Mary Beth Writes

I wrote this in the first week of 2014:

A is for apple.

Well, we made it through the first Monday of the year.  Did you twirl brilliantly through your Monday? If so, the rest of us salute you.

Over here in my corner the best I can say is that I didn’t get hurt. I did pretty much what I was supposed to do and I’m going to bed sober and tired.  For many, that would be a very good day, indeed.

But I didn’t write anything profound. I didn’t glean an inmate story that moved my heart or his. 

I ate too much bread. Probably because I made five loaves yesterday – 3 loaves of zucchini-cranberry-walnut and 2 of all the whole grains I could find, which in this house is considerable. So tonight I feel somewhat like a fish who escaped the baited hook – in order to swallow the sinker.  In my defense, it isn’t that I ate bread all day long – just that I had it for breakfast, then for lunch, then for dinner. 

Len and I each take a sliced apple to work every day for our lunch. Apples are healthy, crunchy, sweet - a simple food straight from Mom Earth to us.

Every day I eat my sandwich, and then I eat my apple pieces. 

Except, about one day per week I don’t eat my apple. Maybe guys come in while I’m eating at my desk. Maybe I’m not hungry right then and I forget later.  Maybe I’m stuffed on whole grain bread.

I try to remember to eat it in the truck on my way home, but today I was wearing mittens; it just wasn’t going to work.

Do you have ordinary health-full, reasonable things you do most days -- but not all of them? 

This is just about humankind’s oldest question. Why, if we know something is a good choice, why don’t we always make it?  Why do we sabotage our own health and happiness by skipping the brisk walk, over-indulging in too-rich treats, not doing the next thing on our list of needful things to do, skipping the apple?

I don’t know why, when we see what it is we ought to do, we don’t always do it.

But it does mean that we are here on Mother Earth. And tomorrow is the first Tuesday of the year and I have an apple ready.

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Corona Virus Disease - 2019

Corona Virus Disease-2019  Covid-19

WE HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING QUITE LIKE THIS.

Yes, there was polio when some of us were little … but Thank You, Dr. Salk … the vaccine was invented while we were too small to understand what was going on. I remember being carried in my dad's arms to get a shot at the county courthouse. We stood in a long line of parents bringing in their kids.

The Self-Defense of Fierce Whimsicality

We watched the Nova special about Jeff Bezos and Amazon this week.  Boy, there’s a way to be depressed at our old white men elected officials who are totally NOT up to the challenges of the society in which we live.

 Len sat next to Bezos at a business event in 1997. They talked about my frugality newsletter. Apparently his wealth didn’t rub off on Len and our frugality didn’t rub off on him.

The Error is the Sign of Love

Lewis Hyde wrote a poem entitled “This Error is the Sign of Love” that might suit for Valentines Day.

Read more about Mr. Hyde right here.      

 ....

 

This error is the sign of love,

the crack in the ice where the otters breathe, the tear that saves a man from power, the puff of smoke blown down the chimney one morning, and the

    widower sighs and gives up his loneliness, the lines transposed in the will so the widow must scatter

Waukesha School Board 2/12/2020

This week I attended Waukesha’s School Board meeting. I don’t have anything huge to say, but since many of you are also from Waukesha, let me report a few things.

This is my third time attending WSB. It meets the second Wednesday evening of the month from 7:00PM until about 9:00. Mary Duerson and I are always there now.

Six Inches of Snow

I grew up outside Ludington Michigan. My parents owned property bounded by a creek, the river it emptied into, the rim of a woods, and a dirt road.  It was a beautiful and I would rather have my memories of that lovely place than almost other inheritance else I can think of.  A kid who knows what water sounds like as it babbles over her chilly barefoot feet, the power of storms in tall trees, the way it feels to make channels and rivers in a muddy driveway in the spring, waking up to a world embroidered with snow. She’s a lucky kid who becomes a lucky adult.

"Let America be America Again" by Langston Hughes

First of all, thanks to Facebook The Jon S. Randal Peace Page, which brings short biographies every day of people who lived and worked towards art, understanding, justice, freedom, and peace.

Like this, today. 

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