smotherplucker(aka feelingsstuffer)

hey there,

I've missed you guys as I've been working through all the steps of grief over the election and subsequent descent into Hades, oops, new administration.  Anyway, for Lent, I am giving up wine and swearing, so I have time to fill and a need to practice using words that don't rhyme with smotherplucker.

This has been a whole lot of year for me. I left a job I loved for a new job I love. My children grew. We added a puppy to our lives and all kinds of life things happened that happen to all of us. We had good luck and bad luck and happy days and sad days. It's been a growth year, though. I learned some things, like sometimes I put on a happy face when I don't feel super happy and I stuff my unhappy thoughts way down deep so I don't have to deal with them and I show the happy side. To put it succinctly, I'm a feelingsstuffer.

I was listening to a story on the radio ( http://www.radiolab.org/story/lu-vs-soo/ ) about two women who were traveling across country and one of them was a "live and let live," non-confrontational, mellow kind of person--the way  many people seem to see me. The other one might be called a truth-teller. She let her feelings be known and she had high expectations of people and she told them when their actions didn't meet her expectations. The one who was more truthful was presented in a negative light because people didn't always want to hear her truths, or agree with them. However, the laid-back woman really admired her, because she felt like it was more honest and more hopeful to tell people when they fail you, because it gives them a chance to improve themselves. Listening to it, I was reminded how God(or the Universe or whatever you believe)gives you opportunities to examine your issues objectively by letting you see them from the outside in. I really commiserated with the woman who just let things happen because she didn't want to cause a ruckus or upset anyone or ruffle feathers. Believe me, I know it's the easiest way to get through life, but it doesn't always feel honest.

I used to do things differently. I used to be angry and abrasive and oh, so right about everything. I still get that way when I am feeling indignant, or that I have the moral high ground. But everything else, I have stopped arguing over. Retail is a big culprit. People do not want to buy things from people who want to argue with them about everything. Being the mother of five is part of it, because when you live in a house with 7 people, one more argument could be the tipping point to riot. Getting older is part of it, because I have mellowed a little and I am more introspective. But I am afraid that a diminished self-confidence is part of it, too. I don't feel like I am where I should be in my life. I don't look the way I want to look. I have made choices and taken positions I know not everyone agrees with and it makes me feel, and part of this whole thing is about not feeling.

There is a lot of fear, too, because I am afraid that when I unpack that big old cedar chest of feelings, they are going to come out in one big jumbled mess. No moth holes, no faded shades(cedar is a miracle). These will be fully-formed, brightly-colored feelings of intensity. That intensity has worked against me in the past, which is why it all got tumbled away. And I feel very divided about whether or not I pull it all out and deal with all the overwhelming feelingness of it or I keep it locked up, pulling out a scrap here and there when I need to call Scott Pruitt at the EPA and tell him that the climate is a cockadoody* disaster and he needs to get his head out of his keister* and learn about the effect of carbon dioxide on everything, including--I believe--the number of brain cells in his coal-addled noggin, but I digress.

On the other hand, what is wrong with presenting the world with the best of yourself? I am a glass half-full person by nature.  Maybe my cheerful, easygoing self isn't the brightest coat of many colors, but it's got a certain je ne sais quoi. We all look better in soft lighting, right?

There is no ending to this tale. It will be the story of the rest of my life. Sometimes I will try unpacking my feelings and it will probably go badly because they don't see the light of day very often, so try not to judge me too harshly. Sometimes, I will be cheerful when no one else is. Consider it part of my charm. Please know that I love all of my friends and I accept you for who you are and that is the truth, no faking there.

Sending you good wishes and good feelings, because that's what I do.

Love,
Corks

*Lenten bad words

Why I marched/WMOW/Women's March

OH MY LOVES...


I have just returned from the Women's March on Washington and I am fortified and broken hearted and healed and dejected and all of the other adjectives. What an amazing experience to be there, in DC, marching peacefully with hundreds of thousands of people who, like me, LOVE the USA and are concerned for the fate of our country and our freedoms and our democracy. Then, to come home and see the footage of people across the globe who share our concerns, who marched in solidarity and support of my millions of sisters and brothers and me. People who want to see every American and every should-be, or someday-American, sharing in the dream and the privilege that many Americans enjoy without reflection.

I marched with them, sharing in all of the love of freedom and democracy and most of all, LOVE OF COUNTRY, because I can. What a privilege to have the right to dissent! We, as Americans, are so very lucky and privileged to be allowed to have an opinion that differs from the ruling power. Remember the Tea Party protest, not of 1773, but September 2009? The Tea Party was protesting on the streets of Washington, just like I did on Saturday. How about the Right to Life Movement? They have protested on the streets of Washington, every January, since 1974, letting their voices be heard. Thank God they are, because it is their American right, just like it's mine. What about the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom in 1963? All of those many thousands of people making sure they were counted among the citizens of this country. They marched because they were patriots, just like me.

I marched because almost 27 years ago, Planned Parenthood told me I needed to make the decision that was right for me, so I got married at 18 and had a baby, even though I was a smart, intellectual, "good" girl who should have finished college in four years and gone on to graduate school to have an important career in public service. Instead, I was on the nine-year plan:  sometimes I worked full-time and went to school part-time. Sometimes I worked part-time and went to school full-time. Sometimes, I worked full-time and went to school full-time. By the time I finished college, I had a husband and a son and a daughter and a dog and was a full-time Store Manager, and I was pregnant with my third child. Planned Parenthood helped me see that even though my life wasn't going to be the one I had imagined for myself, that it didn't mean I couldn't be happy and successful. So now, after another 18 years, 2 more kids, 4 companies and the same husband later, I can march because Planned Parenthood helped me make MY choice.

There are so many reasons I marched:
*because I wanted to.
*because I want my daughters to live without the fear of sexual violence.
*because I want my mom to have access to affordable healthcare as she ages.
*because I want my gay friends to feel safe.
*because Black Lives Matter.
*because a woman's place is wherever she wants to be.
*because equal women should have equal pay and equal opportunity and so should the disabled and  people of color.
*because clean air and water should be unalienable rights.
*because Americans should be guaranteed the Unalienable Rights to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, regardless of their economic, gender, religious or racial status.
* because our President shouldn't objectify human beings.
*because Muslims(and Christians and Jews and everybody else) are guaranteed the freedom to worship as they choose IN THE CONSTITUTION.
*because Planned Parenthood gave me hope.
*because I want to speak my truth to power.
*because I love my children and I want them to live in a world where people can safely be who they are.
*because my husband shares, and very often shoulders, our family responsibilities, so that I can explore so many possibilities(and MARCH!).
*because I needed to be with people who share my core values, who believe that protesting is one of the most important things we can do, when we feel like our voices are being ignored.

I would love to hear why you marched or why you did not, but only in a respectful tone. I will respect your right to have an opinion when you respect mine.

Give peace a chance!


Love,

 Corks

The Crotchety Persons' Road Guide

Hello loves,

Well, I have been a busy girl this summer. I changed jobs, dealt with some health issues, and got to drive the length and breadth of the entire state of Alabama while training.

Since I drove 1000+ miles in August, I have seen some things. I feel like we need some rules.

1. A mattress on top of a car is never a good idea. A mattress on top of a car on an interstate is always a bad idea--many new mattresses on the side of the road. (Collecting a mattress off the side of the road? Also a bad idea, just sayin').

2. Stay in one lane if you're riding a motorcycle, not on the line between two. Also, just stay away from me(Cerulean Rav-4), it's too stressful for me. I am constantly worried that I'm going to squash your head like an errant watermelon.

3. Speaking of watermelons, I will stop at your farmstand if you give me fair warning. Maybe you don't want tourists, but a handpainted sign 250 yards in front of your corner is not enough. I need a mile, with a half mile reminder. The last sign needs parking directions. I don't want to park on someone's lawn and get shot. Ditto for antiques and jams and jellies and pickles.

4. If you know you have bad tires or an unreliable car, don't drive 80 in the left lane. Duh.

5. If you're going to smoke, don't throw your cigarette out the window. Gross. If you don't like the smell of cigarettes in your car, buy some nicotine gum.

6. If you are driving a semi and you want to change lanes, use your blinker. You have a sign on the back of your trailer that says "if you can't see my mirror, I can't see you." I'm assuming that means if we've made eye contact in your mirror, you do see me and merging into my car IS NOT COOL. Also, get rid of those naked lady silhouettes on your mudflaps. You are neither Smokey, nor the Bandit.

7. When I see a truck with a pair of testicles hanging from your trailer hitch, I assume those are yours and you had them surgically removed and bronzed for posterity. Why, I do not know, but nobody wants to see that. Calvin peeing on anything is so 90's and why do you need 17 Realtree stickers on the back of your car?

Also, regarding trucks, why do you bother to buy the camouflage package when you have no muffler and a jet engine? The animals know you're coming from three counties away. I guess it's easier when the black smoke you're belching is making the doves just fall in to the truckbed.

8. When one is at a gas station, please turn down the radio. I don't blast "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" or "Fresh Air". I don't want you to accidentally learn something, I'll feel less superior. I am certain you don't want me to sing your song back to you, with my mom voice. Oh and PLEASE DO NOT SPIT WHERE I HAVE TO STAND TO PUMP MY GAS. There is nothing more foul. Your mother would be so disappointed. If you must, find some grass, or at the very least, spit in the trash can. **Once you are out of the 7th grade, no one is impressed by your ability to spit long distances.**

9. When everyone on the highway has stopped for an accident or roadwork and you drive up the shoulder and try to work your way into traffic, do not be visibly annoyed that no one will let you in. You are a jerk. Unless you have blue lights flashing, or a women who is breathing through one-minute-apart contractions in your back seat, keep your pants on(btw, pregnant people, learn breathing techniques. If you find yourself in a weird labor situation, you'll thank me).

10. Acknowledge roadway kindness! If some poor sap takes pity on you and your shoulder-driving ways and lets you in, wave. Smile even. It is the right thing to do.

My darlings, please send me all the rules you would like to add. We'll call it the "Crotchety Persons' Road Guide."

All the love,
Corks
 

please be kind.

OH friends,

I have sat down to the computer about 5 times over the last month to try and make sense of everything and each time I've been left with nothing. So, I'm trying again. It may just be a bad idea, I'm not sure, but 2.5 units of Chardonnay says,"give it a shot!"

There is so much ugliness and hate swirling around these days. It feels like the summer heat has caught us in an updraft of anger and no amount of air conditioning or pool water will dampen it. People are dying because of this anger and there don't seem to be any real attempts to put it out and, honestly, how would you? This is no ordinary anger. It's been fermenting for years. People feel alienated from each other and scared of each other and like they are being used. And then white people blame brown people and brown people blame white people and Republicans blame Democrats and vice versa. But it's not the actual people themselves, it's the idea of people that we hate. I'll be honest, when I think about "Republicans," I roll my eyes because I can't understand why anyone would EVER think like that. But if I think about some of the most lovely people I know, who also happen to be Republicans, then, of course, I feel more kindly toward them.

There is a thing that came to the surface in 2008, that really flabbergasted a lot of white liberals, like me, who live in a very comfortable world of love and equality and that was blatant racism. WOW, electing a black President really scared the pants off of a lot of people and the internet gave them the ability to say anything anonymously that they would never say to their neighbors. Having moved away from the DC area and the news that is both local, national and international(it's different out here in the weeds, DC friends), the Georgia/Alabama line is not a friendly place for a black President. Do you wonder why I say that? Maybe because I have had so many, many, many people tell me how awful he is in the most superficial of conversations. Also because I make the mistake of reading the comments on our local newspaper's FB page.

Here is a funny thing about me: I adore people with style. I really do. No matter what kind of style they have, if someone pulls it off with poise and a little je ne sais quoi, I am hooked. No surprise then, that I am, completely superficially, in love with President Obama and the First Lady, without even thinking about politics or intelligence(although they are both incredibly smart and do things that make sense in my frame of thinking). You can imagine, then, how crushed I was the first time I saw Michelle Obama referred to as "a gorilla in an evening gown" in some internet comments section. And then I saw references to her "African"ness and how she should leave and go back to Africa, even though she's from Chicago and her dad was a postman. NAIVELY, I was stunned. I mean, those were comments from the 50's--the George Wallace era--not the new millenium.

Suddenly, racism is cool again? I hear the code everywhere. I work with an amazing young woman, who has a BS in Biology and an MBA, and she recently went on an interview where they told her they were impressed with how articulate she is. She's also literally African-American(her dad is from Ghana). ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHY WOULDN'T A WOMAN WITH AN ADVANCED DEGREE BE ARTICULATE? Customers tell me a look is too "urban" for their child. People tell me they won't go to the mall because of the "element" that shops there. Ugh. Enough.What is driving this racism? It's fear, of course. I think white people are afraid of losing their majority. What are the stats? In 30 years, we'll be a majority brown country. What ever will we do? Uh, deal with it. Because, by then, almost everyone will be related to a person of color somehow, someway and it won't be scary anymore. SO, how do we overcome this fear-based hate for the next thirty years or so?

I know that it won't come from alienating the world community or each other. I know that politics that focus on the fear of the other isn't going to make it any better. Our forefathers knew, inherently, that choosing one religion over another was a bad route for a country of immigrants. Our ancestors came here to escape many different types of persecution: racial, economic, religious. We cannot be the generation that turns its back on the promise of freedom and equality that the United States of America has represented for 240 years. The only things that will undo racism and hate and fear are kindness and morality. We know right from wrong. We know that hating someone because they look or act or believe differently from us is wrong. Most of our mothers and fathers told us to "do unto others..." or to "be a friend to the friendless" or not to "judge a book by its cover." We know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a kindness and what it feels like to be judged and still...

I come to the same conclusion that I come to every time I think about things. It all boils down to doing the right thing, to choosing to recognize the humanity of the person you are afraid of instead of trying to dehumanize them. Not hard at all...until the other does something stupid or awful or takes a stance that is the opposite of everything we believe in. Be nice anyway. Find a way to extend the olive branch, if only for the growth opportunity. Just do the kind thing. Please.

Love,
Corks

My Head in the Clouds

Howdy folks,

I've just come back from a week in Texas, where I saw my beautiful niece married to the very nicest man and I got to spend loads of time with my lovely mom and her siblings. I come from a family of VERY liberal Democrats and when we all get together, we talk about the horrors of the world(Donald Trump) and how kindness, virtue, a helping hand and {gasp}higher taxes might be all it takes to solve a world of problems. Also, as Democrats are wont to do, we get a little overwhelmed by the sadness of the world and the meanness of the world and we get worried about the state of humanity.

After a week of family and wedding and philosophizing and a whole lot more carbs than I am used to eating(recently), a big storm was blowing through and as our plane took off among the clouds, I was feeling kind of melancholy. I had lucked into a window seat despite my B36 position on Southwest, and I watched all of Texas shrinking into view and I realized that even though Austin is barely recognizable from just 10 years ago, a whole lot of Texas is still relatively undeveloped. I saw forests of pines and rolling pasture and tons of swollen creeks as we made our way East. The cloud cover took my view for a while, but about 20 minutes in, I could see the many, many swamps, creeks and what I imagined were alligator-filled bayous as we flew over Louisiana. I made eye contact with the little boy whose seat was in front of me. He was watching out the window, too, and looked at me--brown eyes, long lashes, incredulous at the whole world beneath him--then looked back down to gaze some more. His brother was equally interested, peering over his little brother's shoulder, and in that moment there was none of that boy-jostling that we're all waiting for on planes. They were quiet and enraptured and delighted.  I was reading a short story by Bailey White about "The Imagination Game" and how she could never see anything when it came time to imagine, except for big, giant chicken feet and I thought about how these boys didn't need imagination in this moment, because they were living in real time.

It reminded me how often I live in some other time: the time of what's to come, which is a time of fret and worry and the time of what's behind, so often sadness and regret. This time, this moment,  is inescapable, but I work so hard at escaping. And then I'm reminded of Omar Khayyam's admonishment:

Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

oh. 

This moment IS my life.  As I'm peeking down at planet Earth from my winged perch, my life is happening. And those little boys in front of me, they are reveling in it and I am starting to revel in it, too, to the point where I want to offer my seatmate a quick peek at the glorious planet. I turn to her and she pulls her coat higher up her shoulder and turns up the volume on her phone, where she's watching Southwest-provided TV.  Well, that would be kind of weird. I mean, normal people don't offer strange, grown people a quick look into the beauty of the here and now. It's just not how we do things.  Plus, these moments don't translate well to adults. Kids can say, "look at how the river looks like a snake through those trees and you can't see any houses and it is nature and it's so cool." and adults say (think Ben Stein's voice when you read this)"the remarkable beauty of nature." I settled back down in my seat and went back to reading my book and the next time I looked out there were puffy clouds forever. And then we came back to civilization, as the sun set, the lights came on and Georgia was illuminated by organized neighborhoods and happenstance neighborhoods and clustered neighborhoods and 5-acre lot neighborhoods. The roads were the snakes, with streetlights, stoplights, all the city lights that go on for miles. Of course, the boys in front of me were overcome with the beauty of the lights and the expanse of the city, and they continued to stare in quiet awe until they broke character and yelled "BUMP" when the plane touched down. 

It's that BUMP that brings us all back to Earth--literally, of course.  It jogs us awake and sweeps out the cobwebs and wakes us from our reverie. The lights come on and the people stand up("All Rise..." our flight attendant said)and we all start to strategize our move to the aisle and we forget about the books we read and the scenery and the only here and now is "GET ME OFF THIS PLANE!" On to the sea of humanity, hoping you don't get caught in a crushing wave of a thousand people rushing to the next gate or away from that gate or into a giant school of Starbucks patrons. This moment is our life.

I don't know. It was just a moment, up there in the sky, but it felt important. And I was happy and it was my life. I want more of that moment. Guess I have to take more plane rides. Where do you want to go?

Love,

Corks

Because Nature.

Southern Magnolia

Lemon-scented goodness!!

Native Magnolia

Hello My Loves,

Sweet Bay Magnolia

It's getting more like Springtime every day, here in beautiful, downtown Midland, and there are so many plants blooming in the backyard. We have a Southern Magnolia, with the dark glossy leaves that are fuzzy underneath and the big saucers of lemon-scented goodness. We have some sort of native little booger that has glossy, light green leaves and isn't blooming yet, and then we have the Sweet Bay--aka, swamp magnolias--diminutive teacup flowers with the most glorious perfume of lemon and jasmine. And then there's the actual Jasmine, which releases her scent at dusk. It is a scent of sweetness and melancholy and allure, that you wouldn't expect from a blossom so white and demure. There is a reason that Southern writers are so often reflective and dreamy. They are lost in a reverie of flowers. Because along with all of these fragrant beauties, this Spring, we've seen lemon lilies blooming and the purple and gold iris and both white and coral azaleas and even orange squash blossoms out of the compost heap. The morning glories are starting to wind their way around our moss-covered, warped wood fence, next to the tiny pink-yellow blossoms of the lantana, that self-seeded from our neighbors' yard. It's all rounded out by the pink abelia and lorapetalum flowers on the shrubs that line the yard.

Abelia

I don't know if you can tell, but I love flowers. I mean, LOVE, flowers. I haven't even gotten to the sunshine-colored daylilies by the mailbox or the coconutty, perfumed perfection of the creeping gardenia by the front door. When I was four, I named my first dog--a shaggy gray Old English Sheepdog/Black Lab--Tulip. Since then, we've had Daffodil, a golden mix, and Pepper Daisy, a shepherd/corgi mix, and an orange kitty cat named Marigold. In fact, we nicknamed our daughter after a flower.

But why? Why am I so enamored with flowers? As a child, I loved the beautiful Victorian flower fairies and I imagined meeting them under toadstools and in the kind of scary, spider -filled playhouse in our backyard in Silver Spring. Even the patio, with it's ant-filled stump and hollyhocks and glads shooting up along the fence, and the brick patio, shaded by a giant, old fir tree,where I remember discussing the merits of ketchup or mustard or mayo on a freshly grilled hamburger, was the perfect place to find a stray fairy.

Jasmine

Then we moved to the farm, and I could walk along the creek and find the stinky-when-crushed skunk cabbage and a wayward lilypad and moss-covered rocks under a giant-leafed sycamore, like the one where we scattered some of my Dad's ashes. There were ferns with their ancient, spotty spores on the underside of their chartreuse leaves and pitcher plants waiting for junebugs and mosquitoes. I could walk in the woods in Winter and see the beautiful silver-barked birches and the craggy oaks and the leaves of the trees and wonder, truly, if a tree fell in the forest, did anybody hear? I did. Once. It was a small tree and it was LOUD. I can't imagine if a giant, old oak fell in the woods. It would have been deafening.

In the Winter,  when it snowed, the forest where I lived was silent, aside from my own footsteps. The birds had fled South, where I now live, and the animals were tucked up in trees and underground, waiting to hear the first,  grating croaks of the bullfrogs that lived at the edge of the very murky pond by the amphitheater where so many calico print- and flower-bedecked couples were married. Flowers are in my blood. I love to be in Nature. I am not a fan of mosquitoes, of course, and I might have a bee phobia, but I love to be surrounded by leaves and green and quiet and heavenly-scented flowers. I love the lushness of Spring and the scarcity of Winter. God's glory is represented in every Season.

I worry that the future will bring destruction to the luxury of Nature. I wonder what would happen if we all took a day to revel in the wonder of nature, be it animal, vegetable or mineral? How can we encourage each other to feel more connected to the world we've been given? How can we feel compelled to protect her?

Look. Smell. Listen. Feel.

Love,
Corks

Internet Malaise **decidedly political(I yam what I yam)**

Oh friends,

I had the day off today and I spent too much time with the internet. It made me sad. Because what I read and saw was all about unkindness. I read about the AFA (American Family Association)sending men into Target's women's bathrooms to prove a point(what point, I'm not sure) and how 1.5 million people had signed onto a boycott all because Target said people can use the bathroom where they feel most comfortable. Target didn't say people are welcome to commit crimes in bathrooms. They said "be who you are" to people who haven't always had that luxury. And I can't understand why someone would want to make life harder for someone who has suffered to become who they feel they need to become(please don't start telling me about people who marry goats or plastic dolls, those are sensationalist stories told to distract), but clearly many do.

Next, I watched a video that shows a woman berating a man who is buying food for his family at a Wal-mart with food stamps. She tells him that she is paying for his food with her tax money and she doesn't want to--while his toddler sits in the shopping cart in front of him. On the video, it doesn't show any bystanders telling her to knock it off or interrupting her, just this obnoxious woman and the man doing what it takes to feed his kid, trying to defend himself. I wondered why someone didn't ask her if she knew that often soldiers' families have to use food stamps to make ends meet?  Or ask what happened to her empathy? Or at least ask her "WWJD?"*

Stupidly, I read the comments on articles talking about Malia Obama's admission to Harvard. So many of them implied that she would never have gotten into Harvard were it not for her race, and that somehow it was easier for her to get in. Some merely talked about her race in the most base and vulgar terms.  And many questioned whether she would have gotten in if Barack Obama hadn't won the Presidency in 2008. Who knows? Why would her ability be questioned? Her parents are Harvard grads, she's gone to the best schools, and she has had a unique experience as a participant in big history headlines. What school wouldn't want her? These hateful comments prove once again what so many of us have thought since 2008--that we had been pretending that we were a postracial society--when racism is still alive and well and seething with rage. And as many times as I remind myself that

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”--MLK

I wonder if we are going to last until the arc arcs? Our society's unkindness seems to know no bounds. We offer no empathy to those who suffer misfortune, whether it's at the hands of others or their own. We hide the sick and the slow, we cut off the needy and the infirm, we scorn those who are mentally ill or drug-addicted. And we celebrate Donald Trump, who promises to give power to people who feel powerless, but it's the falsest promise of all time. Donald Trump didn't become Donald Trump by sharing the power, but Barack Obama did.  That's what really scares people. And scared people have a hard time with empathy. They are thinking about fight or flight or they are paralyzed and they can't think at all. So what do we do, to start recognizing our shared humanity? How do you feel compassion for a father using food stamps or a girl going to college or people who just want to use the bathroom without a fight? How do I learn compassion for those that pick fights with the downtrodden or denigrate good people? I think it takes kindness--just a smile and a gentle reminder to walk in each others' shoes for a ways. It's going to take a long time, like MLK said, but maybe, someday, we'll meet each other at the bend.

Be sweet, y'all. 

Love,  

Corks

*Hey 90's, I missed you.