Let the Music Wash Your Soul

Today I attended the memorial service for Kumi. She was an amazing and adventurous soul - wife, mom, artist, cook, party giver, bank vice president, world traveler, school board president, university board member, peace corps volunteer at 65, and what a grandmother! Each of her five grandchildren received the gift of a lifetime on his/her tenth birthday: a trip of their choosing - anywhere in the world with grandma. Wow!

The service was lovely, beginning with each grandchild lighting a candle. Her very closest friends and family spoke and we all watched a montage of her life. Two incredible pianists, young relatives, filled the room with Beethoven, Liszt, and Bach. Kumi,of course, had planned the entire service - everything down to the color of the flowers and the food to be served after. I'm pretty sure she designed the program and picked the photos for the cover. It was easy to know that she was very much present.

Words from her memoir:

"I do not feel afraid. I live with no fear lurking around my psyche. I am aware and awake to the beauty of each moment. My orientation each day is to know what would give me pleasure that day and to choose to do it. It is to enjoy whatever it is that I am physically able to do that day. I don't find myself wishing I could be doing something else. I am genuinely living a good life, living it fully and living it in gratitude. I feel as though I am living in a state of grace, in a place I characterize as heaven. To die having consiciously experienced LIFE is a gift beyond measure. I believe this was the gift of my cancer.

Years ago I spent lots of time at Kumi's beach house. It was filled with art from around the world, shelves and shelves of books, music, food, friends and Kumi. We figured out how to make sweetpeas grow on string frames. I haven't tried to grow sweetpeas in a long, long time. This year I will. It will be my pleasure.

Round toes of the High Shoes of Old Friends

On Sunday my newspaper carrier made a mistake. Instead of leaving me the Sunday Seattle Times, he left the Sunday NEW YORK TIMES!! I did not call to inform him of his mistake.

Instead, I sat down with the same glorious anticipation I experience before a meal at a gourmet restaurant or when dreaming about Kaiden’s celebrated coconut cake. I read something fabulous from every page, marveled at the headlines, the bylines and the photo taglines. Oh the travel section, book reviews, crossword puzzle, theater arts and museums. The society brides, "Coppel Snopple Durham-Grinder" CEO of thus and such. I scoured the ads for couture, jewelry and retirement homes.
While my eyes greedily scanned each section I became vaguely aware that my mind and senses were being transported back through the decades to a time when New York City was a brief train ride away and The New York Times was my daily bread. I could smell the street vendors, hear the cacophony of cabs competing with the disharmony of musicians tuning up for the overture, I could see and feel the steam rising from the streets and sidewalks. Lovely memories of another me in another time. For a few hours on Sunday I felt very smart and cosmopolitan. Thank you delivery guy for making my Sunday! Next week bring me The Economist.

Saving Face

Brenda from The Big Fresh passed on the following from The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp:

"A Manhattan writer I know never leaves his apartment without reminding himself to "come back with a face." Whether he's walking down the street or sitting on a park bench or riding the subway or standing on a checkout line, he looks for a compelling face and works up a rich description of it in his mind. When he has a moment, he writes it all down in his notebook. Not only does the exercise warm up his descriptive powers, but studying the crags, lines, and bumps of a stranger's face forces him to imagine the individual's life." (The Creative Habit, p. 30)

I love this. It is the sort of exercise that challenges one to be disciplined and intentional while wandering through life. It asks us to really see the people around us, to think of individuals with empathy and compassion. Maybe it asks us to think of walking in another's shoes. Coming home with a face might eventually inspire more right actions in the world. Think I'll give it a try.

Memory Brushes the Same Years

Girls weekend!
It came at the right time, right price and right place. A quick Friday morning flight to Spokane with three good friends to spend the weekend at D.'s beautiful waterfront home. We each had our own bedroom, rainshower bath and view deck - lovely posh linens, sauna and soaking tub. What a luxury to get up early with a freshly brewed cup of (not Folgers) coffee and step out on the deck for that Folger's moment! What a gift to stay up late with good friends sharing stories, joys and sorrows over wine, limoncello and bubble water. We cooked, snacked, hiked, read, watched movies, meditated, stared off into space, enjoyed the fabulous original William Papas art on every wall and napped at will. We giggled like school girls and retold old stories just for the fun of remembering together. The cab driver on my way to the airport had joked: "lucky girl you are off to sing and dance and make merry with your pals, huh?" Yes sir. You're right on. Just can't say it enough. I am so blessed.

Like Rain in a Drought

A good friend and CEO of a large organization sent a newletter to her staff today and shared her thoughts about the recent shootings. Her words were profoundly sad. But she ended her message as she often does with an action item:

"Perhaps you are feeling helpless and that the world is spinning out of control. I urge you to change your thinking right now. Each of us has the power to do some small thing to set things right. I urge you to do one totally unpredictable act of kindness in the next twenty four hours and show someone that the world is a little better than they thought it was going to be. I give you permission to do this on company time."


I commit to doing one totally unpredictable act of kindness in the next twenty four hours. Won't you join me?

Freedom is a dark road when you're walking it alone!

What does it take to be truly happy?

According to Dr. Kathianne Lewis: Relatedness, Competence and Autonomy

To be truly happy we "connect" with others maybe in a loving relationship, maybe in a friendship, maybe just meeting the eyes of a stranger. (Definitely through sustained communication with other bloggers.)

To be truly happy we experience our activities with a sense of confidence and accomplishment in one or more areas. And - we continually renew our competence by taking on new challenges, trying new things, refining something we already do well.

To be truly happy we are autonomous - retaining our personal strength, power and choice. To be truly happy, an autonomous person gets to CHOOSE relatedness and competence.

One might think relatedness and autonomy are opposites - until the rugged I can do it myself individual understands that life could be richer when exercising the right to choose connection and competence.

Sometimes in my life I have let go of relationships and chosen isolation when what I needed was to maintain the connections and provide for the needed solitude - and I have thought that I couldn't risk trying something (like painting or dancing)until I had (privately) established competence - and then given up or not shown up because I was indeed not good at it.

What do you think?

We Are The World

You are walking down the street and a young person asks you for money to catch a bus. What do you think? What do you do? Does it make a difference if it is Christmas? or cold? or night? Does it make a difference if it is a man or a woman? Would it be different if there was a child involved? Would it be different if the person asked for money for food? a cup of coffee? drugs? health care? a decent place to live? an education? Does it make a difference if the person is ringing a bell and standing next to a red pot? Does it make a difference?

I am sick to death of you Lorraine!

Visited my doc because I was feeling sick. She faxed in three prescriptions- two generic and one for which there was no generic. My pharmacy just called and said that my insurance won't pay for the non-generic right now, they need more information from my doc and it will take ten days for a decision. TEN DAYS. My choices: pay out of pocket $120 instead of the usual $40 copay or go without. Can this really happen? My heretofore "very good" insurance has paid for this drug in the past...but now they want more info from my doc. Like what do they want to know? Is this something like increased airport screening..do they want to know what's going on inside me? Do they want to know if I will die in the next ten days without that med? Well I won't - but shouldn't this be an issue? Would there have been anything different if I had also had medicare? Anyone? Ralph? I am so ticked off.

Sad Memory on a rainy night

This is not ordinary Seattle Rain. Think monsoon. Rivers are on flood alert, or flooding, trees are falling and the landslides have begun. Basements and garages are taking on water. Pumps are in high demand. City crews are out dealing with trees and urban flooding - water pooled on the road carried a car away in one part of the region. Neighbors are vigilant about keeping storm drains clear. A bizzare accident a few years ago is on our minds. It was during a rain like this that Kate Fleming, concerned about water damage, went down to her Seattle Madison Valley basement to check on her recording equipment. There was a flash flood, the storm drains gave way, the water rushed down her hill, smashing the foundation of her home and she was trapped. She drowned in her basement December 14, 2006.

The First time I heard Peggy Sue

Getting old. If you know about Medicare, please leave me a comment. Since I am still working (half time) I have not applied for social security. But I will soon be age- eligible for SS regardless of my work. I have heard that if you take SS, you MUST also have medicare. I have heard that medicare doesn't really cover everything. How does that work if you have other (really good) health insurance? If you know this from experience or can point me to some good clear answers, I would be grateful.

Like Breadcrumbs in a Fairy Tale Forest

A few words of kindness and comfort stopped me in my tracks today. Gentle comforting words from another brought tears to my eyes. Running from place to place, checking things off the list, getting things done I thought I was doing fine. I WAS doing fine. I just hadn't realized that my heart was yearning for connection, recognition, validation. Kind eyes and gentle words, from out of the blue, released tears I didn't know were welling - and lifted my spirits that I hadn't realized were sagging. Today is my day to pay it forward.

Home, where my music's playing

My city stay will be extended until June 30 and then I will be homeward bound. I have mixed feelings about returning. I love my cottage, but there was a reason I wanted to try out the city. Living here has been such a fun adventure. I do like being a city girl, bus pass in hand. I have been blessed with the perfect space in the perfect location at the perfect price. Perfect except for one thing. I miss my washer and dryer! The coin operated machines in the basement here are beautiful, state of the art. Brand new. Clean. They are shared by only six apartments..and the neighbors who live in the other five apartments appear to be clean and responsible launderers. Still I realize that I have taken the whole laundry thing for granted in all of my past lives. The only time I used coin-ops was back in college and at that time it was fun to socialize in the steamy, sudsy, noisy laundry room. Didn't really count. But I have been there, done that - I look forward to returning to the luxury of laundry on demand in my own home. I look forward to the day when I stop searching for quarters. I look forward to being able to forget that I left clothes in the dryer. My dryer.



Just finished: Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri ****(I have never liked reading short stories - till now!)

About to start: The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng

Maybe I Think Too Much!

Cranberry sauce: Boil up some sugar and water, add some fresh cranberries, heat till they pop. Add other stuff if you want. Cool, serve. Who knew? Yum. Amazing. Years ago when I could still influence my kids, I made sure that they agreed with me that cranberry sauce was meant to be jiggly, and smooth and slip with a satisfying "slurp" from a can. None of that sour grandma stuff with lumps. Not at Thanksgiving, not ever. Well folks, I have been enlightened. Ocean spray go away. Come again another day. Or not.

Just Finished: Room *** A unique and unusual voice, fascinating story!
Currently Reading: Unaccustomed Earth - Jhumpa Lahiri

I Love you madly madly

My love for libraries began in junior high when I got my very first job as a "Page" in the Schenectady County Carnegie Library. Wearing a dusty brownish smock that seemed to acknowledge my importance as an "official" of the library, I pushed a heavy cart about, shelving books and answering questions like "where is the restroom?"The job blended my passion for books with my growing need for independence and offered me the opportunity to control and put things in order. The fact that every book had its own perfect and unique place was supremely satisfying to a girl who grew up in a sometimes chaotic house. The pay was eighty cents an hour - an astounding thirty cents more than an hour of babysitting.

Back then folks signed out books on cards bearing the full names and dates of every previous borrower. At check out the circulation librarian filed the card in a long tray and stamped the due date in the back of book. A reference librarian kept a list of questions from patrons and spent her time frowning and looking up answers. Silence was strictly enforced by all senior library staff who regularly walked between the old wooden tables and chairs glaring sternly at anyone whose voice lifted above whisper.

Today I walked to my neighborhood library to return books and pick up one that I had reserved on line. On line! In the space of a few minutes I can hear about a book on NPR, go to my home computer and reserve it at the library. My computer tells me how many copies there are in the system, how many people are also waiting and what my place in line is. I can decide which of the many library branches will be most convenient for pick up and then know that my email box will light up with a message when my turn comes. Soon the book is waiting on the shelf just for me. I type in my card number at the desk and the computer tells me to place books for sign out on the scan tablet. Amazingly the tablet quickly reads the bar codes of up to four books at a time and prints me a date due slip. Incredible!
I love my library!
Another change with the times - My local library is NOT a quiet brown smock frowny kind of place - It is a cheerfully respectful inviting space with quiet nooks and comfortable easy chairs, window seats and bright tables. It is a bustling active place of great community, tutoring corners, adult classes, computers, children's story hours, and author readings. The librarians smile and speak in a voice you can hear.
Tax dollars doing some of their best work.

Currently reading: Room

After Winter's Silence

Every school in the area is on weather closure.


Yesterday was a silent day in my corner of the city as Metro buses gave up and cars stayed parked. Families with kids used the streets for great sledding adventures. Lots of walkers about and more than a few have dusted off their cross country skis for street travel. The silence was quite lovely.

This morning the main roads seemed a bit better (I even saw a brave biker negotiating the ice and snow - Seattle has a powerful biking community - we will soon have bike lanes on all major streets - and by the way did you ever notice how "real" bikers look like insects?)


Just noticed - the buses are running again! This is a very good sign in a city that was silenced and paralyzed by three inches of snow and freezing winds. Though I loved the quiet, i am glad that my beloved city is valiantly returning to its noisy on-the-move self.



Time to bundle up my temporarily housebound self and bus to Trader Joe's for a pound of butter. What would Thanksgiving be without enough butter?

Snow Place Like Home!

Brr...it's freezing in the Northwest! The snow that looked so pretty this morning is now blowing in all directions. Up north in my cottage, my tenant has not been able to get out to go to work. Here, the few cars on the road are limping along, or going too fast and spinning their wheels. I am huddled in my city home glad to have heat and a couple of good books. I ventured out earlier for a walk to the coffee shop. It was yummy to be on the inside of the steamy windows sipping Starbucks with other hearty coffee city neighbors. I loved watching people walk in, stomp off the snow, embracing the warm chatter and community of this lively gathering place. Later, walking home, the wind came up, the footing became slick, the flakes became chunks and my face began to sting. I could feel the temperature drop with each step. Tonight will be icey and windy. So glad I don't have a reason to go anywhere. Seattle is not a snow city. Everyone knows we are experts at RAIN. We are a city of Rain Dears. Tonight I am red-nosed and snow weary, I am ready for warmer temperatures and rain. Not until Thursday they say.

UPDATE 11PM - serious wind and freezing temperatures - the freeways have been blocked for up to six hours - people who left work early are still not home! They must be so cold! I vividly remember the nightmare winter driving in my years of commuting to work. This is one day I am very very glad to be retired.

Just finished: Cutting For Stone ***** (Five stars!! Best book of my reading year)
Major Pettigrew's Last Stand *** (A good read with charming characters)

Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left to Lose

A year or two after my husband died I realized I really didn't mind being single. My kids, my job and my friends were enough. I loved solitary walks, the freedom to choose how I would spend my days off and the opportunity to just "BE." That was then. This is now. BEing semi-retired and single, is, well, lonely. My friends say their retired husbands drive them crazy. Sounds really good to me.

Like Emptiness In Harmony

My cooking gene kicks in with daylight savings time. When the fall fog rolls in I want to chop, saute, stew and roast things while listening to NPR. Is it the early darkness? Maybe the cooler weather? Who knows what makes me absolutely NEED to cook something savory, bake something pumpkiny, and sip something cidery? When I was a kid I hated the chore of starting dinner for the family before my mother got home from work. When I was a young wife, I was filled with anxiety and dread whenever I had to cook for anyone with the title "in-law." When my kids were at home, cooking dinner was what I had to do after I had worked all day. In the autumn of my life I cook because I want to.

Hawaii Five OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Six days in Hawaii. Five of the six days the hotel workers were on strike. Five nights at $300 per night and do it yourself housekeeping - "the sheets are on a cart in the hall." Five days with no on-site restaurants, no pool service, no sweet ukulele music playing throughout the resort and no refund, no offer to move us to another hotel, no perks whatsoever. Five days and nights of exhausted managers listening to thousands of complaints. Day two cookies and juice in the lobby, small consolation for being awakened (each of the five days) at six am by strikers on bullhorns, picketers banging drums, pots and pans and chanting at the top of their voices. Two days of listening to ugly yelling every hour - "We're Local Five.Go home! Go home!" - Day five finally becoming crazed and joining the thousands of complainers. Day six, the strike is over. Clean sheets, sweet music, all restaurants open, silence in the morning. Alas our day to go home. I don't think I will ever stay at a Hilton again. The tired managers credited our bill with a token $250 - for the inconvenience of staying in a luxury resort without even the basics. Today I made my own bed in my non-luxurious home, put on a CD and danced the Hula.

Ya Can't Win for Losing

I've been trying to help a young man who has made just about every mistake a guy could make. I am stunned by the incredible obstacles the "system" puts in the path of a person who wants to change his life. I am embarrassed by judges who sit in their robes and insult young people with their sarcasm and jibes. I am incensed by probation officers so jaded by their clients that they believe nothing, acknowledge nothing, offer no hope, no encouragement and no support. I am enraged by landlords who charge outrageous rents for roach infested rooms - because folks with records can't get anything else. I am dumbfounded by courts that impose fines that people can't pay and then send them to collections who compound them with maximum interest. I am dumbfounded by a jail sentence for not paying fines. I am furious with a system that asks a guy with no drivers license and no money to travel 200 miles from his home twice a month to "report" and then return 200 miles within 24 hours to "report" again to his probation officer in his home city. You can't win for losing.