Where seeds of thought have room to grow
Category: Of Life and Love
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Music by Steppenwolf and Jimi Hendrix, stories about a romance kindled by a wet T-shirt contest, interspersed with traditional Catholic readings and blessings … the funeral this afternoon wasn't typical, by any means. But that's only right, isn't it? We're all individuals with distinct personalities. I think it's only fitting that our funerals should reflect…
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I've been spinning through emotions the past few days. Sunday evening I was still floating in air over having Shake Russell fill my house with his beautiful music when I got a call that a dear friend's ex-husband had died, killed in a motorcycle accident that afternoon. My heart aches for her – even though…
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A friend emailed me yesterday, wishing me a happy belated birthday, and explaining that she was late because one day in late March "I was going to work when a 22 old girl ran a red light and hit me. She never even looked so no brakes were applied so I got the whole slam. I am…
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Music takes me by the hand and leads me places. Most of the time I enjoy the journey but sometimes a song will take me to a place or time I’ve tried to forget. Yesterday morning I settled in at my drums for my one-song-a-day ritual. Earplugs in place, I pushed the button on my…
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Another birthday has rolled around somehow. Fifty-one just seems anti-climatic, doesn't it? Not nearly as exciting as fifty, but still just as unreal. Age really is just a number … now I understand. For years I've taken my Birthday-Day off to spend as I please, a gift for myself. Tom often takes the day off,…
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Eggs … signs of new life …spring … rebirth … What a perfect symbol of Easter! And what a perfect gift from a grandmother to a grandchild … a symbol of the cycle of life. Every Easter for years and years my mother gave each of her grandchildren one of these beautiful hand-painted eggs. I…
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Yeah, yeah, I know. Chores, lists, bills, a book, all waiting for me, starving for attention, calling my name like a bunch of squabbling kids as soon as I step through the door. I ignore them – I'm getting good at that. Actually, I think I've always been good at that. Instead, I call the…
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Bridget Shallue was just 52, barely older than I am now and already a widow, when she said goodbye to Ireland in 1852 with her grown children…chased away by the potato famine, I'm sure. If she ever returned, it isn't mentioned in the family lore. Accompanied by two daughters and two sons, Bridget arrived…
Long Hollow 