A weighty topic

I think we all had fun playing with Carol's tombstone maker. I came up with this epitaph for myself and happily e-mailed it off to the family. Then I started thinking about what I was saying about myself. I've struggled with my weight ever since my freshman year in college, when I put on the fabled freshman ten pounds. My roommate Ginny and I decided in the early spring that we had to deal with the weight gain. We bought a little calorie-counter book. I can still picture it. It was black-bound--a grainy fake leather-- and about 3 inches wide by 6 or so long. We studied it carefully and planned our dining room meals accordingly. At Wellesley, breakfast and lunch were cafeteria-style, and we limited ourselves to a hard-boiled egg and fruit or juice each morning. Lunchtime was usually a salad, if that was available. Otherwise we took a couple of slices of bread up to our room and ate them with more hardboiled eggs snitched at breakfast. (We weren't permitted to take food from the dining room.) Dinner was more of a challenge. We ate at round tables that sat eight (with high-backed chairs with a "W" painted Wellesley blue carved into each back.) The main course, usually a sliced roast, and eight plates were piled in front of the senior at each table. Other dishes--veggies and potatoes--were in front of the girls to her right. She'd put a couple of slices of meat on the plate and hand it to the next girl for potatoes, and so on around the table. A gravy boat was last. We said "No thanks" to the potatoes and gravy, and then skipped dessert. And we were successful! We each lost about ten pounds by spring break. I'm sure the fact that we were accountable to each other was the deciding factor. That was the first of many, many diets through the years. These days I can lose a few pounds by starving myself, but as soon as I eat again, the pounds come hurrying home. Sigh.

Sisters

I'm sure there are things to be said for being an only child. No competition for parental attention is the one that comes most readily to mind. (The flip side of this is the amount of attention that IS focused on you and the high expectations that follow.) But only children can never fully understand the relationship between siblings. And an only child who becomes the mother of several children watches with some degree of bewilderment those relationships. There seems to be a constant ebb and flow. The same toddlers who are playing happily on the floor with a set of blocks can be ripping (literally) hair from each other's heads the next instant. The same girls giggling in secret in a bedroom late one night may not be speaking to each other the next day. The mature composure of a child displayed in public--in school, say--may vanish during conflict with a brother or sister and leave one shrieking and chasing the other with intent to do grave bodily harm. But all that is a part of forming life-long relationships. "Bonding" is an over-used term, but I can't think of another to use to describe what happens between two people who share not only genetics but common early experiences. And I am envious! I have had close friendships in my life, but never had a friend who not only knew my secrets, but shared them; who spoke a common language and had a common ritual. What a joy that must be!

Some days are like that!

You follow her around from room-to-room, wagging your tail hopefully. Any time she's near the front door, you gaze longingly at the leashes hanging on the hook. But she keeps doing stupid things. What's the big deal about your hair on the sofa? And what is she doing with the paper and the pen? What's a bill, anyway? And pens are fun to chew. They make such a lovely color on the rug. Time goes by, and then she finds your old tennis ball under the bed while she's using that very noisy thing that sends Jill running every time. Jill is such a scaredy dog! "Here, William, play with this," she says. So you tag along while she puts the noisy thing in the closet, and now---maybe she'll chase you! But no, she's leaning into the fridge, pulling out things. Some of them smell pretty good! "Chicken, I guess, " she says. "Tom can put it on the grill when he gets home." Is she ever, ever going to notice you? Sigh. I guess you can just lie there and hope.

Only drowning men could see him

The Celtic daily prayer book of Victoria's that I read at night quoted Leonard Cohen in the July 6th passage, which sent me to the computer to find the rest of the lyrics to "Suzanne." The quoted fragment came from the part beginning: "And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water ..." I remember hearing a cover of this song in the very early '70's, I think. I know it was Noel Harrison, Rex's son, who sang it. And I know I was intrigued. So I followed a google link to discover that Suzanne was the wife of a friend of Leonard's with a loft on the water in Montreal, overlooking the St. Lawrence River. Here's the real Suzanne, who gave Leonard Constant Comment tea (tea and oranges) and here are the rest of the lyrics, in case you've forgotten! Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she's half crazy But that's why you want to be there And she feeds you tea and oranges That come all the way from China And just when you mean to tell her That you have no love to give her Then she gets you on her wavelength And she lets the river answer That you've always been her lover And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that she will trust you For you've touched her perfect body with your mind. And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said "All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them" But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you'll trust him For he's touched your perfect body with his mind. Now Suzanne takes your hand And she leads you to the river She is wearing rags and feathers From Salvation Army counters And the sun pours down like honey On our lady of the harbour And she shows you where to look Among the garbage and the flowers There are heroes in the seaweed There are children in the morning They are leaning out for love And they will lean that way forever While Suzanne holds the mirror And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that you can trust her For she's touched your perfect body with her mind. Lovely, evocative!

Jesus bless America. My Home Sweet Home!

Saw this on another blog, and the image stuck in my head and sent me back for a second look. Is Lady Liberty re-thinking her position? "Give me your tired, your poor, your Christians yearning to impose their faith on all...." When the blindfold comes off, will she be shocked to see that her torch of freedom has been replaced by what seems to me to be a threatening cross? And are the Ten Commandments now featured on her tablet? Seems to me this is clear violation of the separation of church and state. She's long been a symbol of all that makes us great---our welcoming embrace of diversity. And where is she? This is from a Memphis newspaper: The cross-bearing statue stands in front of the World Overcomers Outreach Ministries Church, a perfect spot, says pastor Apostle Alton R. Williams, for passersby to think about their relationship with God. (I got this circuitously, but ultimately from a blog called Tennessee Guerilla Women, via someone who posted a comment here, so thanks!)

Zero at the bone

Several of nature's people I know, and they know me; I feel for them a transport of cordiality; But never met this fellow, attended or alone, without a tighter breathing, and zero at the bone. (Dickinson)
I profess to being unafraid of snakes. I even feel "cordiality" towards them. But yesterday, when I went to cut some of the last hydrangeas, I headed for a lovely bloom to find myself eye-to-eye with one of nature's people. I confess to jumping back! He had his tail twined around the stem of the flower, so I went on and cut other blossoms, a little away from him, and took them in the house. I brought my camera back out, thinking he would have gone, but he was still there, waiting to have his picture taken. So here he is!