In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm 65, the magic age for Medicare, thank you very much! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
Xenophile: A person who likes foreign people and things.
Xenophobe: A person who is very afraid, for no sane reason, of anything foreign and, in particular, of people of foreign origin.
These two words are right next to each other in the dictionary, at least in mine it is. Anybody else see the irony in that? Xenophobe coming after xenophile, that is.
Seeing the two words together made me think of a few things:
My uncle and aunt lived in California but they couldn't get married there. I don't remember what year it was, but, it was before the state anti-miscegenation law was repealed in 1948. They had to travel to another state to tie the knot. I wonder if going back home was their honeymoon.
When I was in high school, 40 years ago, a friend told me that he didn't think he was going to like me because he had heard some ranchers talk about my brother and me. One of the ranchers had said something like: "Those kids sure know how to hold up their race." My friend thought …
The mama and the husband are doing well. Thanks for wondering.
I've been blogging less because I'm not very good anymore at writing for work and writing for fun at the same time. I'm working on revisions for some career books over the next two years. If only blogging could pay the bills. So, alas, I'm down to blogging at least once a week—on Thursdays.
Take 25 to Hollister As some of you know, I also do a blog about my home town. Take 25 to Hollister, for those of you who haven't seen it. I've stopped writing posts for that blog, too. But, not photos. Not just yet. I've challenged myself to post a photo every day. I'm up to day 61. We'll see how long I can go.
Another Book Reading Challenge Really?
Yes. Call me nuts. Many already have and do.
This one is the annual Cozy Mystery Challenge. This will be second year. I couldn't resist. Cozy mysterie…
There have been years where I've missed spring completely. I often started writing projects in late autumn or early winter that would have summer deadlines. I left the house mostly to go grocery shopping, run errands, and attend engagements. Not until May would I realize that I did it again. No spring. Sigh.
The month of March is one of my favorite months. To me, March is the essence of spring. Plants giggle "Hello" as they pop up through the ground. Trees sing with blossoms and new leaves. California poppies, blue larkspurs, and other crazily colorful wildflowers smile above expansive fields of grass. The yellow mustard laughs through the orchards. The hillsides shout green, green, green.
It was easy for me to forget when I lived in city settings with miles of concrete and canyons of buildings. And, as my freelance career took off, the rides and walks into nature became far and few.
It's much differently now since the husband and I have moved to the town where I grew …
"When I'm gone, you take care of your mother," the daddy suddenly said to me one evening. He did not wait for my response. He knew I would promise.
I was in my late 20s. At the time, the mama and I still clashed, mostly about what my life should be. At the time, I really didn't think I could ever live with her again. Several days was about all I could handle being around her.
Thirty years later, the husband and I have been living with the Mama for over seven years now. It took at least the first four years for each of us to get the hang of starting to live together. That's life. Nothing wrong with that.
The almost 90-year old Mama has slowed down. But only some. When she gets it in her head that she wants something done, she wants it done pronto, and she wants to do it by herself. Usually, she comes up with these projects while we're away. For instance, one morning she asked that we help her with the lemon tree after we finish breakfast. I thought she meant …
This message is strong in my head and heart today. So, I shall leave it to Aesop and the Brotherhood of Man to deliver it.
The Four Oxen and the Lion by Aesop translated by George Fyler Townsend (Public Domain Translation of Aesop's Fables Selections) A Lion used to prowl about a field in which Four Oxen used to dwell. Many a time he tried to attack them; but whenever he came near they turned their tails to one another, so that whichever way he approached them he was met by the horns of one of them. At last, however, they fell a-quarrelling among themselves, and each went off to pasture alone in a separate corner of the field. Then the Lion attacked them one by one and soon made an end of all four. United we stand, divided we fall.
Twenty-nine years ago on this day, the Daddy died from a heart attack. He was 76 years old.
Maybe he didn't pick how or where he died, but I think he was happy it wasn't at home where the Mama would've come home to find him after a long, tiring day at work. He was always protective of her.
That day the Daddy decided to go to lunch at the senior center with his good friend Danny, one of the godfathers of mine. The Daddy hadn't been there for quite a long while. He hadn't been feeling well, but those last three days, I was told, he'd been going strong, visiting, babysitting, doing so many of the things he liked to do.
So, there he was sitting at the lunch table. He was bending down for a spoon on the floor, I was told. He was there longer than he should have been. "Hey, 'Pare (short for compadre), what you doing down there?" called a friend. Then, a scramble to get help for the Daddy. That was it.
While the Daddy was dying, I was sitting in a restaur…