THOROUGHLY MODERN GRANDMAS

Though still as loving, still as kind and gentle, still as beautiful as they were in days of yore…

today’s grandmas are a different breed than the grandmas who came before.

Although they still share some similarities…the love they freely give…that twinkle in their eye…

the ways we use to think of grandmas…those old cliches…

to modern grandma’s don’t apply…

Grandmas of old were called Grandma…only Grandma…

at least all the grandmas I ever knew…

today we call them Nana, Gigi, Oma and YaYa just to name a few. 

Grandmas were once characterized sitting in rocking chairs, 

smiling crocheting with other grandmas…their needles kept neatly in a tin…

Today’s grandmas still smile while they sing and dance 

and now…rock any chair they happen to be sitting in. 

Grandmas were known for baking cookies…and driving slow…like they were in a coma…

Today’s grandmas still bake awesome cookies but drive like they’re at Indianapolis or Daytona.

Grandmas were once depicted as old ladies…wearing glasses with their white hair in a bun…

Today’s grandmas let their hair down…and are all about the fun.

We didn’t think old grandmas ever took a drink…

they were too busy knitting…or talking to one another

Today’s grandmas can be found with a cocktail in one hand

and their grand-baby in the other.

Yes, although modern grandmas some new skills and behaviors have amassed

they still share some important qualities…with our grandmas of the past.

Nothing will ever replace the feeling of a Grandma’s hug 

or wonder of a Grandma’s smile…

and love, generosity and caring will never go out of style.

We learned this from our old grandmas…

saw the love and the magic in their resolve….

and isn’t it wonderful to see in our modern grandmas

how that love and magic has evolved.

 

HOW I WOKE THIS MORNING

 

I woke this morning thinking about how behind the counter of a bookstore is a unique and wonderful place to see…the country that we truly are…and our diversity.

I woke thinking how I'm blessed to see people of all shapes and sizes, all colors, sexual preferences and ethnicity…

a cornucopia of couples holding hands…every conceivable kind of family.

I woke thinking about all the people who wear their religion on their backs…

a characteristic I applaud 

as I watch a variety of people with a variety of beliefs happily praising their God.

I woke thinking when I leave the confines of the bookstore how wonderful it is to meet…

that same wonderful variety of people walking with me on the street.

In the bookstore…along the street…as I travel near and far…

I woke thinking this is the America I love…

this, I believe, is who we are!

I know there are people that don’t agree with me…

some people out there who …

call my thinking ‘woke’…

as if ‘woke’ is a destructive and damaging point of view….

It is not!

It means being alert and aware of our diversity and trying to understand….

the prejudices and injustices that have occurred 

and still occur across our land.

It’s wanting to stop these injustices…to any human…

no matter what…no matter who…

which means when it comes to making our country great …

we still have work to do.

I imagine it all starts when we wake up…

for once awake…we can begin….

to create a world where no matter who we are 

we try to help each other win.

Where we all go to sleep at night…

having tried to fix the things we've broke…

and rise to a diverse and beautiful world….

where everyone is woke.

MY FAMILY

I think and write about them often…

but how would I define my family?

Are we a novel that adds a new chapter everyday…

or an endless ever-changing symphony?

As I’ve observed my family for 70 years…

enduring our losses….cherishing our growth…

I imagine the answer to what is my family…

is a little bit of both.

Each day my family pens another page of our story

an adventure, to us, divine…

It might be filled with laughter, tears, joy or sorrow…

as our characters intertwine.

Each day my family adds another sheet of music

some new lyrics or a melody…

that, in spite of our varied notes and styles

creates its own harmony.

Yes, each day I am blessed to be a member of this family

to read another page or listen to our ever-changing melody.

To be part of a family that to this day is magically transcending….

our story…never finished….

our music…never ending. 

LONGEVITY

 

On his 100th birthday celebration surrounded by his family…

he was asked, ‘what is the secret to your longevity?’

He was silent for a moment…they thought, perhaps, he was too weak…

“First of all,” he finally smiled, “I like to think before I speak.”

“How I’ve lived to be 100…well, that’s anybody’s guess…

perhaps the best answer I can give is…it comes down to more and less.”

“I don’t think there is a secret,” he continued, “to this long life that I’ve had.”

“I suppose, throughout my years…I’ve had more good luck than I’ve had bad.”

“I’ve been lucky in my life to have more ups than I’ve had downs

I laugh more than I cry…I smile more than I frown.”

“I have more friends than enemies…I listen more than I talk…

When life makes me feel like running…I find more reasons to walk.”

“I love more than I hate…I create more then I destroy…

When sorrow touches my life…I try to find more reasons for joy.”

"It’s not always an easy journey…riding on Fate’s wings…

but I try to find more reasons to dance…and look for more reasons to sing.”

“I think of each day more as an adventure and less an arduous climb.

where I’m on the lookout for more love, 

more joy and more happiness…one day at a time.” 

“Finally I play more than I work…and I’m always looking for a way

To discover more love and happiness today…than if found yesterday.”

Living to be 100…is indeed special…when I think about it I’m amazed..

but it is less about the number days I’ve lived…

and more about how I’ve lived those days…

ICE CREAM

 

As I was checking out a father at the bookstore his son began to talk to me…

before I finish…I think it’s time for a little history…

For 39 years I taught Autistic students…a career that was as wonderful as it was long…

My job was to help my students, in spite of their weakness…find what made them strong.

I had successes…I had failures…each made me more compelled…

to see their Autism not as something we needed to ignore…

nor as a place we needed to dwell.

I think the moment I became a good teacher was the moment I learned to see…

not the label but the person who was staring back at me.

I return often to that moment when my understanding and my empathy grew…

for not only did it make me a better teacher…but a better person too.

Which brings me back to the young man talking to me…he was wildly gesturing with is hands…his speech was mostly unintelligible…impossible to understand.

So I listened even harder…his eyes I tried to meet…and when he finished I said,

“Sure…it’s on the corner…just across the street.”

His dad’s eyes widened…his mouth dropped even as he continued paying…

“You mean to tell me you understood…” he asked, “everything my son was saying?”

“Oh God no!” I smiled. “My hearing’s not that good.”

but I believe I heard him mention ‘ice cream’ and those two words I understood.”

The father smiled as I handed him his book…his transaction was complete…

then he and his son headed out the door…to the ice cream shop across the street.

And once again I thanked my Autistic students…

for helping me discover a way…

to look a little closer 

and listen a little harder 

to what people are trying to say.

AN ARTIST IS CREATED

 

I believe some people are born artists

to be an artist…they are fated…

while in others, not so destined, an artist is created:

She gave her parents a portrait she had drawn

a portrait of her family…

The three of them smiling, holding hands

next to their house and a tall green tree.

She had filled her page with color

they thought…what a beautiful sight

from the individual green blades of grass 

to the yellow sun…shining bright.

“It’s so beautiful!” Her parents said. 

“You even captured our expressions!”

From the moment she gave it to them

it became a prized possession.

For a while it hung on their refrigerator

for their friends and family to see.

ehere they would marvel at her choice of colors

and her use of symmetry.

Until the day her parents took it down

and joyfully exclaimed,

“This is such a beautiful piece of art…it’s time to get it framed.”

It has hung on their wall ever since.

Even now when their daughter visits she’s elated…

as she remembers that day…

all those years ago

when an artist was created.

FOOTPRINTS ON THE PIER

 

Although we walked quite early this morning

when we reached the marina it was clear…

people had walked before we did…

they left their footprints on the pier.

The only time we see these footprints

is in the early morn…pre-dawn…

because once the warmth of the sun hits the pier

these footprints will be gone.

And I had to smile as I found myself

tracing different footprints there and here….

thinking how we cannot judge a person

by their footprints on a pier.

We can’t tell if it’s a woman or a man

the color of their skin

their religion

their nationality

if they are gay or straight…or queer,,,

none of these can be determined from their footprints on the pier.

The more I walked in other people’s footprints…

footprints in all shapes…big and wide and small…

the more I thought those things we deem important…

really shouldn’t matter much at all.

What if all that should matter to us

is that a person is loving and generous and kind…

because ultimately 

won’t we all be judged

by the footprints we leave behind?

ELASTICITY

 

One of my favorite qualities about love…when it comes to family

would have to be the strength of its bond…and its elasticity.

A family is constantly changing…much like our Mother Earth

It changes with each death…it changes with each birth.

It transforms a little every day as each day the Earth revolves…

Always shifting, always changing…this is how a family evolves.

Through all its changes…which can be as unpredictable as the weather

there is this unbreakable bond of love that holds the family together.

Once the children grow up and move away…on whatever path they take

our bond of love will stretch with them…but never will it break.

Although as parents we love it when we are all together…we want our children and grandchildren to know….our bond of love will stretch with them…wherever they may go.

As parents we spend most of our lives with our bonds stretched wherever our family roams…so we treasure the moments the family resumes it’s normal shape…when our children come back home.

That happened for us at Amy and Ryan’s wedding…as parents we couldn’t help but smile…our family all together again…if only for a little while.

We celebrated for two days…also with two nieces and one nephew

and some friends that long ago became a part of our family too

Our celebration ended at a breakfast…with laughter and hugs…

celebrating a moment so grand…

then watching as our bonds of love once again stretched out across the land.

We were glad we had this moment together 

to celebrate and spend as a family…

filled with joy at the strength of our family’s love…

and it’s elasticity.

ARHYTHMIC DANCING

 

After a wedding reception spent dancing…

hours my rhythm spent pursuing

I decided to look up the definition of dancing…

to see if that’s what I was doing.

The first definition is to move rhythmically to music…

but if you saw the the dance I was attacking…

you’d say how much you loved the music…

but my rhythm was sorely lacking.

The next definition is to move up and down lightly and quickly 

but I’ll have you know…at 70 years old I only have two moves

one is heavy and the other is slow.

It seems according to the dictionary I wasn’t dancing

and at first I was appalled…

until I found the word arhythmic…

someone who can’t keep a beat and has no rhythm at all.

Arhythmic…there is was in black and white…I had finally found my answer….

There’s a good chance, the definition continued, someone who’s arrhythmic…will be a horrible dancer.

Ever since I was a child…to be a dancer I would yearn…

but all I ever do is step from side to side…sway a little

and occasionally jump and turn.

People were doing the Cupid Shuffle, the Electric slide, the wobble, the tush push, and footloose (dances with specific moves and names)

but no matter what the dance was called…

I danced them all the same.

It’s because I have no rhythm…at least that’s what the dictionaries say…

In truth there’s noting wrong with how I dance…I was born to dance this way.

It seems it is my destiny once I hit the dance floor…to bewilder, confuse and stun 

born never to have my feet and hands move together as one…

The way I dance can best be described as a pink flamingo prancing…

So you best close your eyes…because I won’t let my arrhythmic style…

ever keep me from dancing.

TURNED THE OTHER WAY

 

I was blessed to officiate at our son (Ryan’s) and his now wife (Amy’s) wedding yesterday…the only person at the wedding who was turned the other way.

From my unique perspective I was acutely and proudly aware 

of Amy…of Ryan…of our families…and of all their friends and families seated there.

If you watch the news you might conclude that love in this world is on the decline…

but turned the other way at a wedding…I assure you…love…is doing just fine.

At their wedding love was palatable…you could feel it in the air…

It was in every smile, every touch, every kiss…it was literally…everywhere.

You could feel it beginning to swell even before the ceremony had begun…

It was in the silent hugs between a mother and her daughter…

and a mother and her son.

It was in the eyes of the parents as…for their children…a new day was about to dawn…

Happy for the moment…wondering where the time had gone.

It was how we paused a moment…to enjoy a moment that will never again repeat…

it was in how we remembered Amy’s Granny up in heaven…

even saved her a front row seat.

It was in the tears of two mothers as they watched their son and daughter on this momentous day…and in the tears of a father as he stepped up and gave his daughter away.

It was reflected in Ryan and Amy’s eyes…and in the eyes of all in attendance too

It hung in the air in silence the moment they said ‘I do’.

It was in Sue and Rob and Deborah as they joined me…

sharing a final moment together before the ceremony was done…

Holding each other in a circle of love…two families…now one.

And it continued at the reception…all the different types of love I found…

everywhere I looked…every time I turned around.

Yes, I was happily reminded that love is thriving 

while officiating Amy and Ryan’s wedding yesterday….

happy to see love in it’s endless shapes and sizes…

all while turned the other way.

THISMORNING'S THOUGHTS ON SILENCE

 

There are a multitude of reasons why I like to take

a walk before the sun appears…before the neighborhood’s awake.

One has to be the silence…out here walking totally on my own

Is the first place where I realized silence has a beauty all her own.

Every day of every year trees spend their life in solitude…silent sentries to us all…

from when buds spring onto their branches…until silent snowflakes fall.

Sharing silence with the trees…oh what silent beauty I have found…

from the silent ways their leaves change color…then cascade softly to the ground.

The moon, the stars and the planets share their silent beauty from up top…

The bunny rabbits, without a sound, share the beauty of their hop.

Silence allows me to think about what’s important…my family, my friends…my home…

In silence, if I’m lucky, I might find the words that form a poem.

Silence has a way of calming me, soothing my mind and making me feel whole…

Where is love created if not in the silence of my soul?

In the silence of the sun’s rays is where flowers learn to bloom….

The miracle of life begins in the silence of the womb.

I think about how my life began in silent beauty and I try to find a way….

to enjoy a little silent beauty…a little every day…

Yes, born in silent beauty…each day I try a little more to learn…

to embrace the silent beauty that surrounds me…

until to silent beauty I return.

ONE SEED

 

Why at our age are we still protesting?

Why do we feel the need?

Because the fire of hope for a better world still burns inside us…

and because it’s never too late to plant a seed.

If we can plant one seed of understanding

help just one person open their eyes and see

perhaps one day we’ll stop ignoring

and whitewashing our history.

If we can plant one seed of knowledge and wisdom

help just one person understand

then minds will be free to be opened

and books will never be banned.

If we can plant one seed of love and acceptance

help just one person to open their eyes and see

then the world begins to be a better place for the LGBTQ+

and me

We protest to plant one seed in one heart

because in our hearts we know

unless we plant that seed

it has no chance to grow.

That’s why at our age we’re still protesting 

and we will keep protesting as long as it takes…

although we are protesting less for us now

and more for our children’s and grandchildren’s sake.

PARENTAL MAGIC

When he was young and the fear he’d dream of monsters filled his mind with dread

his mom made him a Dreamcatcher and hung it above his bed.

“Whenever you start to dream, “ she said. “That’s when this Dreamcatcher’s work begins…it catches all your bad dreams and only let’s the good ones in.”

That Dreamcatcher worked like magic!  

From that moment all his dreams were sweet and all his nights were calm….

and he often wondered…was the magic in the Dreamcatcher…

or was the magic in his mom?

When she was young…waking up Saturday mornings…

she felt excited…happy…blessed…

Her dad would make her pancakes….

In any size, or shape or color she’d request.

Her dad was an artist…a magician with the batter…

whatever she could dream up…he’d create…

and she couldn’t wait til he was finished to see the magic on her plate.

When she thinks back to those Saturday mornings…

to the best pancakes she ever had…

she often wonders…was the magic in those pancakes…

or was the magic in her dad?

Isn’t it amazing how often the simplest act a parent does…

be it bad dreams they are catching…

or pancake wishes they are granting….

can charm their child’s sleep at night…

and make their morning so enchanting. 

A LITTLE AFTER VALENTINE LOVE

 

They take a walk together in the morning 

They watch old TV shows

They fill a picnic basket and drive to a spot down by where the river flows.

They walk along the beach…sometimes barefoot in the sand.

Often, when you see them, you will see them holding hands.

She has her favorite sofa to sit on…he…his favorite chair.

They’re not afraid to sit in silence knowing the other one is there.

They have their favorite movies, favorite books and favorite tunes…

They love watching the sun rise and set…

and the changing faces of the moon.

They love giving gifts to each other…

with no explanation for no reason at all.

They love celebrating the big days in their life 

as much as they do the small.

They try to make the most of every moment…

every moment of every day.

for they know their time together 

is too precious a gift…to let it slip away.

For they have learned…in all the time they’ve spent together…

now that they are old and grayed…

It’s not the size of their memories that matters

It’s how many memories they’ve made.

A VALENTINE LOVE STORY

 

They were seated at the table next to us…(that is where this story begins)

an older couple talking to each other…we couldn’t help but listen in.

The man spoke first “Today we celebrate the day our happiness began.”

The woman closed her eyes and smiled as they sat together hand in hand.

Then she looked over and winked at us…”It’s not what you might think.” she said…

“It’s not a birthday, not our anniversary not the day when we were wed.”

“Instead,” she continued, “we choose to remember a different kind of date.

The day we first said I love you to each other…is the day we celebrate.”

“Oh I was perfectly happy before I met this woman,” the old man smiled

“And I was perfectly happy before I ever met this man.”

but the day we said, ‘I love you’ to each other…

was the day OUR happiness began.”

“For that is the day we came together,” he said…”the day our worlds aligned…

The day I put my happiness in her hands…and she put hers in mine.”

We shared in their happiness for a moment…shared their joy and their felicity.

We toasted them, wished them well and then we let them be.

They said goodbye as they left the restaurant…still exuding grace and charm

and we watched them drift off down the sidewalk…together arm in arm…

Their story is a story about growing old together side by side…

A love story between this woman and this man…

who understand one of the keys to a lifetime of happiness together

is remembering where their love began.

It’s  love story about two strangers…

who quickly became our friends…

A love story with a definite beginning

That, hopefully, has no end.

(HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY)

A CHILD'S TEDDY BEAR

 

A CHILD’S TEDDY BEAR

Once selected off the store shelf.

with both love and care…

it takes its place among the family 

when it becomes a child’s teddy bear.

Immediately the child and the bear connect 

and the parents soon become aware

how the two of them are inseparable…

the child and his teddy bear.

But a child grows up…a teddy bear does not,

and though it seems unkind,

a growing child finds other things to love,

and leaves the teddy bear behind.

But the teddy bear is ever vigilant,

he waits patiently night and day,

for one more moment with the child he once knew…

one more chance to play.

And every now and then the teddy bear is picked up,

“I miss you!” the the child inside the grown-up concedes.

and the teddy bear once again feels joy…

for love is all he ever needs.

And so I wonder:

When we want to learn of patience,

of dedication, of love and joy and what it means to share…

perhaps we need to look no further 

than on the face of a child’s teddy bear.

THE DICHOTOMY OF ABC

 

There is this dichotomous relationship within the alphabet…

for the letters therein contained

can be used to create words of joy…of love…of happiness…

as well as words of hatefulness…and pain.

From the same 26 letters come 

words of wonder…

words of beauty

words that fill a heart with joy

as well as

words of anger

words of spite

words that can…a soul destroy.

Which means it’s up to us

as we create and express our thoughts

from within their alphabetical array…

to think about the words we write

and the words we’re going to say.

It’s up to us to create words 

of love

and tenderness

and never to abuse them….

not only in our choice of words…

but how we choose to use them.

A FATHER'S HOPE

 

She was crying when she ran to him and as he caught her in his arms

he wished, as all fathers do, he could shield her from harm.

But that’s not how it works…into her life there will be sunshine and there will be rain…and when the clouds are darkest…the best a father can do is help to ease the pain.

Her lips began to quiver as tears fell from her eyes.

“He called me ugly, Daddy! Can you please tell me why?”

He held her in his arms…and slowly began to sway

Hoping, through osmosis, to absorb then take her pain away.

“It’s not you but his heart that is ugly.” He said. “For it is our heart that holds the key…

when we look out on the world as to how much beauty we will see.”

“We don’t always know what’s in another person’s heart…

from where their meanness stems…

but when they’re mean or call you names 

the problem is not you…it’s them.”

“I am sad, so sad, he called you ugly…but I am sadder still by far…

that his heart may never let him see how beautiful you are.”

She smiled and as they held on to one another 

he prayed he’d always have the knack…

whenever rain falls into her life…

to help her find a rainbow…

to bring her sunshine back.”

TO THE NEXT AND FUTURE GENERATIONS

 

If a country of love, generosity and acceptance is something you wish to create….

It is imperative you learn not only about our strengths as a people

but that you also understand our hate.

Don’t let anyone erase or re-write our history…your history

don’t listen to an untrue, distorted point of view…

It is important that you realize not only all the good that we have done

but also…all the things our hate can do.

How hate can disguise itself as love…can even be sung as a religious chorus…

How hate attempted to wipe out the entire culture of the people who were on this land before us.

How our hate enslaved a people…allowed us to treat them like animals, rape their women and take their children away…

and ignore the fact they are still experiencing scars and pain today.

How at one time we thought of women as inferior….

"You had no rights!” the men would gloat…

How it wasn’t until 1920 they were allowed to vote.

How our hate allows us to see a man who likes to dress up as a woman….

or a person who is a lesbian or queer…

then tell the world these loving people…are people to be feared

You will find people who will ban books and try to promote their view of history….

who think only the highlights of our past are all that you should see.

Read the banned books!…

Seek out the true history!…yes, be a history sleuth….

In the words of Ida B. Wells:

The only way to right our wrongs…is through the light of truth.

So we look to you our future generations……do not be afraid…

to take a good look at our history…and correct the mistakes we’ve made…

To confront then eliminate the hate that throughout our history has swirled…

and help America become what it has always hoped it would be…

the greatest country the world.

Love,

The past generations

THE BUTTERFLY OR ME

 

As I watched a butterfly the other day I wondered...is she aware of time?

Does she think about politics, or bigotry, about money, war or crime?

As she flutters from flower to flower I wondered…

Is she happy…worry free?

And then I wondered…

who's more blessed…

the butterfly...or me?

LEGEND OF THE SUN AND MOON

 

The Lakota Sioux tell a story about the sun and moon

which is ultimately a story about love…and loss…

about two tribes that lived on either side of a river…

a river they were forbidden to cross.

But one day a young girl from the moon tribe on one side of the river

and a young boy from the sun tribe on the other side…

saw each other and immediately fell in love…

a love they could not hide.

So, from each side of the river they both began to build a bridge…

and when it was was complete

on that bridge halfway across the river…the two young lovers would meet.

When the two tribes discovered this…

the two lovers were killed and their spirits sent away….

the spirit of the moon child was sent to light the night…

while’s the spirit of the sun child was sent to light the day.

But love is not so easily extinguished…not so easily marooned…

for there are moments when they share the sky

when the sun’s love illuminates the moon.

And if you’re lucky, as we were recently, to be there when they share the sky…

when their stars align….

from the moment they first see each other…you can see how their love shines.

And every now and then…though to us it may not seem like much…

If we’re lucky…during an eclipse…we see the two lovers touch…

When we see them smile or touch one another…then quickly part

We know their love is true…indeed

showing how sometimes when it comes to love…

a smile across the distance…

or a momentary touch 

is all you ever need.