Musings... by Liz Flaherty

Happy birthday to Grandma Neterer, born this day in 1888. While I wasn't a fan of childhood, I remain eternally grateful for the part she and Grandpa played in it. I still feel all mushy when I think of the house on Roys Avenue in Elkhart.  

When they moved there, I think the house was still in the country. Their lot was a large one, and they had sheds and a chicken house in the back. In the side yard was a well with a hand pump where my siblings and I went when we wanted a drink because we couldn't abide the taste of city water. 

Grandpa always went barefoot outside, weather permitting. When he broke his hip, the doctors told him he couldn't do that anymore. I think that bothered him more than the hip.

I so wish I'd asked them more questions, hadn't gotten so busy being a grownup that I forgot about being a grandkid. 

Happy birthday, Grandma.

~*~

Musings...

I ordered a new weed whacker last week. It came, its box crunched up and taped together. Now it's snowing. Makes me think I jumped the gun when I ordered. By the time stuff grows enough for me to whack it, I'll definitely be out of the mood.

I'm on Ancestry.com this morning, My friend Nan referred to it as going down the rabbit hole. Hmm... I'll see you in a few weeks...

The problem with cleaning off countertops is that you don't remember what you did with the stuff you had lying there. And you know the other part--as soon as you put it away, you need it.

Do you watch Call the Midwife? It's my favorite show since The West Wing, but I gotta tell you, being in labor with all those new mothers is exhausting--Duane and I breathe and push right along with them. And all those babies are so cute! None of them look very squashed or anything.

In my next book in the Second Chances series, the hero is a pastor named Jake McAlister. I couldn't see him in my mind's eye, but then I saw Jack Ashton playing Tom Hereward and there was Jake. Jake's about 20 years older than Ashton, but I didn't have any trouble seeing him anyway

When I walked outside this morning and the wind gave its best effort to blowing me off the porch, it felt exactly like November wind. I am grateful and relieved that it's not November, and history tells me the wind will eventually stop blowing--at least for a while. 

Wishing you a great week. Laugh hard and often. Be nice to somebody. 

Life's Illusions by Liz Flaherty

From Canva - mine was fuzzy...

I'm angry this week.

Usually I try to be at least semi-diplomatic on this blog. I do object (over and over, I know) to name-calling, misinformation, and downright lying, but quite honestly I don't think those are things that should be protected by diplomacy. 

I'm starting this column pre-dawn Wednesday as I wait for 2022's snowmageddon to sweep in. This morning I read about two school shootings. One at a college in Virginia where two officers died and one in Minnesota where one student died and another (as of this writing) is in critical condition. 

This week on the piece of mail we received from our state representative, he assured us he supported the second amendment. Also this week, he threw public education and its teachers under the bus. I don't believe he mentioned shootings.

This morning on Facebook, a writer was immensely cheered that people in her state are spending tons of time and money making sure kids aren't threatened by being made to wear masks. She didn't complain about the shootings, but masks--apparently those are the real danger. 

People chuckled when Neil Young and Joni Mitchell removed their music from Spotify. They termed the singers "irrelevant." And yet those same people speak adoringly about Joe Rogan, who blithely spreads misinformation on his highly-rated podcast.

I don't understand how people whose music has entertained and enriched for decades are inconsequential and yet blatant falsification is relevant. Why are purposeful misstatements revered and spread like toxic waste all over the messy tapestry the country has become?

On Thursday morning, we have a driveway full of snow. As country driveways go, it's not all that long, but when it's full of snow, it is--and its length has increased exponentially with the 40-some years we've lived here. Even with the snow, a piece of mail from yet another politician is delivered. She doesn't mention shootings, either, or, for that matter, public education. Different things, I should realize by now, matter to different people, and we do recycle unwanted mail, so all is not lost.

"I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all" - Joni Mitchell

And now it's Friday. Do you feel like you're reading a diary here? 

Yesterday, Duane beat me soundly at Farkle for the second time this week. I suggested he cheated, totally ignoring the fact that I'm the scorekeeper and that my math skills...aren't. We laughed and ate supper from whatever was in bowls in the refrigerator and watched episodes of Call the Midwife. Our house was warm. We were in the same place. When we walked past each other, our hands touched. During the day, when I walked to the office or back to the house, he stood at the door and watched. Clumsiness is one of my finer features, and snow makes me even better at it. 

Yesterday, I got a text that promised I'm headed your way w snowplow. Within minutes, John's red truck was clearing the lane. Had he not done so, Lee would have done it later in the day. 

Yesterday, I had an email from someone who didn't especially agree with my stance in last week's column. She was polite, erudite, and curious--an irresistible triad. 

Saturday morning. John made another pass through the lane. The path to my office is clear enough I can walk out there without my boots filling up with snow. I fell in the yard last night, but the snow was soft and deep and the only problem with getting up was that I couldn't stop laughing. Gratitude does that to you; I could easily have fallen on ice-covered cement instead. 

Mail carriers are still out there every day, a friend has declared herself a snow-widow because her highway department husband is working long days. If there have been power outages, they haven't lasted long because personnel have worked to repair problems. Every fire department in the area showed up for a structure fire last night. None of the police departments or ambulance crews have called in cold. 

Did I mention gratitude?

So, at the end of this long week, Joni Mitchell's lyrics still reign. I have to remember, when I'm angry or disappointed--which happens a lot in these painful days--to look at both sides. It doesn't mean giving up the moral or ethical ground I've chosen to stand on--it means remembering that we are all neighbors. 

I may not "know life at all," but looking at "both sides now" is still important. Have a good week. Stay safe and warm. Be nice to somebody.