Wednesday Whimsy

1. Last week I went to the Google to find information about some of the dolls I had as a child (these ones here). I couldn't remember what they were called, so I just typed in Peace Love Hope. This was my favorite result. If only it was as easy as a Google search!

P.S. as Nance points out, the website for the dolls sounds like a sort of Scottish Porn label. Ha!

2. The original tassels on the hat that I made last week were too short, so I took them off to make longer ones. Later I saw this sad scene on my end table. It's saying, "Help me! Help me! I can't move my legs!" Why, yes, every inanimate object in our house does have a voice & a personality. This one is kind of pathetic.

Now, go out there & make your Wednesday whimsical!

A Poem for Friday

Here we are halfway through October & I'm already at a loss as to what to post today. So I'm just going to write some words & pretend they're a poem.

I am personable enough
at first glance
all hey and how are you
and hope your momma
is doing better
but given the choice
between being with people
or sitting alone with
my thoughts
or a book
or a crochet hook
well you know
how that goes

Written while sitting alone in a hotel room in Tennessee eating microwavable mashed potatoes. Dr. M is at the dinner for the conference he's attending. I could have gone, and would have enjoyed the keynote speaker (the topic is women in WWI), but he gave me the choice so here I am, pleased as punch :) Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a book to read.

P.S. Please note that I had the post put in for an implant yesterday, so my mouth is kind of tender - mashed potatoes are just my speed!

Interview with the Universe

Apparently there’s some sort of meteor thing going on, so last night when I woke to up go to the bathroom I decided to head on outside to see what was what. In anticipation of the event, Dr. M had set up a citronella candle and a chair in the middle of the yard. There is a LOT of ambient light in our neighborhood so I didn’t think I would be able to see much.

So, it’s 1:45 a.m. and I trundle outside in my pajamas and sit in the damp chair (ooh – that helped calm down the hot flash!). Dr. M said that it takes 30 minutes for your eyes to adjust to darkness so I was hoping to be out there for at least 30 minutes – even though it wasn’t actually all that dark. But then the neighbors came home (loudly), and I sneezed, and I kept getting distracted by the lights around me, so I lasted 15 minutes. Go me! Ha.

But oh the stars! Even though it wasn’t all that dark around me, the sky was completely clear & the more I looked, the more stars I could see. I was wishing I was awake enough to go drive out into the country because then I just know I would have been able to see ALL THE STARS.

I slip on my purple
bamboo flip-flops
and slide out the door
into a cacophony of
night music.
The cool damp is glorious –
the chair placed just so:
This is an interview
with the universe
and I am wearing
purple pajamas
that match the purple
bamboo flip-flops.
The universe asks
one question only:
“What do you see?”
“Grace,” I reply,
“and the vast open arms
of redemption.”
And the great
cricket chorus
Says, “Amen!”

Here you go, dear Bug: Perseus, about 4:30am EDST ~ Dr. M

Where I Was

On Monday September 10^th, 2001 I was knee deep in red tape. The real red tape that was wrapped around letters from Freedman’s Bureau agents in Kentucky to their superiors. I was helping Dr. M with his dissertation research in the National Archives in Washington, DC. Our strategy was to flag all of the interesting documents and then come back the next day to make copies. The stories I read made me want to weep – these agents used the word “outrages” to describe what was happening to former slaves in post Civil War Kentucky. These stories became the backbone of what I consider to be a pretty powerful work about the plight of freed people in Kentucky.

Tuesday morning, September 11th, as we prepared to leave our Maryland extended stay to spend the day making copies, we didn’t turn on the television. In the car on the way to the nearest Red Line metro station we listened to a music CD. And as we grew ever more frustrated with traffic and full metro parking lots, we just thought it was a part of the mania of Washington DC at rush hour. Finally, we gave up trying to get on the Red Line and decided just to drive down the Potomac and maybe stop at the Iwo Jima Memorial to take in the view. After that, we hoped to get parked at a Virginia metro station. We weren’t in a particular hurry, as the Archives stays open late on Tuesdays. However, I was feeling rather desperate to go, so we pulled off into a park where I could use the facilities.

I sprinted off & did my thing. Walking back to the car I saw a curious sight. Dr. M was sitting in one of our folding chairs watching one of the park rangers go through our car trunk. Let me just be a little politically incorrect here: as a college educated white couple with ordinary hair, no visible tattoos or strange piercings and respectable (if off the rack) clothing, we were not generally a target for random searches. This was a thorough search.

I asked Dr. M what was going on & he just shrugged. I asked the park ranger & he said that he couldn’t really tell me but that I should listen to the radio. “Listen to the radio!!” So after he finished with the trunk, and while Dr. M had his turn with the facilities, I got in the car and turned on the radio. And listened.

We didn’t go back to the National Archives that day. We checked out of our hotel and headed home. Not home to Ohio, but home to North Carolina to be with our families. I think we may have been in shock, a bit, but we were aware enough to notice the eerie silent skies above us.

In the last ten years I’ve run the gamut of emotions: patriotic fervor, worry & dread, horror at how innocent people were treated. I applauded war and abhorred war. I wanted retribution and I cringed from the actions of retribution. Deep down at my core I just want everyone to get along. Can’t we all just get along? Sigh. I guess not, and that makes me sad. I know, it’s not that simple, but that doesn’t keep me from wishing it was.

So in the end I’m left with feeling sad as I hold my little flag and listen to God Bless America during one more 7^th inning stretch. How about, God bless us, every one? No?

This past week Dr. M met with the parents of Alicia Nicole Titus, who was a flight attendant on the jet that was flown into the South Tower. They have established a fund in her name which honors her life by promoting a culture of peace. If you’d like to read about Alicia, her parents or the fund – and perhaps contribute – click here. 


If you'd like to read the Christmas poem that Dr. M wrote that year, click here.