For these, I am thankful

For trust & hope

For Joy
And the beauty in each day

For Larry

Who has wooed me

with lilies

For Retreats
On Star and Appledore
& New Harbor, Maine

For Music
That soothes
comforts
lifts my spirit
opens my heart
moves my body

For Books
To fall into
fall in love with
& read again
& some again

A Good Samaratin? I guess it depends on your perspective

Strange weather in New Hampshire. The the northern tier -- what we call the 'North Country', is under a flood watch this evening. But a "heavy snow" warning begins for them at 4 AM through to 9 PM on Friday. Such is the diverse beauty of New England.

On the coast today, it was dark and gloomy with frequent and periodic heavy rain most of the day. Temperatures hovered close to the 60 degree mark -- a little warm for the season.

I had a salon appointment after work and arrived just in time for another burst of hard rains. Parking as close to the door as possible, I opened my umbrella and made for the door.

A young mom was walking toward me from the mall pushing a carriage with a toddler. She had no cover from the rain.

I offered to cover her with my umbrella and stay with her as she walked to her automobile.

A pretty ordinary scenario? Don't you think?

Well, the young woman only reluctantly allowed my assistance. I was prepared to stay with her and cover the child while she opened the doors and lifted the child into the car. But I was quite summarily dismissed. And I realized only later as I walked away that she was suspicious of the assistance.

So I wondered: what must your life be like if you cannot trust a 5 foot, 63 year old grandmother, who looks like this:

Oh. You caught me. I wasn't wearing my crown.

Behcet's can be lonely place

I don't know one single person who shares this malady.

In fact, its prevalence in the US is about 1 in half a million people.

Tonight, however, I joined an internet 'chat' in-progress, for people with BD and very quickly felt affirmed and less lonely.

In truth, there were less than 10 people involved in the 'chat' but those ten represented an amazing geography: one participant is from Greece; the moderator is from Northern Ireland; and several others are from the New York, Virginia, New Jersey and I think Wisconsin; and there were a few others whose location I didn't learn.

'Chat' participants were warm and welcoming. Not unlike what I have come to expect from the CLL Forum and CLLC Friends: generous, friendly, encouraging, intelligent.

One of the interesting aspects of the nearly 2-hour online event was the voluntary translation going on. A woman from New Jersey was translating from English to Greek and Greek to English for the gentleman from Greece.

This was not her job. She is one who shares Behcet's and I feel certain she joined the 'chat' for her own personal reason.

Yet it was just done.

Because it was needed.

Because she was there and had the skills.

I'll Be Seeing You

July 22, 1945

Germany

Dearest,

I am on my way back to camp. I'm almost there . . . . . I've been in (this) place for two days . . . . getting lots of rest and good food.

How are you, darling . . . . And Patty?

As for me, I am in the best of health.

I haven't heard anything about going home but it won't be too long now, I hope.

Write often, darling.

I love you with all my heart.

And hope to see you soon.

Love and Kisses, Bob

PS.
Give Patty a big kiss for me.

I love you, Dot.

Below the body of this short letter is the admonition to:

REPLY BY V-MAIL

They were so young, those WWII warriors. He was only 24 when he wrote this letter. They were married in 1942 but there wasn't much time for them to be together, to know each other. The war was on; he was married in his uniform.

My father and his two brothers, Norman and Richard, fought the 'good war'. His father, Noe Pierre, was a casualty of WWI and spent most of his adult life in and out of veteran's hospitals suffering the effects of mustard gas. Noe was a staunch advocate for returning soldiers of the WWII and worked tirelessly for them when he was able. He died when I was ten but I have such clear memories of him in the lead automobile heading up the Memorial Day Parade in our Massachusetts town. Military and patriotism were important themes in his household.

During the war years, my mother and I lived with my paternal grandparents. I was the first grandchild and doted on and probably spoiled by my mother, grandparents and youngest uncle, Richard, who was still at home when I was born. I'm told that he would gather me into his arms, take me into his bedroom, prop me on pillows and tell all about his latest 'girl' and his date for the evening.

I recall a room that functioned as an office for my grandfather with a large desk and world globe. My mother said that he also had a large map of the world over his desk on which he plotted the advance of the allied forces. He had a bald, shiney head and I loved the way it smelled. I never smelled that fragrance again.

Hormonal Imbalance

We got tickets for the Four Bitchin Babes this Saturday evening at the Music Hall in Portsmouth -- a show we really looked forward to as we hadn't seen them for a few years. Their new show called, Hormonal Imbalance, was a near-sell-out. By the time we decided to go there were only great single seats left. We took the singles reasoning that after 20+ years we could actually be apart that long.
Hurrican Noel was rushing up the east coast from North Carolina on its way to the Canadien Maritimes. Reports and storm warnings called for all-day rain, high winds and rough seas. It was a blustery night but by the time we were leaving for the show, the storm had been down-graded to a tropical storm (another indication of global warming? seems late for us to be getting a tropical storm!)

I felt it was a great night to curl up with a book and a cup of tea rather than brave the wind and rain from parking garage to Music Hall. But we had already paid for the tickets; we went to the show which was, indeed, a full house with a pleasantly appreciative audience (mainly women).

This foursome is not the original Four Babes; only Sally Fingerett (upper left in the photo) was an original Babe with Christine Lavin, Patty Larkin -- and one other, whose name escapes me at the moment. But these four babes can sing. And write. They are called 'cross-over folk' artists. Their harmony is supreme. They give funny, poignant, heartfelt, high-energy performances.

The Babes gave a nice nod to the men in the audience giving them lots of kudos for bravery! It was a female, night-out for sure.

Their patter and their tunes really poked fun at female angst. One of my favorites was, The Boob Fairy Didn't Come For Me, and poked fun at women who are never satisfied with their hair, face, hips, legs, butts, lips, ears, and-you-name-it-we-probably-hate-it!

Another tune that brought the house down was based on 30,000 pounds of bananas -- but the truck driver in this tune was carrying 30,000 pounds of VIAGRA -- which, on impact, got into the town water supply.

These Babes are on tour together and individually.

I enjoyed the foursome; I would hear each one on her own as well.

Check them out here. You can play their video and listen to tracks from the show's CD.

Life is too short for drama and petty things,
so kiss slowly, laugh insanely, love truly

and forgive quickly.
(Unknown)

Life is too short for drama: I have witnessed argument after argument on the CLL boards (ACOR and the Forum) and I just cannot understand the motivation, the rationale for such behavior. The newest board, the CLLC Friends, was started nearly a year ago because of the defection of several members who had a falling out with other members. Now, another member of the Forum is threatening to leave because she feels her opinions cannot be shared without sarcasm or rancor.

Life is too short for drama and petty things: After all, what is being shared is information ~~ information that we all need to know. Other times what is shared is opinion and/or personal experience. But whatever they are, they are just words on the screen. They can so easily be 'erased' if found offensive, upsetting or frustrating. One has the ability to just walk away in a very real sense. So why not? What does motivate people to harangue over small details and personal opinion or interpretation?

We need to forgive quickly: We, the members, are all the same. Our great equalizer is the disease we share. But that just doesn't seem sufficient of itself to keep people from hurting one another.

Last summer when I was hungry for information about CLL, I found the CLL Forum. Actually, I started looking for information even before I had a diagnosis, when all I had was a phrase (small clonal population in bone marrow and an appointment to see a hematologist in Boston. Recently, I heard someone say they had a degree from Google U. which is my first choice when I want to know something. So, I googled "small clonal population" and up popped a list that included many references to CLL. It was DrM. who gave me the diagnosis; it was also DrM. who advised against using the internet as an information source on CLL saying that the information on the web was "old" and "frightening". I didn't heed his advice.

I quickly became a member of the Forum, a big step for me as I had never done any kind of on-line bulletin board or chat. I lurked awhile and then took the plunge and what a response! I felt wrapped around by the warmth and friendliness of strangers ~ ~ and I learned about my disease, I began to feel less alone. Over the months, I saw and experienced the wonderful generosity of spirit as members shared their personal stories, offered advice and made suggestions. There is a great wealth of knowledge among its membership and it freely shared. One feels almost daily to be on the cusp of what is new and current in CLL. The present disagreement is about the efficacy of alternative treatments or holistic interventions and whether there is sufficient science (data) to support their use. Clearly, I just don't understand why we just cannot leave our members to their own discretion. Let those who are interested in such topics expound on them in the thread that is allocated to it. If one is not interested, one needed visit the thread.

At the ACOR site, that is not as easily done. I continue to visit ACOR but I feel less connected to it; it feels somehow less personal. For me, it is not as compelling as the Forum. And, there are a lot of rules about what is kosher to post and this stiffles what could be worthwhile and important discussion. ACOR members seem even more given to argument ... which seem to devolve into free-for-alls as folks weigh-in their opinions.

I continue to be a frequent visitor to ACOR because of the posts by Dr. Terry Hamblin whose great gift of knowledge and experience are generously shared. Now I scan topic headings and authors and read only what is of interest to me at that moment ~~ unless it is an answer by Dr. Hamblin or one of my favorite authors. And then I leave the site. Finish my internet or other computer business and walk away. And get on with my life and the business of staying healthy.

This level of angst about small things just cannot be conducive to a healthy body and mind.

What to do?

If you wish to make anything grow you must understand it

NIGHT GARDENING

A friend recommended

Night Gardening

E.L. Swann, Hyperion, 1999.

E.L. Swann is a pen-name for Kathryn Lasky, well-known children's author.

Well she didn't just recommend it; she brought me her copy saying she just knew I'd love it. IT was given to her by another friend for the same reason. I read it once and just fell into the novel. I reveled in it's power and fell in love with the characters, Maggie and Tristan. I wept.

The novel is just filled to the brim with magical prose and lyrical narrative. For example:

". . . . Kind of half yearning and half -

well, half like he was on the edge of a dream, a very old dream.

"A very old dream," Maggie repeated softly. "How do you mean?"

""I'm not sure. you know how some people spend a life just searching

for something and don't really know what for exactly,

but they know that somewhere out there it is really there,

if they can just get to it.

Well, that is how it was with him."

And now, having finished a second reading, the book is just as satisfying, just as delicious.

I recommend this quietly moving short novel to you.

Surfing the web to find out more about E.L. Swann and the novel, I read that she had the story in mind for a long time and that the catalyst for the story was the "Secret Garden".

The novel's structure is built around quoatations from gardening books. These begin each chapter. Japanese gardens and contemplative gardens are recurrant themes in the citations. The first chapter opens with this quotation which I believe is the very essence of the novel.

If you wish to make anything grow you must understand it,

and you must understand it in a very real sense.

Russel Page, The Education of a Gardener

Maggie Flaherty Welles, only child of Irish immigrants marries into a Boston Brahmin family. She was a bright, bold, red-headed young woman who was completely taken over by the material power of Adams Welles and the entire Welles family. But for all the life and energy that she brings to the marriage, it simmers away in the alcoholic haze of her husband. Now at 61, a widow with one son and a daughter who both carry on their father's failures and weakness for alcohol, she has suffered a stroke that paralyzes her left side. Maggie, who was once an avid gardener, now painfully compares her lifeless body to her derelict garden. She only half-heartedly gives herself to her various therapies and one feels she is retreating from life. A particularly painful moment for Maggie (and for the reader) is her realization that the stroke has caused very little change in her life. In fact, she realizes, her life had been deadened by a kind of paralysis during her long, dry marriage to Adams.

The spark in the novel comes in the shape of Tristan Mallory, a silver-haired landscape gardener who is at work re-building the garden of Maggie's nearest neighbor with whom she shares a garden wall. Unaware, each is watching the other:

"Once an avid gardener, Maggie is intrigued by the activity. Tristan Mallory, the silver-haired, blue-eyed architect, recognizes a kindred soul and returns her interest. Far from being repulsed by her stroke-impaired appearance, Tristan sees Maggie as a person of rare inner beauty. They begin to meet at night to restore Maggie's garden, which has withered from the combination of Maggie's financial and physical limitations. " (Susan Scribner)

It is in their budding relationship that Maggie begins to heal, to feel life moving through her again.

"Night Gardening skillfully portrays a fleeting but powerful romance between these two mature characters . . . . . in its brief pages, Maggie's personality comes alive . . . . (Susan Scribner)

The romance is powerful and all too brief. I wanted it to go on and on.