• Home
  • My Story
  • Book Reviews
  • Contact Me

Marie at 1 Write Way

  • An Open Letter to House Speaker Mike Johnson

    January 10th, 2025

    Mr. Speaker:

    Recently I began reading Jimmy Carter: River and Dreams by Jim Barger, Jr. and Dr. Carlton Hicks. It’s a wonderful book, and I’m learning a great deal about fly fishing although I don’t fish at all. I highly recommend this book of remembrances and reflections, considerations of faith and duty.

    I thought of you when I read this passage by Dr. Hicks:

    […] I’ve often thought about how religion is used to justify much of the evil and cruelty that plagues our world, even as it serves as a source of great comfort, love, and compassion for many people like the Carters. Most of the people I grew up with practiced some form of Christianity, and I have seen over my lifetime many self-described Christians not only fail to love their neighbors but also choose to treat others with contempt and hatred. As for the Christian ideal of loving one’s enemies? Well, that seems to me to a completely foreign concept to so many who claim to follow the teachings of Jesus. It never ceases to amaze me how the very same religion can prompt some people to act out of fear and hatred and conversely prompt other people, like the Carters, to act out of courage and love. [pp.62-63]

    I thought of you, Mr. Speaker, because while you claim you are a Christian, you do not act like one. In fact, your actions often contradict the faith that you claim. For example, on your official Congressional website, under Issues, Human Dignity, a summary statement begins with:

    Because all men are created equal and in the image of God, every human life has inestimable dignity and value, and every person should be measured only by the content of their character. 

    Firstly, “all people” rather than “all men” would be more appropriate here, as you well know. That you’ve taken actions to deny women’s autonomy, in particular reproductive autonomy, reveals that your choice of the word men is meaningful.

    Secondly, your disdain for immigrants, your desire to have families torn apart and deported, and your preference to round up human beings and keep them in cages rather than allow them the dignity to work and contribute to society give the lie to your statement that every human life has inestimable dignity and value.

    As well as your claim of Christianity, your hypocrisy is shown by the following statement and your actions that contradict it:

    In America, everyone who plays by the rules should get a fair shot.

    Mr. Speaker:

    • You have shamelessly supported a convicted felon for President of the United States.
    • You have shamelessly courted a man who has, just as shamelessly, broken every rule to get what he wants, never mind who gets hurt in the process.
    • You have shamelessly embraced a man who has mocked people with disabilities, sexually preyed on women, and suggested that people born with birth defects–even ones in his own family–should just be left to die rather than receive life-sustaining treatment.
    • You have shamelessly encouraged the advancement of a man who has referred to U.S. soldiers who were held as Prisoners of War or injured during service losers.

    Mr. Speaker, you fool no one. Christians who believe as the Carters believed see right through you. You might feel that you’ve won this round, but the fight for Democracy is not over. It will never be over as long as there are agents like yourself who seek to establish an autocratic theocracy, restricting our inalienable rights until we are no more free than those living under the Taliban.

    Those of us who truly believe in Democracy, who truly believe in the dignity and value of all human beings, will never give up.

    Sincerely,

    Marie A Bailey

    cc: Democratic Leader Hakeem Jeffries

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • Five Things at the End of 2024

    December 31st, 2024

    A Christmas Gift

    Although it’s not my first Christmas without my mom and sisters, I felt their absence more keenly this year. Especially the absence of my sister Shirley since Christmas was her favorite holiday. I still remember the utter shock on her face when, years ago, I said that my husband and I had stopped exchanging gifts. I barely managed to stifle a laugh at her reaction.

    I do give gifts to my family, but I expect and ask for nothing in return. The gift is in the giving, as they say. But this year, I received a very special gift.

    Front cover of the photo book.

    Inside this book are copies of my sister’s recipes for cookies and cakes.

    I can’t express how it felt to see her handwriting, the old recipe cards with smudges and stains from frequent use. I can only say that it was a lovely gift to receive at the close of this year and one that I will always cherish.

    Writing

    I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. I don’t make goals anymore. I often have tasks related to housekeeping, doctor’s appointments, grocery shopping, but they are not the sum of my days.

    Still. I do want to renew my focus on writing. I have four unfinished novels. Three of the novels are a kind of trilogy as they share the same characters. One is a standalone. All were first drafted during a National Novel Writing Month. I want to finish them. Get them done. I don’t want to write anything “new” until they are out into the world. I haven’t set a way for publishing them yet (all of them need considerable editing first) but I’m not in this for the money. As I did with my short story Love Me Tender, I might produce the novels using Bookfunnel and Lulu.

    Nature

    I’m continually surprised by what I sometimes literally unearth on our property. While weeding around the tendrils of our strawberry plant, I found this little critter.

    Wooly bully

    At first I thought it was a wooly seed of some kind. Further investigation through my iSeek app revealed that it was a caterpillar curled up in defensive mode. If all goes well, it will eventually morph into a Giant Leopard Moth.

    By Jeremy Johnson – http://www.meddlingwithnature.com, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=41471642

    Knitting

    While I contemplate renewing my focus on writing–that is, finishing my novels–I’ve been knitting. In early November I started knitting an intarsia shawl. Kind of like painting but with yarn. The shawl is still in progress but I wanted to share a couple of photos.

    While intarsia isn’t difficult, the changing shapes and colors can be a challenge.

    Here’s what the finished shawl should look like when completed.

    https://shopflorencespurling.com/products/elvan-shawl

    I don’t work on this shawl every day. What I like least about knitting is the finishing process (well, I guess that’s true with almost everything I do) so, as with writing, I procrastinate. One afternoon I procrastinated by taking a virtual workshop on knitting little cats.

    This is supposed to be a cat in a box but with the edges curled under, I think the box looks more like a bed. And I like it like that.

    Which leads me to my fifth thing at the end of 2024.

    Cats

    Wendy isn’t so much reaching out to touch Raji as she is letting him know that he better not get any closer to her.


    Thank you for reading. I hope you all have (or had) a Happy New Year. Here in the U.S., some of us feel dread as we begin 2025. I hope it’s many of us feeling that dread because we’ll need a lot of us to show up in 2026 and vote out the authoritarians and broligarchs and vote in Democracy. We won’t be alone. We’ll have lawyers: Democracy2025.

    As one of my favorite lawyers, Joyce White Vance, would say, “We’re in this together.”

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • The Full Catastrophe by Casey Mulligan Walsh: Book Review

    December 18th, 2024

    In her Author’s Note, Casey Mulligan Walsh begins her tough, bittersweet and unflinching memoir with this quote from Barbara Kingsolver.

    Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.

    Casey notes that The Full Catastrophe is “a true story to the best of my recollection.” And a reader cannot expect better than that. Some writers of memoir will ask family members or friends to fact-check their memories, but I’ve often thought of memoir as a window into one person’s perception of their life and take it as such. It’s not autobiography. It’s that person’s truth, the essence, of what they remember.

    What impressed me more than anything while reading this book was Casey’s seeming determination to not whitewash her story, to not spare herself any blame criticism in how her life turned out.

    I started to use the word blame but that wouldn’t have been fair. Casey turns a critical eye on herself, but in such a way that allows her to rise above where she feels she might have gone wrong. Hers is a story of how the best of intentions can lead one astray and how being honest with oneself can save a life (hers) and a family.

    Determination, I see now, is not always a positive quality. It can spur you to great things. It can also make you blind, unable to see when enough is simply enough.

    When still a young girl, both of Casey’s parents died. Several years later, her only sibling–a beloved brother–also died, leaving Casey alone and adrift in an unfriendly world. She was placed with relatives who weren’t shy about showing her their displeasure in having to be responsible for her.

    In such an environment, it’s easy to imagine any young woman jumping at the first chance to leave. In this case, that chance was an ill-fated marriage.

    All Casey wanted was to feel safe in the world and to shower love on a family of her making. She really wasn’t asking for much, not considering how hard she was willing to work for what she believed in. Unfortunately, she and her husband were a “mismatched pair.” Later Casey also learns that his parents (who she had believed accepted her as much as they would their own daughter) were perhaps her greatest enemies, siding with her husband during their separation and subsequent divorce, and coming between Casey and her children.

    It’s not enough that Casey struggles to keep together the family she always wanted. Two of her three children, her first-born son and then her daughter, are born with a genetic condition, a form of high cholesterol called familial hypercholesterolemia (FH). Can you imagine the worry, the fear for your children, knowing they have a condition that can lead to a premature death?

    As Casey’s marriage deteriorates, she becomes more controlling of her children and her husband. She admits this. In the context of her children’s health, it makes sense. In the context of all her losses, the deaths of her parents, her brother, other family members and friends, it makes sense. In the context of her husband’s drinking and combativeness, it makes sense. Her world was falling apart, and she was desperate to keep it together. As anyone would be.

    And then her oldest son dies. Not from FH as Casey feared, but from something so random and so common as a car accident. Casey holds it together until she can’t. She finds comfort and strength in the outpouring of love and support she and her family receive, but then dissolves in tears at the end of TV news story about Eric.

    The Full Catastrophe is a story of love and loss, the devastating grief of losing a child, the determination to make a family, to make a home. All along I was taken with Casey’s resolve to do the right thing by her children, sometimes to the point of seeming to turn them against her. Tough love, you might call it, but love nonetheless.

    I often thought of my mother as I read Casey’s memoir, recalling how my mom tried to protect me from the big, bad world, how her efforts to protect me drove me away from her. I wondered if at times she too blamed herself for her children’s failures. I can only hope that, like Casey, she came to realize that she had done the best she could have done given her circumstances and that her love would ultimately bring me back to her.

    The following quote from The Full Catastrophe is one that I keep nearby, a reminder that while death is inevitable, love never dies:

    Just in time, I understood our connection to those we love doesn’t end with death, that nothing can separate us unless we choose to walk away. That it will all be over so soon for all of us, and what’s important is what we do while we’re here.

    I highly recommend The Full Catastrophe for all readers, but especially those interested in memoir and who may be experiencing their own never-ending grief.


    PREORDERS ARE LIVE on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Bookshop.org. You won’t be charged (or receive the book) until February 18, 2025.

    All orders placed at Battenkill Books will be fulfilled with a signed copy.

    To further entice you into preordering, Casey has some bonuses for you! After you’ve ordered, head over to her website at https://caseymulliganwalsh.com/preorder-the-full-catastrophe-now/. Scroll down to the preorder form and provide your name, email, order number, and supplier. Hit submit and you’ll receive the link to three preorder bonuses:

    • Five Ways to Support Those Who Grieve, a concise sheet with advice about ways to support grievers when you struggle, as we all do, with ideas of what to do or say, and a list of supportive podcasts, books, and websites
    • The Full Catastrophe Spotify playlist—hours of music that became the soundtrack for the life Casey lived, then captured in her memoir
    • Finally, a link to an ask-Casey-anything zoom call/celebration on launch day, February 18, 2025 (time TBD).

     (If you plan to order from Amazon on launch date, just enter “00000” in the order # space on the form, and you’ll receive these bonuses as well.)

    You can also subscribe to Casey’s newsletter Embracing the Full Catastrophe on Substack.


    Thank you for reading. Here’s your reward.

    Ginger cat lying on a blue blanket, forelegs crossed.
    A favorite photo of Raji.

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • Lens-Artists Challenge #326 — This Made Me Smile

    November 27th, 2024

    I’ve been a bit “out of it” lately due to world events and general procrastination. I keep meaning to get back into the swing of things so when I (finally) sat down to catch up with my online community, I came across this Lens-Artist Challenge is hosted by Leya. She encourages us to share what makes us smile. For some, smiles these days might be hard to come by so this is a particularly timely challenge.

    What makes me smile? Here’s a few:

    Nature

    Whether it’s an Eastern Carpenter Bee getting up close and personal with Kay’s Pink Roses (photo featured above) …

    Or the tell-tale sign of a raccoon visiting our campsite at night …

    Or a swallowtail butterfly feasting on penta blooms …

    Or a praying mantis praying that it is blending in …

    Or an red-tailed hawk just hanging out in the ‘hood …

    Or a momma gator and her baby.

    Sometimes Art makes me smile …

    Sonic Blooms, Seattle, Washington, 2014

    From the exhibit: Created by Seattle-based artist Dan Corson in a collaboration between Pacific Science Center and Seattle City Light, these sun loving, harmonic blooms use regionally manufactured, custom solar panels to generate their own power. Each flower top contains 48 solar cells that produce 4.6 Wp (watts at peak production) for a total of 1,104 Wp for all 5 flowers.

    The electricity generated will make the flowers dance with light through the evening and sing through the day, 365 days of the year. Sonic Bloom combines art and science to help educate about solar energy in the Pacific Northwest and inspire people to consider how they can incorporate renewable energy into their lives.

    Especially funny signs or photos …

    A bigger smile from me when they refer to knitting …

    What makes me smile the most? Cats, always the cats …

    Junior (RIP) and Maxine (RIP) staking out their territory on my husband.
    Wendy and Raji zonked out in the sun.

    I hope you got some smiles out of my selection! Let me know what makes you smile.

    If you want to participate in this Lens-Artists challenge, remember to tag with Lens-Artists and link to Ann-Christine’s original post.

    Next week, Sofia will lead us from her beautiful site Photographias – be sure to visit on Saturday 30!


    To all of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you have a wonderful time with family and friends. Despite current world events, we still have much to be grateful for. I know I am grateful for each one of you.

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • Veterans Day 2024

    November 11th, 2024

    Today we honor those who fought on behalf of our country.

    Theodore Albers, Army

    I honor my dear surrogate grandfather, Ted Albers (RIP), who was drafted into the Army at the age of 34, captured at the Battle of the Bulge, and held as a POW under the end of WWII …

    Greg admiring some tall Horrible Thistles at our happy place, St Marks National Wildlife Refuge.

    I honor my husband, a Vietnam-era Navy veteran who flew in P3s looking for Russian submarines …

    To honor them, I’ve made a donation to The New York Bar Foundation’s fundraiser to assist veterans in need of legal services (https://nylawyerslovevets.swell.gives/).

    Don’t just thank a veteran for his or her service. Hug them. Hold them close and tell them you love them.

    Support them. Make sure that what they fought for is not denied to them. Last week’s election should have secured their rightfully deserved benefits. Now their benefits are at risk by people who know nothing of sacrificing for their country and who consider POWs and wounded soldiers losers.

    Do what you have to do to honor those who risked their all for our freedoms.

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • Eyes Open by Lyn Miller-Lachmann: Book Review

    November 8th, 2024
    "Eve bore the greater punishment:
    subjugation beyond exile
    pain beyond loss.
    We are no longer trusted.
    The hierarchy we must not debate
    goes like this:
    God
    Leader
    landowner
    boss
    father
    husband
    . . .
                    we, the foolish girls
    A man has twenty-four ribs
    A woman is one twenty-fourth
    of a man."

    From Eyes Open by Lyn Miller-Lachmann

    Several months ago I won Eyes Open in a giveaway hosted by L. Marie at El Space. I did not take several months to read this compelling novel written in free verse. Procrastination–the one thing I excel at–preempted a timely review. But perhaps not.

    Given the U.S. election results, perhaps this is the right time to share a review of this powerful book.

    Eyes Open is the story of Sonia, a feisty, independent-minded teenager and her struggle to realize real independence in Portugal during 1966-1967, a slice of time during a dictatorship that lasted from 1926 to 1974. Sonia is in love with Zé Miguel, a dissident not much older than herself. Her family is against the relationship because they are both considered too young (in their mid- to late teens) and because of Zé Miguel’s anti-government activities.

    At the beginning of the novel, Sonia’s family is enjoying a relatively middle-class life. They own their own restaurant and the five daughters (to Sonia’s father’s deep disappointment, he has no sons) attend a Catholic school. There Sonia and her friends create a poetry club and write poems honoring Zé Miguel after he is arrested and imprisoned.

    Sonia writes in free verse because

    I don’t have time
    to rhyme.

    And indeed she doesn’t. Zé Miguel’s arrest causes suspicion among Sonia and her friends and her sisters. Sonia gets revenge on those who turned Zé Miguel in. The backlash is quick and fierce.

    One step over the line.
    My boyfriend’s in prison.

    One step over the line.
    Our family’s business is gone.

    One step over the line.
    We leave our home forever.

    We scatter, start over, refugees
    in our own land.

    Sonia is a brave young woman but naive in that she seems to take men, at least the ones she is attracted to, at face value, despite (or perhaps in spite of) warnings from friends.

    Zé Miguel breaks Sonia’s heart but she understands why: in this country, even among the dissidents, women are expected to be subservient. Another young man plays the long game with her, courting her, convincing her that he admires her poetry and her independence when, frankly, all he wants is to get into her pants.

    Despite the betrayals, Sonia’s willingness to believe in people and, more importantly, believe in herself as a positive force is heartening.

    Sonia takes many risks for the sake of her independence, suffers beatings from her father, survives dangerous work at a hotel laundry, and eventually manages to escape Portugal. (And it is an escape. As a female, she is prohibited from traveling freely.) Still, she does not give up.

    I am a scatterling
    one of many.
    [...]
    for the monsters among us
    moved into our home
    made colonies of our minds
    and between a hostile neighbor
    and the sea
    I cast my lot with the sea
    with the certainty that
    like fishing boats sailing beyond

    the horizon
    brave sailor
    eyes open
    gazing toward a new world beyond
    the horizon

    I too
    will
    return.

    I have tried to replicate the structure of the free verse used in this novel so you can see how effective that structure is to convey feeling. Eyes Open is available at Bookshop and Amazon.

    An audio version is available through libro.fm. Such wonderful narration by Soneela Nankani! If you can afford it, I would recommend buying both, perhaps listening to the book as you read it.

    I also highly recommend this interview with Lyn Miller-Lachmann on El Space: Check This Out: Eyes Open. L. Marie always conducts a great interview.

    Eyes Open is a powerful story of one young woman’s fight for self-determination, for independence for herself and her country. It may well be necessary reading for these times.


    And so. Here we are. I am struggling to keep my composure. I am struggling to take care of myself. I had looked forward to the end of the election so I could finally relax and refocus on all the things I’ve been neglecting during the campaigns. Instead of writing for my blog and knitting for myself, I had mailed letters and postcards, donated $ when and where I could. Stay informed. Voted.

    I don’t regret a second of it. Instead, I wish I had written more letters, more postcards. Would it have made a difference? Probably not. But it’s who I am.

    I no longer march and I don’t believe in text banking or phone banking. I’m one of those people who will not answer calls from unknown numbers and who finds unsolicited text messages annoying. But I can write so that I did.

    I am fearful. I’ve often been literally sick to my stomach since early Wednesday morning. I know it’s going to get real ugly and dark and scary. I believe we will probably be okay because we’re old white people. Then again we might witness the end of Social Security and Medicare as well life-saving vaccines … but we are not panicking. Not yet.

    For now, I’m grabbing any and every little bright star I can find. At last count, 69.1 million people voted for Harris so there are 69.1 million people in this country who still believe in Democracy. Another 2.2 million voted for someone other than Harris or what’s-his-name. I’m not sure what those voters believe in. But I will keep returning to that 69.1 million as 69.1 million brilliant stars in a very dark sky.

    I find other brilliant stars in the Democrats who won local or state-level races, in the states that voted for reproductive rights, in the lawyers who are gearing up to stop or at least slow down the heinous policies set forth by Project 2025. I am not going to give up.

    I can’t give up. I don’t want to give up. I think of Sonia and how much worse her life would have been if she had just given up and given in.

    Lastly, these two need me.

    Raji showing off his best side … or end.
    Wendy in deep slumber.

    Please take care of yourselves. I know that many of you who read my blog feel as I do. You are all brilliant stars to me.

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • An Open Letter to My Mom on (What Would Have Been) Her 101st Birthday

    October 25th, 2024

    Dear Mom,

    I don’t know where you are right now. I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell, but if there’s a Heaven, then I imagine …

    You sitting at a picture window, in front of a card table where a spread of 1,000 puzzle pieces wait for your attention which is distracted by the Baltimore Orioles and Cardinals and Bluebirds also vying for your attention outside your window.

    Your oldest daughter Charlotte is watching TV which is permanently set to daytime soaps, the ones you and she would discuss on the phone when she lived in Florida and you in New York. She sits in her blue leather recliner, offering running commentary that you only half listen to.

    Your other daughter Shirley is flipping through Amway receipts while she recites the latest accolades of her grandchildren. During commercial breaks she’ll pick up a James Patterson novel and read a bit. She sits in her chair, a facsimile of the recliner she left behind, the shawl I knitted for her draped over the back.

    You watch your birds, piece together your puzzle, and maybe listen to your daughters. You don’t have to hear every word. It’s enough to have them near you.

    Maybe you’re waiting for one of your siblings to drop by. Maybe Beatrice who was the first to go, or Alice who was the last before you. Maybe your brothers Virgil, Ed, Bob, or Leon will show up, or Mildred, Edith, or Leona. It’s been so long since you had seen your siblings. And you wonder about the last two–Howard and Orvetta. You want them to be well until it’s their time and then … no pain, no pain.

    You miss berry picking and going to the casino, but then your daughters might take you when you’re in the mood. In this version of Heaven, Shirley does not have Parkinson’s and Charlotte can breathe easily on her own.

    After your daughters–your girls–died, you missed them so much that you were relieved to miss your 100th birthday. You got close, very close. But the pull of your girls was too strong, the loss of them too much to continue to bear.

    People ask me why your last two children–me and your son–weren’t enough to keep you going. Why did you openly lament the loss of your girls as if they were the only children you had?

    They were the only children you had for eight years. You were in your twenties then. By the time your son and I came along, unexpectedly, you were nearly middle-aged with a sick husband and decades of hard and poorly paid work ahead of you.

    I want to believe that those first eight years, when it was just you, my dad and your girls, were happy years. Maybe, when your girls died, that was the loss you felt most keenly. They were no longer around to remind you of that time.

    No child should die before their parents. No parent should experience the death of their child.

    I know you loved me as best as you could. I loved you as best as I could. Yes, I could have been a better daughter. My efforts paled compared to my sisters. Yes, you could have been a better mother. Hindsight is 20-20. There’s regret on both sides, but no point in it.

    You were never one for regrets. You didn’t like to look back, and you didn’t pay much mind to the future. From you, I’m learning to live in the moment. That may be your greatest gift to me.

    With love,

    Marie


    Charlotte, Mom, and my stepdad Ken
    Mom and Shirley

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • Five Things About My Sister Charlotte

    October 8th, 2024
    Me and Charlotte, circa 1981

    Birthday

    Yesterday, October 7, would have been my sister Charlotte’s 80th birthday. I meant to write a blog post celebrating her birthday. I felt that weird sort of self-consciousness that social media provokes: if I don’t publicly share what I’m doing, did I do it? By not writing a public post on my sister’s birthday, I can’t prove I thought about her that day. Trust me, I did.

    Hurricanes

    It wasn’t just her birthday that prompted me to think about Charlotte. It was also the hurricanes—one past, another on its way. Charlotte had lived in St. Petersburg, FL, in a mobile home park. If she were still alive, she’d be evacuating right now, trying to get as far away from Hurricane Milton as possible. Maybe.

    When she was alive, and hurricanes had the Tampa Bay Area in their sights, I’d worry about Charlotte. I’d call her, ask if she had someplace to go. She’d get impatient with me, arguing that I didn’t need to worry. She’d argue that she didn’t have to evacuate, but then she would wind up staying with friends. I’d feel relieved but also guilty.

    We didn’t have the kind of relationship where I’d drive almost 300 miles to pick her up and whisk her away. We didn’t have the kind of relationship where we were willing to risk being stuck with each other.

    Health

    It wasn’t always like that. Twenty-some years ago I spent a couple of weeks with her while she recovered from heart surgery. We had fun. We watched old movies, ordered pizza, ate Kentucky Fried Chicken. It was like a two-week slumber party.

    While she was in hospital, I cleaned her tiny trailer, shampooing the worn carpet, replacing old appliances. And I cried. She was widowed by then, and she didn’t seem to have many friends. At least, not many that she could count on. I didn’t know yet that when she was very drunk, she wasn’t very nice. I cried because I saw how she was living on the edge. I wanted to fix things for her. I paid off her credit card that was several months past due. I told a bartender at the establishment she frequented that she had had heart surgery and should limit how much she drinks. I left her cash so she could pay her bills. I treated her like a child, much like our mother did.

    History

    Charlotte was almost 13 when I was born. Growing up, she was sometimes my favorite sister, sometimes not. I always saw her as tragic, fragile, fatalistic. Our mother infantilized Charlotte. Really, there’s no other word for it. My sister Shirley didn’t give our mother a chance. She went to nursing school and then married at 19, putting herself on the same playing field as our mother.

    Charlotte, well, she was unlucky in love. She first married a guy who dealt in antiques and taught me how to pick the strings of a guitar. He was quiet and patient with me so I liked him.

    Until Charlotte acknowledged that, yes, rape does occur in marriage. I was 12, a budding feminist, and I felt a chill when she responded affirmatively to what I had just read in a book. She didn’t look at me, and I had a fleeting image of her in a dark bedroom pleading No.

    During that first marriage, Charlotte came down with scarlet fever. I didn’t know until years later that it was our mother who insisted that Charlotte go to the hospital. Her husband, apparently, was content to let her lie in bed. The fever weakened her heart, and she was told that she should never have children. All she ever wanted.

    Sisters

    A desire for children was something I never shared with either of my sisters. Maybe because I was the youngest. By the time babies entered my life—through my sister Shirley—I had turned inward, wanting to just be left alone. My family was crumbling. I was old enough to see that something was wrong with my dad, but too young to understand what it was. I was afraid of my mother and her cold temper. My brother was a boy.

    Occasionally, I’d spent a night or two with Charlotte and her first husband. I guess it was my mother’s way of getting me out of the house. I remember Charlotte going with me to a quarry for clay and then making a mess of her kitchen trying to make little pots. I remember her being patient with me and quiet. And sad.

    It’s taken me 67 years to realize that Charlotte and I were not destined to be friends. We were too alike in the wrong ways. Both of us had a wild side, no doubt spurred by our mother’s over-protectiveness. The things I didn’t like about myself, I saw in Charlotte: a tendency to drink too much, to judge, to be mercurial. I saw Charlotte as the woman I might have become if Greg hadn’t entered my life.

    We’d been drifting apart when Trump decided to run for president. He made certain we wound up on different continents. Once Charlotte understood that I liked Obama and I didn’t like Trump, I was persona non grata.

    And yet, I keep remembering our last phone call. How she called me “dear” in between her gasps for breath. How I wanted to say I love you but didn’t.


    Thank you for reading. I’m very behind on reading, and I appreciate your patience as I try (and likely fail) to catch up.

    Please keep everyone affected by hurricanes Helene and Milton in your thoughts and prayers. I’ve been reading wonderful things about World Central Kitchen if you want to help by donating: https://wck.org

    If you’re interested in donating to local groups, readers at Modern Daily Knitting (MDK) offer great suggestions in their comments at this link: https://ctrk.klclick.com/l/01J9DXTXVV963JVJXDYBWSBNV1_13

    Stay safe!

    Sunbathers.

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • Life After Helene

    September 28th, 2024

    Woot! Power is back on. Now my electronic life resumes … charging batteries, checking internet service, resetting clocks, plugging in the kettle, turning on the light in my windowless bathroom, sitting now with my iPad typing away.

    Now complacency can set in since Helene (for us) turned out to be a minor inconvenience. Maybe it would have been psychologically worse for us if we hadn’t prepared for the worst, but as far as life and limb, we are so near normal now that Helene seems like a bad dream.

    Yesterday, the hummingbirds came back in force, and my husband had to scurry to get the feeders back up. The butterflies (mostly long-wing zebras but we did see one Monarch yesterday) are also back and hungry.

    While I’m glad to have power again, I’ll miss the dark sky, the relative silence (generators and owls competing for our attention), and the slowing down of life, the opportunity to “make do” and learn what I can live without.

    Thanks to everyone for your good wishes!

    Please keep in the mind all those who were hit harder by Helene than we were. We were saved by Helene tilting east, but that meant that others were not so lucky. Areas that were hit worse include Taylor County which has suffered through three hurricanes in the last two years.


    The day after Helene, after a sleepless night …

    Wendy needs to lose weight!

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
  • Here Comes Hurricane Helene!

    September 25th, 2024

    I live in what is called the Big Bend of Florida, and tomorrow (Thursday) we will likely be cowering in place while a Category 3 hurricane blows through.

    We live about 20 miles up from the M on the red Sharpie-like line in the above graphic.

    Am I scared? Yup. This part of Florida has NEVER had a hurricane of this magnitude come through. My county has issued mandatory evacuations for people living in mobile homes, but not for the rest of us. But where would we go with two cats? There’s a greater risk that if we left, we wouldn’t be able to get home after the hurricane because of road closures.

    Our house is solid, we have a metal roof, and a tall fence that could buffer our property if it doesn’t blow away. We have enough cat food for a few months. My husband is taking it all in stride since he grew up in Miami and weathered (pun intended) a number of hurricanes.

    Still. Scary shit.

    Worst case scenario is we and the cats will spend the day in the master bathroom.

    Orange cat and dark cat lounging on a hardwood floor.

    This is an oldish photo but captures the cat attitude of “I’m fine as long as you feed me.”


    Comments are closed since I’m likely to be offline for quite a long while.

    Share this post:

    • Click to print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • More
    • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
    • Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram
    Like Loading…
←Previous Page
1 2 3 4 5 … 122
Next Page→

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

 

Loading Comments...
 

    • Subscribe Subscribed
      • Marie at 1 Write Way
      • Join 2,350 other subscribers
      • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
      • Marie at 1 Write Way
      • Subscribe Subscribed
      • Sign up
      • Log in
      • Report this content
      • View site in Reader
      • Manage subscriptions
      • Collapse this bar
    %d