Category: Commentary

I’ve been circling the sun for a bit more than seventy seven years. I have become the person that I am during that time. My evolution as an individual has not been without its ups and downs. I did not always meet challenges as well as I might have but along the way I have mostly liked what I have done and how I have changed to meet the demands of each incredible moment that comes my way. 

My childhood was made more difficult by the death of my father at a critical time when I was still feeling unsure about myself. I pushed forward in a kind of fog for a very long time. With the help of my courageous and loving mother I was able to channel my anxieties into learning and giving of myself to others rather than dwelling on the loss that would forever haunt me. 

My teen years were spent feeling awkward the way late bloomers so often do. I did not really begin to mature until my senior year of high school. I forged a kind of fake confidence in the hopes that one day I would be able to claim a certainty that I was okay. 

I graduated from high school at the age of seventeen with many academic kudos and the beginnings of belief in myself. During my first years of college I met new people and forged new friendships that would follow me to this very day. Among them was a peer whom I had always admired. I learned that her kindness was as wonderful as it had appeared to be and with her influence I came out of the protective shell that I had built around myself and began taking chances that might have been frightening before. Along the way I met the young man who would become my life partner and our connection with each other was instant and strong. 

By the time I was in my twenties I was a married woman feeling a kind of happiness that had eluded me from the time of my father’s death. At the very moment when everything felt right with the world my mother experienced a mental breakdown and I had to pull up my boot straps and become her advocate in a world of mental heath that I barely understood. It was perhaps the most frightening moment of my life and one in which my husband rose to the occasion to help me, cementing our relationship forever. 

The decade of my twenties continued to be chaotic even as I found a boldness in my personality that I never knew was there. I began a family and found great joy in my two daughters just as my journey was rocked once again by an illness that threatened my husband’s life. I pretended to be in command of things but the truth was that I was terrified. With much help from my family and friends and great doctors he recovered and my I once again settled into a long routine that felt wonderful. 

When the eighties rolled around I was truly a strong woman. I had endured challenges that might have broken me but instead had taught me to just put one foot in front of the the other. I muddled through because I fully understood that sometimes that is the best that I might do. I was finally finishing my college degree and embarking on a career in teaching that felt as though it was the perfect fit for me. 

I instantly knew that I had made the right choice in selecting my vocation. From the very the beginning I found immeasurable joy in being in a classroom with my students. With the wisdom of every principal with whom I worked I honed my craft until any worries that I might have had were gone. In the meantime, I was having the time of my life with a group of friends who had walked with me through all of the difficulties of my past. My life was fun even as I continued helping my mother each time her bipolar disorder made her sick once again. I felt like a talented juggler able to keep balls rotating in the air while balancing a spinning plate on my head. 

By the nineties my daughters were maturing as well. One was excelling at collage and the other would soon follow. There were weddings and celebrations and promotions at work along with a Master’s degree. I could look in the mirror and honestly say that I liked myself and the life that I had built with my spouse, my children and my friends. My daughters graduated from college and married. Soon there were grandchildren on the way. It felt as though nothing would be able to steal the joy that was feeling.

I suppose that I reached a high point at the beginning of the twenty first century in every aspect of my existence. I traveled the world and left the house that had sustained me and my family for decades to relocate to the home where I now live. Luckily I enjoyed those moments with every being because great losses would be coming my way even as I would celebrate so many family milestones. One by one family members and friends who had played integral roles in my life’s journey died. It felt as though pieces of my heart were ruthlessly torn away. It was not something that I had prepared to endure but I had learned long before how to grieve and then carry on with my own life. 

I sometimes have to pinch myself to realize that I am as old as I am. My brain feels as young as ever but my body reminds me that I am moving along just as we humans are meant to do. My energy has waned and I miss the people who are no longer here. Then I remember how to count my blessings and find joy in the now. 

I worry about the future a bit more than I ever have. There is a kind of uncertainty in the world at large right now that I have not experienced since I was that eight year old fatherless girl. Life has taught me that there will always be bad times and that I have the grit to get through them but increasingly I am losing the north stars that walked with me and guided to where I am now.

My country is crying in a state of confusion and I am feeling the pull of worry more and more. I often have to remind myself to look for the helpers and the positive ideas like the ones that got me this far. If I know one thing that is true it is that the goodness of humans always finds a way to set things right. So I will meet each day as it comes knowing that if I never give up life will find a way to adjust just as it always does. I might fall down for the count but I will get back up no matter what it takes. My hope is that the wisdom and age and grace that I have found in each decade will be enough to guide me to a good and meaningful life. There is still so much work to be done.

Just a few weeks ago my yard looked dreary. Because I have not been able to do my normal spring gardening tasks the roses were not trimmed, the potted plants were still loitering in the garage and the weeds had overtaken all of the flowerbeds. I almost did not want to open the windows to see the starkness of my yard and I fretted a bit because my surgery had demanded that I stay out of the yard for three months. 

I am a person who has trouble asking for help. I tend to work out my own problems. I like to be strong enough to get things done by myself. Suddenly I realized that I was going to have to swallow my silly pride and reach out for people help. The first person I contacted was the man who mows my lawn each week during the growing season. Jose is one of the most reliable people in my life but I did not want to overburden him with jobs that I usually do. Still, the unsightliness of my back yard bothered me so I finally asked him to plant a new rose bush that I had purchased and to clean up the flowerbeds. 

He responded immediately and it was amazing to watch how quickly he worked to transform the area into the kind of loveliness that I generally do myself. Then he trimmed my roses to make sure that they would grow nicely in the coming weeks. Suddenly I looked out my window and felt joy not just in seeing the buds bursting forth but in knowing that I had overcome my pridefulness. I celebrated as the azaleas and roses began to bloom free of the weeds and straggly branches that had formed in the dreary winter months. Mostly I saw that Jose was more than eager to do me the favors of making my environment more beautiful and I was more than happy to give him a generous tip and complement for his efforts.

It was a very cold day in the peak of winter when I had my surgery and much like my backyard I came home bedraggled and weary. As the weeks have passed I have begun to bloom again like my flowers and I think about the magic and miracle of the changing seasons. I have learned over time to enjoy each of them for the joys that they bring. Spring is perhaps the most glorious of the times and this spring is particularly special for me because it comes at a time when I have learned many lessons about how to live a good life. 

It is fitting that we design the seasons the way that we do. Winter is time that allows us to spend time resting and pondering in the warmth of our homes. Spring is always a new beginning a time of resurrection for us all. It is a time for growth of both nature and our minds. During this spring there should also be a moment to ask ourselves why we humans fight among ourselves. What is it about us that compels us to compete with each other and all too often to hurt each other rather than coexisting in peace?

I have always felt that the Easter season represents the most important messages of Christianity. Jesus was brutally put to death for no legitimate reason. Sadly such deaths have continued to occur throughout human history almost always in the name of power and religious beliefs. Jesus challenged the status quo and as such he was deemed to be a criminal even as his life and preaching showed him to be a gentle soul. He was viewed as a radical only because he questioned the way things were done and how people were being treated. 

In today’s world we have culture wars all over the planet. The violence that results continues to hurt innocents just as surely as Jesus was harmed. We humans claim to be advancing in our thinking and yet over two thousand years from the time of Jesus we continue to forge battles with each other over differences that we choose not to understand. We complain about the draconian evil of the leaders of Iran but then we call anyone who questions the decisions of our own president radicals who should be feared and punished. 

Somehow I tend to believe that if Jesus were to come back to the earth today he would end up being viewed as a troublemaker once again. He was always willing to call out greed or cruelty. He disobeyed silly rules to save lives. He asked us to be more like innocent children. He cavorted with people who were hated by the society in which he lived. In other words, he might have been the Alex Pretti of today’s world. I think he would have embraced the immigrants and asked us to quit killing each other over oil and religious feuds. He would scoff at our culture wars that make criminals out of people who have done nothing other than live in ways that we too often choose not try to understand. 

My yard is telling me that even the ugliness of winter weeds and death can be overcome. This is a perfect time for each of us to reach out to every person around us in a spirit of compassion and love. Like the children that Jesus so enjoyed we should rely on our innocence to embrace our differences in a spirit of peace. It’s time that we value the people like Jose in our world for the goodness that they bring to us. It is time that we understand that those who challenge us to live together without judgement are the ones who truly understand the lesson of renewal that happens every spring. Jesus tried to teach us this but somehow we have contorted his words over and over again.

I have enjoyed good health for most of my life. I had the childhood illnesses that were not yet controlled by vaccinations like measles and chickenpox. Once in a great while I would catch a bad cold or come down with a virus but in general I was rarely sick which worked out well for my mother who struggled to afford medical care for me and my brothers. 

Even as an adult I have managed to evade most really frightening health issues. My heart remains strong and other than a cold now and then I mostly feel fantastic from day to day. It would not be an understatement for me to note that I really have little understanding of how it feels to be stricken with a dire illness. The closest I came to that kind of situation was a three month bout with hepatitis that drained my energy and frightened me into wondering if I had somehow developed a chronic disease that would ultimately kill me. I was relieved when I finally lost the yellow tinge to my skin and once more was ready to tackle the world. I left that illness in the rearview mirror and rarely looked back.

I have watched friends and family members deal with frightening illnesses like cancer, heart disease, and even strange infectious diseases. I witnessed their suffering but never really understood the extent of how debilitating their struggles must have been. I remember chiding my mother to get up out of bed and push herself to be part of life in the last weeks of her battle with lung cancer. Little did I know how much pain she must have been enduring and how difficult it was for her to even breathe. 

I watched friends have strokes that left them unable to talk or live the incredible lives that had been theirs before a blood clot changed their worlds. I witnessed people who ended up in wheelchairs because of brittle bones and listened to people with congestive heart failure attempting to be brave when they actually just wanted to cry. All the time I was clueless to how they were feeling even as I attempted to show some compassion for them. 

It is all too easy to watch a person dealing with a painful or chronic illness without ever truly comprehending how painful their situation actually is, especially when someone has led a mostly illness free life. We can attempt to have empathy but we never really know how difficult the battles with illness can be unless we have some level of experience with pain and chronic illnesses ourselves. 

My total knee replacement is rather commonplace. It is a surgery that I was able to choose to have or not have. I decided my own fate unlike my brother who has Parkinson’s disease. As such I have been in control of my own destiny but I have also learned that even procedures that eventually lead to happy outcomes do not come without pain, sleepless nights, and a feeling of isolation during the recuperative days and weeks. What I imagined as a piece of cake has been more difficult than I would have thought even as everyone tells me that I am regaining my strength much faster than expected. 

This surgery has been life changing for me because it has taught me to be far more understanding of anyone dealing with a grave illness. I have had a tiny taste of what it is like to be unable to move around freely and without the throb of chronic pain following me day and night. Over the weeks I have slowly but surely returned to my old self but I am hoping that I will not forget how daunting it is to be in a state that robs me of the freedom that good health has always given me. 

I think back now to situations with other people and I feel guilty that I had little or no idea of what they were enduring. My mother-in-law lived with heart diseases from the time that she was a teenager, She was told that she would not live beyond the age of thirty. Through miracles of medicine she managed to reach her early seventies before her body gave in to the disease that had dominated her life. I only understood her situation in a very distanced way. It never dawned on me how incredibly brave she had been for all of her days. 

Not long ago one of my husband’s uncles died. He had been a renowned cardiologist who treated famous people from across the globe. Like me he was an energetic man for most of his life until he reached his eighties and became the victim of congestive heart failure. He had treated hundreds of people with this affliction and yet he admitted that he had never truly understood how frightening and painful it was for them. Only when he had to personally deal with such an illness did he finally admit that he would have been ever more compassionate with his patients had he known the depths to which they were falling as they became ever more unable to even breathe. 

Like that uncle I find myself wanting to go back in time to apologize to anyone that I knew who dealt with chronic and devastating illnesses. But for my own good fortune I had little or no idea what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night in pain or to wonder if I would ever overcome the restrictions on my life. 

Now I have a whole new outlook on how I must behave int the future. I understand how precious every phone call or message inquiring how I was feeling has been. I brightened up when my son-in-law and a friend brought meals to my home. I celebrated the loving care from my husband who has been with me all the way and my daughter who devoted a week to making sure that I would be comfortable. I found myself reaching out to those that I know are battling much bigger challenges than mine. I finally understand how frustrating it is to be sidelined from life for any amount of time. 

I would not want anyone to have to endure pain in order to be able to understand those who suffer from chronic health problems. Nonetheless I feel fortunate to have walked a bit in the shoes of those who have to meet challenges that endure day after day. I have always understood what loss feels like but for the first time I also understand the difficulties of being immobilized by a body that is not working right. I wish that it had not taken so long for me to learn how daunting it is to fight to heal. I am certain that I will be a much better friend and person moving forward now that I know. 

I never miss watching the Oscars. I have been taken by the annual ceremony from the time that Bob Hope was the perennial host. I love movies of all kinds and I enjoy the yearly celebration of the films. This year’s program spoke to me on many emotional levels even as it was mostly lowkey with a kind of positivity that is not always present. It did not really matter to me who or what won the awards because I had no outstanding favorite in the game. Nonetheless several of the features really burrowed a place in my heart. 

I suppose that being a mother and an English major who has read most of Shakespeare’s plays and poems drew me to Hamnet. The story was quite emotional for me particularly in the way it wove a heartfelt tale of the love that mothers have for their children with the tragedy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The presentation of the Elizabethan world of the time was stunning and the acting was superb, especially that of Jessie Buckley. Somehow the movie knit together so many aspects of my own life from the time that I first read the works of the great bard, through my own time as a young mother, to the present when I still worry about my grown children and the tragedies that they sometimes have to endure. I left that movie sobbing in a kind of emotional release that I needed in these difficult times. 

I also found Frankenstein to be a magnificent rendition of the tale as originally written by Mary Shelley. It demands us to consider what it means to be human while also demonstrating that sometimes it is actually humankind that is the monster. While the film mostly won awards for costuming and sets, there was so much more depth to the presentation than its reputation as a horror story. It is a philosophical questioning of how we view each other and the terrors that we humans sometimes spawn. 

One movie that flew under the radar that I truly enjoyed was Train Dreams. It was a cinematic poem about ordinary life and the questionable things that we must sometimes do to survive. Every scene and nuance in this tale is indeed like a dream that switches from nightmare to joy and back again. It is an exquisite film at its best. 

One Battle After Another won best picture and I would not totally argue with that. The story was interesting if sometimes a bit too manic for my taste. The acting was superb in every possible way and the whole premise of the script forced me to think  about our society and how it changes from one era to the next, demanding us to adjust to one challenge after another. 

Nonetheless what I loved most about the Oscars this year were the surprises such as reuniting the cast of Bridesmaids after fifteen years. I recall all too well going to see that film on the day that I officially retired. My mother was staying in our home at that time while battling many illnesses. I got home much earlier than usual because school was officially over and I had nothing to do to plan for the following year. because I was retiring so that I might help her battle the cancer that she most surely had. I packed my belongings in my car and left the campus without fanfare. It was an emotional letdown after all of my years as an educator.

I was feeling a bit down and wondering if I was really ready to end my life in education and so I planned to spend the afternoon with my mom rejoicing instead of feeling so insecure about what I had done. When I found her snoozing away in a deep sleep I decided to go see Bridesmaids at my local cinema. I laughed my way through the flick and somehow felt more resolved about the change in my life. 

Sadly upon returning home I saw that my mother was in a medically distressing state. My brother and I rushed her to the Emergency Room where the whole world turned upside down. She would live only one more day and life as I had always known it would have to move forward without her. 

I suppose seeing the cast of Bridesmaids along with he beautiful remembrance of actors and actresses and other movie giants who died this past year took me down memory lane in a kind of teary realization of how much movies have meant to me over the years. Seeing the stars of Rob Reiner movies moved me in a way of combining my sorrows and joys in a single moment. Listening to Barbra Streisand sing The Way We Were brought me to tears. I realized the gift that movies of the past and present have given me.

I suppose that I am an appreciator of the artists who can write and act and direct to bring literature and everyday situations to life. Movies are more than just entertainment.They address the nature and foibles of humans in so many different ways. They connect us with each other and show us how alike we actually are. The Oscars celebrate the talent and artistry of people that we all need to balance and enrich our lives. I look forward to seeing the films of 2026 and then celebrating them next spring

My Grandpa Little was a storyteller with a dash of humor. He had a way of describing real life tales of his childhood that always delightfully delivered a life lesson along with a twinkle in his eyes. I am not completely certain that he did not embellish his memories just a bit but he had a way of retelling them over and over again in exactly the same way. He really enjoyed discussing life in rural Virginia where he lived with his grandmother who took on the task of raising him when his mother died in childbirth. One item of lore that he especially liked was a cautionary tale with a moral that needed little explaining. 

He was a young lad with more than a bit of curiosity. He had done inventive things like cutting off the upper toes of his shoes when they became too small but his grandmother insisted that he needed to wear them just a bit longer. He admired his grandmother for being a kind of leader in the area where they lived. He noted that many men and women came to her for advice. She had a wisdom and knowledge that was homegrown but more than often right on target. She became known as “Doc Reynolds” to those who knew her. 

He recalled how one day she invited the ladies of the area to come over for coffee and conversation. He was well old enough to entertain himself while they chatted. His grandmother reminded him to be on his best behavior and stay outside while the ladies were present. He gladly left for the great outdoors because he had no interest in hearing them talk about topics that meant nothing to him. He was glad to be free to be himself for a time and he liked that his grandmother trusted him to stay out of trouble. 

He did a bit of this and bit of that and then began to explore. He found an old log with a mound of some kind in its midsection. Curiosity got the best of him as he wondered what that profusion was and why it was there. It did not look like an ant bed but it indeed looked as though someone or something had chewed the wood of the tree into sawdust and then turned it into an interesting dome. 

He found a nearby stick and poked the mass just enough to get a feel for its texture. When nothing happened he became a bit more aggressive hoping to get to the heart of this strange accumulation unlike anything else he had ever seen. As he moved the stick around in a stirring motion he got his answer as a swarm of angry hornets attacked him. 

They went for every part of his body even being bold enough to burrow under his clothes. The pain of their stings was overwhelming. The only thing he could think to do was to strip down until he was naked and jump into a nearby pond. All the while he did not realize the ruckus that he was making with his screams of pain. Before long his grandmother and her lady friends were all outside looking shocked by his naked body and hearing words that he probably should not have uttered. He knew by their faces that he was in big trouble but at least he had been able to rid himself of the offending hornets.

His grandmother’s party was over as each woman sensed that it was time to go home. When everyone was gone his grandmother gave him a dressing down while she put some kind of salve that she had made on his wounds. Somehow the sting of her words was worse that what the hornets had inflicted on him. He ended his story by commenting that the whole incident taught him to be very careful about taking actions without knowing what the consequences might be. He would urge us to always think things through before racing into trouble. 

I have found myself thinking more and more about my grandfather as we are embarked on a war that seems to be without any kind of plan. We have indeed stirred the hornets nest and the question is whether or not we will be able to quell the horror that has ensued. Somehow I do not have confidence that there was a rationale for all of this other than that Trump had a feeling. Obviously there are many unintended consequences that are the result of this action. We bombed a school where innocent girls were killed. The new leader of the nation is no better than the one we killed. In fact, he lost much of his family in the attack and will no doubt want revenge. The strait through which much of the oil and commerce from the middle east comes is now blocked. The unilateral decision to stir things up in Iran has not been explained in a coherent way and it seems as though those leading this effort each have conflicting ideas as to why we did it. Furthermore there is no real plan to stop what we have started and probably should have left alone.

War should always be a last resort and any decision to go in that direction should be part of a well thought out reason with a plan for how to navigate out of the situation. So far we have none of these and while I worry on a Sunday afternoon Trump is out playing golf as though it is just another weekend. Meanwhile the Secretary of Defense seems like a little boy playing soldier. I wonder when the adults are going to come along to make the ridiculousness stop. Sadly there is nothing humorous about it all as innocents keep dying for an undefined cause but the message is the same as my grandfather delivered long ago…always be very careful before racing into the unknown.