Author Archives: Lenora Good

The Great, The Marvelous, the Most Fantastic…

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As of 26 Sep 20, 204,499 Americans have died from Covid19. At 5 seconds to intone each name, and maybe ring a bell, it would take 11 days, 20 hours, 1 minute, 35 seconds to read and tally our loss. At least half would still be alive if people cared about their neighbors and wore masks and the CDC had not been politicized.

…Ruth Bader Ginsburg (aka the Notorious RBG) has died. Age, 87. You all know that. I was too upset to write anything last week, so I’ll write it now, a week after her death. She was, truly, all those things, and she will be sorely missed. Her death may, at this time, bring about the beginning of the end of our country as we know it.

This is an opinion piece. But, what the heck, it’s my blog, so I can write my opinion. (You may counter in the comment section.)

It didn’t take long for the Unholy Swamp Triune to come out and say that they don’t give a rat’s hind end what the American people want, they’re hell-bent-for-leather to name and confirm, a new Supreme before the election. And she’s going to be a “Right to Lifer.” Rules and precedent be damned! Almost three out of four Americans support a woman’s right to control her body. They Unholy Ones don’t. They want to go back in time to the wonderful fiction of Father Knows Best that only existed on television, not in actuality.

And therein lies my angst. Oh, not that they will cheat, that’s a given, but how they have perverted the term “Pro Life/Right to Life.” For the sake of this discussion, I am going to make Right to Life and Pro-Life mean the same thing. These people, all good members of their faith, are NOT Pro Life. They are Pro Birth and Anti-Woman. They want to take all rights away from women, especially where her reproductive life is concerned, because they don’t think women are intelligent enough to think things through. You know, hormones rage and emotions swing, and they have power given by their patriarchal god to rule women and by their god, they’re gonna! After all, if they can keep women pregnant and at home, they won’t take a job from another testosterone poisoned male. And it’s easier to blame a woman than keep their trousers zipped.

I won’t go so far as to say NONE of these Right to Lifers are, but I’ve only met one, and that was years ago, and she put her money where her mouth was! She went to her lawyer, paid to have the papers drawn up, then went to the abortion clinic, talked to the manager in charge, explained what she wanted, and received permission to wait inside and talk to the women seeking treatment. She explained who she was and said if they would carry the baby to term, she would pay all pre-natal costs, delivery costs, etc., and adopt the baby. She showed them the papers, and letters of recommendation that she would make a good mother. She didn’t have any takers, but no one complained to management about her being there. She never adopted (she was single and at that time single women adopting was frowned upon, after all, a baby needs a daddy) but she did take in teens as a foster mother.

Now, I’m Pro Choice or, if you prefer, Pro Life. To me, they are the same thing. Yes, really. The same. I know women who have had abortions, and none chose that option lightly. There were medical reasons, financial reasons, real and solid reasons. Because they had a medical procedure in a safe and sterile environment, many went on to later raise, love, and care for healthy families.

They took care of themselves. They were Pro Life. They made a difficult decision and have lived with it. But they still live. I don’t know any who had an abortion because they got ‘knocked up’ at an inconvenient time.

My mini quilt, Walking the Red Road. (It really is square, the caera wonked it.)

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you don’t want an abortion, then by all means, don’t have one! If your god says it’s wrong to have an abortion, then don’t have one. But the face of your god is not the face of every other woman’s god. And this is NOT a religious country, it is a secular country founded to remain secular with a separation between Church and State. Remember, the world cannot support our current population, and add into that Climate Change, rising seas, and wildfires….

If you are going to vote as a Right to Lifer, then, please, vote for all that entails—good pre- and post-natal care for the mother, good medical and dental coverage for the child until an adult, enough money to have the necessities of life—shelter, food, clothing, education, etc, for that child until s/he is an adult. Don’t say you’re Pro Life when you really only want the woman to have the baby and you don’t care to help out after. That’s not Pro Life. That’s Pro Birth.

Again, I say, if you don’t want an abortion, please, I beg you, don’t have one! But don’t try to force your morality on others, for one day you may be judged by your morality as lived and thought and held in your heart, and you may not like it. One day, these words may appear on your wall, Mene, mene tekel upharsin.

Entertainment:

TCM: I have long said I’d go with any cable company that would let me choose 10 channels and charge me appropriately — Spectrum did. I now have, among other channels, Turner Classic Movies, and on Saturday night I turned it on just as the credits finished for The Red Shoes. The movie came out in 1948, I probably saw it sometime between 1950-1955. It ranked right up there with An Affair to Remember and The Quiet Man in my all-time most loved movies. I’ve seen the latter two several times, sometimes whole movies, usually bits, parts, and pieces. Saturday is the first time I remember seeing The Red Shoes in a reaaaalllllly long time—like since the first time I saw it. Yes, it’s a romantic drama, and I loved it even more now, as an adult, than I did as a kid of 10 or so. I remembered my favorite part, if not exactly the words, the intent. He: Why do you dance? She: Why do you live? I also remember sitting in the theater when it ended thinking that I was a big girl and big girls don’t cry. Well, I didn’t sob out loud. Do I get points for that? Saturday, I sat on my couch and decided it’s perfectly fine for an old Auntie to cry/sniff/sob/tear. I did laugh at the two white males discussing the ending after the end. It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t in the studio, or one might be walking funny now. He thought she was somehow weak. Both of them missed what, to me, was so blatantly obvious—she felt pressured to choose between the love of her life, her husband and the love of her living, dancing. It was obvious to the men, of course, that she should choose between marriage and family or singledom and career. How dare she want both? Why, that was/is a privilege reserved for men. /meow/ Not a HEA movie, but, if you get the chance to see it, well worth the 2 hours 13 minutes of your time to watch it. Some absolutely gorgeous ballet! It’s available to rent on Amazon Prime.

Amazon Prime:  

IMDB has free (with commercials) tv series. I started watching the old Banacek series, again. Loved that show. We’ll see if it holds up.

Books: 

For any books I may have finished and reviewed and mayhaps a bit of snark, see Rainy Day Reads Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha! 

CORRECTION: Last week I said I had Wyrds by Weld Champneys on my bed to read, I hang my head in unabashed shame, the title is Wirds, and it has now moved to my bedside table to be read randomly just before I turn out the light. A delightful book of poetic humor, review is on my site above. 

Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, when you come next week for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.

Notorious RBG, We Miss You!

Auntie Lenora

The “Red Road” is a metaphor for living a spiritual way of life. Oglala Sioux medicine man and holy man, Black Elk, spoke of the all the people on the red road as being one interconnected circle of people that made a sacred hoop. Only you can walk your journey, but many are on the road. https://www.spirithorsenation.org/the-red-road

If you enjoyed this post, please consider sharing with others.

Thank you. Auntie Lenora

Is Walking Your Dog Hazardous to Your Health?

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Maybe.

I recently read an article in the Washington Post by Karin Brulliard, that dog-walking may be hazardous for seniors. The study didn’t suggest any reasons but did note the numbers of seniors who are injured, often with broken bones, has risen remarkably. According to the article, and a new study by University of Pennsylvania researchers (co-authored by Dr. Jaimo Ahn) the numbers of broken bones increased “…from 1,671 in 2004 to 4,396 in 2017…”  The article went on to state that the reason is unclear, though they do mention that the number of us old farts and fartesses has increased, and we tend to be more active than our predecessors. 

People over 65 who fracture hips have a “20 to 30 percent chance of dying within a year” which is higher than having a mild heart attack or mild cancer. 

The photo accompanying the article shows a gentleman out walking his dog after an overnight snowfall, with icy sidewalks. I don’t think the higher number can solely be blamed on winter. Though the slickery ice and slush certainly don’t help, and probably contribute highly to the study; however, I think it might be related to something else.

I’ve noticed women often wrap the leash about their hand or wrist versus holding it in their hand. If they do not have superb control, especially voice control, over the dog, and the dog sees a squirrel, or another dog, and bolts, the walker goes down. I had a neighbor who might have been five feet tall, and perchance weighed ninety pounds soaking wet and wearing a wet wool coat, and probably in her seventies at the time, who walked her daughter’s big dog. I don’t remember the breed, but a good eighty pounds, and a sweet dog. Also, he was a dog who didn’t always listen to or process commands. I walked my small dog one day, and Big Dog charged, pulling Granny. I told her to drop the leash, and she couldn’t. It was wrapped around her wrist so she wouldn’t let go of it. Her panic at the situation didn’t help. The dog picked up on that and was sure my wee dog was going to attack.

It all worked out in this case, but I’ve since noticed other people, usually women though not all, who do the same thing. They stick their hand through the loop, and then wrap the leash to get a tight hold on it. Now, if they fall, they would report to the doctor they were “just walking the dog” and he pulled me. I’m willing to bet a fresh batch of biscotti that the doc never asks, “How were you holding the leash? Exactly what happened?”

So, why would someone wrap a leash around their hand or wrist? I can think of a few reasons. Two that jump out at me are if they have neuropathy in their hands, their hands may be numb or too painful to hold something, and wrapping lets them know they know they have a good hold on the leash. Or they may have arthritis in their hands and need to wrap the leash, so they don’t drop it because it’s too painful, or impossible, to wrap fingers around it.  

Do I ever wrap the leash around my hand? I try not to. Sometimes I need to short leash my dog, and I hold it, folded, in my hand. I’m considerably bigger and heavier than Sammy Brave Dog, by about 10 times. Should I ever take my sister’s eighty-pound Rottweiler for a walk, I would be certain not to wrap that leash. Quick release is important. I might not let go of the leash, adding my weight to act as a break if he was going after a child, but that would be an option and a pretty fast thought on my part. Then, again, if that child was doing something to make the dog want to go after it, I might drop it (Not!). My little Sammy has caught me when I wasn’t paying attention and was mid-step into a zag, when he jerked to zig. Usually, he’s the one to stop and smell the grass, but every so often, I want to stop and take a photo—he is not as patient with me as I am with him. I’ve been pulled off balance more than once by him, and at my age, well, this old fartess ain’t lookin’ for any more broken bones! I now pay better attention, and don’t wrap the leash.

This is not a dog. This is a coyote. A wild coyote. I named her Mercy for Mercedes Thompson Hauptmann, a human-coyote shapeshifter by our very own local author, Patricia Briggs. I am not stupid enough to put a collar and leash on a coyote, whether real or fiction. I will, however, photograph one if given the opportunity. This photo was taken from a car, out the window, while we were leaving Yellowstone National Park. She patiently sat on the side of the road until we finished with the cameras and drove on, then we saw her in the mirrors as she went up the hill to what we assume were her pups. Note, she had been to the river to drink and eat. You can see the blood on her muzzle if you look close enough.

Entertainment:

Netflix:

Can you believe I haven’t watched a single show on either Netflix? However, I did get my Roku streaming stick and because Spectrum finally made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, I now get 10 channels of my choice, so I have been watching news, etc. that I couldn’t get before. I admit, Friday’s was pretty sad to watch, what with the passing of our beloved RBG. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready.

Amazon Prime:  

The Scalphunters, 1968 movie starring Burt Lancaster, Shelley Winters, Telly Savalas, and Ossie Davis. I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch this since I know what scalp hunters were, but that is a pretty good cast, so I decided to give it a go. The music was fun, the credits were fun, and it started out fun and I laughed out loud several times through it. Lancaster plays a fur trapper, friendly with (perhaps related to?) the Kiowa. Davis is a slave of the Kiowa. The Kiowa steal Lancaster’s furs and supplies (including booze) and give him Davis. Lancaster doesn’t want him. Lancaster and Davis follow the Kowa to wait until they are drunk and retrieve the packhorse and furs. In the meantime, Savalas and his group of scalp hunters show up, kill the Indians and steal the packhorse and away we go for round two. Shelly Winters, long one of my faves, is marvelous. The ending was good. and, yes, it’s a Western, so of course there are fistfights. And just because it’s a fun fact to know, I’ll pass it along—not all who were scalped died. It depended a lot on how the scalp was taken. If an axe was used, death from a crushed skull was probable, if the scalp was lifted and a “clean” knife used, the person actually stood a good chance of surviving, if he got help and no infection. I had a cousin who was scalped in one of the Indian wars in the Ohio Valley. He survived and lived several more years to die an old man in bed.I\ I assume it was his bed, but I don’t know.

Books: 

I just looked at my bed and have 6 books on it I am reading, and a puppy dog who is keeping it warm for me. Not the books, the bed. He doesn’t like books. The books are: Wyrds by Weld Champneys, Willow Springs anthology, Chrysanthemum 2020 Literary Anthology, Before Our Eyes by Eleanor Wilnor, The Vagina Bible by Jen Gunter, MD, and RAGE by Bob Woodword. See, I told you I am an eclectic reader. For any books I may have finished and reviewed and mayhaps a bit of snark, see Rainy Day Reads Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, when you come next week for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.

Auntie Lenora

Not the Post I Planned for Today

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I have a post written, and was going to put it up today, but then, life happened. Next week we’ll discuss the hazards of dog walking.

The West Coast is burning. Literally. And, no, it isn’t because we didn’t go out and sweep or rake the forest floor, it’s because of climate change and our collective inability to face it and act to correct it. Or at least slow it down. As Governor Inslee said, these fires are not an act of god, they are an act of climate change. If anyone knows about forest and fire management, it’s West Coasters.

I’m amazed at the people I talk to who either never took basic science classes in school (my first science class was in fifth grade) or forgot all they learned. I am not a particularly well-educated person. I’ve had some college, but I am fairly well-read. And I suffer from terminal curiosity. I’ve known about climate change for at least two decades. These people with little to no science knowledge, also seem to have little to no curiosity. It’s almost as if they’re afraid to be curious, to ask a question. What if the answer isn’t in alignment with what they already believe? Gosh, can’t they change their mind? I can’t imagine people with no curiosity as to how the world about them works. All children are curious. They are born that way. Getting answers to their questions is how they grow, survive. How did these people lose their curiosity? Parent? Teacher? Preacher? Are you one of those who has lost your curiosity? Do you know why? If comfortable doing so, leave your answer in the Comment section. I’m truly curious. and it may help me understand where you’re coming from.

The data are in. The data are known. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better, and if we don’t start acting soon, like today, it won’t get better until humans are extinct. Which might not be all that bad. It seems obvious to me that many people think that way, vote that way, act that way, and we’re headed that way. So, they must want it that way, yes?

I have low-grade asthma, I have a good mask and filter, I have a dog, and the air around my domicile has been in the dangerous to hazardous zone for over a week now. I try not to go forth more than four times a day, and even the dog seems to recognize that he needs to do his business quickly and come back inside. My eyes burn. I don’t know if my low-grade asthma will blossom to full-bore asthma or not, and I don’t want to find out the hard way.

A friend lost her home. All that’s left is part of the chimney — and her memories. She lost her belongings, she lost her local community, but she’s alive. She gives meaning to one of my favorite affirmations: Things are to use; people are to love. Roshi Suzuki said that all is an illusion, some illusions are sadder than others. The loss of one’s home, the treasured belongings, the physical reminders of cherished memories, is one of those sadder illusions.

Check out Bill Nye the Science Guy on climate change. He has a marvelous way of putting technical stuff into words even I can understand. Besides, he’s fun to watch and has several YouTube presentations. There is a wealth of information online, good information, about the climate crisis we are now in. If you search, you will find. And if you find someone who agrees with you that it’s a hoax, fake news, doesn’t exist, they are flat out in denial and or lying. Follow their money.

Photo of Bateman Island taken last winter from patio, the trees on far shore are in Pasco, Wa

Photo taken 11 Sep 20, same view. Pasco is gone. The dark water you see just past the island is a raft o riverweed, not the far shore. This has been our air for the past week and then some. THIS is smoke brought about by Climate Change.

Entertainment:

Netflix: I became so engrossed in A Thousand Goodnights, I gave up parsing it to one episode/night, and binged the last few episodes. For some reason, I had the idea it was only 10 episodes long—it wasn’t. It was 20, and I’m chuffed it was. There was plenty of time to develop all the subplots and get to an appropriate ending. It was, in a word, delightful. If you are looking for something without car chases, gunfights, swordfights, nasty people, &c, I strongly recommend this. It’s slow, beautiful, and lovely.

I started Life, a Korean drama about an arrogant businessman who has taken over a hospital. I probably won’t finish it. It’s 16 episodes long, and not even humor to defuse the tension. The bad guys wear black (suits) the good guys wear white (lab coats). Gosh, I wonder who will win? And there’s not a single character in the first five episodes I give a rat’s hind end about.

Amazon Prime:  I’m not watching anything at the time on Prime, but one series I absolutely loved is Hamish Macbeth. It’s out of Scotland and Hamish lives in a small town, is the local cop, and deals with some of the most fun crimes around. Be sure to turn on captions as the brogue is thick and fast and I guarantee you won’t catch it all, no matter how attune you are to the dialect.

Books: 

See Rainy Day Reads for reviews. and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, I promise when you come next week for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.

Speaking of masks, check out this site, Puramasks. Their masks are good to keep smoke out (filters are at 2.5 whatevers), as well as give you a chance to protect your neighbor. https://store.purakamasks.com I can tell immediately if I have the mask on correctly, so the filter is over my nose. If on correctly, I don’t smell the smoke. If not, I adjust toot sweet! 😉

Auntie Lenora

How has the Pandemic affected you?

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Happy Labor Day. Enjoy the outdoors. But please, enjoy it responsibly.

As you probably know, I follow the blog, Why Evolution Is True by Jerry Coyne. A while back he published a post “Discussion: psychological effects of the pandemic” which I found to be almost, but not totally, how it has affected me. Instead of joining in his discussion, I decided to write my own. And hope that you, Gentle Reader, will consider posting in the comment section how it has, or has not, affected you.

Like Jerry, I too, am more peevish. Peevish about little things I would normally just laugh off. Like people who don’t wear masks. I have a recently discovered underlying health issue, on top of being an old fartess which is enough in my mind, and when I walk Sammy Brave Dog, I am the only one outside wearing a mask, as well as other items of clothing. No one else wears one, which wouldn’t be so bad, but they also don’t socially distance. Perhaps they have no idea how far 6′ is? and of course, they often wish to stop and chat, as do I. One person has informed me she has health issues and can’t wear a mask, and since by knowing what her issue is, I can’t cure her, I haven’t asked. But I am curious what health issues preclude the wearing of a mask. I would think the wearing of a mask would help keep them safer, not make them sicker. But, what do I know?

But the thing that gets my Peeve the most is the lack of human touch. I miss shaking hands, giving/receiving hugs from friends I haven’t seen in a while, or people who really need the touch. (Like me). Had an appointment with a longtime friend and advisor yesterday. For years we started our meetings with a handshake and ended with a hug. Yesterday we maintained our distance and didn’t even bump elbows. We both lamented the loss, but agreed it is the safe way to be. For now. I have read several articles in the past that stated humans need/require a minimum number of touches daily (I think the average number was 15) to maintain good mental health. Unless we’re in a committed relationship, or taking undo chances, we ain’t getting ‘em. It will be interesting to see how we come out of this, eh?

And the inability to comfort, with hugs, the bereaved who have lost loved ones during the pandemic. So many people have had to have private funerals with few, if any, mourners. Funerals are a way for all of us to say good-bye, and grieve our loss at the finality of death. At a time when closeness is called for, no, it is screamed for, it is denied for the greater good. I am not arguing against it, I understand it, and agree/approve it. But that doesn’t lessen the hurt.

Reading. Now reading is something I’ve done for years, I’d rather read than eat (or read AND eat—now that is Heaven!), and I’ve always been an eclectic reader. My reading habit is now different. I have become the Queen of Put-it-down-before-it’s-finished. In the past, if I started a book, I’d usually finish it. Not now. Too many books, too few years left. If the book is a downer, I don’t finish. If it’s an adrenaline gusher, I don’t finish. If it’s something that requires concentration (nonfiction), I probably won’t start it. I love poetry, and that has been my salvation. I have discovered many new-to-me poets for which I shall remain grateful until my final day. And I’m writing more. Fiction, not so much, but poetry, yes joh yes. And my weekly blog. (I am in awe of how often Jerry Coyne posts! I consider myself fortunate to post one a week.)

Are you taking any online courses you wouldn’t normally take? What? Why? I took some webinars on podcasting. Learned a lot. And then, I started working on podcasts, only to discover I not only have allergies but I also have a low-grade asthma, both of which adversely affect my voice—or lack thereof. No podcasts, just the now and then Spoken Word on my website. Hopefully those will bring you a smile, if not an outright chuckle. 

So, yes, I understand, relate, and empathize with people who have been adversely affected. As a writer, a reader, and a quilter, all of which are fairly solitary hobbies, the pandemic hasn’t affected me that much, but it has affected me. I am no longer able to meet “the group” for happy hour once a month to eat, drink, and make merry, or book group discussion once a month, or go walking with a stop in a coffee shop to sip and write and or people watch. As much of a “hermit” as I sort of am, I’m a social hermit. And being told I can’t socialize irritates the hell out of me, even though I totally understand and agree with and support it.

What I want for social distancing: (Sea gulls, probably Western Gull and Herring Gull)

What we’ve got for social distancing: (Eurasian Collared-Dove)

Enough of my rantings. What about yours? Let it all out in the comment section below. You’ll feel better. Honest. Trust me.

Entertainment:

Netflix: Lucifer Oh, Auntie Lenora is grumbling! Season 5 of Lucifer premiered the other night, and I settled in to watch all 16 episodes over a two-plus week period, only to discover those sneaky Devils at Netflix released it in two parts. Season 5A and (eventually, at some date to be known at some time in the future) Season 5B, 8 episodes each. Talk about feeling peevish!

A Thousand Goodnights. I’m still enjoying this family drama. It’s slow, easy, and fun. And the scenery is gorgeous. It’s rated Teen, but I can’t think of a teen I’ve ever been or known who would enjoy it as much as the adults. No action, no martial arts, no heavy metal rock n roll. Just a good family drama. Here’s a great review I can’t quibble with: Dramas with a Side of Kimchi — rather like the blog title, too.

Amazon Prime: Wycliff. Did I say something in an earlier post about the endings being chopped? Well, Season 5 has no endings, at least the first few episodes, instead they’ve gone into the long, continuing story, and it’s becoming a bit too much of a soap opera for me. I’ve decided I’m not watching any more. Besides, it was becoming more and more difficult to suspend my disbelief.

Books: 

See Rainy Day Reads for book reviews. and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

This is not a book, but a Brag. Three of my friends and I have poems published in the current issue of Quill and Parchment—Jim Thielman, Mark Fleisher, and Jim Bumgarner. The two Jims and I are members of The Tarweed Poets, and hope to have a book of our poetry out in time for the December Holidays, the working title is Three Tarweeds Speak. Please keep the book in mind for your Winter Gifts. And rest assured, I’ll remind you when it’s available.Are you a Red, White, and Blue Patriot? Show it! Wear your mask. Show you care for your country, your family, your friends, your neighbors, your dog, your cat, even the birds in your yard. And y’all come back next week, same bird time, same bird channel. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be properly socially distanced, so you may remove your mask.) (And I promise, no birdseed in the biscotti.)

Auntie Lenora

“Good Evening Sir or Madame, whichever you prefer…

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“… this is your friendly political pollster calling. Your opinion matters…”

How many times have you been called by a political pollster? Fifty? Five? Zero? Yeah, me, too. Well, not quite, I was called once, and answered the questions, but I doubt my answers were counted. The pollster was, obviously, calling for a particular person, one I was voting against, and my answers showed my true colors, just as his questions showed his. He even tried to get me to change my mind. 

At some point, I began getting online polls from Civiqs.com. I’ve watched them grow through the years. When I’ve contacted them with questions, they’ve always answered and I like to think my emails helped them make the decision to go public with their results. 

Their home page is https://civiqs.com and if you’d like to get on their list to take the surveys, go to https://civiqs.com/join-in to sign up, or take the current survey. There are usually about five clear questions, and all are multiple choice. Takes about a minute (or less) to take a survey and submit. I don’t think I’ve ever had more than one survey a week, if that.

Their graphs are easily understood, and if you go to the individual page, they’re broken down by all sorts of interesting groups and subgroups. Don’t just look at the graphs on the survey results page and think you understand them. You don’t. The colors are not party colors but are explained inside once you click on the graph of interest.

I’m rather jaded against most online polls I’ve seen. I fill many of them out, and submit my responses, but the last question is always a variation on the theme of how much money am I willing to give? None (beyond my monthly donation). I know they don’t pay attention because I get follow-ups wanting to know why, when I was personally asked Politician, did I not fill out the questionnaire? Uh, folks, I did, but you don’t care about my answers, you only care about my wallet. And now they want me to endorse their candidate. Uh, what good is my endorsement? Oh. Yeah. I have to PAY in order to endorse one. Yeah. Right.  I have NEVER been asked for money by Civiqs. Never. Ever.

Tashiko Akuma Pestini when I asked her a political question in years gone by. Her response, “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, don’t ask such silly questions. Is there food in my dish yet?”

******** FOR SALE********

If anyone in the Richland/Kennewick/Pasco WA area is interested, I have an “almost new” Twin XL box spring, mattress, Hollywood frame, tailored bed skirt (ie, not frilly), mattress pad, two sheet sets, and an electric blanket for sale — all for $150.00. Quite seriously, I doubt the bed has been slept on a total of 6 months. Probably closer to 3. Anyhow, let me know if you’re interested.

*******

Entertainment:

Netflix: Joy of Joys, Lucifer is back, and so far, I’ve been able to hold to the one episode per night. Not sure what happened, they had plenty of time to write and tape this final series, but it seems very loosey goosey to me. They’re all over the place. Still, they did seem to finally remember how to tighten the scripts and story lines. And, joy of joys, Netflix is NOT ending the series at the end of Season Five, they are carrying it over to a Season Six. Oh, for a devilish good time…

A Thousand Goodnights is rated Teen, but seems more Family, to me. It’s a slow, beautiful drama from Taiwan, and the scenery is worth it, if nothing else. I’ve watched two of the ten episodes about two young women, sisters, who are close to each other, and coming of age. The older was adopted. There is humor in it, and I’m pretty sure romance is waiting stage right. I think it is great fun to watch movies/tv from other countries, other cultures, just to do some armchair traveling. No mask required.

Amazon Prime: Still watching Wycliff. I’m now into season four. Don’t know if it’s cutting, or the way the stories have been written, but the end seems chopped in just about all episodes. We find out who done it, but not really the why. It’s like all of a sudden the writer/director realized they were late for their anniversary dinner and had to run. ‘Bye. Or, perchance I’m missing something at the beginning? Then again, it could be a culture difference between British police procedurals and American ones?

Books: Into Gothic Novels? Just read six (condensed). See Rainy Day Reads for reviews. and a bit of snark. I know, you’re surprised that I’d write snark. Of course there had to be snark, because I haven’t read a gothic novel in so many years I can’t remember. but these were actually kind of fun in the Time of Covid19.

Show your patriotism and your love; wear your mask. Show you care for your family, your friends, your neighbors, your dog, your cat, even your pollster. And y’all come back next week, same cat time, same cat channel. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be properly socially distanced, so you may remove your mask.)

Auntie Lenora

Podcasting–Not!

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So much for my great new career as a podcaster. Truly, I had hoped to have fun, and bring some smiles, perchance even chuckles, into your lives. Alas, I fear it ain’t gonna happen as I hoped.

Seems I’ve got allergies. Nothing new, really. I’ve had them since forever. Unfortunately, my Achilles tendon is located in my vocal cords. When I’m around smoke of any kind, for any duration, I lose my voice. Also, certain perfumes cause the voice to take a sudden vacation without any warning. Gone. Poof. No voice. I can barely croak. Or squeak. 

And we’ve had fires. Lots of them. Small ones, large ones, near ones, far ones. I live in the Columbia Basin. This basin is a big bowl, and all the smoke from miles arounds falls into our big bowl and stays there for a very long time. 

And after this last bout, where I not only lost my voice for a month, this time it was accompanied by pain — felt like my vocal cords were strained, and even attempting to speak hurt like a son of a gun, I came to the realization that I couldn’t in good conscience make podcasts like I want. One must be able to make them and post them on a regular basis.

Oh, what’s a gal gonna do? I had my heart set on doing this as a fun way to get through these madding times. An escape. A short, Coffee Break Escape to share with all my friends both present and those to comer. I took two aspirin, grabbed my cuppa, and thunk and thunk and voila! I came up with a solution. As I can, I shall record my podcasts, as if they were podcasts, but instead, I will post them under the Spoken Word tab above and not send them out to the platform. (I also won’t have to pay for platform use!) Not really what I wanted, but necessity is the mother of strange workarounds. (And hunger is the mother of weird stir-fries—what can I say?)  

I can still play with my new podcast mic, and you can still hear me. A win-win, yes? Well, at least for me. 😉 Even though I’ll never get my Star on Hollywood Boulevard with a microphone, I’ll never become an overnight “Divine Miss L” of podcasting fame, I can still dream the impossible dream…. But it was fun while it lasted. And dreams are fun. Though the killing of them is sometimes painful. Especially when it’s some silly thing like reality that steps on them and squishes them flatter than that bug under your shoe!

I feel badly for my young friend, Farris Hallaj who wrote and performed the theme song for my podcasts. I’ll still use it, because it’s fun, but at the same time, not nearly as many people will hear it, unless of course, you enjoy it and send the link to people. Farris can be found on Facebook at Farris Hallaj Music, and on YouTube right here. He is an amazing young man. Please, take a few minutes to listen to some of his music. Especially Louisiana Sun!

This pelican fits my mood perzactaly! If I can’t swim with the podcasting crowd, I’ll head off in my own Spoken Word direction!

Addendum to last week’s Recipe post: For those of you who haven’t tried baking biscotti, I just received notice of this Biscotti Pan from King Arthur Flour. It looks to be wonderful, and I may have to get one, myself. Just for the uniformity of size. And, true to Alton Brown, it can be used for baking cakes, brownies, and whatevers—it’s a multi-tasker. Oooh, Auntie Lenora wants…

Entertainment:

Netflix: Oooh, Auntie Lenora is soooooo frustrated. She started watching yet another Korean drama, Hospital Playlist. Definitely not for the squeamish! Anyhow, there are dramatic events, but also lots of laugh-out-loud moments. We got to a story end, and Auntie Lenora was all set for the next episode when up popped a notice that the next season would premier in 2021. What??? How dare they??? Auntie Lenora is not a happy camper! She’s going to have to watch like a normal person? Weekly episodes?

Hospital Playlist follows five young doctors from their internships to ‘professorship’ in a Korean hospital. Four guys and one gal—neurosurgery, general surgery, pediatric surgery, and ob/gyn. Unlike an American soap opera, this one moves right along, and though there is some blood here and there, nothing like ours of blood and gore upon the floor. Still, if one is squeamish, well, forewarned is forearmed. Now, I have to wait until next year to see what happens next. I never got into Gray’s Anatomy, but think this might be similar but different. Think Gray’s Anatomy, the Musical?

How will the pandemic affect season 2? I’ll let you know sometime next year.

In the meantime, Lucifer’s final season has started. I have every hope of parsing the episodes out to no more than one per night, but, knowing me, I won’t. I’ll binge. He is such eye candy. Talk about impossible dreams! /snicker/ Oh, be still my beating heart. (I have made it through the first 3 episodes at only one per night. It’s not easy.)

Books: Check out Rainy Day Reads for new book reviews since the last post.

Show your love; wear your mask. Show you care for your family, your friends, your neighbors, your dog, your cat, even your goldfish. And y’all come back next week, same bat time, same bat channel. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be properly socially distanced, so you may remove your mask.)

Let’s Bake

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Note: our temperature today is scheduled to be 105 degrees. I am NOT baking this day!

My close-out, or ‘outro’ in podcast parlance, always invites you to stop by for coffee and homemade biscotti. Too few of you live close enough to stop by, and in this day and age, we’d have to socially distance, but it could be done. However, I usually have breakfast about ten a.m. Pacific Daylight Time, feel free to join me with biscotti and coffee at that time, at your own table or desk if you can’t make it to mine.

At any rate, I thought I’d share a couple of links for biscotti and cake that I’ve tried and love. If you’ve got cooler weather, or air conditioning, you can make your own, and we’ll socially distance by miles. 😉

From Giada De Laurentis: Holiday Biscotti. I’m always leery of professional chefs who are skinny, and when they are beautiful on top of it, I’m really suspicious. What kind cooking do they do? And, if you don’t know who she is, she’s part of the movie De Laurentis family. Anyhow, a couple of years ago, I wanted a holiday biscotti, and made this one. Holy Moly Guacamole! This is one of the bestest biscotti I’ve ever made. I do tend to put in closer to a cup each of pistachios and cranberries, but you have permission to make it to your liking. I’ve also made it with almonds (I had them on hand) and one time, I had about a cup of mixed nuts from a biscotti baking marathon, and about the same of leftover dried ginger and other fruits, as well as cranberries. Too many to throw away, not enough to keep separate. Yep, I threw them all into this recipe. I also divide it into two loaves, thereby having shorter cookies. By the way, the ‘leftover’ biscotti were the biggest hit.

I usually make at least five batches of biscotti for the holidays, mix several from each batch into tins and give as gifts. Most of my recipes come from cookbooks, and are copyrighted, but a little judicious searching can find you recipes closely resembling what I make. Or, perhaps a kind email?

As I said, I make several for the holidays: coffee biscotti, triple ginger, white chocolate and macadamia nut, and I like to try one new one I’ve not tried before. My ‘go to’ books are: The World Encyclopedia of Coffee by Mary Banks, Christine McFadden, Catherine Atkinson and Biscotti by Lou Seibert Pappas. The latter is a fun book chock full of biscotti recipes.

The other thing I love to bake is cakes. 

King Arthur Flour’s Farmhouse Buttermilk Cake. For some reason I don’t remember, I bought a half gallon of buttermilk a few years ago. Now, buttermilk is the only milk I like to drink (I know, I’ve never claimed sanity as my strong suit), but that was too much. I wanted to use it before it went bad and went in search of a buttermilk cake recipe. Most called for anywhere from a half to a whole cup of buttermilk. Nope, I wanted to use more. And because I love King Arthur’s site, I checked there. The Farmhouse Buttermilk cake calls for 2 cups of buttermilk—2.5 if you forego the butter! Oh, joy of joys! The absolute best 9×13 cake ever, and perfect for potlucks and social gatherings! In fact, I took it to a potluck and one of the gentlemen who attended was a visitor from the Dakotas, a farmer. It was a ‘cut your own slice’ affair and he had two huge ones. When he discovered I’d made it he asked if I’d give the recipe to his wife. I did, and presumably she’s keeping him happy with it. Made it a while back for a friend who celebrated his 80thbirthday, and he and his girlfriend loved it. They got the recipe, too. As well as a whole left-over cake.

From My Recipes: Margarita Cake.  This one is a tad more labor intensive, but not all that difficult. I made it for a bunch of us gals who got together for ‘happy hour’ — their verdict: I had to bake and BRING IT EVERY TIME! This cake contains unbaked tequila, so be aware before you let your kids help and cut their own slices ;-). When complete, this is to die for. It also contains homemade Fresh Lime Curd, a delightfully easy recipe, and simply wonderful to use as cake filling or with cookies or to just sit and eat. And, last but not least, we cannot forget the candied lime slices. Also, easy to do, and oh, such a treat. I admit, it was difficult to not just eat the batch myself, but that would have meant another trip to the store for more limes. Sigh.

I swear (or affirm if you prefer) the icing recipe (at bottom of the cake recipe) made twenty pounds, easy. However, there was no booze in it, and my neighbor (who LOVED the cake) had two starving teenage boys. She took the left-over icing and put it between graham crackers. They ate it for a month. They were and are still starving.

I have several other recipes I dearly love to bake, and I follow my cardinal rule when baking them. I MUST make them for a social gathering that I will attend, eat ONE SLICE, or maybe two biscotti, AND LEAVE THE REST! I only bring home empty plates, containers, or cake pans. (I was at a potluck one time, and there was left over Arctic Chili left that I brought, and I told everyone if they liked it, to take it home, or I’d throw it in the garbage. Three guys fought for it. When I brought the buttermilk cake, there was about half a cake left, and I said I was ready to leave, if anyone wanted the leftover cake to get it before I scraped it into the garbage. I went home with a pan so empty I almost didn’t have to wash it! Now I live in an apartment complex, and before we were in lockdown, I’d bake and take it to the office.) And all those leftover crumbs from sweet things? Don’t throw them away, let them dry out, store them either in a jar or the freezer, and use them on ice cream, or hot cereal. Let them eat cake!

These Canada geese are dabbling for baked goodies. They’ve heard of them, and want to try them, but they aren’t good for geese (or ducks, or any fowl), so they’ll have to settle for salad—or fish—all the more for us!

Did you know if geese and ducks get enough bread they will starve to death with full bellies? Feed them grapes cut in half, find out what kind of seeds, or meal worms they eat (Google is your friend!) and if you’re really into being nice to ducks, get some duck chow, but please, Mother Nature and Auntie Lenora, will bless you if you DON’T FEED THEM BREAD!

Entertainment:

Neflix—binged on another Korean 20-episode drama. Great fun, a lot of humor, but definitely more drama than the last one. Immortal Classic loosely follows four generations of a well-respected family and one not so well known or respected. As www.asianwiki.com says, “There are two families, one family runs a restaurant and the other family are acknowledged master chefs. The drama” depicts relationships, misunderstandings, and forgiveness through these families. We have heroes and villains, and some great acting. It’s a modern story, but many of the women wear traditional dress. I wonder if they do in Korea, or if that was thrown in for people like me who love to see it. Food plays an integral part throughout the series, and I am now sooooo hungry for Korean food. We have a couple of Korean restaurants in town ;-). I am now on the search for a good Korean cookbook. In English. Did you know there are about 200 varieties of kimchi, and they are not all hot? I’ve eaten sweet kimchi, mild kimchi, and hotter than… kimchi. I’ve never met a kimchi I didn’t like, and most I love. Of course, every family has their own recipes. 

Books—check our Rainy Day Reads for the new book reviews.

Show your love; wear your mask. Show you care for your family, your friends, and your neighbors. Show those nasty old flowers you don’t care for their pollen. And y’all come back next week, same baked time, same baked place. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be socially distanced, so you may remove your mask. 😉

Auntie Lenora

You Would Think…

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… since I spend so much time with words—reading them, writing them, listening to them, speaking them (when I have a voice with which to speak)—I’d be fairly conversant in the meanings of them. Well, I am with most of them, but every so often I get to wondering what a particular word means. One I’ve used ever since I learned to speak in moderately coherent sentences, but never really thought of. 

Two words and their usage regarding grave sites or other plots of ground, have puzzled me for some time are ‘holy’ or ‘sacred.’ Why have areas of bones and ash been so designated? Who determines if this plot of land is or isn’t holy? The term, ‘Holy Land’ means something very different to me than it possibly means to you. If you follow one of the Judeo-Christian-Muslim faiths (faiths of The Book), it means the middle east—today’s Israel and Palestine.  If you follow other faiths, that term probably means other countries, other areas, depending on where your god was born, raised, died, and resurrected. To me, it is any piece of land on which I stand and hear the world go hush, hear the holy song, think the holy thoughts, and know the love of all my relations.* Whether that is desert of New Mexico, the coast of Oregon, the Black Hills of the Dakotas, or the Beaufort Sea in the Arctic. It’s me that makes it a holy land for me, wherever I am when the song, the hush, the thoughts come.

So, back to my question, why are grave sites considered holy, or sacred? Who gives them that designation? Well, thanks to Google, I have an answer. Those words are designations that humans give (not gods) to areas to set them apart, to keep them separate, to honor the dead buried in them. They are set apart in that manner to make it clear that mankind designated them holy, not religion.

I wrote a poem a while back, called Holy Lands (not yet published, but making the rounds), and a couple of people in my poetry group had a hard time accepting that term. To them, the holy lands were where their god was born, lived, died, and resurrected. They could accept the term sacred, and we had a pretty good discussion about it. And yes, it was a good discussion, no raised voices, etc. The poem is still called Holy Lands. I’m in a good group, and their input is valued, and I often make their suggested changes to my work. In this case I believe I used all of their suggestions but that one. 

Of course, I now come up with more questions. Below is a photo I took last winter at dawn. I took it from my patio, I heard the song, heard the hush, thought the thoughts, and for a time, I stood in a holy place looking at this holy view. Is my patio holy now? No. But for a moment in time it was. As the Buddhists might say, I was awakened or enlightened at that moment, gazing at the sunrise, the trees, the river. The photo reminds me it happened and can happen again. Awakening or enlightenment is not a once and you’re done happening. It happens and happens again. As the Buddhists also say, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” In other words, life goes on, only awakened you are more in tune with it, the harmony of living on our planet is greater. At least for a while. Because you don’t awake from sleep only once, but every morning, so does enlightenment happen more than once.

*All my relations: Lakota, Mitakuye Oyasin, means All Are Related or All My Relations.

Also, in keeping with today’s subject, I offer another phrase. “Bright eyed and bushy tailed.” Now, where did that one come from? What does it mean? That’s another one I’ve heard, and used, since, well, I could speak. It’s straight out of the fox hunts. A fox whose eyes are dull, whose tail is not groomed and bushy, is not a healthy fox. So, when someone wishes you a good night’s sleep, and that you wake bright eyed and bushy tailed, they are saying they hope you wake well rested and healthy. Who knew?

My Week’s Entertainment:

TV:

Amazon Prime: One of my all-time most favoritest TV shows is Morse. I think I’ve seen them all, some more than once. The other day I realized Amazon Prime has the first six seasons (alas, short seasons of 4 episodes each) of Endeavour. Morse, who never ever used his first name, had one, of course. It was Endeavour. And this series is the prequel to Morse. Endeavour as a young man, just starting out. The cast, the props, etc., are all top drawer. If you haven’t seen it, I heartily recommend it. (I wonder where they found so many actors who still smoke tobacco? Or if those were all fake and CGI? Just watching those smoke-filled rooms, etc., set off my allergies! The wildfires outside didn’t help, either.)

Netflix: 16 episode Korean, good subtitles, It’s Okay Not to be Okay. This was a fun ‘dramedy’ — listed as a Romantic Drama, I found far more laughs in it than drama; however, the drama was intense enough to pull it out of the comedy category. The central protagonists are two brothers, the younger taking care of the older who is on the autism spectrum, and a writer of children’s fairy tales who is, well, hard to like at first, but for good reason. Her mother was a monster, and disappeared when the girl was quite young. The girl wasn’t sure if she was dead or alive. Her mother drove away the one friend the girl had before leaving. The mother of the two boys was killed shortly before the mother left (died?) and the boys took off on their own before the police could separate them and institutionalize the older brother. Sounds pretty grim, doesn’t it? That’s why it’s not a comedy. But it’s full of humor and laughs-out-loud. The older brother is a delight. His world is black or white, and he is honest to a fault—and many laughs. Highly recommended.

Books:

I’m a pretty eclectic reader. I tend to go in streaks and read fiction (prefer happy endings to my escapes) and poetry as my primary choices, but that leaves it wide open. I also read nonfiction, especially essays or biographies. Rather than give you a list of what I’ve read and recommend in the past week, I’ll give you a link to my book blog, Rainy Day Reads. You probably won’t care about all the books, but the list goes back a few years. Prowl around, and if you like some, hit the Follow button and each time I post a new book, you’ll be notified. Or you should be.

Show your love; wear your mask. Show you care for your family, your friends, and your community. Show those nasty old flowers you don’t care for their pollen. And y’all come back next week, same masked time, same masked place. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be socially distanced, so you can remove your mask. 😉

Auntie Lenora

A Bit of This, A Tad of That

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OK, I promised something lighter after the last two, and here we go…

Numero uno.

Do you like the old Grade B (or worser) horror flicks? If so, have I found a site for you. Friday Night Frights on YouTube. Go to the right arrow and start with Episode #1. the first ones are in the five-minute range and are a hoot. The later ones actually have movies. I haven’t made it through the movies. Yet. But here’s the trailer. Full disclosure here, I’m friends with one of sound people who has been training me to do my podcasts. Grab a glassa, a bowl of popcorn, and enjoy.

Number two.

(Hey, I only took the first class of Spanish on DuoTrope!)

I had another poem accepted. Quill and Parchment, an online lit mag that publishes the first of each month. Russian Sage is in the August issue. Please, do stop by, read the magazine, leave a comment. Click on the photo to enter the site, then scroll to enjoy. If you’d like to leave a comment, use the Contact Us form at the bottom of the page.

Nummer drei.

(Yes, I actually lived in Germany for a couple years. Pronunciation: Nummer dry. I can order something to eat that isn’t more difficult than, oh, say, “kraut und wurst” which is really kraut and best, and I can order bier. Boy howdy, can I order bier. I can even sing (??) the bier song— In Munchen steht ein Hofbrauhaus hause, eins, zwei, sofa … I may not spell it correctly, but I’ve had bier there.)

I had an email the other day from some web developer wanting to help me improve my business, and FOR ONLY $500.00 a month, he would do it. Second best laugh I’ve had in a while. I was still getting emails from Team Other asking for my money at that time, but when they got up as high as nine per day, they got sent to Junk. After all, I can only take so much humor in these trying times. Of course, I know the actual Team Other isn’t sending any of these out, which makes them funnier, it’s all done electronically.

Numero quatre.

(French. Isn’t Google wonderful? I haven’t a clue how it’s correctly pronounced. Even with my hearing aids I can’t quite hear it. I also don’t have a clue how to get the accent marks in.)

Big Brother is Alive and Well. Well, maybe that should be clarified as Big Computer is Alive and Well. I sent one of Team Other’s emails to a friend, who in turn sent it on to another friend. Now, neither my friend nor I are on Facebook, though I’ve been thinking about rejoining. So, Other Friend is on Facebook, and as soon as she received the forwarded email, she started being inundated by ads from Team Other. I think I’ll continue to stay off Facebook. That was one of the reasons I left, actually, and don’t think I want to go back on.

Numer piec.

(Polish. I think it’s pronounced Numer pee aitsch. It has two accents I can’t load.)

Here’s a photo I took this past spring—21 Apr 20) of two mule deer, I’m guessing a doe and her yearling calf. The ‘beach’ they are on has been underwater for the last couple months. I’m surprised deer live on the island as people walk their dogs there and let them run free. They are supposed to be leashed while on the island, or in the park.

They look pretty hungry, actually. That was the only time I saw them, though one of my neighbors said she’d seen them several times. 

I love my apartment, and the view. It’s truly never the same from day to day. And when the weather is nice, and the boats and kayaks and paddle boards cavort, it changes by the minute.

Helu ‘eono

(Number six in Hawai’ian.)

A bit of nice news. I subscribe to Atlas Obscura, for Curious People. The definitive guide to the world’s hidden wonders. It’s been free since before I found it. I comes daily, with photos and short articles about anything from old gas stations to Dracula’s castle. Then, they started asking for paid subscriptions, one of the benefits being a rate break on the trips they sponsor. Since I have no intention of taking the trips, and since I can’t afford subscribing right now, I was beginning to feel somewhat guilty keeping my subscription going. And then an email came in stating one of the other benefits of a paid subscription is no ads. As long as I use the free subscription, I get ads, a slightly fuller wallet, and a clear conscious to enjoy. I even asked if I was reading it correctly, and they actually responded and said I read it correctly. If you haven’t checked out Atlas Obscura, please do so. It’s great fun. Unless, of course, you have no curiosity. But, if that’s the case, why are you reading this blog?

Now, wasn’t that an interesting post of bits and pieces? Kinder, gentler than the previous ones? And you may even have learned a thing or two. Isn’t that exciting?

Show your love; wear your mask. Show you care for your family, your friends, and your neighbors. Show those nasty old flowers you don’t care for their pollen. And y’all come back next week, same masked time, same masked place. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be socially distanced, so you can remove your mask. 😉

Auntie Lenora

Free, White, and…Apologetic

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“Since culture is intrinsic, it cannot simply be discounted. If it denies and distorts us, then we must change it … “—Eleanor Wilner, Exchange: Meghan O’Rourke, J. Allyn Rosser & Eleanor Wilner on “Women’s Poetry”

Like many of you, dear and Gentle Readers, I grew up with White Privilege before there even was such a term. It was something that was just there, my culture. The ‘N’ word was commonplace in my house, as well as various and sundry other slurs for people who were classified as ‘different’ than us—different color, different religion, different language—it didn’t matter. And it was normal. For me, for my family, to talk like that.

I was fortunate to attend an elementary school where the student body was quite diverse, and I counted as, and socialized with, friends who were Japanese and Chinese, African, Gypsy, and who knows what else. I think attending that school may have helped in the de-education process of my upbringing.

What really de- or re-educated me was the Women’s Army Corps. I had adulted by the time I enlisted (September 1965) and could legally drink and vote in any state in which I lived and was registered. While standing in the chow line and gossiping with fellow Basic Trainees, I made the remark about being ‘free, white, and twenty-one.’ I’d heard it all my life. I grew up saying it. Nobody ever said anything about it, and to be honest, I never thought about it. Well, one of my neighbors put on her hob-nailed (verbal) boots and proceeded to re-educate me. Right then. Right there. 

I have vague recollections of just looking at her as she proceeded to tromp all over me (she was white, by the way), and when she finished, I continued to just look at her for what seemed like a long time, was probably a few seconds. And only her. I’m not sure I was aware of the other few hundred women in line with us. I looked at her and then said, “You’re right. I’ve been saying it forever, and never thought about it. Thank you for explaining.” She was right. It was a racial slur. I was white, neither my ancestors or I were never owned, I was over twenty-one, and could do whatever I wanted. It was a saying that went back to slave days. I don’t think I’ve said it since. But that’s when I began to pay a tad more attention to what I was saying, the unthinking things I learned from my family. Boy Howdy! There were a bunch. That’s not to say it was an overnight re-education, but it was the start, and I’m still working on it. But I’m better. I think.

For those who are curious, I’m around 80% “white” European, 16% “red” Native American, and 3-5% “black” African. In other words, I’m a person of color. Pale and yellow though I may be. I guarantee you; my family would not be happy taking a DNA test in this day and age. And if you stand me next to most Asians, I am actually as “yellow” or more so. (My family was much more “white” than I.) There’s a good possibility there is some Mongolian and or Turkish blood in me, too.

So why am I telling you all this? Because of Eleanor Wilner’s words, “Since culture is intrinsic, it cannot simply be discounted. If it denies and distorts us, then we must change it…” She was speaking about poets and poetry, and I am a poet, but I think she was also speaking about living in a human society. We are products of our upbringing, our culture, our nurturing. But once we’ve adulted, we have a responsibility to re-examine those values with which we were raised, and those that are good, to keep; those that need tweaking or replacing with something better, we need to tweak or replace. It is not enough to say, “I was raised that way” which is tantamount to saying, “I was just following orders” which has repeatedly been struck down through legal channels several times. You can’t change how you were raised, but you can change how you think and act today. You can’t control the external factors around you, but you can control how you react to them. No matter what your age, you can, and perhaps should, learn new tricks.

See, even an old Pelican can learn to dabble like a Canada goose 😉 Fortunately, he’s dabbling for fish; the geese are searching for salad.

I promise, next week’s post won’t be so serious. Honest. Trust me.

Have a great week. Remember to laugh often and loud, learn a new song—try out for a Zoom choir, dance like you’re the sticks on a huge drum, and be sure to stop by again—same goose time, same goose channel. The coffee’s hot, the biscotti are homemade, and we always have time for a short break. Stay safe, stay healthy, and care for and love one another—because one another is all we’ve really got.

Auntie Lenora