Somebody's Secret

Agreed. Once I came to this very conclusion, life became magically simpler. And even happier. Also, the accompanying illustration makes me chuckle!

The Healing Game - Van Morrison

Daffodil Season

It was heart-shaped. Also itchy. So I showed her, and whoosh! First, an ultrasound of my right leg. Followed by the swift knife of Linda, who "wanted that thing in a bucket." Quickly sewn-up, and off to the grocery store. The work day erased completely from the day's schedule, so as to accommodate these sudden medical procedures.

Then home to my eventual thoughts of mortality, odds, and a pretty much doomed genetic predisposition. Ah, sweet life. How easy it is... to take our unfolding days for granted.

The what-if's are looming today, yet I feel strangely grateful for the chance to face my own mortality. Each day's a gift, after all.

Offloading

Older, not wiser. Scared to death about what comes next. Afraid to not be mommy every day. Watched "Georgy Girl"(Can't recall ever seeing it before.) I related to Lynn Redgrave's character in a rather jarring manner. She related to children more than to adults.While it is undeniable that I adore children, I am coincidentally relieved that my grandchildren do not yet exist. Unlike some of my peers, I am in no hurry. Nothing to do with being "grandma"(I'd be the best, hands down.) Plenty to do with fear of the future for my own children. Subsequent generations in a world that's hurtling toward so many unknowns strikes me as insane. I know, every generation had it's doomsday scenario and blah-blah-blah. I guess it's that I want them to be really ready for it, so their kids stand a chance on this crazy planet. But what is ready, really? Realistically, if everyone waited until things were optimum, we'd have zero population growth. Wait, I may be onto something here.

Trapped in a town I love and hate equally. Lucky as hell in love, yet insecure always. Born to be a social animal, yet failing miserably. Wondering what the payoff to love marriage and children will turn out to be. Besides fear, worry, and guilt. I don't really mean payoff. More like the big lesson. "What's it all mean?" as Tahoma Paul used to say. The guy that fell backwards onto a horseshoe stake. And when I say backwards, I mean ass-backwards. I wonder how things turned out for him. (Perhaps he's on Facebook?) I'm genuinely afraid about my youngest child making it through life intact. She struggles with so much of it. And yet, it's her story... I have to let her tell it. Do you realize how painful that is and why didn't anyone tell me being a mother would hurt this much? Truth is, they probably did. To quote Kahlil Gibran-

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

Trippin' on Facebook. It's the new Brave New World. A crazy mish-mash of people from all corners of your life. In touch again with people you did everything first with after a 35 year hiatus. Mind boggling, really. All mixed up with current friends and acquaintances of varying degrees, family members, former lovers, and the people you will probably never know beyond the internets. Far be it from me to turn down a party.

Which brings me to Burning Man. My answer to midlife, my quest. Loved ones are perplexed about the "why" of this undertaking. I couldn't possibly explain it efficiently. Not yet. For the first time in a long, long time I am doing something solely for me. Something that will test my being in about a million ways. The time is right-that's all I really know.

Breed - Nirvana

He's Gone

Grateful Dead promo shots for a teen mag/1967
(Click for optimal viewing)

My pal Aiko Jim sent me this gem. Mickey Hart was on the news last evening, discussing The Dead's recent invitation. They're playing an inaugural ball on Tuesday. Not surprising, since they did play two benefit concerts for Obama. And yet, if you were a Dead fan way back when some were embarrassed to admit to it... this is news.

I can't help thinking how Jerry would feel about all of this, if he were here now. But nothin's gonna bring him back...


Jimmy and I were THERE for this 'He's Gone.' Recorded on December 26th, 1979 at the Oakland Auditorium. Opening night of the New Year's run, and a benefit for SEVA. What a night that was. Right Jimmy?

Hes Gone - Grateful Dead

Be Thankful

More shameless promotion of my children. Sorry. That is my son at the ripe young age of two weeks. At home, in Aptos California~April 1982. Yes, that's a tiny batik shirt he is wearing. Not tie dye! Batik. Remember?

My son and his girlfriend are joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. This thrills my household, because we've missed the lad. Although he is just three hours away, he is kept busy with work and his band and life. Much like his sister, my older daughter. It's funny. I want them to be independent and capable, and they are. But I miss them both terribly at times. Yet another perplexing paradox to ponder.

I'm definitely thankful for what I got.

The accompanying tune is another fun flashback to my youth.

Mother

November 20th is one heavy day to hold. And yet, I hold on. My mother died on this date twenty-seven years ago. She has now been dead longer than she was my very own living, breathing mother. She missed everything important in my life. Like her three grandkids. Never held a-one. The closest she got to it was the knowledge that I was pregnant with my son. She was excited about that, but missed his birth by about five months.

I know she didn't want to leave me. But she did and it feels like I was robbed of something vital to my existence. That becomes more obvious to me all the time. It changed me, and not necessarily for the better. I have done lots of work around this monumental loss. Therapy? Check.

Now I am a mother of two children in their twenties. Like I was when she died.The thought of leaving this life-and my kids-fills me with a fear that is beyond any nightmare you can imagine. Is that how she felt leaving me? I will never know because she never said so. Not her style to share such emotional things. That never posed a problem for yours truly. I share too much. A fatal flaw. One that I pay for on a daily basis. I want her here today, and needed to share that with the big and sometimes wicked universe.

Oh, and this song.

There Has To Be An Invisible Sun

Click on image for the full-on effect.

A transit of the Moon across the face of the Sun on February 25, 2007 - but not seen from Earth. This sight was visible only from the STEREO-B spacecraft in its orbit about the sun, trailing behind the Earth. NASA's STEREO mission consists of two spacecraft launched in October, 2006 to study solar storms. STEREO-B is currently about 1 million miles from the Earth, 4.4 times farther away from the Moon than we are on Earth. As the result, the Moon appears 4.4 times smaller than what we are used to. (NASA/STEREO) #
Boston Globe/Big Picture

Pictures like these put it all in perspective. You know? As if any of our trite little human struggles matter, in the grand scheme of it all. Ha!

Three

I wonder what sort of a day three year old me was having. An odd bird. I can tell you that this pose was likely not elicited by my parents. Looks to be taken in our 'backyard' on Clay Street. (Clay and Fillmore, aka Pacific Heights)

if my thought-dreams could be seen

Watercolor By My Son's Girlfriend

Circuit overload. That's what it feels like. The wiring is slowly smoldering, shorting out my world- weary synapses.

People are really going to vote for someone that resembles that church lady you don't answer the door for? The one that sees church in your future? Now I have really seen everything. But wait, there's more! As a special bonus, you get a mean old man too.

Financial collapse is always a great sign. My man and I have little left to lose in that regard.Still-it can't be good.

I've been realizing even more how divided 'we' Americans are. Now. Everyone is shouting at once and we don't hear each other. It's pathetic. Thanks, Mr. 'Uniter'.

Parents are aging rapidly. It's that time, I suppose. I can't say I am ready for it, but life can be funny like that. I have noted recently that death is a somewhat comfier concept after hitting 50. I spent most of the first half of my life in bliss-ninny denial about mortality. Especially after losing my mother when I was 24. She's been in my thoughts, since her birthday is the first day of autumn.

I fear for my children.The rules have changed, and nothing is certain. Was it ever? They are brave and smart. Good thing.

Blogging is futile, but I can't seem to quit. I started it to be able to vent. I love to vent. However, I hold back more than I want to, like a good recovering catholic girl would. I'm working on that.

MillionDoorsForPeace.org

/

Drainage

It was a beautiful film about a different time in California. When they poked and prodded,'till the earth gave up her oil. Some of my ancestry was a part of this decidedly greedy legacy. I've mentioned them before. My great great grandfather struck oil in Bakersfield in the 1880's. He became a wealthy man because of this, and he added to his wealth when he sold his tract to Standard Oil. They came through and bought much of that oil rich landscape. As did Union Oil and other very eager companies.


And we all know how that played out. It feels weird, knowing that my relatives played any part in creating the angry behemoth that is Chevron today. But as my wise older daughter said: 'It's o.k. We're 'poor' now, so the score is settled...' (I wonder.)


There was a cool moment when Plainview/Daniel Day Lewis is looking to buy up the land surrounding an oil-rich tract. He mentions the names of the families that own the tracts, and Blodget is one of the names. That'd be my great great grand-daddy, Hugh. They drank his milkshake.

Is It Just Me?

Although his opinions have sickened me for many years, I feel as though I should express that I am saddened as a fellow human that Mr. Novak is one of cancer's latest victims. Because that does suck. I've lost enough people in my life to know that to my core.

Additionally, I can't help wondering how many (other) fellow humans are dead as a result of this man. I feel compassion and disdain for him at the same time. Weird.

Or does Robert Novak remind anyone else of Simon Bar Sinister?

*Update: My man begs to differ. He says that Richard Perle, one of the key architects of the Iraq war is the real Simon Bar Sinister look-alike.

Mushball Sunday

Last night we went to see youngest daughter play guitar and sing songs in a local play. One of the songs she played was an (ancient) Chad and Jeremy song. Totally mushy. Mushy has it's place.

"A Summer Song" is posted below. And I changed the photo above to better reflect it's subject matter...

Mysterious girl. Thought I had it all figured out, this whole mommy thing. I've spent the last near-thirty years being one. Figured it would all just fall into place perfectly, the way it (mostly) went with my first two. This swan song of my somewhat prolific loins has shattered that silly fantasy. Providing me with some choice mirror images of stuff within that I thought I'd ditched long ago. It all comes back. Lesson learned.

Ancestry

I stumbled upon this some time ago. A picture of my grandmother's grandparent's house. That young child to the right may well be my great-grandfather, Hazelton. Strange, looking at where you're from. And by from I refer to those that preceded us. In all their oil baron glory. Sigh.

Notice the lush plant life around their home. A few short years prior to this, it was still your basic desert. This was before the brilliant idea of damming our great rivers, like the (once) mighty Sacramento, and sending water south. To places like Bakersfield, which had recently become a boomtown. People like my great-great grandfather settled here and reaped the benefits of the oil that oozed beneath his feet. To me, this is California's tragic legacy... it's beauty and resources are it's very undoing.

Title:

Blodget residence

Creator:

Watkins, Carleton E., 1829-1916.

Subject:

Kern County (Calif.) -- Photographs

Description:

Blodget residence in Bakersfield, man and two women and two children on the porch, another man leans against the stair post.

Publisher:

Kern County Library

Date:

[1889]

Identifier:

kew0032

Relation:

San Joaquin Valley Digitization Project

Beale Memorial Library Local History Room (Bakersfield, Calif.)

Rights:

This image is being made available for educational and research purposes only, under the “fair use” clause of the U.S. Copyright Law (Title 17 § 107 U.S.C.) Further questions regarding the image or its use may be directed to the Beale Memorial Library, Local History Room, 701 Truxtun Ave., Bakersfield, CA 93301; phone 661-868-0776.

Collection:

San Joaquin Valley & Sierra Foothills Photo Heritage

Contributing Institution:

San Joaquin Valley Library System

Thankful For You

Yesterday was a big day in history. Right? Also yesterday, I had a profound realization as to why I blog and read blogs. It's because so many in my real-time world appear oblivious to what is going on politically. Thankfully, the man in my life pays attention the way I do, or we would never have made it this far together. We are political junkies, admittedly.

When I went into my favorite coffee place yesterday morning, a young woman was talking quite excitedly about Obama's nomination. The three young folks working behind the counter were looking at her like she was nuts. One of them looked especially disgusted. Although many young people have responded and participated in this election, there are still far too many that remain apathetic. Which I find pathetic. I ordered my coffee and left disheartened. In comparison, my older daughter called me from San Francisco on Tuesday night. She was crying tears of joy about Obama. That really made made my day. The man and I were also crying during his amazing speech in St. Paul.

But it isn't just the young voters. I work with a great group of people. All are 35-65 years of age. They're intelligent, educated humans. Most, if not all of of them vote. Yet none seem especially informed or interested in the political world. And even if you've grown weary of the same-old aspects of politics in this country, the fact that a woman and a black man are (finally included) in the race make it worth paying attention. But that's just me.

Nobody seemed the least bit excited about Obama clinching the nomination. Granted, we all keep a low profile in the office when it comes to politics, religion, and the like. It helps to keep things calm and productive. Which we all appreciate. I know I do. It still came as a surprise that not a single co-worker mentioned the history-making announcement of the night before. I sighed several deep sighs over that sad fact.

It left me feeling like a stranger in a strange land. Then I realized why I appreciate blog land so much. It's because I can connect with kindred souls here. People that choose to pay attention to politics and what is going on in the world, beyond the same-old surface crap. I appreciate that more than any of you can possibly know. Thank you.
Below: Cocoa Tea sings about Barack Obama.

Oh, and one last thing, regarding politics... where were you, forty years ago today? I was eleven and had been in Appleton with my mother and brother for about two years. I still remember the great sorrow in my mother's long, loud cry. Only two months away from M.L.K.'s murder. What an intense period of time-even for eleven year old me. I was no doubt shaped by such events.

I Miss Her...

Sometimes.

Life Is Short But Sweet

The man I'm growing OLD(!) with and Me~On the Hamakua Coast
September 2006

Time for another Morford outreach. I've linked it below. As one who is continually confronting the task of accepting late-middle age, this week's column soothed that savage beast. Like this part:

"My guess is it starts with the usual combination, a personally customized admixture of regular, vigorous exercise, conscious food habits and minimal reality TV and great heaping doses of travel and nature and mental stimulation and truly excellent bedsheets, combined with absolute refusal to be fixed in time and place, to shrivel and hunker down and cling, as so many do, to one set of rules, one ideology, one notion of How It's All Supposed To Be. It is the knowledge that real ecstasy has nothing to do with external accomplishment, and everything to do with internal awareness. Oh yes, also: Lots of regular sex and yoga and meditation and the best wine you can afford as you realize that this little blip of an eyeblink of a gift of a life races by just impossibly fast, and therefore staring too long at the future or the past, at expectation and longing, memory and regret only means you don't get to truly experience the moment you're in right now."

Click link to read-on...

Mark Morford & Mid-Life Crisis

Gravedigger

Speaking of love and death... have you seen this video ? Maybe it's my half-century thing, but it doesn't creep me out at all. Plus, I love Willie's crazy-long hair! Originally written and recorded by Dave Matthews. This has been your macabre moment for today.

As for your upbeat moment, here is Dick Cavett's take on the current "star search for the next president". A pretty accurate description, thus far.

Ramble On

San Francisco/1970

There are times, scant readers-of-mine, when the madness takes hold. I am currently riding that wave. I seem fully functional. Inside my head is something else altogether. The world's never-ending woes are taking their toll. The only answers appear to be medication or distraction, or both. I know that works for many. That's great. Neither is an option. I can't help but pay attention-it's what I do. The price for this fatal flaw is high. Yesterday I came home from work and wailed. So much to shed tears over. Mother Earth's demise, soul-less leaders in charge of our destinies, an election that seems like a total joke. (already) So many kids learning all the WRONG things, alleged adults making babies they could care less about, babies who grow up-only to die in a war that benefits... whom? More homelessness and poverty every day, Guns and more guns... and so on. The clincher? People are fed-up, and getting angrier all the time. But where is the absolute outrage? Especially in the younger generations-it's spooky. I was already angry, at 14!(Are you surprised?) I worked for the Student Mobilization Committee, a branch of the National Peace Action Coalition/N.P.A.C. My junior high school pal (We are still friends!) and I would ride the cable car, then the streetcar downtown and work in the offices at Oak St. and Van Ness Ave. We made calls, typed mailing labels, and handed out flyers downtown. We helped to organize several anti-war protests in San Francisco. "Back in the Day"(1971-72) I still recall the passion I felt. It was instinctive, to take action and work hard to end the war. Because the future was ours, and we knew it. Do our kids know? They need to. As for the older generations, why are we so complacent? What the hell has happened to us? Different priorities, I guess. And apathy. And shopping. Revolutionary thoughts are so time-consuming!


Then there are my personal traumas. I try and avoid most of that here. It's just not comfy, sharing my darkest inner dialogs with anyone but a shrink! But that's just me. How's this for timing... my youngest (15) is at the height of adolescent maternal disdain. Meanwhile, I'm discovering peri-menopause. (It sounds so perky.) We make quite the pair. My poor man. He handles it marvelously, by either laying low or diplomatically stepping-in to calm us down! He's good like that. Oh, how I miss my own mom, these days. It's coming up on thirty years since her death, but memories of our own rocky years together have been showing up to haunt me. Funny how raising kids does that. Reminds us of who we were, and how we may well have hurt our parentals. Not because we wanted to, just because. I keep reminding myself that things shift, and you do get close again. I have watched it occur twice, with my grown children. Thankfully.

But this one... she's a live wire. She knows how to cut me-deep. I am reminded of her father, when she does this. She is the (only) child of my second (and final!) husband, and he was a mean bastard. No polite way to put it. He was gone by the time the child was 6 years old, and she barely sees him every few months. And yet, those (persistent) genes come through. So much for nature versus nurture. She has his musical prowess-a gift. But that's the only positive contribution from him I've seen. She also has (size 10) flat feet, scoliosis, and an explosive temper. Throw in some teenage acne and being the tallest (almost 6 feet tall) girl, and she has every right to be pissed-off! The ex has lived in his mother's home for almost 10 years now. Need I say more? So, not a great role model for the poor girl. She knows, and it hurts. Yeah, I picked a winner alright. The difference between my dear mother and me is that I won't give up. I will stick by my girl always, and love her through her dark days. That's how I do it.

So, between the weight of the world and chickens coming home to roost, I am in a bit of a funk today. Just me and some Bootsy. We'll get through it.

Now For Something Completely Different...

Sometimes I have to step away from the continued downward spiral of humanity, and focus on the things that keep me from losing it. Like kids. Large and small. Older daughter and I paid a visit to this little guy's house the other night. She used to babysit, when he was just a little teeny little super guy. (That's an old clip, from Sesame Street. Yes, Sesame Street.) Sometimes one just needs to seek out the silly, when it all just... hurts.

Dusty's World

We didn't want another cat. Not yet. Losing Sunny last February was the final heartbreak. Before that, Luna kitty vanished ( May 2006) We adopted the two of them from the Humane Society in late 2004. This was soon after our four-year-old cat, Sparky had to be put to sleep. He had some internal injuries that occurred when he fell out of a Ponderosa pine tree at the tender age of four months. We are talking about some seriously rotten luck with kitties. So, we've been cat-less. It seemed like the right thing, after so much sorrow and loss.


I was at my daughter's high school a few weeks ago, dropping something off. I noticed one of the students at a picnic table, playing with a tiny grey kitten. The student that owned her was trying to find a new home for kitty, because her parents did not want to keep her. They had two older kitties, and didn't want to upset them with a young upstart.



The poor creature was being passed around, staying here-and-there, with no real home. I couldn't help but ooooh and ahhhh at the sight of her, and commented on her cuteness. The student replied: " Oh, well I think she's YOURS... aren't you Q's mom? " Later that day, young daughter called me. I waited for her sales pitch, smiling to myself. She was unaware that I had come home to the man and gone on and on about the sweet kitten I'd met. We decided then that we'd let her come home and live with us. She's the nicest thing that's happened to all of us in quite some time. A hellion sometimes, but so incredibly sweet and smart. She makes us happy.



So cherished is she that I can't even imagine ever letting her go outside. Which is a real switch for me-all of our cats have been inside-outside cats. I mean, they're animals. Due to our ill-fated recent history with cats, I find myself newly aware of the danger that awaits her, lurking out there in the redwoods and on our road. Mountain lions are out there. So are several naughty, non-confined dogs. Then there are the cars. And logging trucks. And giant trees to get stuck in. What about cat-hating sadists? What if they were to poison her? These are the neurotic, paranoid thoughts that spin around my brain.

It's a big, bad world out there, for kitties too.