It's not over

I have friends who recall their efforts, their marches, their boycotts, their sit-ins and petitions and protests on behalf of civil rights.

They look at me, puzzled. Why are we still talking about this? We did this. It’s over.

But of course it is not over. African Americans are still being shot and/or jailed in disproportionate numbers.

Immigrants are still being expelled – their families torn apart.

Still others are reviled (or worse) because of their particular religion … or because of their sexual orientation. Or gender. Or transgender.

It will probably never be over. So whatever we do to encourage all people to treat all people with respect and compassion is stuff that has to be done.

Perhaps it will always have to be done. So, even if you are tired/exhausted/discouraged … do what you can.

If you happen to live in or near Loveland, Colorado consider coming to the Museum/Gallery at 5:30 p.m. this Thursday, Jan. 21. You will be inspired by Dr. George Sevens’ tribute to Dr. King. It may even encourage you to keep on keeping on.

Celebrating Connections

Discussing Christmas cards, a friend noted that they are beautiful but asked 'what do you do with them?"

I think the answer is that they are like fine dinners. You savor them.

Shortly before Christmas I confessed that I wanted to somehow connect with my entire circle of special acquaintances... whether by snail mail or email or telephone or hugs.

I did pretty well. I didn't reach everyone but most. And I was rewarded with personal and paper and electronic greetings that brightened my days. I propped the tangible ones in a rather haphazard display on a living room shelf.

They made me smile.

Then I almost recycled them.  All except those with family pictures or handmade creations or other qualities that made them keepsakes.

So much for savoring.

Remembering my vow, I rescued some of them from their ecological destination and took a couple pictures.

Okay. So I recycled most of them and these are essentially two photos of the same batch. Still they comprise an almost permanent record of one holiday commitment and a bounty of blessings--
a celebration of connections.

Hallelujah!

Strange Salvation

They are called by different names in different parts of the country. Some call them gum bands, some call them rubber bands.

I had no idea how invaluable they are.

For several decades I have lived without human companionship. It’s probably not natural – we are a social species – but with cats and friends, books and wine, it’s not all that bad.

Except.

Except that in the interest of protecting me from some unnamed evil, so many things are so incredibly difficult to open.

What do you do when you have a cold and can’t open the medicine? Die? Well no. You just keep working at – swearing at it – until, finally, when you are almost healthy, it opens.

No more.

Recently, a good friend suggested that I wrap recalcitrant lids with a rubber/gum band. Voila! Things open. Even the baby food jars that I now must open to feed my still ailing (but better) cat.

Who knew? But thank heavens.

My cat and I are grateful.

[And I can continue to thrive on my own.]

Just a Cat

He’s just a cat -- a used cat at that.

He was a year old when I adopted him from the local humane society in November 2002.

I don’t know anything about his history. I think they give people some information – whether a cat was rescued from homelessness or an evil family. If they did give me a rap sheet, I didn’t read it. I picked him out because he seemed the most interesting, the most interested in what was going on, in me. He seemed playful but not vicious.

The humane society named him Guinness, a name I kept. His coloring, including the white ‘foam’ on his chin, closely resembled that venerable beverage. After I accumulated some necessary cat supplies and came back to pick him up, I was persuaded to adopt a second cat, Herbie. I kept that name too although there seemed no reason for it. Later, after I came to know him, it became apparent that he was ‘Herbie, the Love Cat’ – as friendly and affectionate as any cat I have ever known.

Guinness on the other hand is a neurotic, non-sociable animal who has loved only me. And I think I’m the only one who has ever loved him. One of the things about him that delights me is the way he is always making up games. He ‘fetches’ little cloth balls. When I toss them up my stairs, he bats them back. We’ll play this form of catch almost every evening. He is such a good buddy. Always supervising whatever I do. And, although he’s no love cat, he does snuggle extremely well – when I’m reading or working at the computer or trying to sleep.

So when he became so obviously sick on Dec. 29, I took him in to the vets. He was so weak, he could hardly lift his head. We’ve been back to the vet on the 30th, and 31st and 2nd. We will go back tomorrow morning. He’s a little better, moving more, supervising me more. I still can’t get him to eat his regular food but at least he’s eating.

He’s been my good buddy for 13 years.

Keep your fingers crossed.