The Triplets and A Cardinal......

A few weeks ago I wrote about Fenway and I taking our morning walk and spotting five deer....a doe with two fawns and another with triplets!

Tonight, after dinner, we went for an evening walk. Lots of activity in Port Washington since it's Lions Fest Weekend with bands playing and people walking everywhere. So I thought that any wildlife would probably be out-of-sight.

We reversed our walk and started on the "low" side, walking through the volleyball court area and the grassy area before the woods and the bridge that would lead us to the bike path. As we approached the grassy area I could see two deer grazing. As we got closer I realized it was two of the fawns....no doe in sight and they were much bigger than they were a few weeks ago. As we got closer they watched carefully.....and finally ran off toward the woods on the right. Suddenly there was more noise/movement and there was the third fawn....following her siblings into the woods.

The triplets! And then a beautiful red cardinal swooped in, landed on the path in front of us, looked our way and took flight through the trees.

Triplets and a cardinal. I started the day at the beach....listening to the surf. I ended the day spotting wildlife. What a lovely day.

Surf's Up......

A beautiful, cool Saturday morning. Out the door to start the day with Fenway's early walk and then back inside for coffee. With the door open to the deck I sit and read my book.....and listen to the surf. A breeze out of the northeast is driving the waves onto a little beach area about a block from our condo. A constant, rhythmic, soothing sound. And the occasional cry of a seagull......

If I didn't know better I'd swear we were back on the boat, anchored and surrounded by blue water.

The sound of waves reaching the shore......one of my favorite sounds in the world. 

Living in Delaware.....

Dave and I spent about ten years living in Old New Castle, Delaware....this was a very special "small" historic place situated on the Delaware River just outside Wilmington. Our house was 200 years old and we loved it. Yes....an old house has its challenges, and living in historic area of New Castle was a unique experience. (We once had a couple walk right in our front door because they thought our house was a pub!) The historic area, part of the National Historic Registry, measured maybe ten blocks by ten blocks....old homes, brick streets, a walking path along the Delaware River. It was unique...and forgotten for many years. The interstate from Philadelphia to Washington DC bypassed it....so it "slept" for many years. When it was "rediscovered" people came in and worked on the historic homes. They didn't put up aluminum siding...they respected the history and preserved it.

Hollywood directors chose historic New Castle for movies....because it was so special. Go and watch "The Color Purple" — it was filmed in front of our church and we watched the actors as they enacted the scenes. And "Dead Poet's Society"....the scene where the young actor runs across our "green" to a historic house on Second Street. This was Old New Castle. Good Morning America came to film a segment in our little town...and I watched and waved from the sidewalk. Old New Castle was not a Williamsburg, it wasn't a reconstruction...it was real.

And when we attended services at the Presbyterian church two blocks from our home we could turn around and see our State's Governor and his family sitting in a pew a few rows behind us. Delaware is a VERY small state, and people know each other....they even know the people they elect to office, and they hold them to account.

So the other night, while working on a quilt, I watched some of the Democratic convention and listened to Vice President Joe Biden. And my eyes filled....and my throat tightened. I feel like I know this man, this man from Delaware. He started his service to America before we lived in our old house....but his story was part of the "neighborhood" lore. I admire his service, and his words tonight were personal and meaningful.

It was nice living in a small state and having the opportunity to feel that you, just regular middle-class you, had a chance to meet and get to know your State's leaders without having to contribute thousands to re-election campaigns. Not everyone has that chance....not everyone feels a personal connection to a candidate when they walk into a voting booth. But somehow, for me, that small personal interaction, a smile, a hello, a cup of coffee after church service, made a difference. I wasn't casting a vote for a stranger....I was casting my vote for a neighbor.

Threads......

Today was a flashback. I drove down to Park Ridge (where I grew up) to have lunch with a friend I met in high school.  I wanted to see one of Megan's paintings on display at a Park Ridge art gallery and she was able to meet me. Barb moved back to Park Ridge a long time ago, was free for the day, so it was a nice opportunity for a quick visit.

We met at the gallery, viewed the pieces featured in the show and then went to lunch. The restaurant is located in what used to be the town's main pharmacy. How times change!

We had a fun conversation filled with some memories, laughter and sharing. While we were not best friends in high school, we did spend a lot of time together. She went off to St. Olaf for college while I went to Ripon, and we began to lose touch. I'm sure we saw each other during summer vacations or over winter break. But soon after college our "adult" lives took us in different directions. Marriage, children, husbands' career moves.....off we went.

Our paths first reconnected, strangely enough, when her son and daughter-in-law bought my mom's house back in 2010. Sitting across the settlement table at the real estate closing was the first time I'd seen Barb since the late 1960's.

And then again we got together once last year (with another high school friend, Karen).....and now today. It's nice to pick up a few old "threads" and find that there are still commonalities and reasons why you were probably enjoyed each other's company in the first place.

I'm glad we were friends way back then.....I'm glad our paths re-crossed....and I'm glad we had lunch today. Hope we can do it again before long.

In a world full of divisions......I appreciate the threads that bind people together....no matter how tenuous.

The Human Heart.......and Another Good Read

Years ago I read Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson. It was such a good read that I found myself slowing down instead of quickly turning pages. I'd re-read sentences and whole paragraphs because they were so very well crafted. After finishing the book I set it aside for about a week and then picked it up and read it all over again.

So I was delighted to find another book by the same author in one of Port's Little Free Libraries. This one was titled East of the Mountains. Again, a beautiful book and so well written. Maybe one of the things that caught my attention was the setting - the narrative takes place in the Columbia Basin of central Washington state, an area we've driven through on western explorations. I could picture it in my mind.

The main character is a surgeon. Facing a terminal cancer diagnosis he is determined to live independently and end his life on his own terms. I'd spoil the read if I said much more.....safe to say the story has twists and turns and unexpected consequences that all occur within about a week's time.

Reading the book got me to thinking about the human heart and all of the imagery associated with that interior pump we take for granted. We use it to describe so many things...."She was heartbroken"....."my heart just aches"....."he was a heartless bastard".... "she stole his heart."

The book seems to revolve around the heart and a theme of love....and more than half way through the novel the author writes: "Ben thought of the hearts of other men and women in all their naked, exposed truth - muscles about the size of fists, pulsing at the center of living forms. The heart that was for poets and priests the seat of all things beautiful, the house of love, the host for God, the chamber of sadness, rage, discord, envy, despair, glee. Ben knew the heart as a muscle first, designed for the work of pumping blood, not so terribly intricate that it couldn't be duplicated. Parts of it were replaceable....In knowing the heart in this cold way, he had lost all innocence about it. It was not that he didn't believe in love, but first he was a scientist, a physician, and a man of reason."

It's our brains that think about things like love, heartbreak, loss......but it's our hearts that seem to feel those emotions. Somehow saying,"I love you with all my brain" doesn't convey the same passion as "I love you with all my heart."

Anyway.....this blog entry is a ramble, but I recommend the book and the author.

It made me think. It made me feel.....it even made me remember lyrics from a song from the movie "Titanic"....."the heart will go on". It does....even after loss....those heartstrings stretch across time and distance and the heart does go on.

I Think I Get It.....

So now the Republican party's ticket is complete and next week's convention will make it official. As I've said before, when this whole process started I (along with about a zillion others) never thought I'd see the day where I might be contemplating four years of a President Trump. Yet.....here we are.

Dave and I were talking about it a few days ago and I told him that I thought I was beginning to understand how people were drawn to his candidacy and willingly/proudly/fanatically believed The Donald could "Make America Great Again".

I'm serious when I say that not a day goes by the thought doesn't enter my head that I, and my family, are just so very fortunate. Lucky to be born where and when we were, lucky to have the parents we had, live in communities focused on the good life, got an education, found good jobs, and now have the chance to enjoy retirement. Every time we start out on a travel adventure I know that I am among the lucky citizens who can plan and then actually take time to wander. And everytime I walk back into our condo overlooking Lake Michigan I again think "Wow.....look where I am. Who would have thought?"

But how would I feel if none of the above applied. If for the past twenty years I'd been part of the shrinking middle class, struggling to find and keep a good-paying job, trying to figure out how to keep that car running one more year and where I was ever going to find enough money to put my kids through college? What if the "system" hadn't worked for me....at all. What if every politician I ever voted for promised me a better life and new opportunities......but it was all just empty rhetoric? My town was full of empty store fronts, jobs disappeared and my kids moved away looking for some kind of opportunity.

What if I just was so damn discouraged and down right mad at the powers that be I decided that someone, anyone who was not a career politician would have some ideas that just might work and the system could change and things would be better for my kids and my grandkids. I might not look to closely at the candidates actual proposals......I might be carried away by the speeches and the hope.

I might be wearing a red baseball cap too.

This American Circus......

I've been watching the political circus unfold for months......or is it years? Heading toward November's Presidential election I watched as party #1 presented over a dozen candidates. Some quickly dropped away, others held on for months for debates and interviews. But one by one they fell to the side until party #1's choice to lead the American people in a very complex and frankly frightening world was evident. The Donald.

Party #2 basically battled back and forth between two candidates. Neither one perfect, but at least there was some experience talking. And finally party #2 settled on their headliner. Hillary.

The anger, mistrust, nastiness and frustration surrounding this process has been sadly fascinating to watch. And so very tiresome. Issues and proposals and content fall aside as tweets and instant coverage of every out-of-context comment becomes front page news for about ten seconds.

In November, we Americans will freely and quietly walk into voting booths all around the Country to cast our ballots. Results will be tallied and a few months later there will be a new occupant in the Oval Office. One can only hope that whoever wins he/she will gather knowledgeable advisors to help them with four years of governance. And no matter what they say to get elected, neither one will have all the right answers or be able to "fix" all the problems facing America and the world as a whole.

I know a lot of people who say they simply won't vote this year. They find party #1's choice to be a clown, and "hate" party #2's choice....so they won't vote.

If they really are going to refuse to enter the voting booth I think that's the saddest thing of all. It's as if the only names on November's ballot are the candidates running for President. If you don't walk into that booth you've given up the chance to elect congressional candidates, local leaders....dog catcher...whatever.

So......if you don't vote, that's your choice. But then don't complain. In my humble opinion, if you decide to "protest" by withholding your vote that's your business, but that decision should also mean you given up your right to complain about the results or the decisions made while candidate #1 or #2 is sitting in Washington DC as leader of the free world.

Your free choice.....and aren't you lucky to live in a county where it is your free choice.

That Elephant......

"The elephant in the room"....a phrase that indicates there is something happening that no one wants to acknowledge. Ignoring the elephant might make it disappear....except that doesn't work. And the longer "it" sits there, the bigger "it" gets.

How do you handle it when someone you care about, a very best friend, a loved one......goes to the doctor and comes home with a terminal diagnosis. (And isn't that an odd image in itself.....coming home with a terminal diagnosis. As if you're bringing something home that you want to bring home.) In a matter of hours the world is rocking on its axis.....at least for one circle of friends, or one family....and it will never again be the same.

I worked for two hospices during my career. One small hospice in Maryland and one here in Wisconsin with patients in any of eight southeastern counties. Here our census would run anywhere from about 260 to 300 patients on any given day. That's a lot of people facing the end of life....a lot of family and friends dealing with a coming loss and the hole it will leave behind.

Families and friends deal with this knowledge of approaching death in a variety of ways. Some circle close....others back away. I happened to be with some of my family and friends over the weekend. Someone made a quick statement, "She's dying....there's nothing to talk about." And that quick and conversation-ending comment is what brought the elephant to mind.

When I worked for hospice it was my job to train the volunteers who would go out and visit with patients, support their loved ones, do a load of laundry, walk a dog, hold a hand. I always told them during training..."You are the safe person in the equation." The volunteers had no history with the patient or their families....and sometimes, often, they were the ones that the patient could really talk to. Patient's would say "I can't talk to my mother/wife/son/best friend/sister because I don't want to upset them." But they could talk to the volunteer.....and the volunteer would listen without judgement. Yes, there might still be tears.....but there was compassion and understanding and a knowledge that without someone to listen each patient can feel so very isolated. They have no one with whom to share their fears/hopes/memories/tears/sadness.

Personally I do feel there are always things to talk about.....if the person facing death wants to talk. They may not talk about a cure....but they may talk about how they want to be remembered, share their life stories and shed tears about dreams unfulfilled. But if they want someone to listen, how sad if everyone they love gets too upset and just leaves the room.....just imagine how they shut down, how they hold it all in, how they stop trying to share with their loved ones because it's just too upsetting and since there is no cure, "what's the point"?

I love someone who is dying.....not today....but in the not-too-distant-future. And it's really, really hard to contemplate this loss. But I do....and we talk on the phone when she wants to. I hope she knows I'm one of her "safe" people. I will weep....so will she....but we talk. She can say whatever she wants to say......or not. That elephant is in the room when we are together....and I can sense it listening on the line when we have a phone conversation. But that's OK too.....in the room I grab the trunk with one hand and my loved one's hand with my other. We form a "circle".

We don't ignore that damn elephant.....but we don't give it all the power either. It's just in the room.....huge, silent, there.

Something Happy......

An absolutely beautiful day and evening in Port. We ate dinner on our little deck overlooking Veteran's Park. Our windvane pig rotated slowly in the breeze.

As the evening progressed families started to gather. It was outdoor movie night at the bandshell...."The Minions"!

Kids running back and forth, over to the playground equipment....back to their parents and the picnic blankets. Laughter, conversation, cars pulling into parking spaces....more and more families joining the crowd.

It was finally dark enough for the show to begin. We watched for a few minutes but then went inside to our own activities. But what fun to see the show from a distance.....not the movie....but the families. Noisy fun, relaxed community gathering....... a good summer memory.

Can't Wrap My Brain Around It......

The news is full of so many sad/horrible/frightening things over the past few weeks. It's just about impossible to even absorb most of it. From mass deaths due to suicide bombs in the Middle East to black individuals killed by on-duty policemen, to Dallas. The reports continue....the details pile up. And I try to remember the quote from Mr. Rodgers (a TV show my kids watched when they were little.) Something about how, when bad things happen, "look for the helpers". There are good people all around the world just living their lives day to day, raising families, and doing their best and helping their neighbors.

But something scrolled across my internet provider's screen a few days ago and I just can't get the images out of my mind. This was an article that had to do with honor killings in Pakistan. And I didn't read it all....it was just too much.

There is a cultural tradition in that country (and probably others) where parents or other family members murder a child because he or usually she does not follow their "rules". In this case a young woman fell in love with someone and her mother did not approve. I don't know how long the conflict went on within the family....but in the end the mother choked her daughter until she was almost dead and then finished the act in the most horrible, painful way possible.

And then that mother went up onto the roof of her home and shouted out so that everyone could hear her.....something like "My daughter will never shame this family again! Our honor is preserved."

Her daughter.....their honor.

I try to respect other cultures and have learned fascinating things about other religious traditions and cultures and similarities we all share. But this is just so far outside my ability to comprehend. Apparently, according to what I did read, the younger people in Pakistan (a large percentage of the population is under 30) are starting to rebel against this traditional act. I can only hope they prevail.

Her daughter......their honor. What the hell?

....and the View From Afar

I have a friend I met years ago while working at The Delaware Museum of Natural History. She moved to Japan many years ago for her husband's career and raised their two children abroad. She is educated, aware, involved and gave me permission to post her Facebook comments about what just happened in Dallas. It was her post that I saw first thing this morning.....the one that made me shut down the phone and just get outside to breathe the air.

As she said these are her "rough" thoughts.....not polished, but coming from the heart. Another country heard from.

"So this time, it is a bunch of dead police officers. It was inevitable. I don't mean to make excuses for cops killing black men or people killing cops. But when people are killed--murdered--by those in authority, and not held accountable, it is inevitable that some one will try to take things into their own hands. Hatred against and fear of immigrants leads to violence against immigrants. Hatred against and fear of black men, leads to violence against black men. Hatred against and fear of cops leads to violence against cops. But while Black Lives Matter protestors are called thugs and labeled problems, while legislation to try to end police violence and brutality is non-existent, blue lives matter legislation passes clean and free. All lives DO matter. I am as upset about the shooting of these police as I am about the killings of black civilians. Those officers were found guilty and killed because of their uniforms. Are we now living in the wild west where vigilante justice is the norm? Police across the country should be furious at the seemingly constant police violence against black lives. And civilians of all stripes should be incensed at the killings of these officers. 

I live in Japan. I don't have to worry about any of this. But I do. I tell my kids when they say they want to go to school in the US that they should choose Australia or Scotland or Europe or anywhere but the US. Imagine an American saying that. 

America is in a new civil war. It is us against them. Them is immigrants. Them is black people. Them is rich people. Them is the lazy poor. Them is the conservatives (and I have been guilty of this). Them is the treacherous liberal. Them is women. Them is men. Them is the crazy religious zealot. Them is the government coming to take your guns. Them is the government period. 

Will this civil war tear the country apart this time?"

Living White in America......

Yesterday was a peaceful, early morning walk spotting deer. Today was a bit different. I woke at 6:00 and saw something scroll across my phone as I checked the time. Police shot in Dallas. I put it down, got the dog and walked out the door.

Another beautiful morning in Port Washington.....but not so beautiful in America. Back at the condo I turned on the TV and got the play-by-play coverage of what happened in Dallas, how many shot, how many policemen dead. Video, interviews, data.

And I began to think about me.... growing up. My parents moved from an apartment in Chicago to a suburb when I was six. Good schools, nice neighborhoods, a train into the city for my dad to get to work. He was home from Navy service in WWII and moving up the career ladder....we were living the "Leave It To Beaver" good life. And there were no black people. No black students at my grammar school. I don't recall any students of any color other than mine....white.

For several years we did have a black cleaning lady who took the bus from the city and walked to our house. She wore a white uniform and I think she probably came about twice a month. Most of our neighbors had cleaning ladies. I didn't think much about it....I was probably eleven. I know my mom was nice to her....but I don't remember that we ever sat at table to enjoy lunch together or a cup of coffee. She ate alone.

And then there was high school.....4000 students drawn mostly from my suburb and those surrounding us. That's a lot of faces....but I don't remember any black ones.

I went to a small liberal arts college in Wisconsin....only 900 students. That was the first time I can remember that I had any exposure to black students...."exotic" foreign exchange students from countries in Africa. And one very special young woman, Alice, who came from the East Coast. My sorority actually pledged Alice to our chapter when I was a junior...and the shit hit the fan. A rather elderly woman from "National" came....proudly displaying her sorority pin over her breast and told us, in no uncertain terms, that black women were not part of our "tradition". I can't remember all the details.....but I do know that we pledged and activated Alice. I forget if our chapter was tossed out....or if National backed down. But that was one point where I thought to myself "This old woman needs to wake up and get a life and take the stupid sorority pin off her chest. This is 1967!"

And yet....as I got married and followed my husband's career moving around a bit we always looked for good schools, nice neighborhoods and communities where we felt safe raising our kids. Did we ever purposely look for integrated neighborhoods? No. I wonder why. Just being comfortable with what we knew? A search for "similars" as we made new friends? Why was our circle so small?

Now we live north of Milwaukee....and we love our small community along Lake Michigan. But it is still pretty much lilly white. Not much ethnic diversity as far as I can see. So.....if you have no neighbors who reflect another culture, or faith base, or skin color....how do you learn about each other? How do you bridge divides?

Statistics show that Milwaukee is one of the most segregated cities in the Country and we have one of the most violent zip codes just on the north west side of the city. Really.....that's just down the road from my little oasis of comfort. It might as well be on the other side of the world.

There is a sad cancer growing in our Country and there isn't much I can do about it except think that if each one of us started to reach out, to shake hands, to get to know one another, to trust, to stop being afraid....maybe, just maybe things might improve. Too simplistic I know. But the heartbreaking statistics have to be altered somehow. If not now....when?

At the end of the early morning walk just before coming back into the condo I heard a police or ambulance siren going through town a few blocks away. My first thought was "Oh...someone needs help or has a medical emergency and help is on the way." I wonder what a mother's first thought if she is living in a poor black neighborhood......"Oh God...where is my child/husband/father/boyfriend and please keep him safe."

Living white in America......I just have no idea.

Diary as Therapy......

Someone gave me a nice compliment recently when they indicated that they enjoyed reading my little blog. That made me feel good. And also made me wonder just how this started and why I find it so satisfying.

I think it was about fifth grade when I got that first diary. I remember it had a pink plastic cover and a little gold key to lock it so the private musings would be "safe". (Of course you could pop that lock with a hairpin or paper clip!) My best friend, Sally, also kept a diary. And we were faithful about it....I wrote something every night before bed. Usually comments about fifth-grade stuff.....teachers and boys and parents and boys.

When Sally and I would get together for a sleep-over we would read each other's diaries. I think we had some special code that meant we had to mention our "boyfriend's'" name on every page at some point. Sleep-overs were full of shared secrets and giggles.

I continued with diaries all the way through high school and college. These journals were more meaningful as I tried to find a spot for myself in a highschool with 4,000 students, documented the fact that my parents separated when I was 16 (separation and later divorce was a much different thing in the '60's....I didn't even tell Sally that my dad moved out for weeks because I just didn't have the words.) The college years were fun......and my diaries documented meeting Dave, falling in love and planning a wedding.

And then I stopped......too busy with young marriage, raising a family, working. Until we moved to our 200-year-old house in New Castle, Delaware and, with kids gone, I had more time. I began to write a weekly column for the small local newspaper. I wrote "Personal Glimpses" for about four years and it was fun. My neighbor's and friends and the community at large seemed to enjoy reading my musings.

Then there was another break while we moved aboard our sailboat and lived afloat for two years. Back to life "on the hard" in Milwaukee and new advanced technology gave me another chance. Personal blogs were easy and even though I have a small following, that's OK. It seems I just enjoy the act of writing.....the wandering through my brain thinking about things.....and then putting thoughts on the page.

It's my therapy....my now public diary.....a shout out to the world from one small corner of it. Hello world.....my name is Linn and here's what I think!

And Then There Were Five......

It was a long night full of disturbed sleep. Just hard to fall asleep and hard to stay asleep. For a variety of reasons my brain would not shut down. Yawn.

Up a bit early this morning and instead of walking Fenway own the bike path at 7:00 it was closer to 6:00 a.m. Quiet, sounds of the birds, a slight breeze....a beautiful morning. The trees and bushes along my route are in full green now.....thick and almost impenetrable. I haven't been able to spot deer very often for weeks. But since it was early I decided we would walk until I could find one. I'd look for movement, or a certain color brown, or the flick of an ear or a tail.

Fenway pranced along at the end of his leash, leading the way and anointing bushes and grass as we walked. I heard movement up on the hill to my left.....but couldn't see anything. Just about to give up and head back I caught a glimpse of movement on my right....down across the creek. There she was, a doe looking up at me. "Well, good morning beauty!" I whispered and she cocked her ears. We stood and watched....she looked back over her shoulder and I caught more movement. A second doe approached with twin fawns! A very successful sighting.....and I stood quietly watching as they turned and moved off up the hill.

Sigh.......nature just down the path. Fenway and I turned for home, he signaling that it was breakfast time! But then.....again a slight noise and looking across the creek there was another doe looking back at me.....and movement coming up out of the water. One, two.....three fawns! Triplets!? They made it up the bank to their mother and all four quickly walked away.

From zero for weeks to five on this morning's walk. A lovely way to start my day.