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Archive for the ‘Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country’ Category

While Bob was gone fetching the Grands, my ears picked up a new word. Yesterday was Day Three of Grandparenting while my daughter works in her ER that is once again filled with Covid. Her shifts coincide with the Groom’s stretch of 24/7 Medical ICU coverage. Our system is that one of us drives to their house at daybreak, and returns mid-morning with the children and a certain puppy. Then the fun begins. We are committed to not making plans, and eating as much chocolate as we like.

But first, over coffee and the CBS Sunday Morning show, I heard a piece about the John Denver song, “Country Road.” The man who wrote the song was actually from Massachusetts, but he thought West Virginia fit the lyrics better. It starts out “Almost Heaven” and is universally loved because it’s about a longing for home, a kind of homesickness that is tinged with sadness – aka the Welsh word Hiraeth.

“One attempt to describe hiraeth in English says that it is “a longing to be where your spirit lives.” This description makes some sense out of the combination of words that describe this feeling. The place where your spirit feels most at home may be a physical location that you can return to at any time, or it may be more nostalgic of a home, not attached to a place, but a time from the past that you can only return to by revisiting old memories. Maybe your spirits home could even be neither of the above, one from which you are not only separated by space.”

https://www.felinfach.com/blogs/blog/hiraeth

There is no other word for Hiraeth in any language except ancient Cornish and Breton. It seems the Celts have a deep understanding of loss, one that transcends time. My immediate thought was that I’d like to be able to hug people again, to shake hands and maybe even give and get a peck on the cheek. I’d like to not wonder if I’ll need to wear a mask before I walk out the door. I’d like to return to a place where a virus wasn’t ruining running my life!

But just then the kids arrived. Could they check out the snack drawer? Who wants to play Mancala? And I swiftly returned to the present holiday/nana/camp routine. After all, we’d collected some fairy bark, moss and feathers and had to start building a fairy house. We even found a gold shell casing from a gun on our Christmas hike. I smiled when the Pumpkin turned it into a vase for some tiny flowers. He was enthralled with Bob’s Dremel tool as they carved notches into sticks.

The Bride’s hospital had so many nurses call out sick, with Covid, they had to merge the fast track into the main ER. The Groom’s ICU is expected to open another unit soon. When will the waves of illness and death stop? What will the next variant bring? I know which neighbor’s child is not vaccinated. We shake our heads and tell the Grands that some people just don’t believe in science. So we have to hang tight, to stay within our pod, again.

Today is Day Four. I don’t know how our “little doctors” (Ada’s term) do this, putting on their N95s and doing battle with a disease of the mind and body. Every day, without glory this time. No pans are banging on rooftops, no dinners are being delivered, not even on Christmas. Still, I believe we will return home someday and the secret route isn’t in memory. Hiraeth is a harmony of the soul and the spirit. Despite all the construction on our street, I can envision myself in our new/old house. We’ve already picked out the plumbing!

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While the drum-up to Christmas and a New Year continues, I thought I’d share my thoughts on filling this school vacation with a little fun. Since the Bride always works on Christmas, and a few days after, and the Groom will be busy in the Medical ICU, Bob and I will be on deck with the Grands. We split our time with the other set of Grandparents who are arriving today.

At first I thought, ‘YAY, now that the children are vaccinated, we can go ice skating/movie watching/golf swinging!’ Or maybe even honky-tonking!

But then my better angel prevailed. I discovered an English website entirely devoted to folklore! And activities that include magic and fairies fall right within my wheelhouse! https://folklorethursday.com/childlore/top-10-fun-folklore-activities-children-grown-ups/

With that in mind, and some local lore thrown in, here are my top seven:

  1. Animal Stories. Look to Aesop’s Fables, or make up an animal story of your own. Get all comfy with some hot chocolate, and read aloud. Follow-up with questions and ask your children to draw the story. We plan on giving our Grands an animal to adopt at the Nashville Zoo, they get to read all about it, follow its adventures, and also receive a stuffed version of said animal. https://www.nashvillezoo.org/adopt
  2. Go For a Hike. You may remember that one year we made a fairy house with Great Grandma Ada. On this stroll, to a park or wilderness area, look for a fairy trail! A clearing with mushrooms (their chairs) may appear; collect feathers which are fairy brooms; and look for cobwebs. Did you know that fairies teach spiders how to sew them? I’ve been known to create dream catchers out of found feathers!
  3. Dig Into Hogwarts. Are your children into Harry Potter? Despite JK Rowlings recent controversy over LGBTQ rights, we plan on taking the kiddos to California next year to visit The Wizarding World of Harry Potter! Their Uncle and Aunt Kiki already have tickets so Omicron better be done. Did you know that the “…screaming mandrakes grown by students at Hogwarts are based on the real-life mandrake plant that has long been associated with medicinal magic?” 
  4. Baking. Create a tradition by baking something that is unique to your family. So not the usual Christmas cookies, unless you have a specialty of course. I have a plan to try baking the Flapper’s “Boiled Cake.” This is a recipe from the Great Depression when yeast, butter and flour were being rationed, so you can also throw in a little history lesson too.
  5. Take a Cruise on the Cumberland River. The showboat General Jackson has midday departures from the Grand Ole Opry to a round of applause! It may be a bit pricey, but the singing and dancing is everything FUN for ages 4 to 94! It’s a “…downhome showband of pickers, fiddlers, and singers will be performing heart-warming versions of Christmas favorites by Reba McEntire, Alan Jackson, Elvis Presley, Rascal Flatts, and more!”  https://generaljackson.com/
  6. Livestream a Magic Show. The Nashville Public Library has an amazing website called Kids Out and About with loads of free things to do with your children and grandchildren. Check out your library and sign up! On December 27 at 2 pm Eastern, WonderPhil will be presenting a magic show. Unfortunately it looks like it’s only through Facebook, but hey, maybe Facebook isn’t so evil after all? https://nashville.kidsoutandabout.com/content/livestream-magic-show
  7. Explain the Calendar. We gave our Littles calendars for one night of Chanukah this year – a Star Wars version for the Pumpkin and an origami desk calendar for the Bug. I heard that a certain little redhead wasn’t sure what it was, so now is a perfect time to dig deeper into customs that appear on calendars. For example, The Winter Solstice is happening tomorrow, that’s a good pagan way to start the day! And what exactly is Boxing Day?

So Merry Christmas to All and may your school vacation be filled with Joy and not too many action/adventure/activities this year. It’s best to relax and rest and keep a little of that lockdown mentality intact for everyone.

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My Catholic school background leaves me baffled.

Memories come and go, but feelings remain and for me, boredom was predominant. Memorizing prayers and counting bricks in the building across the street filled my days, punctuated by feelings of humiliation. Nuns stood guard over desks with arms folded under their cassocks. They were prepared to smack a ruler behind a girl’s knee for chewing gum, or pull the small hairs at the back of a boy’s head for launching paper airplanes. Once I had to stand in a corner, with my back to the class, for speaking to a boy.

It’s no wonder when the time came to pick out my very own saint’s name for Confirmation, I chose Dolores – Our Lady of Sorrows, patron saint of the suffering.

But this isn’t a story about me… This week Bob, my newly-discovered-retired MD-social butterfly, attended a ceremony outside Germantown’s Catholic Church to dedicate its newly restored steeple. The Assumption Church, built in 1845, was severely damaged during the March 2020 tornado; it lost many stained glass windows and roofs and needed major structural repairs. Since then, every time I drive by the church and the rectory, I’m struck by another glittery new copper gutter or roofline.

Finally the repairs have been completed! Rising many stories above the red brick, Southern Victorian homes of our neighborhood, the steeple was replaced to the sound of cheers and bagpipes. Most surprising to Bob, everybody got down on their knees in the street to pray!

“The steeple exists to point to God to remind us, you know, God is in his heavens. And then really the purpose of a steeple is to support a cross. And the cross now is going back up over Germantown and so that for us is very important.”

https://www.newschannel5.com/news/a-symbol-of-hope-nashville-catholic-church-restores-steeple-after-tornadoes

“Do you know anything about relics?” Bob asked me when he returned.

I tried to look knowledgable. “Sure,” I said. “It’s like a toenail of a saint.” Of course it might be a piece of cloth the saint actually wore too. Then Bob was happy to report that there is a third level of reliquary – something the saint touched!

“Like the bed Washington may have slept in?” I chimed.

It turns out that the cross that was hoisted above the church’s new steeple holds a First Class relic from St Roch! It’s a piece of his bone! Now if that didn’t get my old Catholic juices churning. I’d never heard of this Roch, and so some digging googling was required. Born in Montpelier, France (1348 – 1379), St Roch is the patron Saint of many things, but first and foremost it’s PLAGUES!!!

The story goes that he was born into money, the son of a governor, but set out for Rome as a poor confessor during an epidemic of the Bubonic Plague. Supposedly, he would make the sign of the cross over people suffering and they would miraculously recover. He survived the “Black Death” himself and went into prisons and public hospitals to minister to the sick; Roch was known to casually lift his pants leg up to show his scarred “buboes.” Which is why some of his statues look vaguely naughty…

And even though Roch is also the patron of dogs and Single Men, I refuse to think the worst! Just as we are ready to bid adieu to Covid, Omicron sweeps in during this festive season. Just as our children and Grands are being vaccinated, we are warned of a January surge in cases and deaths. I don’t know about you, but if praying to a piece of bone in a cross up the street might help end this pandemic, I’m all in.

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Admittedly I’m late to the party, but once I found I could stream HBO Max, I dove into “Succession!” I’ve never anticipated watching a TV show this much – not even “The Morning Show.”

Succession seems like a modern day “Dynasty,” only taking place in New York instead of Texas. Ruled by Logan, a ruthless Rupert Murdoch type character, it’s about a top 1% media family with power/money issues instead of oil. Bob has no interest in watching, calling it a “melodrama” with disdain. I’m only half way through the first season, but I just had to Tweet a quote last night from Tom to long-lost cousin, Topsider-wearing Greg:

“I’ll show you how to be rich.”

This was after they both ate a sparrow whole at a fancy restaurant. I was pretty surprised when that Tweet started getting hundreds of hits, until I realized that last night was the season finale of the third season. I’m lucky if a few people read any single Tweet of mine.

Since social media has taken the place of a water cooler, Succession has been all over different platforms this morning. An online newspaper actually had a quiz with quotes, and you had to guess if a real Billionaire said them or a fictional Logan Roy family member. Someone on Twitter asked which character you would most identify with on the series. I’m wondering what its popularity is saying about us as a country.

If I’ve had too much breaking news for one day, I used to turn to TCM movies from the Depression era. The actors speak with an upper-crust accent, as if Piccadilly Circus met Times Square. The women are always glamorous and rich, or scheming to get rich. Everybody’s smoking, all the time. The black and white film only serves to accentuate their luxurious lifestyle, jumping in and out of big black limos in white satin gowns.

I can picture the Flapper at that time, her short platinum hair curled into Marcel waves.

In other words, 30s and 40s films were aspirational for the working man who was down on his luck. You could see a movie for a quarter and escape into a make-believe world of wealth and privilege. Goodness would usually win the day; Fred Astaire would marry the girl. So maybe watching Succession now, after almost two years of lockdowns, masks and finally a booster, is helping us feel better about ourselves.

Money isn’t buying the Roys love. In fact, I’m not sure if any of the characters know what love is; of the four Roy adult siblings only “Shiv” (short for Shavaun) is getting married. And even she’s not so sure it’s a good idea. Right now Shiv and Tom’s lawyers are looking over the pre-nup. We can all sit back and say,

“Look what money does, look at that dysfunction, at least our family isn’t that screwed up.”

In my family I was taught you don’t lend money to other family members, you give them a “gift.” If they pay you back that’s fine, but no worries if they don’t. You’re not holding a grudge that way. Great Grandma Ada felt the same way, because she knew firsthand about such things after her divorce. She would tell me how her sister Mary would drive out to NJ for a visit and put a hundred dollar bill or two in her pocket.

Children who grow up expecting a trust fund can become twisted. They expect the helicopter ride out of town, why should they be stuck in traffic? They never have to face any consequences for their actions. I remember an interview with Anderson Cooper, where he said growing up everyone thought he was a wealthy Vanderbilt – when in fact, his mother was terrible with money and they often lived hand to mouth – although, I’m sure that hand had a pretty nice diamond on it.

I’m grateful this weekend’s path of tornadoes passed us by this time. We spent two hours in our somewhat safe place Friday night texting with the Bride. Seeing the devastation in other states is heartbreaking. I remember the wads of pink insulation sprinkled through fences in Nashville, right before Covid hit, the power line poles split in two like pick-up sticks.

“Life is not knights on horseback. It’s a number on a piece of paper. It’s a fight for a knife in the mud.” (One of the Roys)

Our Horseshoe Holiday Tree

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Did you have an imaginary friend when you were young? I don’t mean Santa or the Tooth Fairy; more like an apparition about your own age to hang out with. I didn’t, my children certainly didn’t, and so far the Grands haven’t mentioned it. Then why do I feel like a good proportion of adults in our country are living with or within a delusion of some sort?

Some believe that Mr T is still president. Some even believe that there is a Democratic cabal of pedophiles running things. Blaming ‘the other’ for the unexplainable isn’t anything new; we burned many witches to death in Salem don’t forget. But thanks to social media, crazy talk can spread like a wildfire today.

“In 2020, QAnon supporters flooded social media with false information about Covid-19, the Black Lives Matter protests and the presidential election, and recruited legions of new believers to their ranks. A December poll by NPR and Ipsos found that 17 percent of Americans believed that the core falsehood of QAnon — that “a group of Satan-worshiping elites who run a child sex ring are trying to control our politics and media” — was true.”

https://www.nytimes.com/article/what-is-qanon.html

Okay, 17% doesn’t seem too bad, until you realize that means about 55 MILLION people! This is not counting the rest of the Republican party who may know the BIG LIE isn’t real, but don’t have enough courage to say so… because of money, power, getting primaried or just plain fear of Mr T and his gun-toting followers.

So nearly half of the country is committed to chaos and disinformation, while the other half is busy trying to get T’s staff to honor a Congressional subpoena in order to get to the bottom of the BIG LIE that led to the insurrection on January 6th.

Mark Meadows, Chief of Staff (2020-2021), can write a tell-all book about his time in T’s White House, and also sue the Senate Judiciary Committee after they plan contempt hearings against him? How does that work, first you pretend to comply with the investigation, and then you have a change of heart? I feel like we’re in a hall of mirrors, which way should we turn, what is real and what isn’t?

This morning I asked Bob why the planners of the Jan 6 insurrection aren’t being called “traitors?” Is it too strong a word? Because Charlottesville was just a rehearsal, while storming Congress in January was a well planned and financed Hail Mary. We need to convict these domestic terrorists, these traitors, before we find ourselves in an authoritarian state.

I recently met a married couple, two women. One was a Protestant preacher and the other was an Episcopalian priest, and no we didn’t walk into a bar. We talked on a porch and they told me that their beliefs only differ on one thing – whether the eucharist is actually the body and blood of Christ.

A loving couple with such a fundamental difference between symbols and reality, and who were gently humorous about it, left me with hope for the human race. That one person can hold conflicting beliefs is normal, you can be a practicing Catholic and still believe in a woman’s right to choice.

But can you call yourself an American and still believe that Mr T actually won the election and/or should be the next president? I mean I kinda believed that Bush stole the election from Gore, but I didn’t buy a gun or storm the Capitol.

Bob and the Grand Dog discussing his walk schedule

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“The big issue is the access to the weapon itself,” a CNN anchor said about the recent Oxford school shooting. It’s been over 20 years of school massacres, and our legislators haven’t figured it out yet? IT”S THE GUNS – and also parents who buy guns for their 15 year old boy.

I feel like I’ve been living in a war zone. Random gunfire sometimes at night, random explosions from demolition down the block that shake the house, and right across the street a crew is stripping the facade off an apartment building with a water problem. Generators buzz in my ear all day, punctuated by large objects dropping into the dumpster outside my living room window.

Add in Covid, and it’s non-stop stress living in the city. Our quiet, cozy cottage won’t be ready until sometime in March, so we just grin and bear it.

But hearing about another Parkland, another Sandy Hook, another Columbine tested my reserve. As an ex-school board member, I finally heard someone explain what happened on the day his parents refused to take their little shooter home. The day he murdered four students. Their child had been drawing violent, bloody images and searching online for ammo, so he was sent to the school’s guidance office!

The Oxford Supervisor, a guy probably making 6 figures, said that there had been NO disciplinary actions involving the shooter, so he never spent a day in detention. So what? Let’s face it, kids draw crazy stuff, but if teachers reported this boy it had to be pretty bad. I trust teachers. Of course, the school wants to avoid liability now, but why didn’t they alert administration then? If a Principal had been called, and not a Counselor, he would have had his bag and locker searched, and then the police would arrive and confiscate the gun.

His parents would have helped him check into the local juvenile facility – and four students would be alive today. Their parents shopping for Christmas presents instead of coffins.

If staying awake, worrying about kids and guns wasn’t enough, last night we had two weather fronts come through Nashville – we were trumpeted to bed with thunder, and the lightening was blinding. Bob got on his iPad and checked the radar, “Oh, this will be over in 10 minutes,” he said. Mind you, he knew I had a dream the night before about a tornado, but so far we were only under a tornado “watch.” Which means the wind and temperature conditions are ready and waiting to start spinning a vortex around you, so activate that amygdala! WATCH OUT.

We are currently puppy sitting the Bride’s Frenchie who looks like Winston Churchill, so let’s call him “W” or “Dub-ya.” He is one brave and chill pooch, who didn’t understand why Ms Bean was pacing and whining. Luckily, W’s snoring eased us into sleep, but when Bean started rambling again around 4 am, combined with wind and thunder, my post-tornado-stress kicked into hard drive?

I quickly went to my safe space.

Nope, I wish. We don’t have a safe space in this city farmhouse flanked by an apartment construction zone with flapping tarps and yellow crime tape strung like party lights.

What I DID do at 4:03 am was gather the pups and head downstairs for some coffee and local TV, and lo and behold, our tornado watch had turned into a “Tornado Warning!” But before you start worrying, don’t cry for me since I’m here to tell the tale. This second storm was moving fast, about 55 MPH, and the warning didn’t include our county. Two adjacent counties had debris flying around, so the cute weather girl in a tight-fitting dress told us to stay vigilant. Because a “warning,” unlike a watch, means they’ve spotted a tornado!

I wish we could calibrate the likelihood of a mass shooting as well as we follow storms to predict tornadoes. If you’re worried about a student searching for ammo, you watch him. And if he starts drawing bloody, violent images, you warn the right people. Better yet, don’t buy metal detectors for our schools and ask our teachers to carry weapons. Pass real gun control legislation. Enough is enough.

Warning: Street Closed

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Before and after our Zoom Pilates on Wednesday, I made the mistake of listening to the SCOTUS discuss Mississippi’s attempt to uphold a ban on abortions at 15 weeks.

At first, I was happy that Justice Sonia Sotomayor asked if this was not, after all, a religious question. “YES” I yelled at poor Bob. Don’t let these Christian conservatives determine the argument; this is not about when life begins – it’s about when certain groups of people believe that life begins. Besides, some Catholics and Jews (and Sikhs and Muslims and Hindus and….. and…..) would answer that question differently. The separation of church and state is fundamental to our democracy.

In reality, this court case is about the government trying to control a woman’s body.

“The right of a woman to choose, the right to control her own body, has been clearly set since Casey and never challenged,” Justice Sotomayor said, referencing the 1992 case Planned Parenthood v. Casey, which affirmed Roe, in response to comments by Mississippi Solicitor General Scott Stewart.

“You want us to reject that line of viability and adopt something different.”

I was impressed. I was hopeful. Then Justice Amy Coney Barrett started to ask questions. And she was wondering if so-called “Safe Haven Laws” wouldn’t suffice for a woman experiencing an unwanted pregnancy.

What exactly was she getting at? It dawned on me that she was referring to a theoretical mother carrying to term, and then just dropping her baby off at the local fire department, like a Door Dash order, no questions asked.

Having both biological and adopted children herself, Barrett spoke as if she had a direct line to God, which she probably thinks she has! Whatever could be the problem with carrying and delivering a baby, only to immediately give it up for adoption? She thinks that would be the easiest choice, which means either she’s been totally indoctrinated by her fundamentalist faith, or perhaps she is exhibiting psychopathic thinking. And she sounds so sweet…

Yes, choosing to have an abortion isn’t easy. And it’s even harder if you happen to be marginalized to begin with – a woman loses the possibility of a child – one she was too young or too poor to raise… or maybe one that was a result of being raped. Or maybe she is carrying a child who would never survive because of genetic abnormalities. But being forced to carry a pregnancy to term and give birth, and then relinquish a child to adoption, let’s just say that’s another kind of hell. It’s a Handmaid kinda hell.

“The trauma doesn’t just affect mothers, either. Researchers have a term for what children who are adopted, even as infants, may suffer from later in life: “relinquishment trauma.” The premise is that babies bond with their mothers in utero and become familiar with their behaviors. When their first caretaker is not the biological mother, they register the difference and the stress of it has lasting effects.”

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/12/03/opinion/adoption-supreme-court-amy-coney-barrett.html

My sister Kay recently told me how hard it was for her to travel to my foster parents’ house during our Year of Living Dangerously, and stay with me for the summer while I got used to my new caretaker/parents. The Flapper slept and cared for my father in the dining room after his brain surgery, He was only 47 when he died. My crib was in Kay’s room, she was just 14 years old at the time. Still, she always told me she loved me and that I was her real baby doll. I can still hear the pain in her voice when she talks about leaving me in Dover, NJ and returning to Scranton.

Did I suffer from relinquishment trauma? Certainly my sister and the Flapper did. And the mother of Bob’s newly discovered niece absolutely felt that loss deeply so many years ago. Her name is also Kay, a woman who has become a friend, who searched for her child (Dicky’s daughter) for years after her conservative, religious parents sent her away to give birth over 50 years ago. She would never forget her daughter.

Maybe I held on too tight to my children. Certainly my early life as a foster child factored into my choice to stay at home and raise them, to give them a sense of belonging. But I also wanted my daughter to feel as if her future was unlimited. She could be free to do anything she wanted! And she is currently working at steering her group into granting paid parental leave for everyone, male and female, doctors and NPs. I’m so dang proud of her.

We won’t know the outcome of the SCOTUS case until next June probably. We have a lot of work to do until then, to fix gerrymandering and the filibuster, to assure the right to vote, to pass gun control laws so that our children and grandchildren won’t have to fear their school rooms. But we are Americans and we can do hard things.

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The demolition of our kitchen has begun.

We’ve ordered the appliances, and they should be delivered in January sometime. I’ve heard that cabinets are one of those things stuck in a supply chain somewhere, so we have a choice – bespoke (custom build), or DIY in-a-box (Ikea)? Only the nearest Ikea is in Atlanta. And I’ve been playing with Benjamin Moore paint colors on their website, it’s easy and incredibly intuitive! https://www.benjaminmoore.com/en-us/personal-color-viewer/kitchen

My sister Kay told me to try “Kitten Whiskers” on walls because of the way the light reflects back on your room. I may have to paint a sample swath and watch it over time. She said it’s a very pale lavender, yet all I can see is beige. When did cottage kitchen design become my ballyhoo?

Ever since I read that all politics are local, I’ve experienced a sense of dread. GOP legislators have spent the last decade redrawing districts to their advantage, so that they can win more seats. Even if a state is divided equally between the two parties, like say Ohio, out of 99 seats in the House, Republicans hold 64! Ah, the power of gerrymandering.

I first heard about “sunshine laws” when I was elected to a NJ school board.

“Sunshine laws are regulations requiring transparency and disclosure in government or business. Sunshine laws make meetings, records, votes, deliberations, and other official actions available for public observation, participation, and/or inspection.”

There were 48 Million K-12 students in our country and we spent over 752 Billion in 2019. We deserve to know how that money is spent. The journalist in me knew about the Freedom of Information Act passed in the 70s, but I didn’t know how discretely it could shape both small and large institutions.

Unless of course you happen to be the former twice-impeached-president who rarely told the truth and made up his own rules as he went along. Will we ever see his taxes? Sunshine laws are an effort to replace the stereotypical dark-smoky-back room, with a light-infused, open and honest discourse.

We all thought electing Biden would fix everything. I wanted so much to relax, and feel like our government is back on an even keel. We were moving forward with vaccinations and treatments for Covid. The Grands got their second shot. Things were looking up! I am grateful we passed a semi-bi-partisan infrastructure bill, but our democracy could fall apart if we continue to ignore the many voter suppression bills being passed at local levels:

Our democracy works best when all eligible voters can participate and have their voices heard. Suppression efforts range from the seemingly unobstructive, like strict voter ID laws and cuts to early voting, to mass purges of voter rolls and systemic disenfranchisement. These measures disproportionately impact people of color, students, the elderly, and people with disabilities. And long before election cycles even begin, legislators redraw district lines that determine the weight of your vote.

https://www.aclu.org/news/civil-liberties/block-the-vote-voter-suppression-in-2020/

If you do nothing else this week, please call your senators and tell them they must reform the filibuster (which was never in the constitution btw) in order to pass John Lewis’ Voting Rights Advancement Act. The “For the People Act” that passed through the House, must NOW be signed into law.

I know I know. You’re busy planning for Christmas. You’re so over wearing face masks, and want to stop living in fear of a new variant micro organism in the air, something you can’t see. But please, look at the elephant in our collective room. if you are lighting a Hanukkah menorah this week, how hard can it be to make a phone call? If you are buying Christmas presents online today, give our country a gift and write an email to your senators. https://contactsenators.com/senator-phone-numbers

What kind of party wants to make it harder to vote? So much depends on this. We cannot let the minority party pull us back into the dark ages. Shine a light on overt gerrymandering and voter suppression. Start this holiday season off by demanding equal voting rights for all Americans. Choose light, and your children and grandchildren will thank you.

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Why is today “Black” Friday anyway? Red makes more sense – red means stop and think before you proceed, it could also denote a particular political party. But I won’t go there. In fact, I went absolutely nowhere today because I was so full from Thanksgiving dinner I could barely move. Bob tried out a different method for cooking the turkey and it was delicious drenched in herby butter. And the Bride outdid herself on vegetable sides.

My daughter has also lured me back to Facebook by tagging me in a neighborhood group she belongs to called, “Buy Nothing Project; Give Ask Gratitude.” I get the idea. We need to curb our rabid consumer addiction and reuse and repurpose what we have. But since we are doing a LOT of renovation work on our new/old Southern Cottage before we move in, I decided to post its old kitchen appliances and a washer and dryer on the site.

Starting this ‘season of giving’ off with a bang warmed my heart. Why ask Habitat to come pick up our old appliances when there may be someone right down the street who had a washer break last week?

Now, about our new house – it’s cute as the dickens.

ALL ONE LEVEL, south facing, with lots of windows and a cathedral ceiling family room addition in the back. Our eyes were open when we bought it, knowing how much work we would need to put in, including foundation work since nothing is plumb. There’s a larder in the kitchen and the backyard is huge. Most of these “Usonian” cottages are being bought up by Nashville developers who promptly tear them down and build three-level monstrosities. We are lucky to save this one.

My favorite architect is Frank Lloyd Wright, and this house was built during his prolific time period before and after WWII (1936-1959) when he wanted to design at a price point for everyman ($5,000). Even though Wright did not design our house, it feels Usonian in its nature.

“The word “Usonian” (United States of North America) is attributed to writer James Duff Law, who wrote in 1903, “We of the United States, in justice to Canadians and Mexicans, have no right to use the title ‘Americans’ when referring to matters pertaining exclusively to ourselves.” … “Design elements for these single-story homes include: flat roofs with generous overhangs and cantilevered carports (Wright coined the term carport, and favored these over garages for efficiency), built-in furniture and shelving, tall windows that softened the boundary between interior and exterior, radiant heat embedded in a concrete slab gridded floor, skylights, a sense of flow from one room to the next, and a central hearth. Floor plans dispensed with basements, attics, and, in smaller models, formal dining rooms to maximize efficiency.” 

https://metropolismag.com/projects/seven-hidden-gems-from-frank-lloyd-wrights-usonian-period/

We do have a dining room, but it was opened to a formal living room in a previous renovation. We still have the original red oak floors, but the fireplaces have been covered up. Our kitchen is smack in the middle of the house, and though some would like to tear down the larder (pantry cabinets), thereby opening the kitchen to the dining room, and bringing in more natural light, I don’t agree.

Don’t get me wrong, I like an “open concept,” but I tend to be more old school. Actually, I love our tiny kitchen and plan on keeping it as a separate space.

I’ve skipped a day to Small Business Saturday. Now here’s a holiday shopping concept I CAN get behind! Bob and I will stroll the neighborhood on this sunny afternoon and maybe visit a food truck for lunch.

Today the Grands are getting their second Covid vaccine!!! But dang, now we’ve learned about another variant courtesy of South Africa, “Omicron.” There are already several cases of the new variant in Europe, and Dr Fauci has said it is already probably here in the US, which is disheartening. I asked Bob

“When would this go away?”

We talked about vectors (a virus usually doesn’t want to kill its host) and Polio. We’re going to have to immunize the whole world in order to make Covid manageable, like we did with Polio. That’s 7 Billion people. Even with that, we may just have to get a jab in the arm every year – maybe Moderna could figure out how to combine it with our yearly flu vaccine?

Meanwhile, if you’re celebrating Chanukah, spoiler alert, it starts tomorrow night!! HELP, latkes with a side of leftover turkey? And dressing, cause this year I made the cornbread dressing Southern style, outside of the bird. I wish you all love and light, and maybe more mindful gelt spending this year?

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There are two beautiful blue jays chowing down at the dove diner outside my window. A cardinal had swooped in earlier for a bite; a brilliant red sign that today would be a good day. And of course there’s always Kevin the squirrel, the ringleader who determines who can stay and who can go. My city garden is teeming with wildlife adventure; with dozens of sparrows, finches and mockingbirds flocking to the feeder that hangs above the tree stump, aka the 24 hour all/you/can/eat dove diner.

I’ve been wondering why pigeons have become pariahs in many cities. A photographer I follow on Instagram (Quarantine in Queens) posted a picture of a stately pigeon sitting on a lion’s head at the NYC Public Library, and he called the pigeon “dirty.” I was offended. Isn’t a pigeon just like a dove, only bigger? Plus one of my favorite children’s books is “Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.” I loved reading all about this insistent, toddleresque, willful pigeon to my Grands when they were toddlers.

In fact as it turns out, pigeons and doves are related. They are part of a large family of birds called Columbidae, which consists of more than 300 species!

 Paul Sweet, the collection manager for the department of ornithology at the American Museum of Natural History, says the difference is more linguistic than taxonomic. The word dove is a word that came into English from the more Nordic languages, whereas pigeon came into English from French.”

https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/554182/what-is-difference-between-pigeons-and-doves

The word “dove’ developed from our Viking ancestors, and “pigeon” from the Normans. People have trained homing pigeons, and kept dovecotes for centuries – which is just a fancy bird house at the top of a structure for pigeons! Despite my bird-feeding mishap of a few weeks ago, I love to start the day by throwing out seeds and nuts for all the ground feeding birds, too big to perch on the feeder.

Is it ironic that I now have a really BIG bird defrosting in my refrigerator? The President may have pardoned Peanut Butter and Jelly, but our Butterball turkey will still preside at the Bride and Groom’s Thanksgiving table this week. I’ll be making my traditional cornbread stuffing and butternut squash casserole. I’m also game to try something new, like ‘fried sage salsa verde,’ since our sage is still growing abundantly.

The Groom’s parents will be flying in from Virginia with Aunt J, and unlike last year we’ll all gather inside! We are all of us boosted with Covid vaccines, plus flu… and even the Grands have had their first shots. I’m still one of very few people in a store with a mask on, and I’ll continue to be masked until mid-December when our babies are fully immunized – unlike a certain quarterback named Aaron Rodger. To me words matter. The truth matters. The health of my family and friends matter. And yes, even perfect strangers matter.

The Bride saw a very sick patient yesterday with Covid. I asked her if their vaccination status affected her medical care, and she thought for a moment. “No,” she told me. She sometimes forgets to ask because it’s assumed, but now they must ask for the hospital record and the CDC I suppose. I was glad that my daughter’s empathy has withstood these ‘trying times.’ I’m not sure that mine would have.

I have no advice for how to deal with relatives you may see this holiday season. You know, the ones who did their own research, wanted to wait and see, or some such nonsense? Put the children’s table in the garage? Put the unvaccinated in the garage? But if you’re migrating or flying south for turkey day, or feathering your nest and staying put, I wish you a happy and peaceful Thanksgiving. And I have some big news…

WE BOUGHT AN OLD HOUSE.

Standing next to the larder inspecting some new beams

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