urgency of solving the climate crisis.
Thank you,
Al Gore

Also, discussion online with friends about Gore and the Nobel Peace Prize brought up a philosophical concern for me - one that is common because I seem to have an unusual opinion about life purpose and our level of power in it. My friend wrote that she believes things happen for a reason and that maybe the wonderful environmental work Al Gore has done - the opportunity to do it, I guess - is the reason he was robbed of the Presidency after being elected. I just don't buy that.I don't know if he could have done more or less good as President - and that doesn't matter for this argument. When the Presidency was stolen from him, Al Gore, in my world view, was put at a major choice point. He could have done so many things - from fighting the decision to make Bush President, to getting bitter and quitting on trying to be of service, just drinking and satirically bashing the administration, to focusing on family and friends only to continuing to try to run for office to jumping off a building ...endless and wildly varied choices. He chose (among other more private choices, of course) to put his energy into educating people about and fighting global warming. What a wonderful and possibly world-saving choice! Thank you Al Gore.

I don't believe things happen for a reason. So many things happen that shouldn't. I think its a dangerous belief, this "things happen for a reason." It somehow defangs evil actions, as if they are destined and it is clear people will turn them for good. Sometimes people don't. People make poor choices every day. Self included.

I think we are not in control of what happens to us or what we feel when it first happens. We are in control of what we do with our feelings. Feelings are energy, and like all energy cannot be destroyed but can be converted form to form. When we hurt we can just keep hurting - let the energy remain in the form of pain, anger. and hurt - let it fester into resentment and bitterness. We can convert the energy into a quest for revenge or mayhem and use it to hurt others. Or we can convert that energy into some other form - as Al Gore did - hard work, art, service.

Again, Thank you, Al Gore.

Great opportunities to help others seldom come, but small ones surround us daily.

Sally Koch

My writing prompt for Skywriters was to write about something that gave me pleasure today - and I ended up with a list poem. So many pleasures today. Seems like as good a blog entry as any.

Pleasures today

Stolen ten minutes resting
on pile of pillows between
soft sheets, north breeze
on walk to bus stop, positive
note from my editor, hug
from a client, Joanna's smile,
making the bank deposit on time,
Zachary making his Z forward
and reading "Silly Sandwich"
to me four times, grinning,
Danny spelling "said" right, finally,
writing creative sentences,
eating four sandwiches and calling
them delicious, KK cutting jazz patterns
in the hall and having a 100 average in math,
learning a friend is cancer free
reading a Laura Lippman mystery
in the tub full of jasmine bubbles,
losing track of time, stretching,
Bob's call, moments before I meant
to call him, lingering in conversation,
coming late to the computer,
having challenges to write,
knowing tomorrow is a light day at work
considering retreating, with book, to pile of
pillows, to sleep between soft sheets.

Something's odd in my world. It's October and I haven't heard Ruth say the word "pumpkin" yet. Here's some incentive Ru - a tiny pumpkin poem.


Piles of pumpkins, heavy, opulent,
orange, rough textured, feminine fruit,
autumnal, mysterious, mutiseeded,
each a canvas for artistry, a potential
face, unique, co-created with the carver.
exciting, waiting, piles of pumpkins

I'm trying to get my twentieth century mind around my twenty first century world - and have probably been reading too much post apocalyptic fiction (Cormac McCarthy and Terry Brooks) and watching too much of The War and listening to the horrors of revolution in Liberia as related in the excellent novel The Darling. I went into HEB this evening, listening to scenes of revolution in Africa (fueled in part by extreme differences between rich and poor), and noticed that the office area of the store where people go to get checks cashed is decorated party style with green and gold dollar signs - an odd tribute to capitalism and disturbing to me.

I had a great work week, hearing many comments from people about their pleasure in finding greater spiritual balance, more skills for behaving kindly in the world - and yet the context of the world is so harsh, or much of it. Odd.

I , along with much of America, am watching the Ken Burns' documentary series on World War II - called The War. I am thankful for dvr technology. I feel like I need to memorise this show - and it is many hours long - to commit the images and words as well as the facts to heart and memory. World War II was so much the backdrop of my childhood. Though my own father was exempted from military service because of his scientific expertise, the fathers of my friends all seem to have been in the war. I remember that the principal of my Houston Elementary School, Mr. Sloane, had left his left arm somewhere in Europe. I remember that a girl in my fourth grade class said her Dad had been a prisoner of war and almost starved to death. That's the first time I heard the label "death march". Bob's Dad, Jean's Dad , Kent's Dad - so many dads and uncles - the doctors, lawyers, professors, grown up men of my childhood (and some of the women too) fought that war and survived. This documentary series really hits the horror of the war, the daily horrors the individuals lived through for years - the fear, the privations, the many mistakes in judgement - and in the end the need that the war be fought.

Tonight I am worn out, physically and emotionally, but happy. It's odd that I feel happy because I spent the morning finishing up an essay about my experience of grief and recovery which was solicited for a collection of essays. Then I saw crisis clients all afternoon and into the evening. It was a break to do homework with Danny and visit a few minutes each with Ruth and Joanna. And we have the good news that The Nutcracker is cast and KK is a Bon Bon, as she hoped to be. That will be fun for her.

Good object lesson in not having expectations. The cool front predicted for Sunday seems like its not going to quite get here. High close to ninety and low close to eighty, rather than eighty and sixty like I was counting on. The predicted weather isn't even that bad and I've been doing fine with the heat, but WHAA!!!! A cool Sunday and that feel of change in the air - that more than the coolness I think, has been my major mood elevator this week. Need to just stay happy in the moment, I guess.

Like most everyone I know I am watching - just started - Ken Burns' new series "the War" about World War II. In case you don't know, he is following the people of four American cities through the war - and the horrible sacrifice of any war, even one to stop true evil, blares through clearly. I'm working on a scrapbook of my parent's things from that era, so this series, though sobering, is good background abience.

Last note of the evening - Bob called when he was out walking - seeing a blood red moon, a little past half, rise over the bay - his first blood red moon. I've seen them like that before. I rushed out on the cell phone, hoping to see the moon red from here and did catch it rising above the holding pond - still harvest gold, not red at all. It felt great though to be able to share a moon walk even while in different cities. Technology is good for more than I want to give it credit sometimes.

No major holidays or events at the moment KK and I went to a ballet of Midsummer Night's Dream yesterday and it was delightful - the chase scenes through the woods just hilarious. During that performance Bob took the boys to a new exhibit at the Children's museum and Danny was thrilled to get to see slides of red and white blood cells through a microscope. We are so fortunate to have these kids and their adventures in our everyday lives.

Having the longer weekend with Bob really was special. Mostly we just held onto each other and enjoyed doing not much. Part of me is jealous of couples our age who are financially able to retire early (and I assume get to just hold onto each other and mostly do what they want) all the time. But the truth is Bob found his right life work late and would not be ready to quit teaching now even if it were possible financially and I still love my work. It's not time for us to have time on our hands and our hands on each other all the time, but I do feel wistful about that sometimes. I don't think living together full time would make much difference with both of us working. We aren't real good at giving each other full attention during busy work weeks.

Today I have enjoyed letter writing and catching up on details before the busy work week gets going tomorrow. Joanna and I had lunch out together - always a treat. This evening the boys are here while KK dances. They have done their homework and had their dinner - such sweet boys. Earlier this afternoon they filled the backyard with soccer playing sounds, new sounds for this particular back yard.

Ruth has decided to close the photo studio and I have mixed feelings about that - sad not to have her next door at the office. She feels further away living in Round Rock and working out there than living in Jourdonton and having an office address next door to mine. But I am happy with the photo adventure she took - all the beautiful pictures of Bob and me and so many others - real soul photos. I know there will be more radiant photos even without the studio. And I'm thrilled Ruth is finding a passion in education. There are so many ways to make a difference in the world.

Too high a percentage of my social needs are dependant on my daughters I think. I have wonderful online friends, and wonderful local friends too, but not anybody who seems to have time to go out and play with me. And I'd like that - a restaurant trying, gardening together, going clothes shopping, book discussing fooling around kind of friend. I think I will try harder to find such. Kind of scary. I'm good at being a friend but not so much at making new friends.

This work week will be especially busy and I'm working on staying calm with that, not dreading it. I just looked at the long term weather forecast and it is supposed to get down to 60 next Sunday night. Just knowing that lifts my spirits a little. I love fall.