Today I’m dealing with a fat box of old letters and cards. I’m steeling myself to discard them, but only after recording the dear names from the past. Several are from the family of my best friend, Rob, who was taken by AIDS in 1996. Several also from a warm former fellow therapist in Pomeroy, Mary and spouse Jim who bought a house In Tennessee and have stayed in it…Several Christmas letters from Jan, graduate schoolmate…Many Christmas letters from grad classmate Fred, with whom I got my GSU degree..A handmade birthday card from contiuuing great good friend and poet, Cathy…A 1995 letter from Rob…A lengthy death notice/obituary about my first therapist, Irma…An Easter card and then a 9-page letter from Ruth, a family member in a nursing home whom I’ve just recently gotten to know….A note that accompanied an elephant hair bracelet from Eileen, a favorite intern’s who was on a trip to the Sudan…An artistic, newsy original Christmas newsletter to the tune of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas from psych friend and classmate Jan…A 1984 note from Flowery Branch, writ on Phyllis’ new electric typewriter…

A couple of 1985 letter/cards from close friend Virginia, who later dropped me like a hot potato, and I’m sure it was my fault…A loving 2009 Christmas letter from former intern/counselor Eileen, whose Christmas Newsletter listed books read and rated…A photo of former intern Winkie and her son and granddaughter from South Africa…A photo of the entire department of psychology at GSU in 1977…A great 2014 letter and photo from the old artist, sparky professor emeritus, Bob…A 1999 letter from an intern who needed more than my minimal support for her counseling thesis. Jane was a very warm and supportive counseling student who got bad breaks with her profs…An incredibly warm and appreciative letter from close friend, Jamie, head of our Friday night soup group, in 2000…A card from former student Jim from Saudi Arabia, where he ate goat eyeballs, in 1976…A 1986 letter from early special friend Carrie, now deceased (As are many in this list)… The former sex offender treatment group at the prison and I received a greeting from John in 1997, reporting he’s still married and “clean.”…A note and photos from a male cousin who later wrote me a nasty letter when he thought I had not sent a requested photo to his mother. He later found out I had, to his embarrassment, in 2005…The Order of Service for Pete’s memorial service in 2008…A 2009 Christmas letter from Jane, a relative who has since dropped me from the family. Funny when you’ve not been around someone for years you have different communication patterns and I guess I blew mine…

…A 2007 Obituary of a good and kind fellow prison psychologist, Stephanie…A letter of appreciation in poem form from prison “graduate” Hank prior to 1996…So many great letters I don’t remember responding to. Sorry sorry sorry!…A sweet birthday card from a daughter, Lili…Two handmade valentines from granddaughters Julia and Lauren…A beautiful Mothers Day card from Elizabeth…In 1984 Elizabeth telling me she has cat scratch fever…Handmade birthday card from Lauren and Lili…A 1975 memorial card for friend Sylvia’s son Alex…2007 letter from genealogy cousin relative Paul, playing bluegrass regularly since his wife’s passing…1996 card and photo from my friend and mentor over the years, Patricia…In 2009 received a note from friend and author John and Mary who moved to Cincinnatti…In 1990 non-deliverable Christmas card to Carrie…In 2008, the Spiritual Growth Discussion Group which had been meeting at my place constructed a Get Well booklet for me when I had a valve replaced, from Andree, Vivian, John and Mary, Cathy, and Jean-Clare…A Thank-you card from my ex… It’s strange how I could forget a Mothers Day card I didn’t save, the one to “Mommie Dearest.” Tee hee…

Earlier I ditched most of my yearly hardcover journals after tearing a few pages out hither and yon. And I tore out drawings and passages for my book on dialoguing with incest offenders. A few people feel better after discarding old journals, and possibly don’t even keep cards or old letters anyway. I have felt reluctant to do it, because it seems like I’m throwing that person away. Maybe I’m concerned that my memory may fail me to the extent that I won’t even recall them without a stimulus?

One of my projects which I’ve handed over to my eldest daughter is to record the primary happenings in each of our lives (“Daze of Our Lives.”) The journals sure would have come in handy for that enterprise, but then there are the yearly hand-made and zeroxed Christmas cards which I’ve bundled elsewhere for that project…

OH
He’s feeling like a bear today.
I’m feeling like a skunk.
Not that being’s me’s so hot
but inside I can see
lavender waves lapping
me, 60% salt water sloshing
and hark, the sea is singing
while words wrestle to be the
first down on lined paper.
Now inside, a big burp
riding my wave. Oh, the echo
of it all! Hanging out at my
favorite corner there’s light at
my end of the tunnel! Please,
I’d choose psychotic
Over robotic
any day…or night.
Ommmmmmm…
What’s inside your head
Today?

Nan

THE WORLD IS FLAT AFTER ALL

Dubbed Democracy, it used to be

top of the line, the lead ship, at sea,

and on the land it served us well,

until the strains of its death knell
fell,

baring an underbelly swole

with all the pilfered things they stole

in broad daylight, and on t.v.!

Gone is the half-belief in he

who’ll take us safely to the shore

while staying steadfast to the core.

The compass nestles in the deep

while those on board remain asleep.

They used to say the earth was round,

that right makes might, but I found

that all I knew I now know not,

nor how to tell the truth from rot,

and not so sure that we’ll endure,

to make a safe arrival.

Nan                                                  Francisco Goya. 1700’s

Image: huffpost.com 1-15-2016

How many Christians prayed for the president’s soul today? Or even this week, in church?

[Why does everything have to be changed all the time? Why? Why! Change is okay if an allowance is made to also keep the earlier methods available for old codgers or at least less swift folks–both of which labels I’ll own. I’d add an image if I could. I know we were invited to learn it, but why learn something you don’t want? I guess this is why…]

I wasn’t even going to write about that–the “GASP” title originally referred to an article by Phil Torres from AlterNet today, from Salon, and apparently from Current Affairs by Nathan Robinson. (Crediting posts is also getting more difficult).

I’m not criticizing the ultimate author of the piece, but rather the squabbling of current intellectuals, or possibly the need for the squabbling. I see dirty clothes on the clothesline. If Americans can no longer model themselves after their president, or leading intellectuals, or a majority of religious leaders or many of our neighbors, then who? Certainly not me, I guess… Some folks I admired have messed their pants, it appears.

But allow me one boast: About a year ago I came home to my condo/apartment and found a strange man sitting on my sofa. Rather than enter my apartment I remained in the hallway, leaving the door open to facilitate a quick escape, and said in a loud voice, “You’re in the wrong apartment,” at which he stood and staggered out, without a word or gunshot. (Yes, he was white, but I’m not a racist).

The whistleblowers are civil servants,  like antibodies fighting the cancer in our political system.  (Reblog from Jilldennison quoting Thomas Friedman in the NY Times.)

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