A mixed bag

All posts in the A mixed bag category

I KNOW IT’S A FANTASY, BUT…

Published December 23, 2019 by Nan Mykel

I know Lamarkianism (inheriting acquired characteristics) has been disproved,  but in copying some of an earlier issue of family history I felt a sudden warm resonance to the writing style of my maternal grandfather.   His quirky and humorous understatements about his life rang bells for me.  And I recall how he told family stories at dinner when I visited, each night, and I was the only guest at the table.

I may be puffing myself up in likening our styles to each other, but the recognition, whether valid or not, is a very warm, grateful one, and restorative to my faltering ego.

DIALOGUE WITH MISS CROSSPATCH

Published December 22, 2019 by Nan Mykel

ME: “You don’t know what I’ve been through!”

CP:“What?”

ME: “First, my daughter was coming from Atlanta to help me with speaking out at the Court House in Columbus about the disability funding settlement and someone ran into her and she totalled her car the night before she left for the airport to fly to see me.  She caught the plane the next morning, however, still bruised from the wreck,  drove  2 hours in another car to my place and the next day she drove another hour to pick up her little sister from a state facility to spend the night with us. She had set up a Christmas tree for her little sister to decorate, but turns out the little one (now 48) was too tired and slept 15 hours.  Upon taking her back the next day they stopped at Bob Evans and then saw Frozen Two. Well, I stayed home, of course. What did you expect at 84?

“Afterwards we went to an eatery with handmade jewelry on its walls but two women were sitting under the showcase of the necklaces we were interested in, so we waited for them to leave. And waited. They didn’t leave til closing.

“Meanwhile we were sorry we had left our Boggle at home so in desperation we made one up, using an algorithm. She still beat me.

“The next day I had a funeral to attend at 3 pm, and afterwards we rushed the hour long drive, together this time, to my youngest daughter’s  state facility to attend a Christmas Party,  where many good folks, including my eldest daughter,  caught an intestinal  virus.  I was proud it skipped over me, until the next day, in Court. After 2 hours sitting in a packed court room in Columbus,  it struck.  I had still not testified, if that’s the right name for it.

“I spent the next hour ensconced you-know-where and my eldest daughter testified for the family. Plans were for her to catch a plane back to Atlanta after Court and for me to make the 2-hour journey home on the GO-Bus.

“Well, you can imagine a 2-hour bus ride while being vulnerable to an intestinal attack.  I had been  stuck in a booth at the Court House in Columbus and my daughter’s plane for Atlanta was to fly away a little more than 4 hours later.  So, she pointed the car back to my place and drove the full speed limit. When we arrived she didn’t bother to get out, and we couldn’t even hug because I was virulent. (I had been sitting on an opened Time magazine during the entire dash home).

“The next day I ate a banana and applesauce and the day after I figured I could go back to eating regular. Wrong. Another round of intestinal upset. In the meantime my Spectrum wasn’t working, my cell phone’s battery was dead, my new computer hadn’t been fully installed, I had to make a visitor stand yards away from me, and I fell twice rushing out of bed for my landline.  And I guess it’s kinda my anniversary—been retired 20 years  and one side of my fanny is twice the size of the other because of the fall.  I guess it’s what I deserve for wasting that 20 years.”

CP:  “You’re right, but think about your eldest daughter, would you?…And look out the window at the lovely white snowflakes falling onto our winter wonderland…”

ME: “Yes, but my Spectrum still doesn’t work, my cell phone’s still dead, and I can’t post this on my blog…”

CP:  “You sound like a yes-butter to me.”

P.S. The hearing was in opposition to kicking people out of institutions.  One woman who spoke said both her parents had Alzheimers and she was caring for them at home.  When she asked for a placement for them she was put on a 10-year waiting list.

TYING ENDS – For D’Verse

Published December 12, 2019 by Nan Mykel

Think about it–all the ragged ends,

those threads undone and tromped upon,

the finished products cut asunder in despair,

those outgrown or cast aside, too big to fill;

quilt pieces dropped, forgotten,

to return in dreams, unfinished.

Forgive and be forgiven, hear and be heard

for the first and last time.

So many stubs, so many seines to throw

to capture them all.

How can one leave a life unfinished?

I never learned the art of tying ends.

 

Nan  Nov. 09

Mr. Crabby

Published December 5, 2019 by Nan Mykel

This is a delayed photo to illustrate a post about my trip to Tybee Island this summer. Someone found him on the beach and wrote in the sand, “R.I.P. Mr. Crabby.” Since he was already dead, I felt no compunction in gutting him and “airing” him for 3 weeks prior to hanging him on my wall.

WHO? poem

Published December 1, 2019 by Nan Mykel

Our grandparents live

only in our memories. When we go,

they go.

Why care if we’re forgot?

                                           As if we never were?

                                           I speak of myself, now:

                                             Why do I care if I am forgot?

                                            As if I never was, never

                                              strove to overcome my limitations,

                                           only partly successful, yearning yet afraid?

                                            If truth be told, my heart is rusted

                                         from underuse.

                                           My children and grandchildren

                                          know this. Perhaps

                                        being forgot is not

                                   so bad after all.

 

Nan, Common Threads, 2012

 

COMMENT ON DO YOU AGREE?

Published November 27, 2019 by Nan Mykel

Judy Kim  […] a daySeoul Sister […]

I think affirmations only work if you actually believe in what you’re saying, but has no effect if you don’t believe in it. I don’t use affirmations because it seemed corny 😀. I think negative self-talk unfortunately works though because of all the criticism we’ve received in our lifetime

Nan says:

And those work because we actually believe them!  Good point.

WHAT’S THE ALTERNATIVE? – poetry

Published November 26, 2019 by Nan Mykel

Hope is good for the immune system.

Props us up so we don’t fall…

until we do.

 

Softens the features. Soothes

the brow, lifts the heart…

We chance it.

 

Would that it were a wrench to

tighten the bolts of our wobbly

world. Surer and tighter…

 

To live as though there were hope–

does that disrespect ourselves

or is it reasonable?

 

Helium balloons  lift  and maintain

until the journey’s over.

Sometimes.                                                                Nan             11/25/19

Do You Agree?

Published November 9, 2019 by Nan Mykel

Augusten Burroughs writes that Affirmations are dishonest. “They are a form of self-betrayal based on bogus, side-of-the-cereal-box psychology..The truth is, it is not going to help to stand in front of the mirror, look into your own eyes, and lie to yourself. Especially when you are the one person you are supposed to believe you can count on.
“Affirmations are the psychological equivalent of sprinkling baby powder on top of the turd your puppy has left on the carpet. This does not result in a cleaner carpet. It coats the underlying issue with futility.” This Is How, p 4-5, 2012.

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