I’m not too ageist I hope, but I’ve gotten tired of my smile, so I’m going to try and change my avatar gravatar. Haven’t accomplished it yet, but watch for it soon!
Archives
All posts for the month January, 2018
WHY?
Published January 31, 2018 by Nan MykelPixabay image
Freeing Movie: Dolores Huerta
Published January 31, 2018 by Nan MykelSince I totalled my car Jan. 21, I have been wheeless so was glad Alexa suggested she pick me up for a free movie. The free movie was a documentary on Dolores Huerta, first of a series on Women Pioneers sponsored/presented by O.U.’s College of Fine Arts at the local Athena Cinema. I viewed it during the timeframe that our president was delivering the State of the Union Address. and among other things the documentary addressed many of the issues current on the political scene, historically (although Dolores Huerta is still alive and beautiful at 87). She partnered for years with Cesar Chavez in the fight for racial and labor justice. Mexican farm laborers at work and in protest are spotlighted from archived film.
What got me on this kick is the freeing effect it had on me personally, in that Dolores has led such an active life outside society’s restraints. (Almost totally outside). She is a free, loving, courageous woman who has always responded to her inner drummer. The experience has given me a shot in the arm.
Wholely Holly — an accidental quadrille re-named when nobody visited
Published January 31, 2018 by Nan MykelIt’s freezing tonight.
A rubber-backed pad
and a blue blanket
from my own bed
cover the offspring
of its parent holly
which froze to death
last year. I don’t want
to lose another one,
so I swaddle it under
neath my old
person’s walker.
WORDS, a quadrille for d’Verse
Published January 29, 2018 by Nan Mykel
WORDS
My thin black words
on this cold white page
can’t breathe, won’t bleed,
don’t whimper in the dark;
impotent fossils, barren husks,
dropped spoor.
Not the real thing at all,
not the rustle in the weeds
nor the shrill screech
of the wild boar.
Poem for d’Verse
Published January 29, 2018 by Nan MykelPOEM
On the day that I die
will the world end or
just me?
If I write a poem
will it die with me
or will it stay on
and let the world know
that I was here
and wrote this poem
that outlived me?
Such a Nice Bad Day…
Published January 21, 2018 by Nan MykelToday I rear-ended a man’s van or car or something on my way back to Athens on Route 7 from my weekly visit to take Mandy out to lunch. I don’t believe he had his rear or turn lights on because surely I would have noticed him sooner than I did. That’s another way of saying I totalled my car. He was making a left turn into his driveway or something. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t start my car afterwards to get off the road. I asked the policeman* why my car wouldn’t start, and he said, “You haven’t looked at the front of your car, have you?” I was also without my cell phone or phone book.
GOOD THING: had my seatbelt on, so am alive, walking, talking and blogging. Also had my up to date drivers license with me.
The policeman* asked if I knew where I was, what the date was, and what road I was on..
GOOD THING: I came up with three correct answers
The policeman asked me how I was feeling
GOOD THING: I said “sad.”
The closest towing company was 3/4 hour away, in the opposite direction of my goal: Athens.
GOOD THING: People asked if I was okay and the tow truck man drove me about 5 miles closer to Athens and then used his cell phone in a series of calls to friends in Athens, to no avail. He said his mother-in-law lived very nearby, and he drove us there and I was given a heavenly piece of fruit cake his mother-in-law had baked.
I had a lot of junk in my car, much of it for Re-Use Industries. I was still stranded 45 minutes from Athens, with no local taxi or bus service. In the [now] dark I temporarily misplaced my credit card and condo key
GOOD THING: Found my credit card and condo key in the dark. Using his cell phone, he found an Athens cab company that would be willing to get me and accept a credit card. The tow truck driver had a handy very heavy-duty bag for retrieving things from my wrecked car. He had gotten another call so couldn’t wait with me (at his mother-in-laws) for the cab to arrive. He maintained contact with the cab company, however, so there wasn’t a missed connection. The cab driver loaded things into his cab and when we arrived at my place unloaded them.
I slipped and fell down a muddy hillet going to my door, When I fell I just lay there a minute, collecting myself. I think he feared I might be unconscious but I assured him I was just “resting.” I rode my bottom part of the rest of the way.
GOOD THING: The cab driver didn’t squawk over a $2 tip, then took the rest of my things down the hillet to my front door; last, he opened my walker so I could make it to the very bottom of the hillet.
That’s why I feel so good about a bad day.
P.S. In case you think I’m uncaring, the man’s van was sill running, he said he thought his neck hurt, and EMS took him away. A child and a large dog were unhurt. At one point he got out of his van on his own.
*Probably state trooper
I put this image on my last post…
Published January 20, 2018 by Nan MykelAnd got the feeling that if I were looking at this image when I died I would surely die with a smile on my lips and peace in my heart. It’s like a glimpse into the truth, I guess, whatever that is, or like an emergent aspect of consciousness. This is coming from a Unitarian atheist…
BEAUTY — a haibun
Published January 18, 2018 by Nan MykelWHERE DOES BEAUTY COME FROM?
From evolution, where else? How do beauty/culture/evolution interact? With botox, puffed up lips, wrinkle-remover. How many “Sexiest Man Alive” magazine covers have I seen? Sex, and it is not missing in the wild, with colorful baboon bottoms and robins’ breasts, enticing. We may find a white peacock lovely, ignorant of the sexual function of animal attraction.
The earliest hint I can find of the experience of beauty is the appearance of attraction to babies with “cute faces,” which had already appeared on earth at least by the time of the dinosaurs. Evolution’s goal in that case is so parents wouldn’t eat their offspring. Good thinking!
Some people can appreciate beauty in art, music, poetry, dance and nature. To me it feels like there’s a little-used nerve inside that turns on and flows warmly in my chest area. It seems to feed me. But I can’t attend to beauty when I’m cold.
E.O. Wilson speaks of the creative arts being the “true and beautiful.” Is there a connection?
bird on the canvas
the serenade of bird song
Mother’s loving smile
An Incident — Part 6 of 6
Published January 18, 2018 by Nan MykelMy son Ian and his wife Laura participated in the final scenario reported here. They were coming home from running errands and turned into our driveway just as a police car was approaching. The cruiser pulled in behind them. Ian was wondering if he had done something deserving of a ticket when he heard screaming.
Mandy was running around the back yard,shouting frantically and waving her arms. Ian and Laura scrambled out of their car and the officer scrambled out of his right behind them. “What’s going on here?” he wanted to know. Ian and Laura were curious, too.
Mandy pulled herself together sufficiently to gasp, “There’s a bat in the house!” With that, she led the way in through the back door and suddenly Laura screamed. At that, Mandy resumed screaming. The bat was swooping again.
In the livingroom, oblivious to all the excitement, lay Mike, Mandy’s boyfriend, asleep on the sofa.
The officer stared. “What’s wrong with him?”
Ian shrugged. “Oh, that’s just Mike.”
Laura pointed to Bubba the cat, who was drinking from a fish bowl whose water level was alarmingly low, and gave a little hysterical laugh.
The officer was bending over Mike. “Is he okay?” Laura explained the sedating effects of Mike’s medication while Ian observed the bat entering and leaving the room, swooping up and down the staircase.
Our representative of law and order decided to take charge of the situation. He assigned Laura the task of checking on Mike, grabbed a broom from the kitchen, and directed Ian to open all the windows. He then began following the bat as it swooped around the house.
Ian later recalled suspecting that the officer was checking all the rooms to be sure there were no more bodies lying about.
Laura got Mike to sit up, Ian continued throwing open windows and doors, and all the while Mandy was running back and forth from kitchen to back porch, issuing tearful wails. Finally the bat man successfully rid the premises of the uninvited creature and then departed, after giving Mandy a fatherly lecture to the effect that bats are our friends.
Mike went back to sleep.
Years have passed, and now Mandy’s dramatics are happily limited to shouting “Yes! Yes! Oh, yes!” a la the Herbal shampoo commercial. But, please remember…Mum’s the word. This article doesn’t exist.
*Appeared previously in Pickin’ Fleas.
With big sister
THE END