Vortex and Bridge

I have been pulled down into the vortex of life and thingss, and that happens, and it happens lots of time to writing, but the good thing is, writing is always there to get back to, like a big, loyal dog. And it feels good to get back to it, a quiet reunion with old friends; your fingers and your mind.
My favorite New Yorker cover ever -- Saul Steinberg -- is a cat riding a bicycle from the white mountain of February over drab March and across a bridge to glorious, green April and a road with a sign pointing to Summer.

That's us, today

Lightning

I have one tree in my backyard and it has been struck by lightning. We had some freak thunderstorms last month. I heard crashes and booms in the middle of the night, but didn't think much of it. Then, looking out my kitchen window in the last few weeks, I noticed a raw chunk in the trunk of my only tree, and limbs that looked dark and claw-like. It has just gotten nice enough to step outside and breathe, and when I did I took closer look. It was dark, burnt, black; a charred branch hanging over into my neighbor's yard like an intruder in a grim reaper costume.

This tree stands in the corner of my yard, smack up against the privacy fence I had built when I moved in. The fence has singe marks, and a few bites taken out .

What could have been and wasn't!

I'm calling tree chopper- downers and getting estimates, which I can ill afford. I'm smiling about the lightning, though. What a message, what a sign. We don't know how lucky we are at times. We sleep through the reminders. I have my yard, I have my fence, I have my privacy behind it. And I didn't burn my neighbors down. Hallaloo.

Red nails on a Saturday

Writing Tip for women in the gray of March, and any man who wants to join along:

My painted nails on my famous nail beds make it a lot more fun to type today. I like watching my fingers hopping around my keyboard like cardinals in the snow. It is hard to sit down and write, but it always gets to be more fun once you get going. My nail polish will last less than a week, and I'll extend it by wearing it peeling and Courtney Love-like for awhile. Hope this is a harbinger of a good writing week for you, and for me, too.

Not to brag...

BUT, I just went and got a mani / pedi. I was only going to get a pedi -- My feet were beginning to look a little feral -- but the technician talked me into a mani, too. Oh! Mani/ pedi means manicure and pedicure for those of you not thusly inclined. SO, I'm getting my mani ( a different color than my pedi, since this half had taken me by surprise ) and the technicians -- two of them -- say they love my nail beds. My what? I ask. My nail beds. I didn't know there was a compliment to be had about nail beds -- I'm not even sure I know exactly what a nail bed is -- but I have nice ones, so they say. I am the recipient today of the Unknown Compliment! Take your happiness where you can find it, my friends.

To Each His Own Paddock

Yesterday I told you about Shannon's grandfather's diaries where he wrote about moving his cattle from paddock to paddock. We non-farmers each have our own version of paddock to paddock, and mine sometimes feels like my personal Bermuda Triangle. I move my Taurus the Bull self from CVS to Trader Joe's to the library again and again and again and again. It seems like you should be able to see my dustly, shuffled path by now.

Question from Shannon

Hi,
My name is Shannon and i'm 16 years old and I am not writing my own biography but my grandpa's.
My grandpa has dementia and is rapidly forgeting things. I think it would be a nice gesture to write his life down for him and he has pretty much lived on a farm all his life and has kept a diary and written in them everyday or so for the last 40 years. The thing is most of the information that is in the diaries is just farm work (move cattle from this paddock to that paddock) but some of it is useful (birth of grandchildren etc.). How can I use these bits of seeming useless information to write an interesting story of his life. I have also tried to get in to contact with his sister but that information has no come though as yet.
Can you offer me any tips for my writing and any inspiration because believe me I will need it!

Thankyou for your time and any assistance that you can give me.
Shannon

First of all, I love that Shannon, at 16, is writing her grandfather's story. What a wonderful bond she is creating, and will make her grandfather known to generations to come.

I explained to Shannon that a life, that a history, is made up of our daily doings. The ordinary moments that create extraordinary lives. Moving the cows from paddock to paddock is what her grandfather's life was about. He was a farmer. He recorded this himself in his diaries. This is how he spent his time and energy. Paddock to paddock to paddock and back.

Every once in awhile a big thing happens in life; a birth, a death, an extreme change of course.
There are days leading up to that event and days that come after. All of these days define a life.

First Day of Spring

Winter turns to Spring at something like 1:30 this afternoon, and it's supposed to snow tomorrow, but small dog and I went walking yesterday and saw tulips and crocuses in bloom. I always mark first daffodil siting in my calendar, so that should be any day now. Whooo-wheee!

Lins and I would have been home by 6:30 St. Patrick's Day night -- I called that one right! Know thyself -- but we stopped for ice cream. Two cars. Same place we used to walk to in high school. We were laughing, though, when we left the restaurant where we sat iat the bar and watched people. Three Nuns were just coming in. Stay-out-later partyers than us.

I thought I had lost the ability to get Jonathan Schwartz on the radio on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Sarah knew how to do it, and saved my day again, so I was sitting here beginning to listen, wasting some time, when the very loaded "Moonglow" began to play. This is a trigger song for my family -- My Dad played it on the piano, even though he really didn't play piano, my Mom titled her spectacular reflections on widowhood, "It Must Have Been Moonglow," my brother had it played it at his wedding. It played at my Dad's funeral, too. It was their song and it became our song. I closed my eyes and listened to it Saturday -- to Benny Goodmans noodlings and doodlings and flourish. Music with tassels.

The happiness drew me in this time, instead of the grief.

The Clancys

Happy St. Patrick' Day, Erin Go Braugh from a girl named Greene on Friday. I'm catching up on paperwork, then delving into an idea during the afternoon with the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem carrying me on my annual trip through. Marley and Me is finally in for me at the library. I was number 400 on the reserve list. Hoping to go sit like Hekyl (sp?) and Jekyl with my friend Lins tonight and watch celebrators who will be more interested in March Madness basketball than all things green. We'll probably be home by 6:30. A holiday is many things to many people, and I love this one. It's changed for me over the years, but I'm always wearing my ring.

St. Patrick's Day Ring.

I've just shuffled breathlessly through my jewelry box looking for the ring I've worn St. Patrick's Day week since I was a sophomore in high school. Forty one years, if you're counting. Oh my. I found it, but not without a mini- time trip through green high school class ring and poor little wedding ring and Grandma Ethel's pin and Nana's bracelet and earrings that kept falling off my ears while I was giving an important presentation at the University of Nevada in Las Vegas. Good Giving Pandora of memories, the jewelry box. My father's cuff links! Little bronze baby shoes, because that's what he did for a living. Generations of stories to be told and remembered. That's the most valuable thing in my jewelry box. Noticing that was good luck already from my peeled enamel shamrock St. Patrick's Day ring.

Welcome Message

The Remembering Site makes it easy to write your story, but you'll probably have some thoughts you'd like to share while working on it. I do: thoughts about writing, about life, about what catches my eye, my head, my heart throughout the day. I'm writing my story on the Site, also. You can read it at the “Featured Biographies” link at www.TheRememberingSite.org. Think of me as your writing partner, and please check in.

Let this blog be your writers' retreat. -- D.G.