There are millions of stories swirling around us — tales of whoo-hoo! Tales of OMG-you-have-got-to-be-kidding…
All happening. At the same time. In this crazy world. Like feeling dumb-struck grateful for having two opposable thumbs. Or waking up at three o’clock in the morning with another blast of existential angst. The utter joy when a Gen Z cashier with tattoos, piercings and a beautific smile, bags my groceries at Trader Joe’s. That quick jolt of numbing cold when I get another notification on my phone from… well… the bad news bears.
Stories about remembering — that good health is temporary. So is every one. Every thing. Every moment. Tales about holding on…for dear life. Letting go… for dear life. With a sorta-open heart and kinda-unclenched hands. Thank you for sharing your personal bandwidth and precious time with me and may you find yourself in these stories too.
Please leave your comments because this story-telling business goes both ways. I can’t wait to hear from you!
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I call it “shopping therapy.” I jump on the “consumer bandwagon” and follow the sales to my local brick and mortar store. It’s like a mini-vacation that I book on my way to a gig. I don’t have to buy anything and usually don’t. But there is something about shopping…
Maybe you saw the movie Whiplash? About a mercurial music teacher who thrashes his young protégé into a drum-thumping master? I left the theater feeling like I’d been pummeled too. Chocolate please… I’m not sure what you would call this bombastic style of “getting your point across” but I…
My friend Wendy leads The Palm Desert Strummers who make beautiful ukulele music near the mid-century modern capital of the world: Palm Springs. Folks drive north, south, east, west from their desert abodes to play with this group. Snowbirds fly in for the winter, escaping the ice and cold of their homelands…
I can’t see the big “E” on the eye chart that hangs in the eye doctor’s office. With my left eye, that is. Actually I can’t even see the chart. I was a little girl when they first discovered my goofy left eye. Was it because I walked into walls…
When I saw Frank Sinatra perform at The Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles, the whole aroma of the evening burrowed into my memory. The theater is gone now and so is Frank. But after all these years I can still smell the evening. I was one of thousands ensconsed in the darkness…
“Come here. Come here quick! YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS.” My husband is shouting from the other room. At the moment I’m peeing. I AM p-e-e-e-e-e-ing. So thank you very much. And as far as I’m concerned, whatever it is, can wait… So I’m not the picture of open-heartedness when I finally…
