I am still chasing my tail. This whole business of selling beads on eBay is a trip. It is fun describing the items - hard self-promotin, letting people know I'm selling these beads - fun seeing who bids on what and cyber-meeting peopls from all a woman I like - she biaround the country. Interesting connection is with a woman who bought a red memory wire necklace. She was my first bidder. Turns out she bought the necklace for her sixteen year old niece who has cerebral palsy and has trouble getting jewelry on and off. The aunt and I started corresponding and now she wants me to make a special silver gray and white fresh water pearl piece for her niece. That's exciting - both the people and the commission to design something special. Also plugging the beads has gotten me writing to and hearing from people I have known at life stages from high school to the present - That's fun.

I need to sleep andnot write - long longwork day plus beads.

This is a pretty shabby blog entry. I have so much I want to write about - but I'm really pushing to get my auction of beads up on EBay. This is the second auction. The first week was a success and I really want to follow up with a greater variety of beads, but this is taking forever - listing them. I will persevere. And I also will sleep - haven't been doing enough of that.
So I'm going to list a few topics I will be writing about here over the next few days - to jog my memory and my conscience and see that I do it:

The dance performance I saw Sunday with Ruth and KK - a young Choreographer's showcase with a theme of "manners" - and my response to the concept of manners.

The eBay selling experience.

Jean's Papa and his war stories and how much I respect that man - and how much being with him makes me miss Daddy.

The book Clockers.

Doing schoolwork with KK and Danny.

Dealing with parenting mistakes I made.

One observation I will make right now before going to bed is that spring is creeping up on us even though we had freezing rain on Sunday. If you put your eyes two inches away from the stems of Zachary's cypress tree you can see actual leaves (needles technically, I guess) starting to unfurl. And I've seen mountain laurel and wisteria - redbud too - just a hint - a beginning. Color is on the way back.

Today I made a house call (actually an office call) on a new client who is in a wheel chair. The session went really well, seems like a good match. The odd thing for me was the this woman works in a building which is also home to the same "home for unwed mothers" that my birh mother ran away from a few months before I was born. I don't know that whole story, just that she felt confined, didn't like it, and wanted to arrange my adoption herself, as she did. The "home" is not in the same building as in 1950, and the parts of it I saw were inviting and friendly. I encountered several very pregnant young women, each of whom smiled at me - just very odd to think that the last time I was under the auspices of this place I was in untero.

Otherewise, I had a good day - a good walk through the campus area, took myself out to Thai lunch on the way back to the office. (and ice cream at Amy's, Mexican chocloate with cinnamon)

My focus is scattered this week, to the point that I didn't realize how long it had been since I'd written here. I really have been all over the lot. As many of you know, I've been making beaded jewelry for years, selling it very catch as catch can - loving making it. But there is an unweildy amoumnt of jewelry now and money is always good - so people have been suggesting I try selling on eBay. The prospect was daunting until, last weekend Ruth offered to start photographing pieces and to help me frame an eBay listing. Once she started so generously taking pictures I started writing product descriptions as fast as I could to get an auction up. We have seventy items up and my new compulsion is checking to see when I get bids or watchers. People are looking at my jewelry and a couple have bid, so it's a start. I feel encouraged about this marketing possibility.

Valentines - I made them with KK and Danny Sunday afternoon for their classes. They both worked hard on handmade Valentines. I was impressed by how much both have grown up since last year. Dany can write his friends' names now and has the patience to do it twice - on card and envelope. KK makes beautiful cards and understands how to balance her high standards with a need to finish in a reasonable period of time. I was surprised by how much both kids had a sense of what sorts of paper and color were appropriate for boys and girls. I wouldn't have thought it would matter so much with valentines. (Also on a valentines note I am one fortunate mother-in -law. Both sons-in-law made a valentines fuss over me, a gorgeous pashima scarf from an nonprofit helping Afbhani women and children from Chris and an abundance of rich red roses from James. There are so many mother-in-law jokes. Being loved and remembered by these two young men really touches me. And of course there's Bob, my real Valentine, who brought me pots of red tulips and whose love I am thankful for every day.

Olympics - hard to believe I was at the Winter Olympics four years ago (thank you again Joanna, a trip to remember indeed!) Torino Opening ceremonies pleased me with the pomp and circumstances, the international peace emphasis and the Itallian flavor. I loved seeing Venus born out of her seashell with Aura and Zepher on high . Only the Ferrari really missed for me. I don't have the aesthetic to see such a pared down machine as beautiful . I loved the women of distinction from every continent carrying in the Olympic Flag - all in white. Sophia Loren is still absolutely beautiful at 71. I remember stories of how she suffered in Italy during WOrld war II, interesting to see her back home in splendor at an Olympic game. And I liked seeing the author Isabel Allende - not just her magnificent words. The women were activists, performers, athletes, artists - and seeing them all together pleased me. Fire worked as it always works , rings of fire and glowing torch, the Olympic torch passed on in style. May we all do as well passing on our personal torches. I'm not caught in any specific Olympic event, but in the spirit of the games, as always.

Tonight I had one of those startling experiences of seeing myself as the world sees me. I didn't like it. I made my bank deposit after work and hurried to the bus stop, running the last thirty yards or so because I saw the bus approaching, didn't want to miss it, and was in a playful, energetic mood. I deposited my fare and smiled at the bus driver. I was surprised when, with warmth in her voice and eyes told me, the driver said to me, "I don't like to see you running you could fall." "But I'm not old enough to worry about that." I protested automatically. She persisted. "It's dark and the sidewalk's not even and a fall can be serious." I thanked her for her concern, which seemed genuine - but I just don't think about myself as someone who shouldn't run to catch a bus - or someone for whom a fall could be serious. Denial? I don't know.

I feel sad and confused tonight. Bob talks about the kids he's teaching - fifth graders, and one of the main themes is selfishness and rudeness. Kids mock Bob and each other - say cruel things, "have to be watched like a hawk" or they steal things from each other or destroy books and pencils. They are unwilling to put up with the boredome of sitting quietly and reading while other kids finish tests. They have to have fun all the time. Being bored, ever, is not acceptable. They don't seem to be reversing roles, exercising empathy very much at all. I know theat many of these kids have tough stories and I know they are young enough that they still need to be taught right from wrong - but the tone just seems off and it scares me to be living in a world in which such selfishness is considered a necessary evil in fifth graders. I see it in other places too - especially with drivers. People in cars don't meet my eyes and smile as often as they used to when I come to an intersection on foot. Generally now, if I meet a driver's eyes, he or she just goes through the intersection. I think I remember a time, not too many years ago when there was more interplay, more connection, whoever actually went first. I want a gentler world. I'm willing to take the time to be gentler with others, to listen and watch and care. Sometimes it seems like the willingness is not reciprocal.

I've had a truly quiet day after a busy work week and weekend. I think I needed it more than I realised. I've been alone all day and haven't done much - no grandkids visits because Danny woke with fever this morning. I've slept late and read email and haven't really done much - maybe will at least write a real letter later or do a scrap book page or something before going to bed. Taking a day completely off is rare for me lately. I've picked up the pace at work and have been keeping all three grandkids most weekends so Joanna can work. Until recently I kept a kind of modified shabat and that was probably physically and mentally healthy. Today has been that kind of day and this one just kind of happened -probably a good thing. I think its been a mistake to let myself get caught up in such a busy life, responding to whatever seems to need doing or startin something I want to do -always DOING.



That said, the weekend, though busy was fun and satisfying. Bob and I took all three grandkids to a favorite state owned cave - Longhorn Caverns - yesterday and everybody enjoyed both the road trip (about an hour and a half throught the wintry hill country each way) and the cave and woods exploration part of the adventure. Wintry in Texas means you wear a sweater or jacket and the crass has no color and the trees look like "a bunch or sticks" (KK's words). We were impressed that Zachary at three understood and followed the instructions about not touching the cave, and touched that he asked before entering if this cave had monsters.



Ruth and Chris spent the weekend at our house - in and out - reparing for a wedding shower for Chris' sister. Having them visit is always fun and I did lots of cooking both for them and the kids and for Bob to take back for his week. Also, he was making lots of games for his fifth gaders - which meant cutting out stacks of cards. That's a job I don't like much - and to my great pleasure, KK does. So Saturday night after the boys went to bed she and Bob cut out cards for a learning game about inherited vs. noninherited traits and sang along with a sentimental favorte CD of lullabies while I cooked up stew and chili. A sense of well-being descended over all of us, About as good as it gets!


Bob and I went to a late showing of Broke Back MountainSaturday night while Ruth and Chris stayed with the sleeping children. I had a mixed reaction to the film. It was beautifully shot in breath-taking country and I cared about the characters and the social issue addressed - but I was frustrated that nobody triumphed - that essentially "the bad guys won." Ruth says that it would have been more powerful as a social cause movie, rather than a failed love story, because it could have better shown the destructive power of homophobia if it had been more like The Laramie Project. I don't think it would have been less powerful for me if the issues had been presented strongly and the protagonists had then managed to triumph in some way - even if there had been a sad ending after the triumph. I know, I really am an idealist - apparently incurable and not desiring a cure.

Change is the one constant in life I know - but in the larger world this period seems to be one of greater than usual changes. Some kind of seismic shift is occuring. In Joanna's words "a changing of the guard". The generation that fought World War II is dying off. The concentration camps and the dropping of the atom bomb are history. The Viet Nam veterans are gray haired now. Greenspan just announced his retirement and Sandra Day O'Conor is leaving the Supreme Court soom. There have been so many deaths people whose names were icons, household words (whether you liked and aproved of them or not) Arafat is dead and Sharon is incapacitated by stroke. We've buried Reagan and the Pope, Rosa Parks, and, just this week are burying Corretta Scott King. I remember her as the handsome young civil right's leader's pretty pregnant wife. But its more than the individual deaths. The baton is being passed and I'm not quite sure to whom or where they will take it, or what my role is int his period of passage. I feel shaky - on shaky ground - and I hope the next generation does better than mine did with its power.

Sunday night - I'm tired and disquieted by violence in the world. What will happen in Palestine with Hamas in office? What should happen? Why did Ariel Sharron fall ill just when he was beginning to act in thel interests of peace. What were local vandals thinking when they scribbled antin-Jewish slogans on the walls of a mosque? Do they not know the difference between mosque and synagogue, or is hate for anyone different so indiscriminate that there really is no difference in their eyes? Bob reports kids in his class stealing readily - some being trained to shoplift by their parents - and the gap between rich and poor gets bigger. How can we keep turning our heads? What can we do differently? Seven kids from one family are killed in a car wreck (not the driver's fault) and public scrutiny focuses on the fact that the driver was fifteen and usning her learner's permit illegally. Why do we hang onto the belief that we can keep oursleves safe by pointing the finger - blaming victims for their misfortunes?

And in the midst of all my questions and concerns - Bob and I have learned that we enjoy playing Scrabble. KK receied an award at school on Friday for always doing her personal best - something very true of her. The sky this afternoon was robin's egg blue - not the milk glass blue of winter sky, but hinting at spring. The sunset the last two nights has been intensely appricot - flaming, exploding apricot.

Disturbing scene tonight at Subway. On the way to pick KK up at ballet class I went in to get sandwiches for Joanna and the kids, meatballs for myself while Joanna waited in the car with the boys.I walked straight into the restaurant, rehearsing the order in my head. The young taking orders was distracted. "I've already called the cops on him." he said "Customers have been complaining all day. When I tried to talk to him about moving on he just started cussing at me." I looked out the glass door then and saw him - apparently homeless man, bearded, sitting on duffles in front of the shop. A young woman had offered to get him a bag of chips and he's said that wasn't enough. He wanted a meatball sub. She said she couldn't even afford a meatball sub for herself, just a bowl of soup. The young man behind the counter kept repeating that he hated having to call the cops, that he had always been good at settling disagreements, especially with his sisters. How young was he really I wondered - probably not much past twenty. The life of the man on the sidewalk probably cpompletely explodes his perceptions of the possible - mine too if I'm honest. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to buy the guy a meatball sub and urried slip him a ten besides. Instead I averted my eyes and hurried to the car with dinner, relieved to be leaving before the cops arrived. Cowardly me. My circumstances alow me to avert my eyes from so much. And sometimes I do.

Quiet Monday - odd and precious addition of having a couple of hours during KK's ballet class to help Danny with his homework. He had so much! But he worked diligently, reading aloud, drawing farm animals and their associated products, coming up with words containing "oi" and "oy", and practicing mixed addition and subtraction and "ar" sounds. There is so much to learn when you are seven! I remember sometimes how confusing it was to be a kid - so many ideas and rules and things grownups thought were important. Reading came easily to me, but I remember getting caught by little stuff - like the period at the end of a sentence and the decimal point looking the same. I cries so many tears over that one thing, util my Daddy finally figured out what was confusing me and taught me one symbol could have two meanings. Working with Danny tonight I wondered if he had any similar confusions. Nothing surfaced. He definitely knows the difference between adding and taking away and can show me with objects how both processes work. Watching young learners leaves me in awe of how much each of us learns in a lifetime.

Yesterday was an odd and full day - many different moments and feelings.

Struggling clients - so much pain when people who started relationships in hope as we all do, get caught in blame and worrying about who is more wrong. So futile! Every moment is so precious. I remind myself tonight that it doesn't matter who is more right, more wrong. Communicating love matters.

Lunch with Bill - discussions of writing (and my NOT writing because story ideas feel elusive - are elusive - these days) There is such comfort and freedom in old friendships -

More old friendships - Dinner was Jean's treat for me and Joanna - a baseball clinic for women at UT, complete with Mexican dinner and speeches by coaches, and players. Keith Moreland hosted, so charming. Odd that Jean and he and I all have history being UT students around the same time. We should still be young. Ruth writes in her photojournal about not feeling "like a grown up" and I don't feel "older". I did have a great time and actually won an amazing prize in the raffle - a National League baseball signed by Rookie of the Year Huston Street, son of the quarterback of the National Championship Longhorn football team from my fresman year in 1969, and my all time favorite Texas baseball player.

After dinner downer- I realized how critical I can be when we went to pick up the kids at Kid's Space and KK had forgotten to do her homework, Danny had misplaced his glasses, and Zachary was just walking around being three. I was so frustrated with them all and made a bad situation worse, got us all to the point of tears or beyond. I spent time afterward reflecting on my values - and I realised that I forget to be kind and am definitely not competent when I am trying to instill values of koindess and competence in the kids. And I also forget how much criticism hurts when you are little - how hard it is to get everything right. I need to remember to value their happiness and trust that they will learn all they need to learn.

I'm reading Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker's Creek again and loving the richness of the language and the emphasis on mindfulness and the complexities of nature and spirit. "Beauty" she writes " itself is the language to which we have no key." I love that. And her focus on the seasons and the trees.
This morning at the park north wind whipped at Zachary and me. My head was in the book, remembering the legend about Portuguese mares who turned tail to the wind and became pregnant with steeds of the wind - the fastest and most beautiful of white horses, who could not live more than three years. Zachary only knew that the wind made his ears cold. I blew on his ears, cupped them in my hands, but he still was cold, so we went back to the house and cuddled up in bed where I read him Eric Carle's "Mr. Seahorse". It was fun to share delight at the beautiful illustrations.

Back home, the moon rose yellow as new corn. I feel refreshed from our getaway - peaceful. On a nature trail this morning I learned what a sweet gum tree's seed pod looks like and how to distinguish black jack oak from post oak by examining the lobes of the leaves. Tonight over dinner Bob asked me what ten organizations I believe make the most difference in the betterment of the world. I couldn't give clear answers, but I love the question - love the man - love being loved by the man I love.

Cozy afternoon. Bob and I have escaped ordinary time and are all snuggled up in a condo in the pine woods of northeast Texas. I am thrilled with this Silver Leaf resort - Holly Lake Ranch near Big Sandy ( should have known it would be incredible since Ruth picked it.) We have a fireplace and a giant tub, and I am really impressed by the management and amenities - a food treat basket in the kitchen and a bath treat basket by the tub, an activity center run by friendly women and well stocked with games and books - a tiny theater showing G and PG movies in the afternoons, playground, minigolf, volleyball, ping pong, shuffle board - even archery. This would be a wonderful place to hang out with grandkids, and maybe we will do that some other time. Right now Bob and I have been so busy we just want to BE - out of context, no pressure. We'll explore Caddo Lake State Park at some point this long weekend. Tonight we may check out a Scrabble game. Bob told me when we were looking at games that he suspects he is better at Scrabble than I am even because I know words well because he is better able to figure out how to make letters work for maximum points. I'm not so sure. I don't want to be competitive - I mean, we're a team and it really doesn't matter who is better at Scrabble or anything else - however, I have long standing pride about my competence at word games. I think I want to gove Srabble with my husband a try (odd that in all our marriage we haven't played Scrabble together.)

The moon is full again - wolf moon - the first full moon since midwinter. It shines big and silver over the street, bright through clear cold air, surrounded by stars. It feels right that the wolf moon and Martin Luther King's birthday fall close together. In Native American traditions wolf is the totem of the teacher - the person who is loyal to his own community but goes beyond that community to learn new ways which he then brings back into the community for its betterment. The wolf never forgets his roots, but dreams beyond the restrictions of old ways and leads others out of the bondage of these restrictions. I can think of no better description of Dr. King.

I had an odd realization today - checked out at dinner in a conversation with Joanna (daughter) and KK (granddaughter). To both of them Dr. King is part of history - like FDR, Abraham Lincoln and the founding fathers. To me Dr.King is contemporary - a part of my personal past, discovered in his prime,remembered, not learned about from books. The Civil Rights Movement, The War in Viet Nam, the Kennedy and King assassinations are to me as World War II, the discovery of the concentration camps, and the death of FDR are to my parents' generation. When I was ten there were still a few people living who remembered the Civil War, the veterans of World War I were in their sixites and the veterans of Worls War II were in the prime of their lives. The bus station in Houston still had two waiting rooms, one for whites and a much smaller, less well appointed one for "coloreds". I remember sneaking a look through the door into the other waiting room - feeling naughty and confused. I didn't understand the significance of the two waiting rooms or the presence in restaurants of signs that said "We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone." I remember feeling proud of being able to read the words in those signs, and puzzled about their purpose. I had no idea how wrong they were.

Generational perspective is intriguing. I've thought about generational values differences but not so much about the issue of one generation's current events being the next generation's history. Duh! It seems obvious, but I hadn't really thought about it.

December 23, 2005,

We woke at the Ramada Inn in Kodak Tennessee, near Gatlinburg. Our intention was to spend the day at Dollywood, Dolly Parton’s Tennessee theme park. Unfortunately the park did not open until 2:00, and had most of its neatest activities after dark. Staying to enjoy the parade and fireworks would have gotten us to Little Rock after 3:00 A.M. and it would have been hard to leave before they started, so we made other plans.

The area offers an enormous array of family friendly activities, everything from old fashioned amusement parks and minature golf courses to race tracks, an aquarium, and museums dedicated to subjects as diverse as veterans, knifes and dinosaurs. But for us, the premier attraction was Smoky Mountains National Park. On this cold morning we drove through icicle crusted cliffs into the appropriately smoky looking mountains to find Laurel Falls Trail. During a quick stop at the park visitor’s center Zachary, whose Daddy calls him Little Bear, surprised us by instantly spotting, identifying by name and running to the full grown stuffed black bear on exhibit behind glass.

At the Laurel Falls trail head, bundled up, the boys in gloves and hats, we crossed the highway to the trailhead where a sign announced “DANGER, falling deaths have occurred here. Keep strict control of your children!” We were a bit daunted, since the brochure Bob found at the motel had described this trail as “Very easy and wheel chair accessible”/ We talked to the boys about the sign and got agreement from both of them to hold an adult hand at all times. This had worked on the Louisiana boardwalk, so we trusted them and sallied forth.

The paved trail, 2/5 mile round trip. Took us uphill through a winter wood past mountain laurel, rhododendron and pine, all still green and a thick ,maze of bare maple, sumac, and dogwood. Danny loved finding the numbered nature trail markers, at each of which Bob read aloud about some feature of the terrain. We learned that lichen erode rocks and were alerted to the mountain view through a picture window in the trees. We found pine needles on the trail and Danny practiced identifying pine trees and learned the word “evergreen” as well as two more nature words “lichen” and “moss” He was also the first to hear the waterfall, our destination.

Laurel Falls, partially frozen into tangled pillars of ice, running freely in the middle, was a lovely culmination of our uphill walk.. Sixty feet in height, Laurel Falls towered above and tumbled below the bridge on which we stood. Bob pronounced it a “beautiful small waterfall”. All the way up and down the mountain, both boys were great hikers, bright eyed with curiosity and mindful of the dangers of steep drop offs. Both of them took pleasure in touching trees and rocks. Hiking with them was a joy – to be repearted many times this spring we hope.

After leaving the national park, the country’s most heavily used and free to the public since being bought by the states of Tennesssee and North Carolina/, we took the boys to a small museum which features Jurassic Park style life size models of dinosaurs. When Zachary first heard the roar from the twenty foot high T rex which loomed above us,, he practically jumped into Bob’s arms, as Danny had when he first visited this museum two years ago. Soon Zach’s natural courage reemerged and he approached and touched both the T Rex and the 30 foot long crocodile. Danny found over a dozen small flying dinosaurs and correctly noted which dinosaurs lived in the ocean based on whether they had flippers.

Riding through Tennessee at dusk we saw a Confederate flag flying from a stone tower and discussed the racist history of Tennessee, birthplace of the Ku Klux Klan. A few miles down the road we stopped for supper at a Burger King with a play ground and happened upon an extended family’s birthday party for four of its children. The family members ranged from blondest pale nine year old through every shade of bronze and mocha. They were also very friendly and shared their birthday cake with the boys, who greatly enjoyed it.

My day started with birthday greetings at the breakfast table in Blacksburg. Ruth, Chris and Heidi had already left (in the virtual middle of the night) for early flights home. Sara and Fred Reed, Aunt Inez and Hazel visited until near lunch time, with breakfast table conversations topics ranging from family values on education to the fee and referral structures of the health care system today. Bob and I were in and out of the room as I worked on our laundry and packing and he copied the video from the wedding onto DVD so that Sarah and Peter can take it with him to show his family when they leave for Peru right after Christmas. During the afternoon Bob, Bill and I took the boys to Chik Filet so they could play on the indoor playgroud while we had a great visit. After supper the video was finished and we said our good-byes and bundled into the car for the long road home.

I am fifty five today. I don't know what that means really - what if any values to attach to having attained this particular age. When I free associate on a writing exercise, my thoughts about my age chrystalize a bit.

I am standing in a doorway. 55 is a doorway. Behind me lies a full house, generations of rocking chairs and china figurines, my grandmother's rice pot with a lid Daddy banged like a cymbol, against what I'll never know since everyone who could remember is dead. Behind me lie the rooms where I conceived my babies, rocked and nursed them, played board games on ancient green shag carpet and fought over potential piercings. Behind me lie the memories of their father, tossing pickle princesses in the air, rubbing their tummies on his head, singing along with Gordon Lightfoot or Don Williams. He died at 36. Who would he have been at 55? Who am I? Would he know me?

Behind me stands the house we bought with love, watched burn in terror, rebuilt, remodeled, the house Bob and I reclaimed as our family changed, remodeled again, chose to keep as our home. Before me, the sidewalk is familiar, and the street. But change is in the air - mist conceals mysteries - I cannot turn back, cannot pretend to be able to replay past chapters - no more babies at 55, no fantasies of adoption. Grandchildren run, tumble, leap around my feet.

Wedding day dawned cold and crisp, and proceeded at a quick but not frantic pace as Ruth bought the few napkins we still needed for the reception, and all of us dressed and primped. Putting the two little snowflake boys into their brand new suits was less or a production than I expected (one way boys are easer than girls). The pace was more frantic at the bride's house, I’m sure, as evidenced by her DadÂ’s statement, about two hours before the wedding, that he couldn't find a free bedroom or bathroom at home in which to change clothes.

The wedding was beautiful. The bridesmaids' outfits epitomized the blending of American and Peruvian cultures. They wore layered silky golden skirts, very fashionable in the US right now, with gorgeous deep red ponchos PeterÂ’s sister sent from Peru. The effect was graceful and elegant. Sarah, in a simply elegant white gown and her motherÂ’s wedding veil and Peter, whose smile was so bright I barely noticed his attire, vowed their troth with passion and tenderness.



Danny and Zachary, dapper in their suits once Danny got it that the tie is worn INSIDE the jacket, added to the procession. Danny scattered snowflakes from his basket as planned and Zach trailed his big brother, snowflakes remaining in the basket. They paved the way, without a hitch for the beautiful bride.

Sarah and Peter pledged their love to each other and their faith to God. Open prayers of the people tied the two people marrying to the world community as well as the community gathered in the chapel of SarahÂ’s childhood church.

The reception was fun. Danny and even Zachary surprised me with their ability to begin to learn some dance steps from their grown cousins. Watching reminded me of my own childhood – dancing in the SPJST hall – Czech Fraternal organization outside West. We kids danced among the grownups – learned from them, bothered them, delighted them. Everybody danced and you didn’t worry about being good at it any more than you worried about being good at walking. Now at Sarah’s wedding, the dancers were very, very good – but the feeling of dance as part of life reminded me of my own childhood.

The international flavor of Sarah and Peter’s community was exciting, and its warmth reassuring. They are loved by friends as well as family – will have the support they need to meet whatever life dishes out. On the family side, they are fortunate in the number of happy intact long term marriages in their parents’ and grandparents’ generation. Love filled the transformed church hall tonight – a night of celebration

In Jewish tradition the wedding procession has a deep and beautiful symbolism. In the old days, the village days, in Europe the bride’s and groom’s families walked with them from their houses to the synagogue – accompanying, blessing, and supporting the new couple as they move from their past histories into a shared future. It’s a symbolism I love, and one that was moved me deeply at Ruth’s wedding when Bob and I walked with her through a meadow of flowers to meet Chris and walk on toward the Chuppa with him. A similar meaning was expressed in a completely different way today as Sarah and Peter were helped by friends and family to transform the chapel and community hall of Sarah”s childhood church into a winter wonderland sprigged with snowflakes and reflecting Peruvian culture in rich colors and weaving.

When Ruth and I arrived in the morning the church basement was just a church basement – mix-matched chairs in the hall, high chairs from Head Start stored on the stage, table cloths and napkins still in their plastic, the giant banner meant to hang over the alter still unhung. Friends and family worked all day – changing out old chairs with the new chairs delivered to the church, arranging tables and flowers, and setting tables with brightly woven Peruvian cloths, holly and and cedar from Sarah’s childhood yard, and pottery candle holders Sarah had lovingly made as favors for her guests. Parents, friends, grandparents, Sarah.s sisters and Peter’s brother, aunts uncles and cousins all ironed, hauled, draped tulle, folded napkins, played music, and took video. In the end the chuch hall was transformed. More importantly Sarah and Peter were supported by their community as they prepared for the important transition of marriage.