Opera Company of Philadelphia "Hallelujah!" Random Act of Culture

I can only imagine what it must have been like to have been shopping in this Philadelphia Macy's store, when all these trained singers, supposedly just shoppers, burst into song. What an amazing event. What an incredible idea. Gee, what if more of us randomly burst into song, or poetry, or other various hallelujahs? What if...

Ode to a young, just departed friend

Not much solace when a beautiful young friend dies suddenly. Andrea Morrison Baker was kind, loving, smart, had a great sense of humor, and brought grace into the lives of those whose paths she crossed. I am grateful to have known her for nine years. Feel cheated that she left so young: 37. She indeed left sweetness and substance in the world. Today I was astonished to read this poem posted on Patti Digh's blog, 37 Days. The poem says it all: "I love you. It will end." It is cold, but it is solace.

Cold Solace

-Anna Belle Kaufman

When my mother died,
one of her honey cakes remained in the freezer.
I couldn’t bear to see it vanish,
so it waited, pardoned,
in its ice cave behind the metal trays
for two more years.

On my forty-first birthday
I chipped it out,
a rectangular resurrection,
hefted the dead weight in my palm.

Before it thawed,
I sawed, with serrated knife,
the thinnest of slices —
Jewish Eucharist.

The amber squares
with their translucent panes of walnuts
tasted — even toasted — of freezer,
of frost,
a raisined delicacy delivered up
from a deli in the underworld.

I yearned to recall life, not death —
the still body in her pink nightgown on the bed,
how I lay in the shallow cradle of the scattered sheets
after they took it away,
inhaling her scent one last time.

I close my eyes, savor a wafer of
sacred cake on my tongue and
try to taste my mother, to discern
the message she baked in these loaves
when she was too ill to eat them:

I love you.
It will end.
Leave something of sweetness
and substance
in the mouth of the world.

Poem originally found here:
http://www.thesunmagazine.org/issues/417/cold_solace


Patti blog is here: http://www.37days.com/2010/09/poetry-wednesday-i-love-you-it-will-end.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+37days+%2837days%29&utm_content=Google+Reader

Life and Death Cycle

Today
at the birdbath,
taking a long drink,
no doubt its last--
one of last year's fawns.
Displaced hip,
compound fracture of a rear leg,
scrapes and scratches
all over--
realization beginning
to register in the eyes.
It hobbled off to die alone.
I have no wisdom to offer--
death leaves me speechless.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Great Backyard Bird Count

This year, for the first time, we participated in the Great Backyard Bird Count, which takes place each February about this time. We've been watching/studying the birds in our area since we moved to the "sticks" almost 35 years ago, and keep them fed and watered year round. The list below represents the most of each species who showed up at one time in the area outside our kitchen/den windows over the 4-day counting period.

We were disappointed not to be able to list the 10 Eastern Bluebirds who frequented our heated bird bath during the week of January 12. They only show up during dry times, and with all the snow and rain we've had lately, I'm sure they're getting their moisture elsewhere in the yard and neighborhood. Just one male visited us during the weekend.

We don't usually see so many Goldfinches in the winter, but it's been so cold and snowy this year, we decided to buy a new Thistle (Niger seed) feeder and feed them the expensive seed. The feeder has perches for 20 birds and those who don't get a "seat" eat what's been dropped below or feast on the millet R. throws on the ground.

The picture shows three of our feeders on a snowy January day two weeks ago. Note the Carolina Wren inside the glassed-in house, feasting on dried mealworms. We have a pair who hop in and out all day. (We bought this hoping that the Bluebirds would like it, but they've shown no interest yet.) The suet feeder is visited by the Wren, Tufted Titmouse, Carolina Chickadee, White-Breasted Nuthatch, and Downy Woodpecker (so far). The rest of the birds visit the sunflower seed feeder (not shown to the left), drink from or bathe in the birdbath, which is between the suet and mealworm feeders, or feed on the ground.

I learned to identify the birds in our area about 30 years ago, when I took a year-long bird identification class offered by Metro Community Education. Mike Bierley, our local expert, taught us what to look and listen for, then let us look up close and personal at specimens. He had a license to preserve birds for this purpose, and had dozens of birds in his collection who had met their demise in one way or another. (No, he didn't help them die.) It was my first opportunity to hold a hummingbird.

Here's our list. What's in your yard?

Red-tailed Hawk - 1
Mourning Dove - 12
Red-bellied Woodpecker - 1
Downy Woodpecker - 2
Northern Flicker - 1
Blue Jay - 6
American Crow - 4
Carolina Chickadee - 4
Tufted Titmouse - 4
White-breasted Nuthatch - 1
Carolina Wren - 2
Eastern Bluebird - 1
American Robin - 1
Northern Mockingbird - 1
European Starling - 27
Eastern Towhee - 2
Field Sparrow - 4
White-throated Sparrow - 30
Dark-eyed Junco - 4
Northern Cardinal - 17
Red-winged Blackbird - 1
Common Grackle - 1
Brown-headed Cowbird - 13
House Finch - 1
American Goldfinch - 52

Hibernation

He's still with us, still sleeping. Sometimes he seems like a bear in hiberation. Is he healing under this fog?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

This Wild and Precious Life

No picture today. If I had one, you wouldn't want to see it. I wish the pictures I've been seeing for the past 22 days were erased from my mind. I know they will be eventually, well, mostly, anyway. My brother has been hanging onto life after bleeding in his brain--more likely than not caused by the drug Coumadin--took him down on January 13. He's been taking Coumadin for several years because of two incidents of life-threatening blood clots, and the last time he asked him how long he had to stay on it, his doctor replied, "For the rest of your life." Only 1 in 1,000 have the side effect that landed him in Neuro ICU 22 days ago. Today my sister-in-law was told that there's an 80% chance he won't survive, and only a 10-20% chance he could go home to constant care, unable to do anything for himself. The more likely scenario is that he would end up in a long-term care facility for the rest of his life. The numbers are pretty overwhelming at times, and today is one of those times. Not that we haven't heard dire reports before. I suppose the longer you hear them, the more they sink in as truth. Or probable truth.

Last week she made the decision to let the doctor do a tracheotomy and move the stomach tube from his nose to his abdomen, both temporary measures. His living will specifically says that he doesn't want to have his life prolonged if there's no chance for a viable life. I don't know his exact words, but I wonder, would he change his mind now about what exactly a "viable life" looks like? Would he want to remain alive to see his grandchildren grow up if he wasn't able to talk to them, if he could do nothing for himself? Too late to ask those specific questions now. This week she faces the decision of whether or not to let the doctor implant a shunt in his brain to drain the intercranial fluid that continues to build pressure. The tube that's been doing that for 22 days has got to come out by Thursday because infection will set in, and that may also take his life. How does one decide how someone's life should end when the choices seem to be slowly or more slowly, pain or more pain? The guidelines are fuzzy. He remains semi-conscious and unable to tell us.

Neither of us--my husband and I--has a living will, or medical proxy. We will soon, however, but that doesn't mean we know what we will want if the time comes to enact it. It almost seems like a living will is a defense against American medicine, because if we didn't have all these great life-saving procedures, it probably would have been over for him days ago. How many supposedly life-saving procedures do I want to endure, or watch my loved ones endure? And then, what if after keeping him alive for several months, he defies all the odds and regains 90% of what he had? How long does one keep holding on to that hope? No answers...

He's been my brother for over 63 years; he's loved and respected as a father, husband, banker, and sibling. He's had a fruitful life, but 63 years is too short, especially when I consider the fact that I'm just 22 months younger. But we don't get to write our own scripts, do we? Makes me take an even harder look at my own, and once again ask myself Mary Oliver's haunting question: "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

Fall Windows

When I took the dog for a walk around the yard yesterday, I carried my camera and took a few pictures of autumn leaves. Friday's wind and rain had knocked most of the Maples' brilliant yellow leaves to the ground, but I managed to get a pretty good picture of my favorite Beech tree. I love the variation of colors in her leaves. On the way in, I happened to glance up at the windows in the garage storeroom and was surprised by the Oak trees near the driveway. The afternoon sun had captured every bit of red in those leaves, which normally look a drab brown.