Cum Si, Cum Sa

"You can close your eyes to things you don't

want to see, but you can't close your heart to the things you don't want to feel."

Author Unknown

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

Discrimination, poor judgment and pride are alive and well.  My family is going through a crises, now, with my 34 year old niece who is in trouble with the law.  She's in a dentention center, awaiting multiple hearings for multiple offenses.  And, I've suggested hiring a forensic social worker to visit her twice a week and prepare a report documenting the reasons that drove her to do whatever she did.  In short, look at the family dynamics and make a case for dysfuction driving the bad judgment, poor choices and wrongful acts.

All well and good except my sister rejected it, outright, saying the social worker would replicate what the big, expensive criminal attorney would do, plus at $100/hour, why bother?  Why, indeed.  Because my niece would see, hear and "feel" someone in her corner.  Someone who would BE THERE in person to talk over how she was doing, what she was thinking and how "we" might proceed.  As in, "you're not in this alone."

But no, my sister's pride will not let her accept my help as we've not broken bread together for a long time, perhaps forever, and this and other factors make her reject the idea of hiring a forensic social worker for her daughter.  So sad.  Too bad.  Becasue, my niece will be the one to pay the price---with her life, her years, her tears. 

On a happier note, I found two passages from wonderful writers that illuminate the human spirit in verse.  My hat's off to them for bringing life and love to words unspoken.  Read, in the privace of bedrooms & gardens, inner thoughts and intimate sanctums. 


On this day in 1908, D.H. Lawrence (books by this author) wrote in a letter to his friend Blanche Jennings from his house in Derbyshire in England where he was living: "I am unwilling to leave this deck-chair; I refuse to swot; let me write to you then, me lounging here on the grass, where the still warm air is full of the scent of pinks, spicy and sweet, and a stack of big red lilies a few yards away impresses me with a sense of hot, bright sunshine. ... It is a true midsummer day. There is a languorous grey mist over the distance; Shipley woods, and Heanor with its solid church are hidden today; no, I can just see a dense mark in the mist, which is Heanor; but Crich is gone entirely. The haze just falls on Eastwood; the church is blue, and seems fast asleep, the very chimes are languid. Only the bees are busy, nuzzling into some wide white flowers; — and I am busy too, of course."


It's the birthday of best-selling children's author and illustrator Eric Carle, (books by this author) born on this day in Syracuse, New York (1929). When he was six years old, his family moved to Stuttgart, Germany, to be with their extended family, and so Carle grew up in Germany during WWII. He went to art school, then moved to New York where he said: "The long, dark time of growing up in wartime Germany, the cruelly enforced discipline of my school years there, the dutifully performed work at my jobs in advertising — all these were finally losing their rigid grip on me. The child inside me — who had been so suddenly and sharply uprooted and repressed — was beginning to come joyfully back to life."

Eric Carle has written and illustrated more than 70 books, including Do You Want to Be My Friend? (1971), The Grouchy Ladybug (1977), and his most famous, The Very Hungry Caterpillar (1969), which has sold almost 30 million copies.


He said: "We have eyes, and we're looking at stuff all the time, all day long. And I just think that whatever our eyes touch should be beautiful, tasteful, appealing, and important."

Summer Afternoon

In 1897, Henry James leased Lamb House, a villa in Sussex. He bought it a few years later and lived there until his death in 1916. One of his frequent visitors was his close friend the novelist Edith Wharton. In A Backward Glance (1934), Edith Wharton (books by this author) wrote about a day trip with Henry James to Bodiam Castle, near Lamb House: "Tranquil white clouds hung above it in a windless sky, and the silence and solitude were complete as we sat looking across at the crumbling towers, and at their reflection in a moat starred with water-lilies, and danced over by great blue dragonflies. For a long time no one spoke; then James turned to me and said solemnly: 'Summer afternoon — summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.

The Sanctity of Life

I love life.  Who doesn't?  The sanctity and sacredness of life is paramount to me.  When I see an ant or fly, I carry or shoo them outside.  Always.  No smacking, stepping or swatting.  EVER.

So when my neighbor recently had her 6 ear old cat put down 'cause of peeing in the house, I went ballistic.  After all, I could've found dozens of alternatives for Cody.  With friends on farms, in the country, at a cat sanctuary in town or any number of cat rescues in our state.  I would've even  fostered him for a while  myself.  Cody DID NOT HAVE TO DIE. Here's my take on what happened.  May he rest in peace.

Last week my neighbor had her 6 year old, healthy, sweet kitty KILLED because he peed and sprayed in her cleaner-than- clean home. I AM OUTRAGED,HURT, WOUNDED TO THE CORE not only because she hastily did this but also 'cause she knows what an animal-lover I am and did not ask me if I could help find a home for Cody which I most certainly COULD HAVE!


 This happened a week ago and I am still ruminating about it, crying, upset and outraged that she did this. Two days ago, I went to our local humane society and talked to the clinic manager. She said they strongly discourage owners from killing their "bad cats" and try to place them in a barn or with a farm in the country.  Yesterday I went to Mosaic Cat Rescue and visited with their 100 residents who will NEVER BE KILLED.  Cody could've gone there.


Not all cats can be saved, I understand,  there is an over-population of cats, BUT this particular cat COULD HAVE BEEN SAVED! There's no two ways about it.  She knew I loved animals and could've helped. Why she didn't tell me what she was up to, I'll never know.  She also has one cat from my litter 6 years ago and I'm worried sick that if he "misbehaves" she'll kill him, too.

It's been a horrible week! I'm saddened to the core and quite depressed about the whole thing--including living next door to this MURDERER!

Below are some of the kits I met yesterday at Mosaic Cat Rescue.  They range from newborns to senior citizens.  None will ever be killed.  They are all safe and seemed happy and content.  Cody could've gone there.  Forever.

Happiness

"They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for."

Tom Bodett

Father's Day

"It doesn't matter who my father was . . .

it matters who I remember he was."

Anne Sexton

My Father has been gone 34 years, and I think of him as if it were yesterday.  A day when he came home from work and tousled my hair and said, "Hi Dolly!"  Or when he became disabled, at age 59, after a severe heart attack and picked me up at school or played "500 Rummy" with me at the kitchen table.

Of course, there were the fights with my Mother, which caused me to retreat to my room and cover my ears. Then, there were  the bitter battles with his own demons, emotions I didn't understand then & may be just starting to now, at least a little better, 50 years later.  Demons many of us struggle with:  anxiety, depression, conflicts with life choices and decisions.  After all, he waited until he was 40 to get married and was almost 50 when he sired me.

There were the Sunday dinners, after church, in he dining room with spaghetti and meatballs, the afternoon sports shows on TV and the long drives.  Like a day trip to Cleveland or Sunday drive to Put-in-Bay (about 200 miles).  Of course, I frequently got car-sick as I couldn't stomach long drive and that was my child hood way of showing my dislike.  And, showed it I did!

When I went to UCLA, Dad drove halfway across the country to bring me my little Royal Typewriter and 1966 Pontiac Tempest.  But, it died in a farmer's field, in Kansas, so Dad got on a Greyhound Bus and traveled the rest of the 2500 mile journey to deliver my typewriter.  And when he died, he had no will or money to speak of but left all he had, $2000, to his youngest daughter, me.

Dad, although you're not here in the physical world today, you are and will always be here in spirit and forever in my mind and heart. 

Happy Father's Day!
 Father's Day-- also the 100th anniversary of the first Father's Day celebration, which was organized by a woman named Sonora Smart Dodd, who thought up the holiday while listening to a Mother's Day sermon at her Methodist Episcopal Church in Spokane, Washington.