Tomorrow’s work is full
of dreams,
of plans,
of goals
no form until the new day dawns,
curling quiet at our feet while
heads still rest on pillows, it
waits to be fed with new energy.
“Each day is always breaking out anew.
Aspirations swirling round what you do.”
~ Richard L. Ratliff, poet
from a day’s work, to
reveal little pulses of heart
and longing that remain
still and quiet all day while
I go about the reading and
writing, washing dishes and
sweeping the floor, feeding
me and the cat, or walking
home from the bus stop.
“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.”
~ Carl Sandburg
to shape and mold,
to stroke a sick child’s brow,
to dig deep into the earth,
to stitch and sew
~ all our hands do each day.
hard working hands roughened with little scars from cuts, burns and scrapes show a life lived in circumstance softened with lotions and age while they continue
their work with life as it is.
“The future was, very literally, in their own hands.”
~ Arthur Charles Clarke, 2001 Space Odyssey
Oscar night. My evening has been pleasantly occupied by this sparkling show of creativity. It’s glittering night for an over the top celebration of this years movie, the movie stars. When we are watching a movie, we only see the final cuts for the screen. Polished and edited. The Oscars that are awarded to those behind the scene, hard working people are equally, if not more important, because they design and build, they create fantastic make up and elaborate costumes, they skillfully shoot the scenes, edit the scenes, skillfully use state of the art technology to create the stories that we see on any movie screen. I salute them all for their hard work. Unfortunately, the pay equity leaves a lot to be desired!
So much has been said over the years about the host, the Oscars themselves, the glitz and I’m sure there is truth to back up the complaints. Besides those judgments, I am so very pleased to see the casts and crews honoured for a job well done.
“My philosophy is that the people around us are there doing as much work
if not more work behind the scenes and they’re the last people
you would ever be unkind to so I hope I’m not a diva off stage.”
~ Renee Fleming
A Short Story
To walk in solitude past the sleeping geese gave Delilah rest. A long day’s work staring at a computer screen had taxed her mind, not to mention her eyes. Column after column of numbers blurred by days end. She was jealous of the sleeping geese, ignorant of anyone passing them. It was silly, but she felt like tiptoeing past them. Instead she found her special bench and sat. Feeling like she should keep walking but enjoying the fall colours, Delia breathed a sigh of relief. It was Friday ~ no more computers til Monday. Face to the sun, eyes closed she gloried in the late afternoon.
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees
on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water,
or watching the clouds float across the sky,
is by no means a waste of time.”
~ John Lubbock, The Use of Life
when I don’t know how
when I’m afraid to ask for help
but they are so beautiful
I could look at them all day
until the sun threatens to set
~ a bridge from sky to ground
the only chance to free them
from the trap of my own making
landing gently on the ground
dreams are the ultimate purpose
to shape my life as a potter shapes
wet clay getting wet, dirty and tired
until the joyous work of the dream
frees my fears and is as beautiful as the sky.
“Dare to live the life you have dreamed for yourself.
Go forward and make your dreams come true.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Fronting the Globe Theatre,
bobcats sit silent in orange cages
dusty street brushed by the wind
one building tidy and clean while
pigeons flock, coo, strut and bow
cracking sidewalks wait their turn.
downtown clean-up:
a work in progress.
“Progress lies not in enhancing what is,
but in advancing towards what will be.”
~ Khalil Gibran, Lebanese writer, poet and artist
I plan to attend Brushworks Art Guild Show and Sale in June. Fortunately, it is within walking distance (or bus if I feel like it) from my home.
Aurora Art Guild Show and Sale
The Terrace Rotunda
Innovation Place
#10 Research Drive, Regina, Sask
(South of University of Regina)
May 11 - 13, 2023
Brushworks Art Guild of Regina, Inc.
Neil Balkwill Civic Arts Centre
2420 Elphinstone Street, Regina, Sask
Art Show and Sale - June 2 - 4, 2023
“The purpose of art is to lay bare the questions
that have been concealed by the answers.”
~ James Baldwin
What to Do
Phil was full of himself. At least that’s what his sister told him. This particular morning, standing in front of his mirror, face half shaved, he wondered if she wasn’t correct. He looked at his razor. It was special. It had to be a certain brand, for a certain facial type and his shaving cream purchased at a beauty parlour where he had his hair cut every two weeks. Since a teenager, he didn’t see anything wrong with that. As far as he was concerned his sister didn’t pay enough attention to herself. His clothes were always spotless, much to the chagrin of his mother. He was finally told to wash all his clothes himself. “You want me to look presentable don’t you mother?” “My dear, you always look like you’re about to go to some high level meeting or out on a date with that lovely girl from school.” After high school, it didn’t change. Except that he had to get a job. All he could get was a construction job while he started online University. He could barely tolerate his co-workers wearing the same unkempt clothes everyday. He did learn that he loved the outside work. The very thought of wearing a suit and tie everyday went against his new found preference. Being cooped up in a office, no matter how great the pay or prestige was, just did not sit well with him. Phil was stuck. He was not going to be a landscaper who got dirt under his fingernails. He wasn’t that interested in plants, or grass or crops of any kind. His university classes had all been directed at Law. It was interesting, but just hadn’t gripped him the way he thought it would. Journalism? He would have to work a lot of menial reporting jobs - society functions, dog shows, fairs. All very boring. There was no assurance that he’d land a plum anchor job at a TV station. Interviewing high level politicians didn’t happen if you hadn’t done the work to get there. He finished shaving, making sure to clean his face of every bit of shaving cream. He changed his blade, put everything away in his shaving case, wiped up the bathroom, leaving it as pristine as it had been.
The door bell rang. He heard his mother answer the door, greet whomever was there, close the door. Then “Phillip! There’s mail for you. A small package from your sister.” He sighed. “Put it on the hall table. I’ll open it after breakfast.” Under his breath he muttered. “I wondered what oddball thing she’s sent me this time.” The time before it had been a brilliant fuschia scarf. He had folded it up and stuck in the the back of a bottom drawer. As he closed the drawer, he could hear her cheerful voice all the way across the country. “Lighten up Phillie!” A fuschia scarf wouldn’t help him decide what to do with his life. He’d send her a thank you email anyway. Dressed in clean, pressed khaki pants and shirt, he went down to breakfast. He needed to have a good paycheque to get where he wanted to go, wherever that was. However, his father had always told him “A paycheque isn’t worth much if you don’t enjoy your job, Phil.”
“It’s not about earning a paycheck, it’s about doing
something good that you believe in.”
~ Adam Kinzinger
 |
| Or taking a walk just because! |
The work we do at home
behind closed doors
besides sweeping the floors
or dusting every little thing
but reading an intriguing book
other stuff should's forgotten
Or writing stories, essays, poems
when the other stuff still calls
Or crocheting a new baby blanket
when the bed still needs making
Or painting an imagined landscape
when the dishwasher needs emptying
Or - anything that creates meaning and
depth in life behind closed doors
“Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else.”
~ J.M.Barrie
For the hard work of acting
for the work of writers, special effects designers, film editors, sound engineers, costume designers, makeup and so very many more ~
The people who put all of the ideas together from beginning to end.
Each job takes focus, inspiration, and commitment ~ so we can be entertained.
“Success is best when it’s shared.”
~ Howard Schultz
A day off?!
But I’m retired.
Isn’t every day a day off?
Days off were designed for work places ~
weren’t they?
A day off!
Busy in retirement ~
Housework and planning
taking my time and
I almost forgot to read!
It truly was a day off.
Errands done in minutes ~
A stroll along the lake........
a cosy coffee shop for
a hearty sandwich and
delicious creamy iced coffee.
And then I felt it ~
It really was a day off!
Time away from the twirling busy’s in my head
Just me, my book, my lunch and
the vibrant chatting of lunch goers.
“Street sign: Ho Hum Road & Easy Street.
In retirement, I look for days off.”
~ Mason Cooley, American aphorist
It’s Only a Beginning
Dez had been getting steadily more restless. Walking the track everyday was necessary, but boring. Sometimes she’d have Brewster with her, sometimes her sister would walk with her, but most of the time she was on her own. The days that she had a companion, it did break the monotony of just going around in circles. She missed her own bed, her own walls, her own stuff. Even if it was a rented apartment. She had lost interest in her painting - still grateful that her sister had made a special trip to get it for her. Matt had been too busy to meet with her about her tiny house idea. Each time she rounded the far end of the track she had to pass the tangled old hedge where she first had the questionably brilliant idea. Her eyes and her heart tried to see that first vision. There were days when she couldn't see it at all and wondered how she could even have thought it was a good idea.
“Miss Dez! How're you feelin’ today? I’m startin’ work on that old garage today. Want to join me? You must be gettin’ awful bored, not being able to get out as often ‘cept to walk this track.” Samuel had appeared as if out of nowhere, wheelbarrow filled with tools, garbage bags and a big push broom across it. “Samuel! You startled me. Too involved with giving Brewster her loves and ear scratches.” Dez had been able to get down to Brewster’s level and had been granted a good face wash. “Brewster! No! That’s just gross and I’ll have to go all the way back to the house to wash my face properly.” Laughing at her predicament, she stood up. Dez loved dogs, but did not love the face wash. They’d have to work on that.
“Thanks, Samuel, but I’m not dressed for garage renovations. But if you’re working on it tomorrow, I could come out all ready and have my walk too.” The clouds had parted and the winter rain had stopped. Gulls floated on high currents in the blue skies. It was almost shirt sleeve weather. For December on the Island, this kind of weather was not always usual, but was always welcomed. A reprieve from the Island’s winter darkness and rain. “Didn’t you just say you had to go the to the house to wash your face. You could get work clothes on and come on back. But if you’d rather count on the clouds to stay away…..” Samuel’s words drifted behind him. He had picked up the wheelbarrow handles and headed down the path at the end of the hedge. Dez called after him. “What will you be doing? My balance is real good now, but I won’t be doing any heavy lifting yet.” She hoped that he had heard her. Calling over his shoulder he said “Just tidying up inside before I start the heavy work. James said there used to be some boxes of Christmas things stored there. You come on if you want to…….and ask Elizabeth for a couple of sandwiches and a thermos of tea.” He disappeared behind the hedge with his load. Dez heard him struggling with one of the doors. She called out “I’ll be right back and bring you some lunch.”
~~~~~
Now that she had a purpose, it really didn’t take her long to get to the house. Cook had the lunch all ready to go. Even enough for her, as well as some fresh baking. “How did you know, Cook?!” Cook laughed. “I could see you and that old man talking, then you came up here right away. I just looked at the time and he wasn’t giving you the weather report. I’ve packed it all in your backpack. Be easier for you to carry it out there.” Work clothes on, Dez had Cook help her adjust the backpack. Settling it on her shoulders, she thanked Cook and set out. Once at the garage, she called to Samuel. “We’re back. Brewster followed me up to the house and waited outside for me. He found a patch of sun and got comfortable. Here’s our lunch. Cook had it all ready for me before I even got to the house. The two of you must have telepathy!” Dez and Samuel laughed in unison. “I don’t know about telepathy, but she’s gone and done that before.”
Dez surveyed the garage. Cobwebs and dirt. That’s all that seemed to be there. “No lights in here yet and the back windows are so dirty that light doesn’t much get in.” Samuel was sweeping up the middle of the floor. “Just need to clear some space so we can get to the boxes over there in the corner. Then there’s that old work bench and all the drawers and boxes.” Dez squinted in the corners he had indicated and walked over to the work bench. It wasn’t until her eyes had adjusted to the light that she noticed them. “This old building is structurally safe, Samuel?” Once she got inside, she felt a little uncertain about their safety. “It’s good, Miss Dez. Wouldn’t have let either of us in here if I wasn’t sure of it. Here, clear off a space on that workbench. We’ll have to eat standin’ up so might just as well keep workin’ at the same time.” Dez was trying to clean off the windows, just small squares of brittle glass. “Look in the wheel barrow. There’s some wet and dry rags in there, some window cleaner too.”
The two worked in silence for the afternoon, not noticing the time until darkness hampered their work. Besides the windows and the floor, the boxes in the corner had been dusted off, Dez separating them out on the floor. She’d go through them tomorrow. Some of them were quite heavy, some light. Some rattled and some seemed packed with books. The work bench would have to wait till the next day too. She suddenly was aware of the good exhaustion she felt. “You ready to call it quits for today, Miss? I sure am and this old dog is fussin’ at me for her supper. We’ll walk you back up to the house.”
“The beginning is always today.”
~ Mary Shelley
If I had to use one word to describe Michelle Obama, it would be ‘unapologetic’. But one word is insufficient to describe her life, her heart and her honesty ~ a very no nonsense woman and, in her own words, a box checker. She came from a very loving supportive home, raised by hard working parents, Fraser and Marian Robinson, with an equally loving extended family. Some more difficult that others, but loving and loved. She was outspoken from a young age, not shy about speaking her mind. She and her brother Craig shared a room until as they got older and wall divided their bedroom was constructed. Writing of these early days elicited smiles and sometimes outright laughter from me. Excelling at school due to her own drive she always had the support and firm direction of her parents and extended family. Her father, Fraser, a quiet man, had a strong work ethic, never missing a day’s work despite having Multiple Sclerosis. When asked how he was feeling he always said that he was fine and there were times when he was not. Her mother, Marian, was a stay at home mom, until both Michelle and Craig were in Princeton.
Her ‘box checking’ involved getting a law degree, getting married, having children and a nice life. She achieved all these things but she had not counted on whom she would marry or how nice their life would be. As a junior lawyer, one of her assignments was to be advisor to a young hotshot lawyer. This ‘guy’ as she still refers to him was Barack Obama. He is not the ‘box checker’ type. Their friendship grew slowly until marriage ensued followed by two children - Malia and Sasha. The most humorous tell all was when Barack proposed to Michelle. I will just say he caught her very much off guard. The life in-between is what Michelle Obama shows her readers. Her great concern for how their children were raised, her life as a working mother and what she had to do to make it all work. A group of women friends, gathered over the years, were and still are her supports for laughter or tears.
She and Barack Obama have been and are devoted parents, despite the scheduled separation of life in the politic arena. The eight years in the White House were challenging and formative for the Obama family. The things that Michelle had to learn as First Lady were innumerable. Protocols, secret service agents, always riding in an armoured car, being under the media microscope, not to mention anyone with a cell phone, her clothes are only a few. At the same time, she tried to give her children some sort of a normal life in this bubble they lived in. One example - they had to make their own beds. It was, finally, the needs of children in the communities that seemed to give her direction within the bubble. One that would not be an intrusion on politics, as had been a problem when Hillary Clinton tried to get too involved in her years as First Lady. That being said, Michelle’s long term goal in her work with children, communities and schools did lead to productive legislation.
Through it all, Michelle Obama, as many of us do, questioned herself, wondering if she was enough. An excellent read and definitely one I will keep on my book shelf.
“Am I good enough? Yes I am.”
~ Michelle Obama
Title: Becoming
Author: Michelle Obama
Copyright: 2018
Publisher: Crown registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC
Type: Biography
Format: Hard Cover
ISBN - 978-1-5247-6313-8
Ebook ISBN - 978-1-5247-6315-2
