The day after Valentine’s Day one bouquet of roses rises tall on my kitchen counter (the long-stems). The shorter-stems reside on a refrigerator shelf, extending their life (shelf life?) and making me glad everytime I open the refrigerator door.
You’ll recall I received two dozen roses this Valentine’s Day. As it turns out, both bouquets were from one man, my sweetheart of yore, my dear-hearted friend of now, Daniel Holland, of Lake County in Northern California. As it turns out, Daniel ordered one dozen roses and Fortune multiplied his order by two. The arithmetic…
A creative person has to create. It doesn’t really matter what you create. If such a dancer wanted to go out and build the cactus gardens where he could, in Mexico, let him do that, but something that is creative has to go on. —Katherine Dunham…click here to read her bio in the Black Collegian.
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak, Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break. (Shakespeare, Macbeth, 5.1.50-1)
Old-school travel It’s hard to leave home. I pack at the last minute. Sort of. It’s a layered affair. 1) The basic layer is a suitcase always at the ready with toiletry kit and swimsuit and such ready to go at a moment’s notice, anywhere, anytime. 2) Then, as I ready for a trip, I…
Last year we were witnessing for my mother as she slipped out of the world, one breath at a time. Ruth Evelyn Johnston Thompson, ah, what a gal! We all dropped by her bedside to witness with her. We brought what we could and we said our good-byes. My father said his with love songs…
My friend Stephanie Farrow, a marvelous poet in her own right, sent me this poem today, as one she enjoys. I thought you might enjoy it as well. Atlantis—A Lost Sonnet by Eavan Boland How on earth did it happen, I used to wonder that a whole city—arches, pillars, colonnades, not to mention vehicles and…