Mary Beth Writes

As some of you know it was an unromantically large number of years ago when Len gave me flowers. (The story is here.) 

The next morning, he drove me home on his way to work (read the first article if you have forgotten how why I spent the night at his house and in his bed…)

He ignored me for a day while I rested and recuperated in my apartment.

The day after that I was better. He came around that evening and we did something. Can’t remember what. Maybe out to dinner where we talked. Like that hasn’t been a theme in our life.

It occurred to me this morning, Feb 16th, as we are packing to go to Chicago to watch our beloved little grandkid while our daughter and her husband go out to dinner – that, sure, Valentine’s Day is fun. 

(Thursday, while Len was out doing other peoples’ taxes for AARP, I baked banana-blueberry-strawberry bread for us. And because I love Leonard with all my heart, I taste-tested it by slicing side pieces from the loaf, thus leaving the heel for him. Am I not a full-blown romantic?)

After the Romantic Volubility of Valentine’s day - the more amazing day for lovers is the day your person comes back to you. When the one who sees you at your middling-best to absolute-worst; when they go off to live their life but later, they come around and talk and make jokes and help you make dinner and tell you about their days and ask you about yours. 

My son and daughter-in-law have two adorable and Very Energetic 2-year old dogs.  Bean and Berry are just nuts - and as much as you sometimes have to defend yourself from flying kisses when you walk into their house - they are the best.  Recently Bean learned to play fetch. You can throw his tennis ball from one end of their little house to the other and he never fails to run to get it, always crashing into the back door in the process. Then he trots the ball back to you. My son says he can play this for 45 minutes before he gets tired of it. 

Bean “gets it”.

Love is, as long as there is life, coming back.  

 ...

Like this.   Trigger warning. If you have lost someone you love deeply lately, this is Leonard Cohen’s “Dance Me to the End of Love” 

 

Comments

Love. I'm surrounded by it and it makes me feel whole either when I receive it or especially so when hand it out, my valentines day had both. I woke up that day to valentines greetings from George & Michael. I went down to feed Ms. Seema her breakfast. Feeling generous she got her regular nuts and kibble and to top it off banana,apple and orange slice's, She gave me a thank you grunt... Woke up Ms. Maya who's been having a ruff week because her hind legs don't want to work, I stood her up and she looked up at me and wagged her tail at me.(Makes my heart melt) Then Maya and I made a quick stop at Michael's on our way to take George to his Doctor appointment. We sat around with George after we got back from the Doctors. We stopped back at Michael's apartment on the way home he made us dinner and we watched a movie. He left to play piano at the Hob Nob and we dropped the movies off on our way home...We were barely home when Angela called to say she was stopping by for a bit. The perfect ending to what was not all that eventful a day except for the fact that all the key players in my life were there to share it with me. PRICELESS!!

Thank you for your loving words and beautiful video.

Heart. Heart.

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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. 

Have you ever ... 1/31/2020

Have you ever concentrated so hard at your laptop that when you finished your project and got up, you took your computer glasses off, set them on the desk, picked up your regular glasses and carried them out of the office wondering why you couldn’t see?

Have you ever stood in front of the mounds of zucchinis in the grocery store in August, stabbed through the heart because you used to make zucchini-egg patties for your kid at the end of each summer but that kid is now 35 and living in another state and you don’t even have a word for how you feel?

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