
birds in flight
William Butler Yeats wrote The Second Coming in 1919 in the aftermath of World War I . Continue reading “what is coming?” »

birds in flight
William Butler Yeats wrote The Second Coming in 1919 in the aftermath of World War I . Continue reading “what is coming?” »

Lindy’s house was like a mansion
Lindy was my best friend from the day I met her in junior high school. I was the tallest kid in school, shy, and full-on puberty chunky. Lindy was short and stocky, and ran with popular kids from her elementary school. I copied her, and we hung out on weekends with her sisters and their friends, smokers and wine drinkers. Continue reading “Feeling like a poor relation” »

my father’s ashes rest here
My neighbor Mike is getting bored with living. She’ll be 91 next week, and wants “to curl up like an old dog” in her bed and stay there. I went over for a visit yesterday, and laid beside her talking in the bed. Her husband’s ashes rest under his pillow in an urn beside her every night. Mike does things her way. Continue reading “truth and friendship” »

It’s clear I loved my father
I’m emotional because of this horrid anniversary day. Forty-eight years ago my father put a gun to his head and died. It’s irreversible. I’m the last family member to endure this day. Anyone who copes with suicide understands the devastating rip of losing our love. Continue reading “commemoration” »

my godson fishes in Alaska
During the four years I lived on Prince of Wales Island, Alaska, my dearest friend asked me to be her son’s godmother. I felt such honor to be asked. He was a month younger than my infant son. If I had stayed on the island, the boys would have grown up to be like brothers. But I left POW as a single mother, remarried, and raised both of my sons in the same California neighborhood where I grew up. Continue reading “listening to my heart” »

haunting history
My brother played the bagpipes with The Prince Charles Pipe Band. He walked Ring Mountain playing his pipes at sunset, as if he belonged in Scotland. Neighbors remind me of his haunting silhouette during those years. Since he didn’t live to be an adult, bagpipes remain for me as a symbol of love and strength and loss. Continue reading “bagpipes, love and loss” »

reaching into cobwebs can be creepy
I dreamt I was cleaning out two old houses where I once lived. In real life, I did not live in either of the two houses, but that’s how it goes in the dream world. The primary image of this dream is finding a wall with pushpins of special jewelry, a silver cross, a couple of turquoise pendant necklaces hanging down. I reach for the cross, under thick blobs of stingy cobwebs, and they get onto my face. “EWWW!” I woke with a gasp, feeling gross and icky. Continue reading “webs and faith” »

first crop 2015
Last night I dreamt I was in a rehab, no particular type. I’m sitting in a straight back chair with a binder full of notes on my lap, deciding what to keep and toss. A surfer type of middle-age man enters the room, complaining how he struggles with his girlfriend, how their relationship is different because he is in rehab.
I said, “Since you’ve made your statement in a public place, I feel ok giving my opinion. It seems to me you need to change your behavior in order to change your thinking.”
Then I woke up. Continue reading “behaving like an adult” »

writing on palm leaf
Memoirs come from someplace deep inside us, private travel to an unknown land. I wrote a memoir when I became outraged concerning treatment of my best friend, who spent her life in mental institutions. My story grew into a lengthy saga. Continue reading “deep memoir” »

in less than a month they fly away
My twenty four year-old son sent me a text photograph with a nest full of robin’s eggs. Then he sent a shot of the hatched robins in their nest. Ten days later, he watched the birds fly away. He watched the last bird fall from the nest and fly away, and observed that the nest was truly empty. Continue reading “eggs to flight” »