Tag: gratitude

Labor Day and Mood: Monday


Today’s mood is gratitude to everyone who works or who has worked to keep things going for all of us through the years, especially in 2020 and 2021. For those looking for work, I hope you find it. For those retired or unable to work, you contribute in more ways than you may realize. For those whose labor is unpaid or disrespected, I hope you know people who recognize your value. I’ve been in all of those categories at one time or another; I know it’s hard sometimes to keep on keeping on, yet you do it. Salute!

Continuing the 30 Days Idol Challenge.


September 6 — With kids ©Estate of Dennis Wilson
With his daughter and three sons in September 1983.

Outage plus an “r” is outrage

I’m doing this post on Thursday and dating it Wednesday, because Wednesday, our cable was out and we couldn’t get a tech here until today.

Wednesday, August 25, 2021

Since the cable is down, I’m spending the day writing and listening to music. Fortunately, I can still use my phone, although when I write, I’m constantly googling information, and that’s far more laborious on the phone than on the laptop I use for writing. Lynne even volunteered to do some research for me to confirm what I believed to be accurate but couldn’t check for myself. It’s funny how I’ll do hours of reading and research so one statement made by a character will be factual and not some shit I made up, even though I’m writing fiction.

Which reminds me…

Because the phone still connects me to the world, I enjoyed messaging with Lisa (the Night Nurse!) today. We talked about fun things like dogs and vacation trips, but we also talked about COVID, and not specific to COVID, but in general, people’s belief on many medical topics that they know more than healthcare professionals on things related to health.

Not all healthcare professionals agree on everything, and if you want to find a physician, nurse, or whatever, who agrees with your relatives on Facebook and all their conspiracy theories about virology and vaccinations, of course you can find them. You can find anything on the Internet or hear anything from opinionated talk shows and biased commentators; that doesn’t mean it’s true.

It matters to me in writing and in living what sources I use for information. For example, when it comes to gardening or things botanical, I talk to Lynne and James. That doesn’t mean I think they know everything about every plant in all places of the world, but they almost always know what I need to know.

With cars, I talk to Jim and Denece for the same reason. Both of them know their stuff when it comes to the things I want to know about cars.

When it comes to medicine, I listen to people in my life whose expertise comes from their education and experience, but who are also reasonable in other areas of life. They are not alarmists. Not prone to go off on tangents with no basis in facts or science. Nurses like Debby, Lisa, and David P, among others. Doctors like the ones I trust enough to pay to take care of me, and they’ve been cautious, proactive, informative, and calm about my healthcare for many years.

I’ve known healthcare workers and scientists in several fields, including immunology, virology, and contagious disease, and I trust them. Additionally, some of the people I know who use and practice non-traditional medicine are the first to say medical crises require traditional medical care. I always think back to this paraphrase from one of my teachers who practiced alternative medicine: If you think you broke your leg, don’t reach for essential oils or try to chant the pain away. Go to the emergency room for an X-ray, diagnosis, and cast.

I can’t imagine being a healthcare worker today, risking my own health, even my life, and the health and lives of my family, exhausted because of too many hours, too many staff reductions, and too many critically ill patients, only to need an escort from my hospital to my car so that I’m not assaulted for doing my job; or to hear propaganda and disinformation from sick people and their families as I’m trying to provide lifesaving or palliative care; or to be screamed at on social media because I’m doing what I was trained and educated to do. It blows my mind the bullshit and disrespect they’re dealing with.

The letter below says so much. I stand with the kinds of providers I met when I was an AIDS caregiver. They are professionals and deserve to be treated as such.

Continue reading “Outage plus an “r” is outrage”

Tiny Tuesday!

Today, as always on his birthday, we celebrate the life of our late friend Steve R. Most often I bake a very chocolate cake with chocolate frosting because he loved chocolate. REALLY loved it.


This year’s cake.


I put this framed poem and photo on my desk in 1992 after Steve died. If you can’t read it, it’s by Langston Hughes:

I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends,
Soft as it began–
I loved my friend.

Steve was a musician and conductor, and this photo was taken long before I knew him. He was on a trip to Spain with the University of Minnesota Marching Band, where as a graduate assistant, he helped conduct their performance. The small baton you see in the photo was part of a kit he ordered called “The Armchair Conductor.” Whenever he listened to classical music on Houston’s public radio or on cassettes, he would pick up the baton and, eyes closed, joyfully conduct, both at home and in the hospital.

I usually decorate the cake with small Winnie the Pooh figures because Steve also kept my gifts of a stuffed Pooh Bear and Piglet with him whenever he was hospitalized. (I still have those, too.) His doctor tucked the two of them into Steve’s arms while Geraldine and I held our friend’s hands on either side of him as he took his last breath.

To share in someone’s birth is a time of joy, but it is a profound honor to be with someone as s/he dies.

For me, one of the most distressing truths of the current pandemic is that many patients are dying without their loved ones with them to say, “I love you. Goodbye.” I feel gratitude beyond measure for all the medical workers who are saying goodbyes for those families (by birth and by choice) and friends, who connect them by telephone so they can speak to their loved ones, and who set up virtual visits by phone and tablets.

If you’re healthy, please consider reading about how to prepare for end-of-life care and decisions and what documents you should have in place. People avoid talking about death, but sharing your wishes and thoughts with your loved ones and your medical team is an opportunity for everyone to ensure that when the time comes to say goodbye, your preferences will be known and honored.

I learned many things from and because of Steve. How to say goodbye was one of the hardest, but it didn’t define us. As the years have passed, I’ve become even more aware of what a gift we shared with an honest and compassionate friendship, and there was always so much more laughter than tears.

I honor your birth and your life, Steve, today and every day. I hold you to that last promise you made to me, as I’ve kept–still keep–my promises to you.

Button Sunday


I’ve had these buttons for quite a while but was waiting for the right time to share them–and as it happened, that magical day falls on a Sunday.

First of all, it’s astonishing that I’m able to get out of Houston for an overnight trip to Austin, probably the Texas city I’m most disposed to like because I have a fondness for college towns, plus it’s the capital where one of the most colorful legislatures imaginable has entertained and appalled the state since the dawn of time. (See: Molly Ivins.)

I was here for the closing event of the Texas Book Festival, a discussion and presentation by Pete Souza. Souza was the Chief Official White House Photographer for President Obama and the Director of the White House Photo Office. He was also an Official White House Photographer for President Reagan.

I’ve featured a few of his photographs on my blog through the years because I was a devoted follower of his White House account on Flickr during President Obama’s eight years in office. I knew I’d miss him acutely after January 2017, but then he showed up on Instagram, where his account became an interesting point/counter point between events and attitudes of the current administration and the previous one. Almost immediately he was lauded for his ability to “throw shade,” a then-unfamiliar term to Souza but one at which he excels.

For almost two years he has provided not only a look back and a unique perspective on the present, but he and his Instagram followers make me feel hopeful about the future. Almost daily, I find myself disgusted, horrified, or ashamed because of this White House–and sadly, a majority of Congress, and Souza’s Instagram account is by turns funny, poignant, and healing.

Those are also the words I’d used to describe his presentation tonight. To be in a filled venue for one night with people who see things much the same way I do was a huge boost to my spirit. And the stories Pete Souza told from his intimate perspective of Barack Obama from his days in the Senate to his two terms in the White House–increased my respect and gratitude for such a leader and his family beyond anything I could have expected. President Obama’s interaction with the American people–whether children, our troops, anguished parents, excited voters–and with other leaders around the world speak so much to his character, grace, and intelligence.

But as Pete Souza has taught me, it’s not enough to look back. It’s not enough to look at current events through any lens but our own hearts and minds. WE MUST VOTE. Amidst all the noise and lies and diversions and ugliness, there is still goodness, still hope, still belief in the real American dream, not the one being distorted beyond recognition under coded language that is part of the worst of us.

Vote, and please vote for the best among us from the best within you.

And while you’re at it, get the new book:

and the first one:

World AIDS Day

This photo was the runner up to my Photo Friday “Twilight” theme. The red ribbon on the jacket of Eclipse has always reminded me of the years and years I made and handed out red ribbon pins to coworkers, friends, and strangers. This year, the red ribbon is packed away in storage. The newsletters I used to write, and the blog posts I used to publish, about HIV and AIDS are no longer necessary because if you are already using the Internet, you can find all the local resources and global information you want or need at your fingertips.

But for those of us with longer and more personal memories, this never stops being a day to reflect on those lost, hope for the best for those who still struggle, and feel gratitude for those who stay well thanks to the efforts and sometimes downright fury of the ones who went before them.

The theme of World AIDS Day this year is “Increasing Impact through Transparency, Accountability, and Partnerships.” One of many things AIDS/HIV has taught us is that we are stronger together, and that we must never be silent in the face of catastrophe. AIDS/HIV transcends borders, politics, race, religious belief, gender, sexuality, age, and national origin, and so must we in eradicating it.

And for the ones I love still–Steve R, Jeff C, John M, and Tim R–I continue to wear my red ribbon pin each year on December 1 in honor of them.

Transport Thursday


Deelite and her two puppies were with their foster mom for only two nights, but in every photo I have of her, Deelite is hugging her. She may be a little timid. Uncertain of what comes next. Finding it hard to say goodbye.

But mostly, this is gratitude, Deelite’s way of saying, “Thank you for saving us. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for letting me experience a quiet, loving place where I could be comfortable and know I was safe. Because of you, I know I’ll be okay. I’ll be able to accept the love and safety offered in my next home. You’ve taught me it’s okay to trust.”

Every bit of kindness a foster provides builds a dog’s sense of security and self-worth.

Five Days to Ponder


Let us live simply in the freshness of the present moment, in the clarity of pure awakened mind.
Matthieu Ricard

My mind is a constant storm of should be/should do/should think/should go. Sometimes that translates into action, sometimes not.

Often I impose structure by using this blog: for example, the year I wrote a poem each day from randomly drawn words; the year I used a family photograph each day to inspire me to record memories or events or observations about my relationships and life. This past year, I opted not to attempt a daily anything here, though I missed very few days of posting something, even if only a photo. Some months I participated in Photo A Day. Throughout the year I also featured books: favorite books, books authored by people I know, books that have meant something to me, books that I found fun, interesting, or insightful.

Also over the past year, I consciously cultivated an attitude of gratitude. For a while, I made daily entries in a gratitude journal (a real journal, not an online journal), and then I realized that I’d stopped because gratitude became ingrained in all my thinking–I no longer needed to write it to remember to feel it. I think that was, too, part of healing from the losses of 2012–and by that I don’t mean there is no more grief or sadness or yearning. Just that it is not as consuming. There is more breathing through it and accepting that it will ebb and flow.

Each year since I moved my blog here from LiveJournal, I’ve let the masthead reflect my purpose. A pile of Magnetic Poetry words. Old family photos scattered on the table. My take on My Ideal Bookshelf. For the past few days, I’ve been wondering what “theme” the new year will bring and how my masthead might show it.

The phrase that stays in my mind as I think about all this is “mindful living.” I keep stumbling over this concept with people I know or meet and with things I read or see. I’ve always believed a message or a lesson comes when you’re ready. But what makes this particularly challenging for me is that I feel it’s a journey I took in the latter half of the 1990s, and it led to a flowering of creativity. Then my energy and focus went in other directions. I don’t see that as bad or good, although certainly there will always be other people willing to tell me–to tell any of us!–You’re doing it wrong. (Tip: This is an ineffective way to motivate an Aries.)

I’m not sure what any of this means. The title of this post is my attempt to make myself feel that I have a deadline. To come up with a masthead. To come up with a purpose for keeping this little bit of the Internet alive. To come up with a plan to live mindfully. That seems a little silly and counter-intuitive: mindful living means being in the moment. Yet here I am trying to take on a whole new year. Maybe I won’t have a new masthead by January 1. Maybe no master plan will have unfurled in my mind.

And maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s enough just to be. And to know each day may bring a new way to be that I should welcome.

Photos: Sun catcher gift of David and Geri. Book gift of Brad. I’m grateful for both the gifts and the people.

Gratitude

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and always has been. It didn’t change in the years when I was far from friends and family. Or the years when there was barely enough money to scrape together a meal. It was my favorite during years when I was nursing heartache or dealing with loss or physical pain.

It has nothing to do with geography or history or ideology or any of those things.

For one day, I remind myself to put aside the busyness, the worries, the anxieties, and remember all that I have to be thankful for. I think of all the people I’ve known who, despite overwhelming challenges, cultivated grateful hearts. Gratitude is not based on circumstance or luck; it is something we teach ourselves, and it is possible–no matter what.

February Photo A Day: On Your Bedside Table

On my bedside table: a lamp, a coaster for water or coffee, and books, both electronic and old-school. I received the Neil Young memoir from Tim at Christmas, a great gift since I’m a longtime fan. That’s my Nook cover, and my current ebook is Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables, which I’m loving (had never read it before). I wish I could go all fangirl and write him a letter of praise and gratitude, but I guess he didn’t leave a forwarding address.

Prompt from FMS Photo A Day.