Tag: gratitude

Legacy Writing 365:222

In the very beginning of A Coventry Wedding, two strangers are brought together when they both try to help an abandoned dog. She’s described later by the local vet as a mix of bulldog, boxer, and American Staffordshire terrier, and her new human companion names her Sue because of the black ring around one of her eyes (like a Black-eyed Susan flower). In the acknowledgments, I thanked Jess and Laura for lending me their dog Sue as the model for my fictional Sue.

Jess and Laura got their Sue, an American bulldog, as a puppy.

She grew.

And grew.

And grew.

Then she grew some more.

I always loved dogsitting Sue and her brother Seig because it was understood: When Aunt Becky’s around, you may get crated when she’s gone for a while, but you always get to sleep in the bed with her at night. This was a novelty for Sue, who sometimes had a little trouble hefting herself onto the bed (but I taught her a trick or two to make it easier). I loved her big, slobbery smile.

When Sue knew she was in trouble, she’d always give you a wide berth and the side eye, as if to say, “I have NO idea what you’re talking about, and you’re very, very mean to scold me.”

But mostly, she just liked to relax in the middle of chaos, knowing her favorite people and dog buddies were all around her.

Everyone at The Compound is very sad for Jess, Laura, and Lila that Sue has gone to join Seig at the Rainbow Bridge. It’s always painful to lose a beloved dog; their family has lost two within two months. We will miss you, Sue, and we send you on your way with lots of love and gratitude for good times we had with you.

Thank you, gray skies


Do you see this? Do you know what you’re seeing? Yes, it’s a daisy, but that’s not what I mean. It’s a daisy with RAIN on it. Real rain. From the sky. The sky that has been giving us gentle rains off and on for hours. After months of almost no rainfall–and when it did rain, it’d almost always be a short blast that went away quickly and turned the environment into a sauna–this persistent light rain is so welcome. Except to Rex and Margot.

Speaking of Margot… Writer ‘Nathan Burgoine is having a contest. If you photograph your animal with any book by an author with whom ‘Nathan appears in an anthology and give him the link to the photo on your blog, FB, Twitter, whatever, you’ll be eligible to win a FREE BOOK. He explains it all better than I do in the contest link I provided above. I’m disqualifying myself from winning Fool For Love (I seem to have several copies already), but as examples, I give you:

Margot hiding from the rain by staying in bed with Felice Picano’s wonderful Like People in History. Felice’s short story in Fool For Love is “Gratitude.”


Guinness is not hiding from the rain, she’s always this lazy, and who wouldn’t want to curl up with Paul Lisicky’s Lawnboy? Paul’s story in Fool For Love is “Two Tales.”

‘Nathan’s story in Fool For Love is “Heart.”

30 Days of Creativity 2011, Day 30

This is it–my last post for 2011’s 30 Days of Creativity. I hope you’ve enjoyed some of the things I’ve created. I feel like I did a lot more this year than last year. Once again, I spent several days away from home during the month (last year I was in Arkansas; this year, Houston’s suburbs, which sometimes seem equally as far away), presenting a bit of a creative challenge. Unlike last year, I took a ton of stuff out to Green Acres with me and set up a creativity sweatshop, since it was just me and dogs in the house. Thanks, Lynne, for providing the space. Thanks Sue, Seig, Minute, and Paco for protecting me and keeping me company.

Thanks everyone for all the comments and emails and interest and sometimes assistance. It makes it more fun when people react to whatever crazy thing I create on any given day. Thank you, 30 Days of Creativity, for providing this activity and a place to show our work. I’ve found a lot of new creative people thanks to you!

I have a vivid memory of a road in the small town where my father grew up. It seemed endless to me as a child, that road from my grandfather’s house to the hospital where he spent the last days of his life. I was under the age of permitted visitors, but my mother insisted the rules be broken and I be allowed in to see Papa. My parents knew he didn’t have long to live; he was ninety-six, and his heart was finally wearing out. I was the last grandchild, and I adored him, and my parents always helped me remember stories about how he loved me.

Papa had been mostly non-responsive for a couple of days, but the first evening we made that long drive and went inside his room, my father told him that he and my mother were there. My grandfather stirred; it was as if he’d been waiting for this, his youngest and much loved son to arrive. Then my mother said, “Papa, Becky’s here.” My grandfather turned his head, opened his eyes, and seemed to stare at me. I smiled and waved at him. I don’t know if he could see me, but I’d like to think he did.

One thing I remember about that road in my father’s hometown was the 3M plant. It’s such a small town that any industry was significant–the lifeblood of the community. Decades later, though I’m sure many 3M plants have shut down or relocated, that one is still there. Whenever I see a 3M product, I think of that little town so rich in memories for my family and me. Needless to say, when 3M was generous enough to send some of the 30 Days participants a package full of Scotch products, and I was one of those lucky enough to be on the list, I was thrilled. Scotch asked only that the recipient try to find a way to use the products for the “Plaid”-themed day, which was June 23. Unfortunately, my package didn’t arrive in time.

So I decided to end this month with a reminder that even internationally known companies can mean all the difference in the world to the economy of little towns, and to offer my gratitude to 3M not only as a 30 Days creator, but as the little girl who once noticed the lights of your buildings on a long, dark road.


Repurposed photos, magazine cuttings, gift wrap, and Scotch product packaging in my Paper Doll Homage to Plaid collage.

(Click here to view larger version on black background.)

Free stuff: Amazing!

Just in time for Derby weekend

My friend–actually more a member of my chosen family–Paul has written a script and is producing a movie, Brilliant Mistakes. You can read more about it here, and if you’ve ever wanted to be part of the film industry, giving a contribution will provide you that opportunity.

I was lucky enough to be asked for my input on the script, which I happily provided–that’s another way to make a contribution, right? And today I was totally surprised by this gesture of Paul’s gratitude, a wonderful cup from Tea Horse Studio. Now I’m not saying Paul can give you ALL a present like this one if you contribute. But he can make a terrific movie for you! So pony up!

Don’t worry if you think any donation you could make is small–as we all know, a lot of so-called “small” contributions can change the world–or can make a movie, and that movie may change the world. Or it may at least make people consider getting OFF THEIR PHONES when they drive, and aren’t we all wishing that would happen?

Thank you so much, Paul, and I wish you great success.

Magnetic Poetry 365:70

As you know, every day for a year, I plan to draw random words from my collection of Magnetic Poetry words and write a poem. Today, I’m doing something different. I follow director Chris Weitz on Twitter. He’s offering to donate a thousand dollars to earthquake/tsunami relief efforts in the name of whoever sends him the best haiku.

So today, I searched for specific words. Whether or not my haiku is the “best” doesn’t matter. I wanted to show my gratitude toward Chris for his generosity and for the way he’s encouraging people to express their feelings and reactions creatively. I’m for anything that encourages creativity.

In a larger sense, my haiku is a thank you to everyone who helps every day, whether it’s financially or physically or emotionally. In an age when we are constantly bombarded by information showing people’s worse selves, most people’s better selves are taking care of the world and its inhabitants.

A perhaps silly and random bit of happiness

You know how there are breakups, bad breakups, and then breakups that are so catastrophic to your nervous system that you wonder if you’ll actually survive?

I’ve had only one of those Category 3 breakups, and I remember a lot of being led around by other people in the aftermath. I made some dreadful decisions and choices and failed to do a lot of right things. But I did survive, and it was all so long ago that I rarely think about it anymore. I’ve had a lot of wonderful, intense life in the interim, and at some point everyone deserves to forgive herself for her stupidity and bad judgment.

Tuesday I discovered a certain TV show thanks to Netflix and while watching an episode or two of it, one of the actors kept tickling my memory banks. Then a name came to me, a name I hadn’t thought of in years and probably couldn’t have remembered if I’d tried. The actor in this show reminded me of a person I met during the post-Category 3 period.

One night friends took me to a bar–in Auburn, Alabama, of all places; boy, was I out of my territory–and I kept catching a tall, somewhat lanky guy watching me. He was cute and looked good leaning against the wall of the bar, beer in hand. Considering the breakup I’d just been through, however, my reaction was to ask my friends if we could leave. Immediately. Instead, they invited him to join us. And he was a super, super nice guy. Smart. In graduate school in one of the more mathematical/scientific fields. (I was a graduate student in English at the time–rival university, of course.) Anyway, we went out a few times, and there was no way he could avoid hearing some of my shell-shocked back story. And it was fine, because he was recently divorced. He hadn’t wanted the divorce. It was obvious he was still in love with her.

In time, he suggested that I might be getting too serious about him, and geography and where we both were in our lives made that not such a great idea. I could have laughed and told him there was no danger of that; I was still way too emotionally invested in the relationship I’d so recently lost. But sometimes it’s better just to go with grace; not all truths have to be told. So it ended gently, no hard feelings, not even a Category 1. I doubt that I’ve thought of him more than half a dozen times in the years since, and then always with gratitude that he was a gentleman who never said or did an unkind thing to me. He was a reminder that men of his caliber existed at a time when I needed to believe it.

When his name came to mind because of the TV show, on a whim, I googled him. It’s not an uncommon name, so I wasn’t too hopeful. But I found him almost instantly, including photos, because he’s part of a group of people drawn together by a somewhat adventurous, outdoorsy pastime, and one of those people blogs. And I was THRILLED when this blogger also mentioned Mr. Gentleman’s wife’s name–because hers IS an unusual name, and it lets me know that he and his ex got back together.

She must have realized he’s a keeper. I hope they’ve had years and years of happiness with each other.

Art and More Art

I’m excited because I just bought a piece of art, and I’m looking forward to its arrival. I’ve also got a piece on hold that I’m buying for a friend’s birthday. I can’t buy as often or as many pieces as I’d like, but it feels good to support creativity; it provides me or my intended recipient with something unique; and I know how great it feels when people buy my stuff!

Today I was putting some more work on my art pages when I realized that all the paintings I recently added had vanished. My web host must have had some kind of seizure. All is right again, and if you’re ever interested in seeing what’s new from me, on the left sidebar of my LJ home page, you can see links to One Word Art, True Colors, and a page of my other works.

It’s NOT TOO EARLY to pick out holiday presents, you know!

Last week’s Work of Art on Bravo was about opposites. I decided to shoot a couple of photographs (and thank you kindly, Kathy S, for being my model!):


(click here to see a larger version on a black background)

“Fists and Palms”

I shot tight fists versus open hands as a metaphor for opposites: stinginess and generosity. People speak of giving without expectation; I think such a quality is almost impossible for us. We clutch, we grasp, we want. We may not ask or expect to be repaid in kind, but we hope, perhaps for love, approval, friendship, gratitude, kindness, companionship, respect.

Often it seems the person who protests the most passionately that he or she gives without expectation most wants or needs repayment. A gift becomes an attempt at emotional leverage, and trust is replaced by fear of loss.

To see other contributors’ work, check out the Work of Art blog.