In the powerful film Beasts of the Southern Wild, Hushpuppy says: “The whole universe depends on everything fitting together just right. If one piece busts, even the smallest piece . . . the whole universe will get busted.” Continue reading
The children were here, advising about a new address. “You need to move, start over.” Friends have said the same, including a few who’ve left the apartment or house where their spouse died. Continue reading
Last Saturday, WidowRica and I went to Oregon Ridge Park’s Hot August Blues. We sat among the flesh and talked about the flesh and our lives external to this particular flesh and the flesh internal to our own. Claiming the plots were infants, toddlers, preteens, adolescents, teenagers, young adults, mid-lifers, oldies but goodies, and any age group I may have missed. Plenty of sunburns and young women in bikini tops and short skirts. Acres of bleary-eyed, beer-guzzlers, clutching paper-plated fries and bloomin’ onions. In other words, the comedy and drama of Americana. Continue reading
Recently, I heard a disturbing story that sent me home to bed at a time I’m rarely horizontal. I held a pillow, like a security blanket or a lover. No comfort. I could not detach from the woman’s words. So rattled was I that I made a decision: road trip to North Carolina to visit son Hunter and his girlfriend Casey. Continue reading
On Facebook, I was scrolling the thread of posts from “friends.” One was open-wound personal, a wretched couple of sentences about how someone treats him, someone about whom he cares. Yeesh. Continue reading
Carla’s a “baltimoron.” It’s what she said in her email, when she told me she likes my articles, read that I’m going to Turkey, and would be happy to come over, meet the person behind the words, and provide information about the country she’s visited twice. I responded with an affirmative. Continue reading
Saturday morning, July7th, I awakened at 4:30. I should have gotten up, then, for my jog, run, sprint, because it was so muggy by the time I did, around 7:00. I went back to sleep, though, and dreamed I was comforting Hillary Clinton after she’d discovered, yet, another sexual affair. Bill’s, of course, and it was ongoing. Continue reading
A garden table and two chairs decorate the sidewalk in front of one of the clothing stores here in the center of the Kingdom of Cross Purposes. Annie, who worked in this shop, often sat outside, a cigarette hanging from her mouth. Her little dog hovered nearby. I ran past her a gazillion times, with, “Hi, Annie, how are you?” Or I jogged in place and talked with her. During one conversation, she told me about her antiwar activism in the 60s. Continue reading
In a New York Times (NYT) opinion piece, Jimmy Carter opens with: “The United States is abandoning its role as the global champion of human rights.” Continue reading
On a sunless Baltimore Monday morning, I ran in an almost imperceptible rain that intensified when I was halfway through the distance. Suddenly, this line from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “Renascence,” a poem I memorized as a teenager, was circling in my mind: “For rain it hath a friendly sound to one who’s six feet underground.” And, yes, six feet under is what I’ve been feeling for weeks—and writing about. Continue reading
The antidepressants, samples of 30 and 60 mgs, provided by my doctor, are on the countertop. Continue reading
The storm washed through last Friday afternoon. All was still and, then, I looked out the balcony doors to see tree leaves wet and undulating. I was reminded of ocean waves. Wind rushed rain across the greenery with feverish lapping. “It’s symmetry,” I said to my sister Laura. I thought of lava flows, the sea, and two bodies, making love. Nature and au naturel. Continue reading
Thursday afternoon, after I’d submitted “It Wouldn’t Kill Me To Die,” sister Laura and her partner Erma offered advice: “Liberate Chas. Release his ashes.” We discussed locations that were significant to my husband. That evening, I opened his urn to transfer cremains into small containers, but I couldn’t do it. I secured the top, rested my forehead against its concave lid, and cried. Continue reading
A year and three months after the death of my husband Charles, I took a trip with Laura, my sister. Seated aboard a propeller plane and flying over water, we locked eyes. She said, “I really don’t like this.” Continue reading
Do protests and marches accomplish anything? Should I go? These questions collided in my head. One friend advised against. Another said I should. My children phoned, “If you do, be careful.” I knew. I just knew. I knew I would be in Chicago. Continue reading
The title of the article is “Backers of North Carolina’s Gay Marriage Ban: State No Longer Vulnerable.” And this in the body: “North Carolina voters approved a constitutional amendment Tuesday night banning gay marriage, but the measure also goes one step further by not allowing civil unions.” Continue reading
The concept is somewhat egotistical. But if you believe that what you have to offer is valuable, the published self-interview is an attention getter. Continue reading
Last week, I picked up Cindy Sheehan at her hotel near Baltimore Washington International Airport, and we drove to the Cuban Interests Section in D.C. for lunch. This was just one event among many during which international representatives gathered on behalf of the Cuban Five. Cindy had asked permission to include me, and I was intro’d as her Sherpa, a challenging task for someone with no sense of direction. Continue reading
Last Tuesday in “Great Decisions,” I co-taught the class whose topic was “Exit from Afghanistan and Iraq.” Abandoning the textbook, I wanted current news. So much has happened in the past month that I decided to print, print, print articles more relevant to the present. And I had told my co-teacher, M, to take the video that begins each session with Condoleezza Rice, Hillary Clinton, and Henry Kissinger, among others, who offer statements about the role of the US in shaping world policy. Ugh. Continue reading
Fast forward. The Chinese labor model has come to the United States. Workers toil in dire conditions. Each must sign a pledge that he or she will not commit suicide. Still, suicide nets adorn factory facades. Continue reading
Recently, I spent three weeks in a Georgia beach community. Each morning, I’d run to the pier and, sometimes, on the beach. At dusk, I’d walk a street that dead-ended with a view of the majesty and immensity of all that water, thinking, in awe, “cradle of life.” Continue reading
I sent friend David a song, Joan Osborne’s “One of Us,” and he, now, sings it while riding his bike. This morning when I ran, the lyrics cycled in my mind. “What if God were once of us, just a slob like one of us?” Of course, this generated an oppositional image—of the current crusade sweeping our country—you know, Rick Santorum, the self-appointed, elitist god, and his mission to “save” us from Satan’s gracelessness. Continue reading
Placing my coat and purse on the bench, I heard something like, “No sleeping, no sunglasses, no tampering with gadgets.” I looked up as the soldier continued, “If someone has the urge to sleep, please stand up.” Continue reading
I believed the pen could smash rock, paper, scissors, and injustice. Continue reading
Go with the flow at the drop of a hat . . Continue reading
If we’re good parents, we teach our children to express regret to those they’ve wronged. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake,” we say when we, ourselves, are in error, not only setting an example but, also, acknowledging that we’ve broken The Golden Rule. This is responsible behavior. Continue reading
Sister Laura and her partner, Erma, had to have two pets euthanized within a two-week period. Continue reading
I resolve to run. I will not be forming an exploratory committee, because when I say, “run,” I mean speeding along, catch me if you can, as I leap a crack that might break my mother’s back, in my New Balancers that skim pavement and dirt. Continue reading
RSS
Breaking loose: Where are we going? What will we find?
Posted on September 24, 2012 by Missy Comley Beattie
Laura and I spent the day looking at property in Carroboro/Chapel Hill. For me, there’s only one address in the area—a green design with retail on the first floor. Laura’s search is focused on something with a well, a pond, and garden space—city mouse and country mouse. Continue reading →