Monday, August 22, 2011

Change of Venue

I haven't posted here from the Garret for a while. Surgery and other family matters have kept me occupied as well as uninspired.
 I apologize.


However, I have decided to start over. I am now blogging over at WordPress.com. My blog is called Ancient and Honorable Trees. Please join me there. I have appreciated your following my humble attempts to find a way through the miasma known as life.

Please take care, Life is short.
Peace, Blessings, Namaste.  Janet

Monday, January 31, 2011

Listen to the Mockingbird


I love waking up to the sound of mockingbirds exuberantly greeting the morning as though it was theirs was the First Song of Creation. They are birds of the air, and just like the lilies of the field they are here today and gone tomorrow. Humans are the only species that assign permanence to this place and are arrogant enough to believe they will be here today, or even this afternoon.

One morning I forced myself to sit on the deck and read. However, I was distracted by a mockingbird in a willow tree. The previous owner planted a stretch of willows two-tenths of a mile long in hopes of drying up a low-lying field. This tree has endured while several of its sister trees have gone the way of the chainsaw. Willow is a soft wood and after a few years of neglect this tree has gangly, with an out-of-control appearance. This is a wild tree; its upper branches scarred with the pock-marks of woodpeckers in search of insects. The branches jut up and over the rest of the tree like a skeletal limb: denuded of flesh, sinew, and leaves. To some, the tree is a nuisance. I saw a survivor, proudly flaunting its unattractive appendages; like Ahab's leg.

On top of the dead trunk sat a mockingbird, trilling its way through the morning rejoicing in its moment of life. It flew from tree to tree, yet always returned triumphantly to the willow. It always lighted on the uppermost point of the tree. He chose the ugly tree for his pulpit and shared his sermon of song.


There were lessons to be learned by listening to the mockingbird. Rejoice in this exact moment of your existence. Find joy in the small things. Don't despise or avoid the ugly places in life, for that is where you find the greatest fulfillment and purpose. Do not be afraid to stand on the pinnacle, no matter how treacherous and unpredictable it might appear. Sing your song with love and courage; sending it out into the world and up to its Creator.


Friday, January 7, 2011

On the Event of Rebecca's Birthday



Today is Rebecca's birthday. Although it has been almost three years since her death, I still feel her presence. I have "What Would Becky Do?" moments when pondering decisions. Sometimes, she gives a nudge, other times; I feel a smile that says, "You're on your own, kid." While she always commiserated with my problems, she always forced me to consider a positive, assertive solution rather than a complacent one.

She was never one to dress up, yet she was extremely feminine. During the time I knew her, I only saw her don make-up twice. Once, for my graduation from York College and the second; our friend Terry's wedding. That day Becky not only wore make-up, but a dress, stockings, and pearls. I still believe her appearance was cause for more conversation Monday morning around the park coffee pot than any other aspect of the event.

Yet, on a personal note, what did Becky bequeath to me? She taught me that while I should be a better historian than any man around, I also needed to have fun. I suppose that is why on our last trip to Disney World I wore my Minnie Mouse hat (the red one with the droopy daisy), on the plane, the shuttle bus at Dulles, and all the way home.

She taught me to modulate my voice during a presentation and to keep my hands at my sides when I wanted to make a point to my audience. She also showed me how to be merciful to thousands of tired, brain-dead, August visitors to Gettysburg. I learned to control my emotions and my tongue while maintaining a professional aura; something that carried over into my later jobs and my life. My offspring still remind me not to use my "ranger voice" with them.

She re-kindled my love of classic literature; especially Louisa May Alcott and Jane Austen. I still have moments when I cry while watching "Little Women." I cry not in sorrow but in victory, knowing how Becky and Bernadette fought to show the movie in the Visitors' Center. Their argument: women lived and struggled during the Civil War, let's remind people of that fact. Let's give young and not-so-young women a chance to learn the other side of History: HerStory.

I also learned life is what you make it. There comes a time when you must take control of your situation and either make changes, or stop whining.


Most importantly, I learned to always keep a red, foam clown nose in my desk drawer for those moments when I or those around me am taking life too seriously. Then you need to laugh.

Thanks, sweetie.