When I heard from Sanni today that our blogger friend Charles Cordle aka Sarge Charlie had passed away...it was a sad moment. The Old Sarge (as he liked to call himself) was a larger than life voice in the blogosphere with many friends and followers. He was an outspoken conservative, proud family man, and believed in fighting the good fight - no matter which fight he happened to land in. When he was diagnosed with cancer and began to blog about it, I was amazed by his positive spirit and willingness to share his struggles. There were good days and bad, but they were all classic Charlie.
Early in the fall of 2011 he sent me his peace globe ahead of time. I posted it on Facebook as an inspiration and example for others to see. He was pleased.
He wrote, "Our life is an open book, we dream of peace in our lifetime. Work to fulfill your dream before your book is closed."
Those words will remain with me. Thank you, Sarge.
His wife of forty-four years was truly the love of his life. Sarge and Miss Bee aka Empress Bee of The High Seas began peace blogging with us in 2006. Sarge usually made a patriotic statement and Bee held high court as Empress Bee "bringing peace to the high seas" she would say, as they were often found living life on some cruise ship in the middle of an ocean. Their relationship was one of solid companionship and love, as he recounted today in his farewell post, telling how he followed her to Baltimore way back in the day and won her heart.
Our sympathies go out to her and the rest of their large family.
Her blogosphere family will need to keep tabs on her and see that she is surrounded with support and far-fetched hugs.
I will remember him as a man who loved his family, served his country, loved his country and spoke his mind.
How honorable a thing also, to be able to write your own epitaph which he did so eloquently today. It was a bittersweet and unselfish gesture.
Sarge Charlie, Saigon 1968
Many will curse the cancer that invaded his body and that is certainly appropriate, but the origins of that illness began in a southeast Asian country as the result of Agent Orange, the poisonous chemical that thousands of servicemen were subjected to and paid dearly for later in their lives. I learned a lot of history by reading Sarge's blog. He never sugar-coated the realities of combat or the hellish arena of war. He experienced it up close and personal and always maintained that a soldier wants peace above all.
Sarge Charlie always wanted to be a soldier and that he was.
Just once more I'd like to say....
Dear Sarge, Thank you for your service to my country.
We didn't agree on several things politically, but we did agree on peace.
He lost his life because of war.
We blog peace not only to keep the flame burning, but also for the Sarge Charlies of the world whose lives were forever changed and altered as a direct consequence of battle.
This was his first peace globe in 2006. He and Miss Bee are part of the original peace blogging crew. The slideshow above displays all twelve peace globes submitted by him over the years. They are all distinctively Charlie and very inspiring.
I will continue to post them each year. His voice will be heard on and on for the cause of peace.
I can't think of a better way to honor a soldier.
Sarge did not see peace in his lifetime but he knows peace now.
These things keep me up at night. They give me a headache.
I just need sixty seconds of your time to unclog my pencil brain so that I can get some sleep.
Do you mind?
I have a few things to say. This is Mimi unplugged.
Hide your children.
Today the news is full of sinking ships, sinking politicians, sinking polls, and stinkin' candidates. Some jumped ship. Some jumped the shark. Still others swam around in the dark. Not to fear. Google and Wikipedia climbed on board the murky waters of online piracy and threw out an anchor. SOPA protesters protested. Occupiers are still occupying anything and everything in sight. Even online thieves are at odds with each other. Have you noticed Google keeps trying to change its stripes? And there is no end in site sight. Meanwhile Mitt Romney released his tax returns, Newt released his vengeance and Google released a new privacy policy.
To all shark jumpers and wannabe shark jumpers on the campaign trail: Please, for the love of all that is salty, drop out now and save the rest of the country some toil and trouble. JUMP. We need a new batch of sharks.
To NASA space photographers: Do you reaaaallly think we buy that story about solar flares from the sun causing spectacular northern lights in our Minnesota skies? Don't you know about the Chinese New Year celebrations?
and you call yourself scientists
To GOOGLE on your new Privacy Policy:
I don't want you to read my mind. I want you to give me what I ask for and not what your advertisers want me to see. I am sick of getting pictures of Angelina when I asked for Brad Pitt.
To All who Googled Mitt Romney's tax returns:
Get.A.Life.
Dear Newt Gingrich: (aka the United States Republican presidential candidate who wants to build a moon colony and travel in a spaceship to Mars during his time in the White House. Yes. Really.)
In the words of the great Democrats of the past..... It does not take a full moon to build a village.
For the past thirty or so years I've watched my hard-earned tax dollars evaporating into thin air. If you want to send them into space we'll hardly notice. But if there's one thing I've learned to do well it's thrive on a shoestring.
I could save the American people a bucketful of money. All you have to do is wait for a Half Moon Half Off Sale.
Simple. Do the math, Bloggy People.
(I should run for office)
Eureka!! I found a man named Lee Kleinrock (thanks, Mr. Google!) who supposedly invented the Internet way back in the 1950s or at the very least he was the first one to write a paper about the process of connectivity. He didn't need any privacy laws because nobody knew how to work it but him. Now THAT'S capitalism.
Do you see the words GOOGLE anywhere on this machine?
I didn't think so.
And it was so clever of him to design it to look like a refrigerator door.
To the political people counters of I-o-wa:
U-Owe-Us a caucus recount.
Michelle Bachmann could have won that debate and she wasn't even there. Was she?
I know you're tired of hearing from me but Dear Mr. Google: Did you think to ask Al Gore? We all know he reaaaaalllly invented the Internet AND all the rain forests AND orange Kool-Aid AND paperless voting machines AND long underwear (I got that on very reliable terms). I'm telling you all this privacy nonsense is politically motivated!!
I do not think it is fair to call the Captain of the shipwrecked cruise ship in Italy Chicken of The Sea. I heard he was having lobster for dinner when the vessel ran amok.
and finally...
Dear Google: I said "Hugh Jackman"
not Cracker Jacks.
I will never get his attention with this interference!!
Your new privacy policy is that there is no privacy.... except on the moon, there's plenty of privacy there.
Hey Newt! Have your people call my people.
Whew! I feel better. Thanks for listening.
Sixty seconds flew by. I think my blogsomnia is cured.
It's been a strange week in the kingdom of Bloggingham. Highs and lows and emotional highways galore! Good thing I have my trusty friends to help smooth the pavement and lift me over the bumps.
Last night I had the strangest dream. (Do I hear John Denver singing?) Coupled with the fact that today is the Chinese New Year 2012 and the most important traditional celebration in Chinese culture, it's downright spooky. According to my research (which I did AFTER the dream - that's important) the dragon is a symbol of good fortune and intense power, ushering in a new day of prophetic significance. The Dragon carries a pearl in hand, symbolizing supernatural powers. All over the world today people are celebrating what is considered the luckiest year in the Chinese zodiac. And for those acquainted with astrological similarities, this year is to be a Water Year, associated with the Earthy Branch symbol increasingly flowing with unpredictable events. Since water is a symbol of life, I'll take that to be a good sign.
But I'm not so sure last night was a good sign in the Kingdom of Bloggingham. At least I wasn't at first. I was stressed out tired and fell into a deep sleep. It was strange you see...very very strange. Not long before I awoke this morning, I met someone. Someone awesome! She was the last framed page in a fast forward dream that came quickly and mightily through my brain at the break of dawn.
Let me explain.
I've been known to experience waking dreams, prophetic dreams, lucid dreams, in-color dreams and am a notorious sleepwalker. Strange dreams are not unusual for me. But this night it began in black and white. I was having a conversation with my son. He was in a little boy's body wearing his Little League uniform and spoke in his now grown-up voice. We talked about the year he was thirteen, a troubling transformational year it was for him, and in that discussion he explained to me - in his now clear-sighted way - what was going through his mind at that time and how he dealt with it. He told me things I tried to understand for years and never knew.
Now I know.
Then suddenly I was in another place in time. Scenes in color began to play out, one at a time, faster and faster they went. Many many pages turning forward like watching a storyboard come to life.... except they weren't stories at all - they were people I knew mixed with people I didn't know. And yet, somehow, I knew them and knew they were or would be part of my life. Baby Boy and his little brother were there - all grown up - and growing older with each turn of the page. I remember thinking, "This must be one of those your-life-flashes-before-you moments in reverse because I'm watching my whole future play out before me instead. Does this mean I'm not going to wake up?" There were gatherings, hugs, happiness. Crowds of laughing joyful events and monumental occasions. Graduations, weddings, memorials and parties. I was there.
The pages turned like watching a movie and I experienced my life flash forward. I knew I was dreaming and I knew I was watching. And I knew it was rare. So I paid great attention - not so much to who all the people were or trying to identify them all, but wanting more to participate in the emotional aspects of each page, enjoying the natural progression of change and time and movement. It seemed that all of the important things to me were included.
On the last page of the book I could see a young woman of about 25-30 years of age. She had a warm spirit about her and she was telling a story with great animation, talking with her hands and laughing. She had long auburn hair with more redness than mine, dancing eyes, a beauty mark like my mother's on her right cheek and eyes like my new baby grandson's mother. She bore my son's olive complexion and a wrinkle in her nose. That wrinkle. That wrinkle.
It was mine.
I knew the answer to the question instantly but I asked anyway. "Who is she?"
"She's your granddaughter," came the answer.
The frames stopped, the story ended and I awoke.
I don't know what the Year of The Dragon means for me or if it means anything at all... but I hope I never forget her face. Because one day I will meet her.
And more than anything in the world I want to hear that story. Don't you?
It's January. I've seen sixty degree temperatures, rain, more spring weather, a little fog and a lot of confused weathermen. Where is the snow? Where is winter? What happened to the birds that flew south? Has anyone checked on them?
They must be in a terrible tizzy by now. Will they ever return? I'm afraid they'll turn into cuckoo birds with all this confusion.
Last year I took these shots outside in the ice and snow. And even though I don't like the headaches and danger icy roads bring, it would be nice to see a flake or two.
Don't say it. Just don't say it.
I think I'll sit down on these steps and watch the weather for awhile. Wanna join me?
Relationships, relationships, relationships. They can be soooo complicated. And yet so simple. I don't think it's rocket science. What do you think? Let's play a meme. (The Queen's Meme #107)
1. What is the one thing in a relationship you will not compromise?
Trust
2. What is the one thing in a relationship you will not tolerate?
Lying
3. What is the main difference between the male and female brain?
I refuse to answer this question on the grounds that it may cause me to be dateless next Saturday night.
4. Instead of Mars and Venus, what would you name your love planets?
If my current interest and potential relationship doesn't work out, I can always date myself.
5. Do you believe in love matching astrology charts? Have you ever found them to be helpful?
I have found them to be helpful in hindsight. Had I only known that Water Sign was a big mistake, I would have worn a life jacket.
6. Is it more important that your partner be attentive to your practical needs or your romantic needs?
It depends on how hungry I am at the moment. As you know, I cannot cook. My significant other (aren't all others significant btw?) must know how to at least boil water and throw in a carrot. But I will clean up after dinner wearing my pencil skirt (or my hoola Hawaiian atrocity) which more than makes up for slaving over a hot stove - if he's paying attention (!!) he won't be in hot water. Then we can go on to the second part of that question.
7. How much do past relationships have to do with your present relationship?
Zilch in the sense that they matter in the present. Mucho in the sense that you learned from your mistakes and more about yourself. That is the only part of any past relationship that should be brought into a new one.
In 1964 Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr received the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts to end racial discrimination and segregation through the avenues of civil disobedience and other non-violent means. He was also awarded the Catholic Pacem in Terris Award (Peace on Earth). It is awarded "to honor a person for their achievements in peace and justice, not only in their country but in the world."
Four years after his work for social justice began in the streets of Montgomery, forcing social issues to the forefront and into the American and international psyche, he began to focus his energies on stopping the Vietnam War and ending poverty. He started a process of shifting, re-sifting, toppling norms and ideologies long held by establishments at odds with anything resembling human dignity and justice. These monumental shifts in the soul of our nation and the world are largely attributed to his courage and his voice.
Oh, but there was more to the man.
I was reminded today that he was inspired by the writings and teachings of another such activist.
When Dr. King visited India in 1959, he came away with a profound respect and understanding of the non-violent teachings of Mahatma Gandhi.
He later reflected, "Since being in India, I am more convinced than ever before that the method of nonviolent resistance is the most potent weapon available to oppressed people in their struggle for justice and human dignity. In a real sense, Mahatma Gandhi embodied in his life certain universal principles that are inherent in the moral structure of the universe, and these principles are as inescapable as the law of gravitation."
He knew how to connect spiritual laws with scientific laws, science with morality, spoken words with unspoken fire, and generations of spiritual evolution into threads of commonalities within all cultures and religions while steadfastly holding to his own. Intrinsic ideas and truths became actions and deeds.
It is always the intrinsic that matters the most.
What I admire and appreciate about Martin Luther King, more than the amazing dream speech, more than his courage, more than his learned theological spirit, and even more than his political and social causes of injustice and equality..... was his ability to intellectually intertwine all of those attributes and aspirations into powerful common sense purpose. The sum of all those parts made his greatness. Sometimes we focus on a few shining moments of publicity and grandeur so long that we forget what made him great in the first place.
He knew who he was. That was his true genius.
He surrounded himself with learned men, intimate and scholarly mentors, often controversial, books and a love of words, prayers, and a burning desire to pour out what was inside of him in letters and essays to the rest of us, even from a Birmingham Jail . Because he honored the wisdom of others, to his credit, we not only find a profoundly cerebral giant among men, we find humility.
We mostly remember a speech, a bullet, a march, a statue, a remarkable iconic individual - and all those things are to be upheld and revered about the man - but what lay underneath is more important to me, because without that brilliant, questioning, analytical ability to connect the dots and eloquently espouse them into one cohesive truth the whole world could understand, there wouldn't have been a march, a speech, or a movement.
The rest of his legacy would have been impossible to achieve and he would have become not a shining human light upon a hill of ugly darkness or a seeker of truth in Gandhi's shadow, but just another speech maker, noise maker, rabble-rouser and activist marching down roads at the whim of every wind with no direction and no clear path. No leader can lead walking blindly around corners of pivotal change and unrest, and take others with him, unless he already knows what lies ahead.
So today I celebrate Martin the man. The thinker. The preacher. The spirit. The leader. And a man who understood who he was, where he'd been, and where he was going.
This is one of my favorite quotes by Dr. King.
"All I'm saying is simply this, that all life is interrelated, that somehow we're caught in an inescapable network of mutuality tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason, I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. You can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality." —Dr. Martin Luther King Jr
It was time for my 5,000 mile complimentary service maintenance on my car. So, today I drove through a torrential rainstorm and fog to get to my appointment, arriving ten minutes late because I drove 25 miles an hour through the streets and byways. The people behind me were most unhappy, but who cares? I know a dangerous mud-puddle when I see one.
The car dealership is highly customer-service conscious. I went to the lounge and waited with three others, eating the cholesterol-laden dinner I brought in with me and trying to de-stress from the monsoon drive. There was gourmet coffee waiting, a big screen TV and cushy chairs. One of the salesmen , a very nice man indeed, showed up with extra napkins (was I being messy?) just to be nice. I was probably being messy "I thought you could use some of these. Enjoy your dinner." And he didn't "ma'am" me. I so hate the ma'am. Mucho points. A few minutes later he brought back little wet towelettes for me to wash my hands with! Wait. Did I accidentally check into the Hilton?
I looked around. Nope. The desk sign said PARTS, not Hotel California. Wonder if he has any mints....no, just no, I won't ask.
Parts. Parts! Service! I forgot to tell them something. I went to the PARTS window. This is never a good idea in my world. Never.
"I would like to talk to my mechanic, please. I need to tell him something."
I realize that this is a bit like asking to have a word of prayer with your surgeon AFTER he's cut open your internal cuticles, but still, it was necessary. A few minutes later another nicely groomed but greasy man came to my rescue. "I forgot to tell you that the car is making a sound."
"What kind of sound?" "Well, it sounds sort of like vrooommmmvrooom vrom but it never gets all the way to vrroooooooooooooom."
Blank stares.
"You know, like it never changes gears. I keep waiting for it to change gears but I swear it never does. SOMEtimes it does, when I'm on the big highway, but usually through slow-poke town it just makes that noise."
"And what kind of noise did you say it made?"
Sigh.
"You know.....don't you? That noise a car makes JUST BEFORE it's about to change into 2nd gear, but then it doesn't. Like hhhhhmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMmmmmm!!!!" (You hear that, too, don't you Bloggy People?) Sort of anti-climatic and disappointing (I left that description out) He wasn't getting it. I decided to try the old process of elimination approach. Perhaps his learning style was not aural, but more verbal. Brilliant!
"It's not a tick-tick-tick-tick sound or a knock knock sound (trying to remember all the sounds that Goober would make at Wally's Filling Station on the Andy Griffith show) or a put-put-puttter sound. It's steady. And loud. And worrisome. It makes a crescendo. I think my car is going to blow up."
Don't they know ANYthing about music?
How could he not understand this? I am very good at making noises, in fact, I have a degree in it. I can even make the noise in another language if you'd like. The other guy looked at him and said, "I think she means the transmission."
"Yes! That is exactly what I mean. The transmission!"
"Your car is only six months old. It's probably not the transmission, but we'll check it out."
"And another thing, Mr. Nice Man. It doesn't drink any oil. None. Nada. Not a drop. I keep taking it to the service station. ('cause there's this NNNNNOISE) They do the dipstick thing and always say the same thing. That I don't need oil and everything is fine. How can I drive 5,000 miles and not need any oil? That is not normal....is it?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am" (curse of the ma'am!) New cars use new technology with synthetic oil. You won't need oil for another 5,000 miles."
I looked at him like the mere child that he was and sent him on his way to find out what was making the John Cage symphony in my car.
Meanwhile, I cornered the lucky salesman again, discussing installation of a remote entry and Viper alarm system. "Do you want to be able to start and warm up your car from your Smartphone?" he asked. "Heck no. Why would I want to do that? I don't want my Smartphone and all the people in it to know where my car is."
That settles that. "I would like remote control access using a FOB remote control like normal if you don't mind, please."
Using my Smartphone to start my car would be like using my toothbrush to make the coffee.
Enter mechanic with the news.
"I'm afraid to ask, but what is wrong with my car?"
"Nothing."
"But but but...there HAS to be. What about the noise??! It made it all the way here."
"We drove it. We didn't hear any noise. Tires are rotated, computer systems are perfect, everything is balanced and ready to go."
It was like when you go to the doctor and all your symptoms go away as soon as you get there. I was miffed. He walked me to the garage. I started to open the door to the betraying-little-thing sitting there silently smirking at me when I just had to ask one more time. "No noise? But. How? It's loud and ...steady..and hummmmmmming and...LOUD! Like it's in 2nd gear all the time!"
Then light dawned.
"Ummmm...are you putting the car into drive?
"Well, of course I'm putting the car into drive. How could it drive if I didn't tell it to drive?"
"Show me," he said.
Ah ha! He was a tactile learner. I should have known.
"Are you having trouble getting the cruise control to set?" "Why, yes, yes I am!"
Are you ready for this? I was putting the car in OVERdrive, Bloggy People. THIRD gear. Not second, not first, not fifth. THIRD. I never heard the transmission change because it wasn't changing.
"See the "3" beside the odometer?" "Yep."
"That is third gear. You want to always see the D there. D is for......"
"DRIVE!" I chimed in using my best coloratura accent. "D is for Drive!"
Who knew???! I was so happy to learn that D is for drive and that my car is not going to blow up and I had been over-driving the poor tired thing all this time with just a slight shift to the left instead of the right vowing to take a long hard look at the actual manual when I get home and wondering why it's more difficult to work the CD player than the gear shift even if I AM doing it wrong and actually quite delighted that he didn't ma'am me not once.
Do you suppose if I went around back and knocked on the kitchen door, she'd answer?
I miss her.
I need to talk to her.
The last time I saw her she was lying in a blue gown and her face was peaceful and still. She looked very much like a china doll. I kissed her face and tried to remember the last thing I'd said to her. It wasn't enough. I knew that.
A few years after my Papa died, she'd married again. The linens, the silverware, the china and bowls...all mixed in with someone's life she'd never known in a kitchen they shared when one left by death and the other entered in matrimony. But that didn't matter to me. While I missed the kitchen she shared with us all those years in the tiny house on the tiny street in town, I knew her magic began when I sat down across from her. She would bring a cup of coffee. Even as a child she let me drink coffee. I wanted to be "grown up" and have grown up conversations. She somehow understood that and then hid the coffee cup when my parents came in. That was our talk time. We didn't have enough of those days. Some of that was my fault.
There was a pantry behind the table in the corner. It was covered by a curtain, not a door or drawers. You had to draw back the curtain to reach for things you needed. It was blue and white, much like the tablecloth here. I often wondered what she hid in there.
How did my mind go down that whistling road today?
Oh because I smell her chicken
and I see her apron
and I feel the tablecloth in my fingers
and .... most of all because I miss her so
The house is empty.
No one has lived there for years.
But one day soon, I'm going to travel back and peek in the window.
**Each year I write a twelve month recap. It is much more for my benefit than my readers. Feel free to help me put last year in perspective though. I hope you'll do this on your own blogs. It's a great exercise in self-evaluation.**
Let's start at the beginning. Since I neglected to summarize the year 2010 in my usual fashion, I'll venture that the year of 2010 was ultra busy. Makes sense. What doesn't make sense is the ultra speed at which time is passing. Oh, I know the clock is ticking along as it should, it's the way of the Universe, but there comes a time in one's life when you'd rather slow it down a bit. So, I give you two years in one today. What the last 24 months have been like in my life and where I think I'm going in the year 2012.
Part One in this post and Part Two to follow in a separate post.
Don't worry. I'll go fast.
2010 was a year of poetry, photography, friendship. I dated a lot. I had fun. I swam in the ocean. And kissed sea-worthy gents in the rain. So much I learned about unseaworthiness. And men who aren't gentlemen at all. I wrote prose I'd put off for years, perhaps inspired by the changes I welcomed in my life on a personal level. It was about time to step into the water. Come along.
The year began, as it always does for me, with a visit to this Quaker church at midnight on New Year's Eve praying for peace with the other steadfast parishioners who come every year to sit in silence and contemplation. Quakers are good for that. It's a lovely thing. I couldn't pass this sign by, now could I?
It was cold, raining and foggy.11:30 pm on New Year's Eve.That did not stop around 50 individuals from walking into the Friends Meeting House and praying for peace as the new year began.
I needed to inform Airport Security of a few crucial issues.
About airport body scanners: Now we have to show our naked innards to the TSA because the world has gone slap crazy.Even royalty!! I am now going to have to buy pencil skirts without the Crown emblem sewn in for identification. I'll just start monogramming my tush to save time. And while I'm at it and past my 60 seconds anyway....HOW LONG will it be before our naked selves "accidentally" get uploaded to the internet in some colossal "accidental" breach of online security? We have more accidental leaks in this country than newborn babies.
These things keep me up at night. They give me a headache.
It's simple. If you had a blog and a traffic widget you could keep up with people.
Sigh.
And January got colder, murkier, silently void of common sense.
I Voted For This??! What is happening to my country? What did my vote stand for?
Why is the dream shifting into something I don't recognize as hope?
Politics as usual in Washington has become politics as usual in Washington. Again.
We are STILL in Iraq.
We are sending another nightmare to Afghanistan.
Nobody can find a job.
We have spent enough money on this useless war to feed and clothe half the children in
Trillion dollar debt? Trillion?
Did I mention we are still in Iraq?
So I looked around and started changing things to suit me and only me. Taped to my refrigerator I now have a goal for each room. Not a look - an environment.
Some rooms are already in the desired state. I just had to change my mind about how to use them and rearrange a few things. I've finished the kitchen and living room thus far. I am taking my lovely time too. (another part of my new Zen personality. No rush. No panic. No blood pressure. No heart attack.)
During the month of February I wrote two stories I'd been meaning to put to paper for years. One involved classic cars and the other classic ignorance. It brought the snowstorm of the century, my red hat on white fluff and a poem inspired by Dr. Seuss. Snow. Lots of snow. Memes. Lots of memes. Cue the UNValentine Grumpy Day. Add that to a wild ride with Daddy in a precious blue Ford and you've got yourself a memory. And I finally wrote the tale of bigotry I'd wanted to write for ages.
But first, the world's car industry needed a tune-up. I needed a car.
I just thought my gas pedal was sticking because I got the leopard print 3-inch stuck behind the floor mat. My vehicle did not come with instructions on how to safely disrobe on the exit ramp. And NOW you tell me I've got a real problem here.
And then the Baptist men showed up, who most certainly would not have approved of my footwear.
Twelve deacons, a pastor, and me... in the bowels of the big old Baptist church of the south. I sat waiting for further instructions. Good little girl that I was.
Pay attention.
As the thirteen loud and boisterous back-slapping men opened the door for me to enter the hallway outside, after head-nodding prayers and amens to the amens to the amens, one of the deacons asked the preacher where he got his coat.
He said and I quote,“I got it off a n**ger.”
They all roared.
I’d just held hand-holding heavenly court with all of them.
I suddenly wanted to wash my hands.
So with hate on his lips and Jesus in his heart, he introduced me. For at least twenty minutes I would have a captive audience - a waiting crew of congregation sitting in bondaged pews of unsuspecting bigotry, putting their trust in thirteen leaders who discriminated loudly in the hidden places of prayer and staunchly scorned in silent rebuke any ounce of free thought or progress so much so that a woman couldn't utter a proper amen. Oh, but I could sing.
Pay attention.
This is where Mimi goes awry.
Again.
I only wish I'd worn the red dress.
To make matters worse it is the month of Cupid. And I am alone. All the single folks in the world are alone. Alllll God's chillin' are alone. And in no mood for tin foil.
4. How many roses make a dozen? Men need to understand this. Women want flowers. Flowers that smell. Flowers you can water. Flowers that come from a florist. Flowers that can be delivered to our door or workplace with much ado and fanfare. Flowers you can show off to your ex-boyfriends. Flowers to make your girlfriends jealous. Flowers that say "I care enough to spend take out a 2nd mortgage for this bundle of love, my love." We do not want to eat tin foil.
His mission that day was to teach me to drive a straight gear with a clutch before I got my learner's permit. These are my verdant memories of that fateful day.
Lots of pine trees, lots of cussing, pigtails, a thick Sears Roebuck Catalog to sit on, and Daddy's big shoes. "You mean you couldn't see that pine tree?" "I saw the pine tree, Daddy. No..I...well....I didn't see it in time."
"Why didn't you put on the brakes? I told you to hit the brakes!"
"I forgot where they were."You hurt my foot!!" I said with tears rolling down my face which only made him feel worse.... and thinking to myself that I would never learn to drive this stupid car. I needed a manual for the manual transmission class. And I'm sitting on a department store. Typical.
Nothing made him madder than when I cried. I think I would like to do that lesson over.
I wouldn't have cried.
With March came winds of attic discoveries, bucket list memes and squirrels. Shadowy poems from the ceiling of the castle. A long lost painting came back into my hands, noise and more noise from people who just wanted to make noise to hear their own voice began to test my sense of peace and quiet. And sometimes animals. There was....
Things were looking up without that nutty squirrel around. And then I looked down.
I gathered her up and dusted her off.She looked perturbed with me really. Lying face up in a box beside the Monopoly Game. A long ago present from my mother a bride doll with green eyes like her own
Daddy is gone. Time to wake up. Time to wake up for both of us.......
All that Zen cleaning and re-organizing led to the discovery of the diary. Homer rats me out to my readers. That dog!
....there's a flower on my ceiling For the longest time she bloomed unnoticed by me
Whether on the ceiling or growing from the ground, I want to write about them.
Then Facebook got a little crazy. So I wrote a meme about it to get it out of my system. The FaceTwit meme (that's Facebook + Twitter for all you non-blog speakers) was anything but simple. I mentioned some clown named Mr. Anonymous whose mission was to push my online buttons in a mean but strangely familiar way. Games and very weird vibes. Doesn't he know I have site trackers? Hmmm? Seriously! Get.a.life. People need to mind their own business and stay out of mine. I said that, didn't I... Just because I put myself out there for millions of people to read doesn't mean they have to read it. Does it??!! Oh, Mimi, you are so naive So the mighty meme asked:
What is Farmville? I do not understand why people are asking me for margarine. I’ve written to FACEBOOK management about this. It’s WHO-VILLE, people, WHOville. Not FarmTown. Not Cracker Barrel Round. Not Peanut Butter Frowns. . WHOville. (why am I rhyming?) As in WHO the heck are these people? See. They should have asked me first. That makes sooo much more sense. BTW: I need to borrow a can of lard and a tinfoil skillet.
I became friends with friends of friends of friends and their friends I didn’t know were their friends who might be friends with ex-friends who used to be friends with me or my friend's friends and then his friend said why is her friend on his friends friends list....which can get a girl in trouble unawares. I don’t worry about it anymore.I can’t avoid everyone with an axe to grind, a Mafia war to win, or a cow to milk. It’s the nature of the Facebook beast. Social networking connects things you don't want connected. I've had to learn to deal. You can't untie all the tethers.
END. OF. SERMON.
Needing to climb back into the Zen cocoon, I clipped and snipped in Bloggingham's flowering trees,and pretty soon, in the year that was budding with creativity, Mimi Picasso arrived on the scene.
she liked the unadulterated
curves of a girl
falling into shades of the deepest deepest blue oh what a wild mess she was that girl she liked the way the words brushed the petals and dips that go nowhere they should
I went into the closet of hats and romped on the floor only to be thrown into my own dungeon for a meme violation. The nerve! The state of affairs in the world began to worry and irritate me and I ranted anew and anew (is that possible?) Not to fear. Spring Flings Eternal with this crazy meme by Yours Truly. Oh, what fun I had writing this one.
All was good and right with the world, except for the spakes and sniders that showed up in various asinine and sundry forms. I stepped over them and kept writing, launching Peace Globes 2010 seven months early.
Then things began to get weird.
You doubted?
Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned..and sinned...and sinned... (Mimi In A Minute # 21)
WHY is the legal standard different for sexual predators in the priesthood than it is for sexual offenders in the general populace?
Remove them. Arrest them. Convict them. Period. God help the children of this world when adults can't tell simple right from wrong.
Some things just need killin'...
The phone rings. It is my ex-husband. "How could you raise a boy who can't chop off a snake's head?! Who are these friends of his? "
"What is the matter? Why are you blubbering?" asked the boy's father.
"Because the snake in the grass got a reprieve while I wasn't looking and I had to kill a spider in my own shirt. It's been a horrible day and I need to shower with Clorox!"
He could not stop laughing long enough to even continue the conversation at which point I hung up on him for the fifth time in two weeks and vowed to never ever ever speak to another man for the rest of my life. He will be thrilled.
Read Spakes and Sniders to see who died.
When I'm feeling unseemly and ragged, spidery and bosom-bitten, I visit the hat closet right here on my blog. It always cheers me up and is one of my favorite whimsy poems. Oh, but it's about love you see. And hats. And love of hats. I had a LOT to say...
It tells of a life I live backwards you see Not to find her or flaunt her But just to be Me
Spring has flung and fling has sprung. It is time to put your imaginary hat on and step outside the box into the world of fantasy. Spring! Love! Lust! Pheromones! Broken hearts! Dares! Parties! Beaches! Trips! The world of flinging! Ahh....the romance. Ahhh...the migraines.
In my writing, in my relationships, in the resurrection of me. I like it.
Soon it was time for peace globes. My grandfather's clock emerged unscathed from the purging of Bloggingham's walls and rooms.
It is fitting that the clock shows up now.
Because it is time for the next phase of peace globes to begin.
All across the world at different times and days and hours and in villages with no clocks at time - it is time. From 50 countries and the others we will add this year, it is time.
From that creaky old floor to Bloggingham's sanctuary - it is time.
May came with kisses from a fabulous kisser of garlic and onion fame. I dared him to kiss me in the rain. Good move, Mimi, good move. I photographed flowers a lot, murdered a maraca, watched my dearest friend marry her childhood sweetheart and wandered back to the trees on my Grandpa's farm. I needed a whisper or two of direction from him. He gave me much more than that.
Peace. And the wisdom of waiting. Stillness. Sometimes saying nothing is saying everything. I found this to be true as hell-April morphed mercifully into May.
One of my dearest friends was getting married. It was a smashing occasion. So to speak.
I don't intentionally cause trouble everywhere I go.
It just happened.
All I wanted was a piece of cake ya see. And whatEVER was in that glass.
I merely walked by!
I swear it!
And wham.
You won't believe what happened.
What a day! All they wanted to do was get married! It was such a scathing catastrophe I had to find some solace. Perfect. My grandfather's home place. In the woods. It had been ages. Me And A Memory Lane
But the wind....it kept kicking up dust and reminding me of a few things I'd rather not be dealing with at all. Surely somewhere in that needle blown afternoon I'd find an answer to the puzzles left lately at my door. I could use Papa's wisdom. He would know exactly what to do and say. I so wanted him to pop out from behind a droopy limb and let me tell him what was troubling me.
He didn't.
So I sat under the branches of his childhood and listened to what the wind said.
Pondering where or not to chase that rabbit down the hole. Hmmmm...maybe I'd better not. Not a good idea when alone in the middle of the middle of the middle ....oh, you know.
Then I met the nastiest stumbling block I've had in a while. His name was Influenza. A hospital stay, an ambulance ride, an infection. Man, what a spring.
8. Completely dark or nite light? I am not 12. I do not need a nite light. I do stump my toe a lot. Maybe I should reconsider.
24. Bedtime ritual? Brush hair 100x as taught by my great-grandmother, who never in her entire life cut her long dark hair. It was so long she could sit on it. She was 90 when she passed and still had the most elegant hair put up in a French twist.
I hope great-grandmother isn't reading this part though. Enter Garlic Kisser. Man, could he kiss. But alas, he ultimately showed his true garlicky colors in the car after dinner.
rolled your eyes
at my mother this afternoon. She sent me to my room. The problem occurred when she realized she'd actually sent me to HER room....which used to be MY room once upon a teenage time.
She was not amused when I jumped on her bed.
I met bloggers Ferd (The Best Parts) and his lovely wife, Gail. We talked blogging and more blogging, kids, photography, our careers, houses, music, family, dating rules, rule breakers, deal breakers, piano lessons (yes Gail!) birdwatching, traveling, new beginnings, romance in my life (Gail had sage advice for me let-me-tell- you the woman should write a book), marriage in theirs (ahh...they are so sweet together) and even some of you were discussed. Were your ears burning? They should have been..but only in the kindest of ways. I had a meltdown of allergic proportions in the car one Saturday morning, and still found no shower in the car. Imagine!
The store owner laughed. "You can have it," she said. "It's not worth much. You're welcome to it." Have you ever been so delighted you wanted to squeal and jump in a stranger's arms?
She wondered how holding the world might change her life.
Ever stuck in a situation with no where to go but under? I needed a shower. And fast.
10:20 I leave the shirt to soak and say 3 Hail Marys to make up for the cussing. 10:21 I leave AGAIN.
SIDEBAR: **I forgot to tell you about the floor** I'm stripping the hardwood and re-polishing the floor. Board by board by board. Just call me Cinderella. It is a huge area including 2 hallways. It will take longer to get this done than it will take them to collect all the oil in the Gulf. Why is this important? Because...
10:22 In the car. I break out in hives. Apparently from the floor cleaner on my skin. 10:22 In the car. I text 2 Johnny-on-the-spot friends.
"Hives. Tell me I won't die." "Take Benadryl and shower, now" said the voice of calm.
I have no Benadryl or shower. I am in the frickin' car!!
My Maestra knew how to push me into facing the inner first and gave me the courage to let it fly from my fingers and voice. Of course, there are consequences for this teaching philosophy.She knows where the bodies are buried. You don't think all that opera drama is just onstage, do you?
A reunion with my gifted mentor, teacher, and friend.
Beaches, kissers, ducks and quacking people. All showed up in the month of summer that was July. A fine time I had. It was the month of tangled hair. In more ways than one.
And then the Cherokee Girl and I had a candid conversation. But not before Baby Boy found weird wildlife in the middle of a lake. And he didn't know what a "circumstance" was.
Sigh.
"I'm so glad you listened to me. That is toooo close!" Come ON, Mimi. It's just a turkey with duck feet. How does it swim?
(I am so not there.)
My choice was to end it before it really began. Maybe it's not possible to have it all. Maybe you can't find knee-buckling kissing and a man of integrity in the same person. Maybe I'm asking too much. I don't care how much my toes curl if their lips tell lies in between the sighs.
(That rhymed.)
What would Scarlett do?
A plethora of kissers showed up. One after the other. It was kismet!
Rarely have I felt more relaxed than this summer. It was epic me-time. Thanks for letting me share it with you. I promised myself that not a summer would go by for the rest of my life that did not include toes in the sand. I mean it.
Beach Blogging in August, sand, castles (for real!) sunrises and sets pier fishing, walks, storms on the sea and me what a great month
Curly waves
windy waves
tangled hair
I do not
Thinking about NOTHING AT ALL is phenomenal!!!!
I fell asleep in my chair (until someone stole my chair which is another story altogether), I had not one troubling thought in my brunette head and not one care in the world. In fact, a time or two I thought to look for my thoughts but thought better of it. Follow?
brings a much anticipated soul vacation to Atlanta, Georgia. The plan? Meet up with bloggers and epic friends, Starr, Kidlet & company plus a disappearing entourage of people changing plans. Nonetheless, we had a great time. I found another beach in parts north. What a great summer!
Do you know how hard it is to maintain royal dignity with a vinyl umbrella attached to your body?Flying Umbrellas and Floating Chairs And then I found it. A girl could go through her whole life with a million pencil skirts and
not
one ofthese
I tried to wash my freckles away in the morning dew when I was 8 years old because she said they would disappear.
Forty-five years later I'm still trying to get them to do the same thing.
Stop the presses. My sweet Baby Boy has entered the world of formal education.
I write. And weep.
You are embedded and brimming over with all that is good in this world and I am proud of you, but I would like a word with you before you go out to conquer the world at recess.
brought the 10/10/10 phenomenon. We all blogged it and lived to tell about 11/11/11 even.
Time for peace globes to crank up. I finally made peace with Facebook even if they are NOT very user-friendly. Nonetheless it was time to write "How to Put Your Peace Globe on Facebook"
And man, did you ever.
All the annual albums are there. Have you found yours there?
The 20 Day Countdown Begins. I asked, "You have a voice. What will you say?"
Your words began to take on power. As they always do this time of year.
On the 15th day 'til launch, a blogger touched my heart.
What she said was so simple really. And yet so complex. What she said stirred me to action again and again and again you see....What she said, what she said, what she said. OH. What she said.
It is the reason I keep this movement going. It is the reason our words matter. It is the reason we blog the peace on a global level from hovels and homes turned stump posts for peace and platforms of passion. Oh. What she said, what she said......
Whenever I feel that no one is listening, that none of this matters, that our efforts are not being felt, I read this again.
And always. Always. Always...my heart flutters, I get tears in my eyes and I remember why.
She said:
I cannot stop the bullets and the bombs. I cannot bring our soldiers home. I cannot quell the suffering of the millions. I cannot overthrow a corrupt government and establish true democracy. I feel that I cannot be heard.
Until today.
(thank you for the inspiration little Chocolate Girl)
I can't believe it's been a year. It seems like only yesterday to me. But on this day in 2009 just a few days before peace launch, my dad made his flight away from this Earth. I reposted The Bargain in his honor.
And this day, of all days, I need to find words.
November 2010
was eventful. Artists from all over the world sent in one-of-a-kind works for Peace Globe Day. It was some of the most beautiful artwork we've seen. Gifts from the sea and Canadian shores graced my home. Peace globes became tangible. Weren't they always?
It started like this. Reeeeeaaaaally? Wow. We're honored. Thank you!
I can now hold some of these peace rocks in my hand....from her Atlantic to mine. They bring me great comfort and joy.
Debra Percival and Dawn Drover. Extraordinary peace bloggers and women of integrity and friendship. What blessings this movement has brought of us.
Along with amazing photographer Aamir Mohammed at the website Dreaming In Pixels they collaborated on this year's peace globe creation. She writes: I sent him the photos and explained what I was looking for... not "quite possible" but, his knowledge and ingenuity managed to bring to life my concept! Of course, I (also) wept when I first saw it...
Internationally acclaimed artist, Alicia M. B. Ballard creates a stunning work for peace globe day.
And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, the divine Jamie White, retired editor from Washington, author of Durward Discussion (and my friend) commissions the wonderful Colorado Bob to make a peace globe video. The bears start to sing. It's fantastic!! A huge gracias to both and may many more such collaborations take place in the name of peace. What could be better than a combination of John Lennon, polar bears and Give Peace A Chance?
Not much, I'll tell ya.
According to Google searches and stats we are making noise and news. According to the blueness of FACEBOOK pages we are making noise and news. And according to Goodnight Gram who knitted a peace globe, "Peace is worth it." See?
She knits a world. And we all come together again for what has become my favorite day of the year.
Another Dona Dona Pacem begins. Another BlogBlast For Peace is created. Another day of inspiring surprises from people who stop on this day and speak words that matter.
I took my cue from a love story. Write on My Heart Every Word ~ Dona Nobis Pacem
For all her many quirks and eccentricities and no matter how many times the wigs flew off or the cigarette dipped in the morning coffee cup, he gifted her with unwavering love and devotion. Sometimes it was eye-rolling twinkled-eyed devotion - but devotion nonetheless.
She was and would always be the love of his life.
The most eternally rich experiences in life make no sense at all.
He learned to surrender.
No. I take that back.
He loved to surrender.
And that is the word we must put before any attempt at laying down of arms. I found his Cokesbury hymnal and made a startling discovery.
Would you like to take a wild guess where his page was turned down?
Here in Bloggingham tonight, bound to my grandparents' memory is a small bouquet of wild pink peace mums laid on a bed of uncommon love, shaped oddly like the sound of a far away tune in a church full of cheer in the middle of plowshares and pruning hooks.
"Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more."
Maybe we keep asking for the same struggle and getting exactly what we ask for because we’re not ready to lay down the most powerful weapon we have
She smothered the ruffles Smelled through the torn shell And wondered what manner of woman Was veiled
How odd to find one of life’s most beautiful treasures in the middle of a smelly store poked with an odious orange sale sticker. A plastic hanger, a yellowed stain, sad wrinkles. Dreams on sale.But why did it call to me so? Why on this day? I had a lot on my mind.
So that's what the Lady Doctor said. We'll call her Dr. Derriere Derma.
And thus began the story of the 3 moles.
We'll call them Molly (#1) Milly (#2) and Sully (#3)
Me?
I was just sulky.
"But that's the one we've been WATCHING. I KNEW I should have been watching. SOMEbody should have been watching and it certainly has not been me. I'm doomed!! All this time I've been watching the wrong thing, Doctor Death #1 has been watching the wrong thing and besides, I can't even see it unless I contort myself at an excruciating angle in the bathroom mirror. How am I supposed to watch something I can't see? What kind of convoluted medical advice is that??" You KNOW I'm a hypochondriac. I shouldn't be told to watch things I have no peripheral power over."
What happens to the missing socks? Until they appear on a milk carton they won't get the respect they deserve. I feel sorry for all the lonely little single socks out there. Don't you?
But alas, our torridchilly affair ended when I reminded him that we were polar opposites. MEN!
Bohemian Books and Beds of Gypsies All I had on was a blue bathing suit and a pair of flip-flops. And I didn’t care. Where are your shorts?? did not even begin to describe the diatribe going on in my head from the mother-voice I hear periodically when faced with near auto collisions - you know the one - the always-wear-clean-underthings in case you’re in a car wreck warning. I ignored her question in the land of the sand and closed the door of the secret convoy vehicle with a giggle. Half-naked was no problem during the summer that was closely akin to the most freeing time in my life. Ever.
It's time to get back to the ocean, don't you think? This year seemed tied to the shore.
It's time to bring this year to a close even if I am recapping it two years later. at the beginning of 2012. As I said earlier. I've been busy! I learned a lot writing this post. If there's one thing I know for sure...there's no place like being under the watchful eye of Bloggingham's Moon. A lunar eclipse to end this sometimes loony year. How appropriate.
Mimi Pencil Skirt aka Queen of Memes ~ Founder of the Peace Globe Movement ~ BlogBlast For Peace.
I am a single pencil skirt living in a palace with my dog Homer and a cat named Persian Patticakes.
It's been said I tell a good story.
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