Author: jeanne (Page 80 of 120)

I'm just your basic complicated simple red dirt girl who feels most beautiful when wearing skirts that caper and earrings that dangle. Entering into my Second Life (my tenured phase, I call it), I tell, write, stitch, and perform stories about this time of life when the mythological (and downsized) empty nest is now filled with aging pets, aging parents, a retired husband, and the knowledge that you're living on the finite side of infinity.

26

July 26, 2012 / jeanne / 1 Comment

she draws:

NancyFriday026

i stitch:

26b

What we make,
why it is made,
how we draw a dog,
who it is we are drawn to,
why we cannot forget.
Everything is a collage,
even genetics.
There is the hidden presence
of others in us,
even those we have known briefly.
We contain them
for the rest of our lives,
at every border we cross.

~ Michael Ondaatje

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.

25

July 25, 2012 / jeanne / 0 Comments

she draws:

NancyFriday025

i stitch:

Art is a language,
instrument of knowledge,
instrument of communication.
~ Jean Dubuffet

Nancy made one pen stroke in this drawing.

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.

it’s simple, really

July 25, 2012 / jeanne / 7 Comments

when i say yes, please
or no, thank you
or even just yes or no . . .

when i speak without pre-qualifying
or apologizing for what i’m about to say . . .

when i lay down the need to defend
what i know to be True . . .

when i simply show up and live
my one wild and precious life,
the life that has my name
and nobody else’s name
on it . . .

when i create “just because”,
without worrying a single wrinkle
about the ability gang:
marketability
sustainability
credibility
or if it’s a good use of my time or not . . .

when i live as though living is the only thing that matters . . .

that’s when i know glee
that’s when i know ease
that’s when i know play
that’s when i know free
that’s when i know full.

~~~~~~~

inspired by today’s skypeversation with my friend and writing partner, julie daley
whose birthday is tomorrow, 7/26.
all together now: happy birthday to you . . .

24

July 24, 2012 / jeanne / 0 Comments

She draws (using a single pen stroke):

NancyFriday024

I stitch:

Art is a language,
instrument of knowledge,
instrument of communication.
~~ Jean Dubuffet ~~

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.

Of Martyrs and Moochers

July 24, 2012 / jeanne / 0 Comments

Jeannepop

I’m over at Bridget Pilloud’s place today, pondering prosperity and wondering why it is that you can’t loan family money or help in other way, for that matter. I mean, really. Just seems to me that with all the people in need, I’d prefer to help my family first. But is that possible? And when does helping turn the corner and become something else, something decidedly and glaringly NOT helpful?

It’s easy enough for me to wag a finger and answer these questions from what THEY ought to do or what they ought not to do, but this time I stood in front of the mirror and looked in my own eyes when I asked some hard questions.

Maybe you’d like to drop by and say hey? I’ll leave the light on.

Will the Real Jeanne PLEASE Stand Up?

July 23, 2012 / jeanne / 17 Comments

PhoebeCools

Our dog growls and barks and shows her anger when someone behaves badly or trespasses on our personal space. Our dog rolls on her back in the grass and smiles from rib to rib. Our dog sleeps and naps and just goes with the flow. Our dog lets her leg move uncontrollably to show her pleasure when we pet her in just the right spot. Our dog forgets and forgives when we ignore her or put her on a diet or don’t respond to her wants as expeditiously as she would like. Our dog says little, never complains, lives in the moment, apologies only when absolutely necessary then moves on, is always glad to see us, and holds no grudges (at least as far as I can tell).

[::]

I want to remain calm, despite what is happening to and around me.
I want to squeal with joy or bawl in frustration like the baby in the restaurant till people are holding their ears to make the sound bearable.

I want to be patient.
I want to act, act fast, and act NOW.

I want to accept everybody as they are.
I want to outlaw stupidity this very afternoon.

I want to connect with people.
I want to be left alone.

I want to be needed.
I want everybody to go figure it out for themselves.

I want to be nice and pleasant so people will want to be around me.
I want to snap peoples’ heads off and spit out the seeds.

I want to set and accomplish goals.
I want to play and saunter like there’s no tomorrow.

I want to offer guidance.
I want people to go find their own way and maybe (or maybe not) send me a postcard.

I want to think literally and logically and formulaically so you can see my brain shine, so I’ll be though of as smart, intelligent.
I want to leave the thinking to my bones. Maybe you’ll understand it, maybe you won’t, and I want to be totally okay with that.

I want to go to a party.
I want to go to a silent retreat. For one. (But I want you to bring me food periodically. Just leave it at the gate.)

I want to talk in parables.
I want to cut to the chase so there’s no mistaking what I am saying.

I want to be in control.
I want to let the breezes show me the way to go.

I want to be kind.
I want karma to kick some folks in the shins while I’m still alive to enjoy it.

I want to be able to sum myself up in a 6-word bio on one half of one side of a business card.
I want to cherish and indulge and honor my many and varied interests and talents and forget about labels to help you peg me in less than 60 seconds.

I want to trust that things will work out for the good of all involved.
I want to stay the hell away from groups in the first place.

I want to be confident and in charge.
I want to be blissfully vulnerable.

I want to trust people unequivocally.
I want to lock all the charlatans up and throw away the keys.

I want to overlook and accept.
I want to call out everything and everybody. Overlook? Blind acceptance? How do you think we got in this mess in the first place?

I want the Mona Lisa smile to be my lipstick.
I want to laugh and cry and sometimes be a non-committal blank slate.

I want to mince my words, saying very, very, very little so that each word counts.
I want to spill all my words – every last one of ’em.

I want to feel supported, so could I please get you to read this before I mash the send button?
I want to put it out there in its raw honesty and let the chips fall where they will.
In other words: I want your approval,
but I don’t want to want your approval.

I want to create for the sake of creativity, to do things just for the sake of planting goodness in the world – you know, like Johnny Appleseed and his seedlings.
I want to be paid for what I do, create, and am good at. (And I want you to think of that so I don’t have to ask.)

I want to be affable and easy to work with so people will want to do the things I’m paying them to do.
I want to take her head off because I’m not paying her to behave like a moron for christ’s sake.

I want to have a steady, predictable rhythm to my days.
I want to nap, write, stitch, and walk at will.

I want to make people laugh.
I want to make people cry.

I want to make people think.
I want people to stop thinking and start feeling.

I want people to look up to me.
I want people to look up to themselves.

I want people to follow me.
I want people to get off all bandwagons (including mind) and start thinking/feeling/creating/living for themselves.

I want to talk things out.
I want to settle this and move on.

I want to give people a chance.
I want to snap without planning or apology when I know I’m being lied to, tricked, mislead, manipulated, or any/all of the above.

I want to whet all my appetites.
I want to stop the overwhelm of taking in so much information and just go with what I’ve got.

I want to get answers from others who’ve already trod the path.
I want to rely on myself and my body as a cache of knowledge.

I have something to say.
I have nothing to say.

I want to know what it is I’m here to do.
I want to live in the Mystery Unfolding.

Hello.
My name is Jeanne,
and this is me in any given 24-hour period.

Maybe I should just become a dog.

OurMellowPhoebe

What’ll Ya Have: Knee Jerk Reactions or Thoughtfully-Made Responses?

July 20, 2012 / jeanne / 10 Comments

What happened in Aurora, Colorado last night is atrocious, infuriating, scary as hell, and I know it brings up all sorts of things in each one of us. My son, for example, has friends who were at that very theater earlier last night to see a different movie. They left the movie, walking past the lines of customers in costumes waiting to enter. Whether we know anybody that closely involved or not, there’s the stone cold it-could-have-been-us-or-someone-we-love realization that takes shape in a host of ways. Some of us will immediately think of how we want guns outlawed, others how we want the government to keep its hands off our weapons. Some will look to the government to initiate security measures to protect moviegoers everywhere, others will dread that further intrusion into our lives. Some will cry for the shooter to be brought swiftly to justice, others will send prayers for him and his family. Some will sit down in stunned silence and try to take it all in, others will head straight to the keyboard to post their ire and promote their causes. Some of us will feel all these things.

Questions will be raised, answers will be sought. Fists will be waved, hugs will be given. There’s no doubt about that – and those questions, those conversations, those hugs might ultimately be the long-term value we glean from such an atrocious act.

There’s a difference between being an opportunist and being an activist, I’m thinking, a fine line of difference with big implications. Instead of feeding on the frenzy we are reading and hearing, could we listen to news reports with a grain of salt and remember that they are getting information from a variety of sources and that they make money by capturing our attention? Instead of using this distressing-beyond-description event as a platform to gain votes or support for our causes, could we show respect by focusing on the personal loss sustained last night? Instead of thumping our chests, could we light a candle in remembrance of those who lost their lives, in support of those who were injured, in support of the families and friends involved? Instead of waving our placards in hopes of media coverage, could we say a prayer for those who were injured and the medical staff treating them?

The causes will be there months from now, but the people could sure use our heartfelt attention right now.

Maybe you don’t live close enough to commit a tangible act of support that directly benefits those involved, but good energy has far-reaching effects. Maybe you could take a meal to someone living near you who is tired from trekking back and forth to cancer treatments. Maybe you could find a nearby blood drive and make a donation. Maybe you could honor a pet who lost someone special last night by adopting a pet at a local shelter or making a financial donation. Maybe you could brush your teeth and hair and go share a glass of sweet tea on the front porch with neighbors you always say you wish you saw more often.

This is a heinous act for which adequate adjectives have not been invented. Let’s let it fuel us, but let’s not let it divide us. Let’s let it change us, but let’s not let it hold us hostage. Let’s let it motivate us to get creative in finding ways to show we care. Let’s let it encourage us to pay more attention to those around us. Let’s let it make us determined to create a world we want to live in, a world where we and those we love can continue to wander out in search of entertainment and enjoyment without fear.

pressing

July 15, 2012 / jeanne / 6 Comments

Iron1

My mother prides herself on her ironing prowess and that just tickles me. Not tickles me as in poking fun, but tickles me as in I find it touching.

I remember grandmother washing clothes in that pink and white washing machine, running them through the wringer a time or two to get out the excess water, then hanging them on the line to dry. There’s nothing that smells as good to me as sheets dried in sunshine. She put granddaddy’s khaki pants on stretcher bar contraptions, but they still needed ironing, so she’d bring them in, sprinkle them with water, roll them up, and put them in the back of the refrigerator to wait till she had time to press them.

Sometimes I think I got this feminist thing all mixed-up. At least parts of it. Maybe it was nice when there was a division of duties, of chores, of responsibilities. When the woman took care of everything inside and just outside the walls of the house while the man took care of everything beyond that. Maybe it was easier somehow when she didn’t feel the need to assume responsibility for every single thing.

Maybe i’m kidding myself.

The women in my family – my mother and her mother – took pride in the cooking and ironing and sewing they did, in the flowers they planted from seeds and cuttings swapped with friends, in the tables they set and the music they made. Maybe – and this may be the most important maybe of all – maybe it was enough that they felt that pride themselves, that they didn’t look outside and want, expect, demand others take pride in their accomplishments and declare them worthy. Self-satisfaction. Maybe that was plenty.

I’m doing this project, recreating in stitch some 167 drawings made by my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy. The cloth was puckering up a little bit, so a friend suggested I lightly starch the fabric – which I did yesterday, and it has made a world of difference in the way the cloth looks fresher, prouder. Got me remembering, too.

Ironing’ll do that.

3

July 3, 2012 / jeanne / 0 Comments

nancy has had some health issues
this past year,
some of it age-related,
some of it pharmaceuticals-related,
some of it of unidentified origin,
which is not unusual
with a woman who can’t tell you
where it hurts
or even that she just doesn’t feel good.

here she is writing her name: n-a-n-c-y.
although it looks more like n-a-n
then n-
then indecipherable squiggles.

this one moves me
because in her signature,
i see a reflection,
a mirror image, really,
of what is happening in her life:
a disintegration of
the nancy she was
into a woman
who isn’t sure of
who she is
any more.

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.

2

July 2, 2012 / jeanne / 0 Comments

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.