There is much to be grateful for this Memorial Day, don’t you think?
When I was a child, my small town commemorated this day with an annual parade along State Street. The procession ended at the local cemetery with a three-volley salute, which consisted of one gunshot each to represent duty, honor, and country. Then a trumpet bleated Taps, a tune I recognized from Girl Scouts as a sign for “lights out” at the end of the camp day. Taps at the cemetery, however, connotated lights out at the end of a life. Or more accurately, the end of many lives.
Back then, I definitely preferred the happier pageantry of the parade over the solemn ritual at the cemetery. Back then, I didn’t understand what the day was intended to mark. As an adult, I’ve come to better appreciate this day set aside to remember the veterans who gave their lives in duty, which differs from November’s Veterans Day, the day we celebrate all veterans, including those still living among us.
Official definitions aside, these days most of us celebrate Memorial Day as the official kickoff to summer. Personally, I don’t think this has to be contrary to remembering those who gave their all so we could have so much. The dilemma lies more in our getting so busy celebrating that we forget to pause and truly remember.
In a way, I see that failure to pause as an overarching symbol of life in May 2021. We’re so busy, busy, busy that we rarely stop to take a breath, let alone really slow down to contemplate the cycle of life going on around us. Especially as the pandemic winds down and the world tries to get back to normal, we don’t want to lose a minute. We’re making up for lost time.
Last month, I challenged some friends to get deliberate about taking a pause. I invited them to notice life through a different lens and to share what they saw. With their permission, I shared their creations in my April post. They bowled me over with the photos and haikus they sent. And some wowed me extra when they continued to share, even after April had passed.
In honor of their deliberate pauses, here are several more of some of their creations. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have.
Finally, as I paused to enjoy these creations from friends, I discovered I had a new one myself. Here it is:
Perhaps that’s the best thing about taking a pause. It often leads to shaking up our creative selves to the point we feel slightly more alive. What better way to remember our war dead than by taking a delicious bite of life in honor of all they gave?
Personally, that’s the way I marked the day.
I hope today you also took time to pause...and that you've had a good Memorial Day.
~ J ~
Updated: Nov 24, 2022
In the spirit of National Poetry Month, I’d like to ask you if you’ve heard the one about the artichoke? It was written by Joe Hutchison, who was Colorado’s Poet Laureate from 2014 to 2019. It goes like this:
Artichoke - “O heart weighed down by so many wings.”
I'm not quite sure why this tickles me so. Maybe because it reminds me that poetry is for everyone. Poems don’t have to be lofty and academic to make an impact.
With that in mind, and to celebrate this month of poetry, I reached out to several friends and invited them to contribute their personal work to this month’s post. My request included two caveats—(1) each poem should be short and (2) each should be accompanied by a picture or drawing created by the poet or one of their loved ones.
What fun I had with this! Dare I say, some of my friends don’t follow directions too well? And—surprise, surprise!—most of my family ignored my request completely. Oh, well. Or, to sum it up in the more poetic words of A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh: “Oh, bother.”
For now, please enjoy a few haikus (written in a three-line, 5-7-5 syllable pattern) others have shared with me, along with their personal photos and, in some cases, comments.
The haiku above, Childhood, comes from a long-time friend who is passionate about poetry. K.B. (aka Kathy) obtained her Ph.D. from the writing program at Georgia State University. She has taught poetry, published her own works, and produces an ongoing weekly radio program called Melodically Challenged. Yes, it’s poetry-centric, but it also features some fun indie music that ties to each episode's theme. Check out her website at www.melodicallychallenged.org. Or find her on FaceBook under the same name.
One Dose or Two Dose, above, is by Gurleen Roberts, the most creative DrPH I know. She is passionate about public health—can you tell? But she’s also a wonderful friend, a quality-improvement guru, an excellent writer, a lover of adventure, and a gifted professional photographer. You can find her work @gurleen_photos on Instagram.
Deborah Potts Fronzak provided Brother and Lilies for this project. A beloved, but now retired, preschool teacher, she continues to teach piano. When not busy with her music, or volunteering her time and treasures as a political activist, Debbie also enjoys birding, baking, photography, family...the list goes on. She’s a true Renaissance woman if ever there was one.
The poem and photo above should be called Great, don’t you think? It comes from Vicky Carter, who sent it with this note: “I have a stubbornly literal way of thinking, and poetry doesn’t come easily.” Good thing she’s always game to try new things because this is, well, great. A retired educator, Vicky now works with the elderly. She enjoys Yoga, watercolor painting, and her grandchildren (whom I love, too).
Bob J., who wrote Perfect, is a retired Dow Corning executive who now works as Managing Principal at Summit Growth Solutions, LLC. When I reached out to him about this project, he laughed, confessing he hasn’t written a poem since third grade. Never one to duck a challenge—he skydives with his daughter, still skis the moguls, and dabbles with oils—Bob delivered.
JE Mundy II is a tech professional with a big heart and a knack for writing. He enjoys the outdoors, Crimson Tide football, Dolly Parton...let’s just say, Joe loves life. At the top of his list of favorites comes family, as evidenced in his poem and photo, Generations. Check out some of Joe’s past essays—and a couple delicious-looking recipes—at www.yardtherapy.blogspot.com.
The poem above (written by Kerry Coulter with an accompanying photo by Vickie Ransbottom) marks the place where the rules get bent on this post. I reached out to Vickie, who often shares some incredible photos on FaceBook. When I invited her to participate in this project, the poetry part made her balk. She did, however, reach out to her friend Kerry, who agreed to share his poem Rise and Shine to go with one of Vickie’s pics. Thank you both!
After more messaging with Vickie, I learned she has over 7,000 (!) pictures she has created and posted on Flickr. She sent me the link, and since we’d already bent the rules, I asked if I could write a poem for the photo above. That’s how Innocence evolved. To see more of Vickie’s pics, go to Flickr.com - VickieRans. Or contact her at (404) 556-9593 to learn more about her work.
As long as we’re bending the rules, above is part of a gorgeous poem from Kay Ryle. She posted a longer version on FaceBook and was gracious to allow me to publish this partial. Chartreuse is a treat to the senses, and I do mean all of them. The full poem touches on so many things Kay is all about – beauty, nature, the garden, faith. Thank you, Kay, for agreeing to share. This is lovely.
And now may I tell you the story behind Agnes’s poem, Procrastination? She wrote it to honor her friend Glen, whom she drove to chemo treatments for months, and who anticipated visiting Agnes’s garden this summer. Glen died on February 20, 2021. At her service, her nephew said she always claimed, “Cardinals appear when angels are near.” The next day as Agnes journaled, she looked out the window and saw a beautiful cardinal. “It was as if Glen was telling me not to fret for not calling her more and that now she’s free to see my garden whenever she’d like.” Thanks for sharing such a special tribute, Agnes.
Anticipation (above) is a work by KDM, a dear friend with a knack for home and garden design, celebrating family, and spoiling her friends with kindness, great meals, and special gatherings. KDM’s poem (like Agnes’s) is a Tanka, a longer version of haiku written in a five-line, 5-7-5-7-7 syllable pattern. The poem needs no explanation, but don’t let her fool you: KDM has a killer green thumb.
Another friend who sometimes goes by KareBare also shared a Tanka. Again, this one (above) is self-explanatory, although I should add that I failed to credit KareBare with providing the picture as well as the poem. It’s a stunner. Makes me miss the beach, too. So here’s to you, Sister-Who’s-More-Like-a-Friend: I hope you get to visit your happy place soon.
So far most of the poems shared here have been fairly light and happy. But poetry runs the gamut, from Shakespeare and Dickinson to Dr. Seuss and Dylan (Dylan Thomas, sure...but Bob Dylan too). Some poems are written for a more literary palette, while others, like Artichoke, are intentionally short and fun, easier to digest. Still others, like The Hill We Climb, written and recited by Amanda Gorman at the 2021 Presidential Inauguration, make us think about important societal issues like race and oppression, feminism and marginalization. In other words, poetry isn't always breezy and filled with good cheer.
The poem above, Empathy, takes a dive into the shadows, but often Tankas do. I wrote it after my friend Lynnette sent two pictures she treasures. “I can send you photos that are meaningful to me,” she said, “but I'm lousy at poetry.” I didn’t push her to write, even though she’s a very fine writer. Instead, I let Lynnette’s photos speak to me, reminding me that time passes, love is endless, and tomorrow isn’t promised. With her permission, I crafted a poem to go with her photos. It pulls from her personal family story, which she shared in my post of June 2020. Love you, Lynnette. Thanks for your grace and openness to sharing and your patience with my questions.
Short haikus, too, can sometimes be dark. That doesn’t make them any less beautiful. For the poem Death, K.B. Kincer once again shares raw emotion through her words, this time in memory of her son, Robert Vincent Morea III. Kathy took the picture of Birmingham skies that accompanies the poem on the anniversary of his death. Born with Cystic Fibrosis, Bobby lived a full and active life. (I still remember how he relished being part of marching band during his high school years.) He received a double-lung transplant in the early 2000s. Enjoying good health, he founded Melodically Challenged in May 2006 while attending Georgia State University. He contracted an infection shortly after he began the show and passed away on June 20, 2006.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the poems shared throughout this post. Now that you’ve refreshed yourself on haiku, why not write one yourself to commemorate International Haiku Writing Day, which falls on April 17. Need some help? The picture above was taken by Vickie Ransbottom. She sent it to me along with this note: “The horse’s name is Winterhawk. To me, this is the one that needs a poem!”
Up for the challenge? Why not take a stab and send me your best? It's not about pulling together a masterpiece. It's about doing something creative, shaking things up to the point you feel just slightly more alive.
To close on a light note, I wanted to share one more variation on the haiku. It’s called a lune, and, as illustrated above, it has a three-line, 5-3-5 rhyming pattern. Sorry, all, this form is new to me, and I couldn’t resist. It's not like I ever promised you I could write good poetry. But hot damn, I’ve had me some fun with this post. I'm grateful to (and impressed by) the generous souls who contributed. And to think it all started with one tickling Artichoke.
Don't forget, write a haiku for Saturday. Pass it along if you're inclined. I'd love to see it.
Until next time...cheers ~ J
Updated: Nov 24, 2022
(NOTE: This post is in commemoration of Women’s History Month, which officially ends today. Unofficially, I say let the celebrations continue. It’s never too late to toast the history of women who have made a difference, especially our mothers and our grandmothers...and the ones who came before them.)
Women’s History month has been around since 1995. Its purpose? To celebrate the contributions and special achievements of women over the course of our country’s history. Its shame? The fact that it’s needed at all. But it is. Even in 2021.
Maybe you’ve heard the saying, “You’ve come along way, baby.” This was the slogan for a 1960s ad campaign that associated smoking Virginia Slims cigarettes with being chic and liberated, confident and modern. The campaign capitalized on the nation’s second-wave feminism movement, which, no longer needing to focus on voting rights or property rights for women, advocated for reproductive rights and changes in custody and divorce law. Oh, yeah. Cheers to women. We’d come a long way since the first wave of the movement.
That second-wave feminism movement lasted into the 1980s, during which time I worked for a small management consulting firm in Boulder, Colorado. Our office was located near the Boulder Country Club, where we would sometimes take clients for a business meal. On occasion, the president would treat the whole staff to lunch there. I remember two such occasions, and I remember them through the lens of today—this last day of Women’s History Month - 2021.
The first lunch occurred on what is now known as Administrative Professionals Day. Back then it was called Secretary Appreciation Day, and that was the purpose of our lunch—to celebrate the great work done by the administrative professionals on our staff. Upon being seated, I watched the hostess give every woman in our party a rose. When she came to me, I politely declined. After all, I wasn’t a secretary or administrative assistant. I was a Certified Management Consultant, a designation I’d worked my tail off to achieve. I didn’t say as much to the hostess but tried to decline graciously, thinking she’d understand and move on. She didn’t. Instead, she insisted I take the rose, saying, “We consider today a wonderful opportunity to celebrate all women.”
The other lunch I recall occurred on a Tuesday. I don’t remember what was special about that particular Tuesday except for this: I learned it was Ladies’ Day on the golf course. “What day is Men’s Day?” I asked earnestly, not intending to make my boss squirm. He did, though, and that’s how I learned there wasn’t a need for a Men’s Day. Every other day but Tuesday was already theirs.
And therein lies the reason for having a Woman’s History Month. It’s needed, baby. It’s still needed.
Our textbooks remind us our nation was founded by lots of white men. As a whole, I have nothing against white men. It just seems wrong to only celebrate them—at the exclusion of others who have also made a difference. For the same reason we need Black History Month in February, we need Women’s History month in March. For the purpose of inclusion. For now, at least.
During Women’s History month, we get to revel in the history of women who made great contributions to our country. When I was younger, we celebrated Louisa May Alcott, Clara Barton, and Rosa Parks. My granddaughter’s list will expand to include Mae C. Jemison, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and Kamala Harris. I love ‘em all. And these names barely get the party started, but that’s okay. The list will continue to grow.
But you know who we continue to forget to celebrate? The everyday woman. The woman who doesn’t make history but who keeps it churning. The woman who packs lunches and wipes runny noses and hopes her brain isn’t turning to mush. Or perhaps the everyday woman is the one who works two jobs to feed her family...or the one who collects unemployment because she can’t find even one job to feed her family. The everyday woman is probably just as exhausted as the woman we consider extraordinary—you know, that woman whose name gets celebrated in history because she got things moving and shaking.
Yet rarely do we celebrate the woman who is not a mover-and-a-shaker. And to that I say, shame on us.
So, to celebrate everyday women everywhere—and in honor of the everyday girls we’re raising—here are some adages to ponder. They come from extraordinary women—or, as I like to think of them, everyday women who just happen to be wearing extra special bling.
Ever hear any of these?
I figure, if a girl wants to be a legend, she should go ahead and be one. – Calamity Jane
Never apologize for being sensitive or emotional. Let this be a sign that you’ve got a big heart and aren’t afraid to let others see it. Showing your emotions is a sign of strength.” – Brigitte Nicole
Women belong in all places where decisions are being made. – Ruth Bader Ginsburg
If they don’t invite you to the table, bring a folding chair. – Shirley Chisolm
Don’t waste your energy trying to change opinions. Do your thing, and don’t care if they like it. – Tina Fey
“After all those years as a woman hearing, ‘not thin enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not thin enough, not that enough,’ almost overnight I woke up one morning and thought, ‘I am enough.’” –Anna Quindlen
I want every little girl who’s told she’s bossy to be told instead she has leadership skills. – Sheryl Sandberg
Instead of telling bossy girls (or bossy children in general) that they have leadership skills, we should guide them on what it means to be a leader. – Lily Snyder
In the 1990s we entered the third-wave feminism movement, which continues today and aims to embrace a broader range of women with a diverse set of identities. So, yes, we women have come a long way. On the glib side, I no longer automatically receive a rose if I dine out on Administrative Professionals Day. But in a more serious light, we still have a ways to go. On many fronts. And not just relating to women.
But today I am talking to and about women. Today I remind women everywhere: Your stories are unique and amazing. They’ll be lost if not passed along. If lost, how will we really know what a long and marvelous way we’ve come?
So please, everyday women, share your extraordinary histories. In writing. Around the campfire. When you’re talking to your children and grandchildren around the dinner table. Or even online.
Celebrate your stories.
Because they’re needed, baby. Oh, yeah. They’re still needed. Cheers ~ J
