Stain-glass Eyes

Alley Wall Drawing in Cihangir, Turkey This is a day I won't ever forget.  I took my Martin to Elderly Instruments to get repaired.  The man who diagnosed the problems that needed addressing was very nice.  He knew what he was talking about, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow. The diagnosis?  Reset the neck.  Glue loose x-brace. Glue loose binding. Repair pick guard area.  Re-fret the first seven frets, restring the guitar and get it ready for me to pick up.  GULP!!   This is my baby.  My first born.  My baby blanket, my pacifier.  My lover.  My best friend.  When I signed the repair sheet I asked the guy, "You will treat it like a baby, won't you?"   He said, "We do this all the time, it will be okay."  (he actually showed compassion for me) Heidi went with me today.  We drove to Lansing. (Elderly Instruments is on Washington Ave.)  I was glad I had her with me.  She hugged me twice, reassuring me and yet understand

I just read my niece's blog, notsosupermomjq.blogspot.com, and she shared this link about writing/creativity/arts.  I took the time to listen to today.  It was amazing. Thank you Jacqueline for sharing. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86x-u-tz0MA&feature=player_embedded The World Deserves Our Contributions. Let Them Be What They Become

Sitting with my feet propped, after deciding to do nothing, I begin the forward to Even a Stone Buddha Can Talk,.. More Wit and Wisdom of Japanese Proverbs , compiled and translated by David Galef.  I'm drinking my brother Tim's, rich tasting coffee in Troy.  (In a huge, bright, glossy-red cup)  I'm stressed. I'm embarking on a new adventure.  I need to find an apartment in Ann Arbor.  I need to be ready to connect to a diverse community.  I need to dive into my music and writing.  I need to take care of my health and aging body.  I need to look forward.  I need to face my fears.   All of these waves of change cause a surge in the opposite direction that can pull me backward.  It's like getting stuck in the undercurrent out at the Sand Dunes.  You jump into the waves, straight on and sideways.  Sometimes you even climb on their back as they come foreword and you ride them in.  You realize you could get k

The Light Showing Through the Bathroom Window, Truckey Street My mom suggested we go caroling this year before Christmas.  I grabbed at the chance.  I was glad when my brother Tim, his wife Susan, and my niece, Jenna, agreed to join us.   I typed a few songs to print off on Mom's turtle of a computer.  Mom called a few of her dear friends to schedule our visits.  I grabbed my guitar and we headed for Keightly Street to get the Cronans so we could begin. Our first stop was at Billy Pelon's house at the end of a winding, icy road.  Billy greeted us at the door wearing her colorful apron and sweet smile.  Her little house was modestly decorated with her personal, cherished, Christmas things. She had a red sweater on with a colorful polka-dotted collar folded over at her neck.  Billy is ninety-seven years old and she apologized for not being able to get around very easily without her cane.  She only sat for a minute with her arm around her little, old, gray dog wh

View of Mackinac Island From St. Ignace Shore I wander along the lakeside and wonder if this is loneliness.  If my aimlessness is mental illness.  If my lack of concern with time normal.  My inward-drawn discussions with myself strange.  My disconnect from the world permanent.  I have to believe being alone is making me stronger.  It's helping me prepare to be a part of something larger. Something I'll only find with patience.  Patience with myself and the seasons I have to pass through to be re-connected with a whole. "The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God.  Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be."  Anne Frank Limestone Pattern on Stone Beach In the past my religion, career and family gave me a purpose.  Retiring from teaching, seeing my daughters off on their own and losing my husband has stripped me o

Six days after my Aunt Phyllis Ahlich's passing, the family and friends gathered to do the cultural things we do here in America.  A funeral. Yesterday was an occasion for us to experience all in one day what we either put off, avoid, chastise, repress, deny, fear or simply shelter ourselves from.   An occasions to be open to life, sadness and memories. And to acknowledge the passing of time.  The passing of a loved one.  The contiued passing of our own life and those around us. I know neither words or pictures can capture the spirits that joined together to celebrate Phyllis' life.  But I wanted to capture the hugeness of what can happen in a room in a few hours during our cultural ceremony, the funeral.  The crying, singing, reciting, story telling, poetry reading, euligizing, hugging, displaying of pictures, praying, reminiscing, reflecting, smiling, laughing and loving we share at a time and setting like this. Barb (Ahlich) Crosby, Carol Ann, and Katie Crosby

I headed for Moran Bay through the new, white snow. The morning after a short blizzard. My heavy black boots, up to my knees, dragging a trail to the shoreline. I looked straight toward Lake Huron. It's cold, dark blue tucked into the soft, light blue of the cloudless sky. When I reached Main Street there was no need to look both ways before crossing. St. Ignace was as quiet as the bay. As I walked I let the soft, cold wind touch the only skin exposed.  My face. The wind shared its gentle touch with the morning, winter sun. Causing me to grin with deep pleasure. This gift of solitude was filling me up. Making my heart full and satisfied. A long, burnt-red freighter lay floating on this fleece-made bed of blue. Like a lily-pad anchored to its place,  peacefully sleeping. The marina still asleep from a long stormy night with its planks covered in downy white, was begging me with its silence to let it rest.