In her own word, Judy Dench

 "Don’t prioritise your looks my friend, as they won’t last the journey.

Your sense of humor though, will only get better with age.

Your intuition will grow and expand like a majestic cloak of wisdom.

Your ability to choose your battles, will be fine-tuned to perfection.

Your capacity for stillness, for living in the moment, will blossom.

Your desire to live each and every moment will transcend all other wants.

Your instinct for knowing what (and who) is worth your time, will grow and flourish like ivy on a castle wall.

Don’t prioritise your looks, my friend,

they will change forevermore, that pursuit is one of much sadness and disappointment.

Prioritise the uniqueness that make you you, and the invisible magnet that draws in other like-minded souls to dance in your orbit.

These are the things which will only get better."

Banned Books

The ABCs of Book Banning, now showing on Paramount Plus, was produced and directed by a woman in her eighties, Sheila Nevins, winner of  32 Prime Time Emmys.

In an interview with Scott Simon on NPR this morning, Nevins said something like this: 

 "If you want your children to grow up to  be just like you and you have a narrow world view, you may want to be sure your children have the exact same world view you do, not to encounter anything that challenges it...."

Nevens was inspired by a hundred-year-old woman who's fighting to stop book banning.  In a very clear and powerful voice, this centenarian activist tells about her late husband who died in WWII.  "He fought and died for the Constitution and freedom.  One of the freedoms he fought for is the freedom freedom to read what we want to read, including these books that are now being banned." 

Children featured in The ABCs of Book Banning  are incredibly articulate in expressing their anger and confusion,  that books they want to read are no longer available in their Florida school libraries--books like The Kite Runner, Diary of Anne Frank, The Handmaid's Tale, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Life of Rosa Parks.  (Over 2000 books have been banned in classrooms and libraries in Florida and other states.) 

Here's the interview: https://www.npr.org/programs/weekend-edition-saturday/

So what are some of  the narrow world views that many adults do not want to disrupt or challenge?

That all our ancestors were good and noble people?  Nothing evil was ever done by them? That they played no part in slavery? 

That our amiable ancestors sat down with the Native Americans for a friendly Thanksgiving feast?

That America is a Christian nation, and Christianity the only viable religion?

That reading about gay or trans people will influence their children to be gay or trans?

That the Holocaust never happened?

As a former English teacher, I remember so many lively conversations with high school and college students about books that are now on the banned books list. I am shocked and infuriated that current students will be denied these mind-expanding books. 

Gratitudes

A few days ago, Luci and I went on adventure--a walk through North Star Mall, from one end to the other and down the Penney's wing.  I was shopping for a shower curtain, but also testing the ability of my feet to do the whole mall. 

The first half was fun, seeing the stores and kiosks I hadn't seen since before COVID and knee surgery.  Build a Bear and the Lego store gave me a bit of a pang: those pre-Christmas and pre-birthday shopping  days are over, now the kids want money for dates and clothes and car parts. 

The second half was painful and I wondered if we'd make it all the way back from Dillards to Macy's.  Luci sensed the exact moment the fire in my feet flared and started licking them vigorously. Even though it doesn't help, I am grateful for a furry little healer who thinks it will.  She slowed her pace to match mine, glancing up every few steps as if to say, "Are you okay?" 

At that exact moment, Jocelyn called and accompanied me by phone, as I hobbled back to the car vowing that this would be my last mall adventure.   I was grateful for the company of both, Jocelyn and Luci. 

I am grateful to Janet for finding Luci for me at SNIPSA--and for her willingness, along with Will's family, to keep her when I need to travel sans doggie. 

I am grateful for online shopping.  Any minute. now, I'm expecting Amazon to deliver my pre-let birch tree, two books, and a bath mat. 

In my newly painted bathroom, the only pictures on the wall are gifts from Betty and Nellie.  Nellie and I met our junior year of high school when my family moved to Lawrenceville.  Betty and I met in kindergarten in Cochran.  

Three little framed cards, watercolored houses, remind of a trip with Betty when she saw me looking at the cards and bought them.  The print of Nellie's painting reminds me of a trip when she visited Texas, 2016.  

It's kind of ironic that my bathroom is adorned with gifts from two of my oldest friends, the only two in two high schools combined who are still friends. 

I'm grateful for the unseen technology that brings us AC, heat, electricity, telephones, internet, and hot water. For toothpaste, tape, books, Thai food, and reliable cars.  For memories, art supplies, and warm socks.

I'm thankful for what sanity, intelligence, and kindness remain in this world's insanity. 

And for the play house in which I live, I'm so grateful to my parents who gave it to me as a Christmas present 25 years ago. 

As my daddy always said, "Keep the main thing the main thing." The people in my life, blood-related or otherwise-- are always the main things.  

Whenever anyone asks Carlene how she's lived such a long and healthy life, her answer is, "Gratitude."  She has lost so many beloved people, including her parents, all three of her brothers, one of them when he was only ten, her oldest grandson Canaan in March, almost all her same-age friends, and the love of her life, my daddy.  From Carlene, I've learned many things.  Here are two that I think about every day:

1. Gratitude for those with whom you've shared  many years and memories--including those who are no longer physically present. 

2. "Everything is tuition"--closely akin to gratitude. No mistake or regret escapes this net--as we learn from every single thing that happens. 

Paying Attention

In the last five years, I have learned so much about various arts and crafts:  

I can now read the color wheel and know the difference between cool and warm colors.  I know that mixing cools and warms can make muddy brown. 

Transferring botanicals to the gel plate has wowed me-- the tendrils and veins of leaves. Feathers.  Grasses.  

Turning color photos into high contrast black and white photos has reminded me of the skills I learned in photography classes, editing to increase or decrease contrast, shadows, and exposure.  I will soon show you how this relates to gel printing images captured in a photograph. 

I now know how to fold signatures to make a book--and so many ways to bind books with threads and string and tapes.  

I love the way water colors move around on the wet page and bleed playfully into other colors.

The light on houses and trees and people in early morning and late afternoon (the golden hours) has inspired me to take pictures again.

This list could go on and on and on.  While the actual products made are few and far between, it's a pleasure to play as often as I can.

What I'm learning is of absolutely no value to anyone but myself.  

Occasionally I make something I deem worthy of a gift or hanging on my walls.  But for the most part, it's learning that enriches my days.  I am free to explore, to poke around, and to try new things, just for the joy of it.

It's a thrill to master anything. Occasionally, that happens. 

Nurturing creativity just makes life way more fun, more interesting.  It connects me with other people who do the same.  And it changes how I pay attention--and to what I pay attention.  

The poet Mary Oliver wrote:

Instructions for living a life: 

Pay attention,

Be astonished.

Tell about it. 

This morning, I was walking Luci around the block, when she suddenly pulled me in a different direction.  It was as if she were saying, "You're not the boss of me; we're going that way...." I followed her lead.

Since I was gathering leaves for mono printing, it turned out her route had different leaves than the ones I'd seen on the usual walk.  Maybe she knew what I was doing and wanted to point out some good leaves?

Up comes the scruffy little black dog who roams freely around the neighborhood.  They gave each other the canine version of Namaste, then Luci continued leashed and the black dog trotted away. 

I wished Luci could have that freedom.  I try to give her as much freedom as I can and watch her noticing smells and strangers. 

I've spent the morning pressing leaves and feathers into the gel plate.  Some of the results were muddy messes.  Some were almost astonishing.  I'm telling you about it. 

Grandmotherly tidbits

My friend Edward's painting and repairing a few things.  A week or so ago, I sat down on the bathroom floor and started to do the painting myself and realized that painting is now clearly outside my wheel house.  

Anticipating company in January has inspired me to finish up a string of never-ending  house and yard projects. 

Meanwhile, in Virginia, Lovebirds Day and Tom, empty nesters, dating again while their boys are away at college.  

In Helotes, Elena--who loves all living things, big and small, human and otherwise, adores her baby cousin, Tru:

Pam and I are going tomorrow night to see Nathan inducted into the National Honor Society. He's been pretty mum about his girlfriend, but I'm hoping to get a chance to meet her during the holidays.

Big Magic

Day sent Carlene and me copies of Liz Gilbert's (of Eat, Pray, Love fame) book on creativity--it's called Big Magic. 

I'm early into it this beautiful Sunday afternoon, but already it's prompting me to get moving in the direction of "what calls to my heart."

What separates a "mundane" from an "enchanted" life, she says, is the courage to seek for the hidden gems buried in our psyches.  

Joy creates wonderful scenes on canvases, many of which become illustrations for children's books.  What a powerful thing it is to enrich the minds and hearts of children with whimsical  animals, people, plants, trees and moons!  We've all been shaped in some way by the pictures we "read" long before we could read the actual words beside them. 

Several of  my friends have published books and exhibited their work--also their "play." What a grand thing that is!    

Liz Gilbert asks, "What is a creative life?"  

She answers that question like this: It's the "relationship between a human being and the mysteries of inspiration." 

While fear is all around (and within) us in these turbulent times, so are countless things to be amazed by, dazzled and delighted by.  It's our job to find them.

The DNA of a snob

I may have tracked down a few clues to Luci's genetic composition.  After a conversation with a young man at the nail salon today, I feel pretty sure she's part dachshund.

But first, the back story:

Sometimes when Carma comes to visit, Luci is extraordinarily rude: she hides behind me and refuses to acknowledge her exuberant tail-wagging guest.  Carma  kisses her friend and begs her to play, but Luci refuses. Sometimes she can't resist kissing her back, but it's a quick go-away-now kiss, then she returns to her solitude behind me, or worse: she jumps into Jan's lap. 

Jan and I are mystified.  Does Luci need therapy? Jan wonders. Is she perhaps a tiny bit neurotic?

I feel like a bad mama on those days.  Have I raised an ill-mannered dog?  IS she neurotic?  

For me, voted "friendliest" in my senior year of high school, I'm not sure what to do when Luci finds it beneath her to be friendly! 

Everywhere she goes, she charms the humans who meet her.  Everyone, even Carma, loves her.  So why does she pointedly refuse to show Carma some love?

The young man at the nail salon raises dachshunds.  He told me it's the sweetest of breeds, "But they can be snobs, especially to other dogs.  They act like they think they're better than other canines."  

Someone has finally named Luci's snobby behavior Snubbing other dogs is a characteristic of otherwise-lovely dachshunds.  As a dog mama, I feel vindicated!  It's in her blood! 

I could hardly wait to text Jan with this news....

To which Jan replied: "Carma says, Harrumph. But what can a dog expect in Alamo Heights but to live next to a snob next door? Nevertheless, she's inviting Luci for a walk in a few minutes if she's interested."

In the course of this day, strangers have guessed her breed as (1) a miniature Collie, (2) "one of them dogs like the queen likes, oh yeah, a Corgie," (3) a Sheltie, and (4) "a weenie dog."   Turns out she's still a mutt, a mutt with a strain of 09er dachshund.  

Going off to school!

You might not have met a nonagenarian who says, "I love being 98!" 

But this is what Nana said to Day--in spite of a few physical challenges that began four years ago when she totaled her car:

"One foot points to Lawrenceville, the other toward Buford," she says of her crooked leg that has gradually turned outward since the crash.  

Before, and even for a while after the accident, she continued to walk--three miles a day in her early nineties. Now she needs a cane or an arm to walk steadily.  She rides her bike on the porch twenty minutes a day. 

Due to circulation issues in her feet and legs, she's getting used to support hose.

She still drives to the beauty shop, church, and nearby stores.  She says to me, "This is your car, but you can't have it until I'm through with it." She wonders if she can still get her drivers' license when she's 100.

I always call her when I first get up.  This morning, she said, "I'm so excited I feel like I'm going off to school." Her sense of humor isn't going anywhere. 

She even laughs about her feet.  Showing Day and me her hammer toes one night, she said, "Let's play 'This Little Piggy Went to Market' and look at these toes!  These little piggies went to market and got all beat up!"

So if you haven't met a nonagenarian who loves being one, let me introduce you to my amazing mama as she makes the kind of move we might all be lucky enough to make if we live into our nineties. The body may play tricks on us, but--if can keep our minds intact--we can still be who we are, just needing a little help with the inconvenient physical changes!  

As I tell her every day, she is modeling for all us younger people accepting the changes when they come.

Here we are at the Presbyterian Village in Watkinsville looking at one of the apartments and talking to Edward, the chef there.  All we have to do now is await an opening on the third floor. 

Speaking of grace....

Carlene, at 98, has decided to get in the queue for an assisted living home just a few miles from Bob and Jocelyn.  While I was in Georgia last week, we toured the place she's chosen and were impressed with all it has to offer.

All these years she's been taking care of her three-bedroom house and beautiful yard, and she's ready for a change.  Moving will free her from home maintenance and give her time to write, listen to music and meet new friends--while still being close enough for her Lawrenceville friends to visit.

I'm always amazed at how gracefully she makes decisions.  She knows that "when the time is right," she'll know.  On Friday night she wrote, "If and when God takes me, I don't want to have dishwater on my hands; I just want to hand Him my gratitude journal." 

Seeing her sister's homey apartment inspired her, too.  With her own furniture and decor, she will make her new space  feel like home, too. 

 Now we just have to wait for an opening and I'll be going back more often to help with the transition. 

Grace

Mary Locke, Freda, and Bonnie treated me to a delicious lunch at Cappy's for my October birthday that stretched out until everyone was home at the same time. 

I want to share this poem Freda gave me by San Antonio poet, Martha Grant.  She self-published a book of her poems for her friends on her 75th birthday.  

Grace

Grace has no manners and she isn't choosy.

When she decides it's time for a visit

she stops what she is doing

and expects you to do the same. 

She never calls first to ask if it's convenient.

When she arrives at your doorstep,

She doesn't care that you might be

on the toilet or in the shower

or on a ladder changing lightbulbs.

What she lacks in manners and consideration,

she makes up for in enthusiasm.

It is hard not to appreciate her good intentions,

But that comes later. Much later.

After you've fallen off the ladder, say,

spent months sidelined with a broken leg,

reading, writing, learning to knit,

maybe even to meditate. Only then

might you think thank her for

her visitation upon you, for

loosening the middle rung of the ladder

when your back was turned.