I am always amazed when reading that a phrase or sentence sends me whirling to a memory that has lain dormant. Last night as I was reading one of Louise Penny’s novels, I was swept back to sophomore year English Literature at Madison College.

There was a reference to the above poem, and immediately I started reciting the first two lines. Wow, where did that come from, I thought. So immediately, with my compulsive nature, I got on line to read the whole poem. No wonder I remembered it!

I won’t assume that you need do so too, but I promise you, if you do, it will bless your day.

Poem by Leigh Hunt, a British poet, and “May Your Tribe Increase!

I think I have heard the question, “How did we get to this place?”more in the last few months than ever before in my life. Daughter, Sarah’s, link on the history of the far right movement and a wonderful Sunday School lesson yesterday by a young college student on the history of genocide in the world’s history, of course, sent me back in time to my own history.

Much of the present unrest lies in the belief of government overreach which you will hear from the far right movement. They label any program that tax dollars are used for everyone, socialism! A dirty word to them.

I am not going to provoke that idea except to point out that social security, medicare, public schools, highways, fire departments are paid for by our tax dollars, so decide how your life would be without them

You know me, I’ve got to tell you a story about this! So here it is. After the Great Depression this country was reeling with a bleak outlook on the future…much like today. FDR and his administration put in a social program to aid recovery, one of which was social security, and I won’t list all the other, but one called the Rural Electrical Administration, which brought electricity to rural, isolated parts of America.

I remember what it meant to our family and how my Dad reacted to it. In our community some people rose up in protest over having electric poles put on their property. The government could have seized them with Eminent Domain, but at the hearing for this, my Dad said, “put the poles on me.” Now we had a big farm of about 400 acres, so the powers that were jumped on that agreement. Down through the breadth of our farm, power poles sprang up.

What got interesting about this was what ensued from all those people who wouldn’t let them put poles on them. As time went by, one by one they came to realize they could not get electricity without getting permission from Dad to put more poles on our farm to run lines to them. Dad with his infinite wisdom worked out something with the power company that allowed, I believe, two spur lines out to the highway so the people who refused to cooperate could connect.

But not before Dad had his chance to tell a few of them that sometimes we have to make individual sacrifice for the benefit of all. One of these was one older gentleman who refused everything new and was pretty much the grouch of the neighborhood. I remember the day he came driving up our lane in his pony cart (cars were on his list of things to avoid) to ask Dad about letting him put poles on our farm to get electricity. Dad calmly told him that he was working out things with REA that would allow everyone who wanted power to get it. My Dad was the most benevolent person I ever knew growing up, and I am sure what he told the grouch was delivered with a firm but kind message

I think about this story when I hear stories of divisions among people of diverse ideas of the role of government in our lives. We need to help each other however we can…..government programs, self help promotions, and our individual need to reach out to our brothers. God bless us, everyone.

R

,

I am many things this morning, but shocked is not one of them. The signs have been there long before 2016 in the person of Donald Trump. America, you heard the tape of Billy Bush and what Trump thought of women, and you voted for him anyway. You saw him mock a handicapped reporter, and you voted for him anyway. He shouted “Lock Her Up”and you voted for him anyway. Lies from everything about the size of his inaugural crowds and denial of foreign interference in his candidacy, and you believed it.

You heard his support of the “good” people in the Charlottesville marches, and that was ok with you. You saw him dismiss long time allies in preference for the shady regimes of Russia and North Korea,and you voted for him again. You heard him cast doubt on the scientific truths of climate, and then in the pandemic, causing chaos that probably has caused the death of thousands, and you voted for him anyway.

So, America, don’t be shocked, be penitent!

Despite all the self-talk of confidence about it being all right, and about Christmas being OK this year, I awoke with a hole right near my heart that didn’t seem to hear my positive recital. Before I talk about Christmas 2020, I want to tell you, who are my family and friends, I will never again take your presence for granted. The sheer joy of interaction with you cannot be replaced with poinsettias, or Hallmark movies, or tinsel, or even a bit of champagne.

But let me tell you a bit about my Christmas Day, 2020. All you grammar aficionados get ready for some “run on” sentences, because there was no way I wanted to put a “period” on my day.

It began with a Pittsburgh TV spot highlighting a doctor, who they referred to as an Angel doctor who cured the facial pain of a young boy who had endured this terrible pain for six years, and this angel is our son in-law, added to that was FaceTime with those far away grandchildren with skateboards, and I Phones and computer hardware, and next, one family’s tribute to our son-in-law, Mark, with a rendition of Go Tell It On The Mountain, complete with lighted candles and on pitch.

Take a breath, Ellen! My day continued with visits, not from shepherd or wise men, but family members bearing oyster stew and country ham and books, one of which was filled with pictures of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, with beautiful quotes about family joy and love.

So last night, as I lay in bed pondering all that day had brought, the hole near my heart was filled completely and replaced by a joyful and blessed heart beating out a cadence of love and gratitude….and I slept seven straight hours.

During this time of thoughtful isolation, this octogenarian has found coping tools with the gifts of an I Phone and a Fitbit. Sarah sent me a New York Times article by the writer Dave Sedaris who says on his masked walks all over New York, the smell never changes…it smells like his breath!

Many mornings, when the weather keeps me from walking outside, my view, as I walk in my house, is the same. I am not obsessed, yet, with steps walked, cardio minutes, or calories burned, but it is quite shocking how these tiny instruments intimidate me.

There is one little habit I have consciously practiced that I have found improves my mood, and maybe, just maybe, has kept me positive in a troubling world view. I dress and groom myself as if I am meeting with friends, or going to the movies, or having all my children in for a meal.

So, Ellen, old girl, lotion that dry face, gargle that night breath away, brush that bed head hair into place, put on those earrings, and meet that positive, grinning woman in the mirror! You might like her.

My girls have dragged me kicking and screaming into a new world of technology…..they bought me an I Phone for Christmas! I have clung to my flip phone with the tenacity of a drowning woman clinging to the safe and security of simplicity. But now, with trembling hands, I have been handed with something that Sarah described , as fragile!

“Now, Mom, until we can get a shield for it, don’t dare drop it or let it fall! Sounds a bit like my Doctor’s instructions….”whatever you do, try not to fall!” So now, I have two entities of fragility!

This thing turns on by recognizing my face! I don’t even recognize that old women I see in the mirror daily! There is this girl named Siri that I can order around however I please. I just tell her “because I said so!” I haven’t uttered that since the last daughter graduated and moved out of our house!

This is all in fun, I do appreciate the phone and am sure it will be everything they say it will be. Love the fact I can dictate text messages instead of typing them. Thank you, my wonderful girls for the gift. We got a big laugh when Sarah told me the sales person she dealt with tried to convince her I was too old for an I Phone! Sarah said, “You don’t know my Mama!” Watch out new world, here I come!

A Thanksgiving to remember, at least, and not anything like all the others in my memory. But, looking back on the occasion, my heart is filled with thankfulness.

It probably began Thanksgiving eve with friends ringing my doorbell and hastening to flee to the yard when I answered. I am drinking my morning coffee from the mug they left in a bag on my doorstep that had the word “Thankful” printed on each side.

That message carried forth the whole day as our family called on me in my garage and front lawn and then left to their own celebration. We kept up with each other’s festivities via social media, seeing feasts that varied in menu, but not in purpose.

But there was sometime more about this Thanksgiving, that Sarah and I expressed to each other. Gone is the feeling of feeling our nation sink into a entity I couldn’t identify. Gone is wishing for truth and decency to be the touchstone of our leadership in the world. No matter how hard I tried, not “fake”news but tweets that degraded and divided us one from another filled my heart with sadness

The standards of truth and love for and embracing our diversity, taught to me as a child, were suddenly under attack and I didn’t like this woman whom I had become. I didn’t like her thoughts, I didn’t like not being able to assure my daughters that it would get better. I didn’t like what our nation displayed to the world.

Yes, a different Thanksgiving, but as I shut my eyes last night, thankfulness flooded my soul like never before. Maybe, just maybe, I needed this !!

• The Christmas Story……….
  Somewhere in the midst of the business of preparation, the shopping, the cooking, the traveling, the weariness that occupies most of our time this month, Christmas still comes. The miracle God bestowed upon mankind doesn’t come all wrapped up or bought from a shopping mall, but in the simplicity of a baby’s birth. Lest we … Continue reading The Christmas Story………. →
• Resilience…………
  Resilience, is the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties. Isn’t it wonderful to find that word you never use in ordinary conversation that is exactly the one to describe this time in your life??? Yesterday at a Bible Circle meeting, we were all given that word to ponder. Many of us came … Continue reading Resilience………… →
• Nancy……….
  My sister Nancy passed away last evening…I don’t say died, because that’s not what she did. She took on the everlasting life, and wrapped it around her body and sailed into the eternal life. Most of you who know me, know that our relationship was an important one. More than sisters, best friends, confidants, companions … Continue reading Nancy………. →
• I Voted……..
  I voted yesterday! Early voting in Virginia allowed that, and it always amazes me about the feeling that comes over me with the privilege and responsibility I feel. Ever since the day in 1956 when I reached the age of 18 and my Dad went with me to register to vote, that is my experience. … Continue reading I Voted…….. →
• Broken———
  On the news this morning, one commentator said as a nation we are “broken ,”. You think so!! More than broken, I don’t think we are picking up the pieces, I refuse to even let “ thoughts and prayers” roll off my tongue, although offering both in abundance as one after another senseless killing happens. … Continue reading Broken——— →

The last few unbelievable autumn days made me recall how fall was Bill’s favorite time of year. With harvest and hunting and his invariably daily habit of pulling a Golden Delicious off the apple tree on his way to the barn, it filled his soul with joy.

My mind turns also to my Mother reading, or more likely reciting, James Whitcomb Riley’s poem by the title of this blog. Riley was an American poet whose dialect and common subjects made him loved by people in the late 1880’s. He was called the children’s poet, for his Little Orphan Annie poem and his Raggedy Man poem, which became the inspiration for the Raggedy Ann dolls

If you hunger for something refreshing as a crisp autumn day, and non political, I suggest you get on your computers and read James Whitcomb Riley’s poetry.

Here is my only political comment for the day, quoting Mr.Riley (without his wonderful dialect) from Little Orphan Annie……”You better mind your parents and your teachers, fond and dear, and cherish those who love you and dry the orphan’s tear. And help the poor and needy ones that cluster all about…..or the Goblins will get you if you don’t watch out!!”

It’s Sunday morning, beautiful, frosty,peaceful, and I don’t know how I feel, Yesterday was a day I kept myself busy…pulling up dying tomato plants, cleaning off my deck, helping collect and deliver a meal to a grieving family and in between grieving,myself, for the loss of Ruth Bader Ginsberg

She was sense in a senseless world, calm in the face of discord, a fighter in the face of unbearable burdens, and my hero in the fight for recognition of women as vital and capable decision makers.

So in her memory, I urge my friends to follow truth, decency, courage, and to follow your hearts in every decision you make in the coming days. You know what is right. Just be brave enough to show that you will stand where she stood….on the right side of history, and in doing so you will bless your country.

In our house, we kids were the “sous chefs” for Mom, who was a chef extraordinary. She was the seasoner, the final taster of unbelievable dishes that I cannot replicate to this day. so we peeled the potatoes, we shelled the peas, and we strung the beans made easier and more enjoyable by the corporate efforts of sisters and Mom

Around that circle, Mom would sometimes burst into song, like “Old Dan Tucker” or the “Ballad of Little Doris Dean, a four year old who got lost in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Grotoes. I can’t remember all the words, but I do remember that Old Dan Tucker washed his face in a frying pan and combed his hair with a wagon wheel!!!

I am sure these beans will please my children who come to eat them, but I know I will still compare then to Mom’s seasoned with a ham hock, boiled gently on a wood burning kitchen range, and whatever secret ingredient Mom threw into the pot when we weren’t looking’