writings from the "holler" - 2nd mother letter

It's Saturday. Half time of Texas/Iowa game.

These are days of carefully watching and listening. Practice for registering in the

consciousness many of the things that people do and the comments they make. All on the search

for new material to make the Mother Letters. This new alert sent my mind flittering off to

memories of Grandmother Sunday's backyard. The countless evenings and afternoons of

childhood spent in exploring. One of the magical treats was just being still. Watching by day and

listening by night. The longer you could be still, the higher the possible reward of the backyard

neighborhood living things revealing themselves to you -- coming out to enjoy the new company

with sights and sounds never before imagined. I'm kind of comparing this memory with the

almost lost art today of not stopping to carefully watch and listen for the truly magical messages

and sights of daily life.

Karen and I were talking Christmas Day after she'd just read the first blogged Mother Letter.

She asked me if I had fun writing them -- the letters. Hmmm. I've had to think about that one.

Early in life, I started my collection of words. I remember the year, 1959, when I discovered

and added the word, omphaloskepsis (that's sitting around and thinking about your belly-

button) to my vocabulary. Was I cool, or what?! To me, words are like the multi-colored

marbles I pushed around as a child, hour-after-hour, making unique arrangements on a

hexagram board game. I could and would with time, take words and roll them around in my

mind until they fit shapes and patterns of meaning. Then I would play with them, put them on

paper to say something or take a "marble" away, add a couple more, to change completely the

perspective of what I was saying. Using words to illustrate or create pieces of verbal art is

pleasing to me. So, yes, the Mother Letter is a form of fun. But, word marble playing is not such

an easy game.

Judy Hitt and I ran this morning and talked over each other on the same topic -- eating too

much and gaining a little too much. Laura was missing and couldn't add her two cents worth as

she has strep throat. We tackled the "stress test" hill. That's a neighborhood street with a

continuous, almost one mile gradual incline. Since Peter and I saw the Rocky Balboa movie

Christmas day and Judy and Curtis caught the afternoon show yesterday, this morning, 6:00

a.m., we hummed the Rocky song all the way up to the top. No arms pumping in the air when

finished though. Just the noise of strange sounds that can only come from breath catching.

I tell you what. Every time George Bush opened his mouth earlier this week to Hallelujah

praise the memory and reputation of former President Gerald Ford, he just shined a light back

into his own face, illuminating that he's the exact opposite of every single word he spoke. True to

form, I don't even think he realized what he was doing. One remembered example was Bush's

crediting Ford with being the healer of a divided Nation when he assumed the office of the

President. Doesn't G. W. realize he's the "decider-divider" of the Nation?

Respect for the President of the United States is one of those childhood "learnings" embedded

deep inside of me. Throughout my life, as our Presidents have come along, I've been able to

apply this particular teaching -- until G. W. The man simply stirs up such a negative visceral

reaction inside of me, the old deeply buried learning is violently disturbed and I have to leave

the room when I hear his voice.

Update on the neighborhood deer -- Abel from the office was helping his dad on a recent

weekend. His dad owns an air-conditioning/heating company and Abel often volunteers as his

"helper." Abel was telling me that he was on his way to the work-order-place, came around a

corner and stopped his truck to look at these two life-sized bucks that some silly people with a

little extra money had stationed in the front yard of their house. And, the longer he looked, he

realized they weren't statues, but real. What he didn't know was this was my neighborhood and

he was seeing part of the herd I always talk about. Mentioning his sighting to the customer, they

told him about the unusual twin black deer that appeared this season. Good to have the story

about the herd addition verified because I don't think Abel believed me when I'd told him about

those two babies earlier in the year. He just blew it off as "girl talk."

Do you think we are going to be molecularly changed by eating the meat of cloned animals?

Mercy! When I first heard this story last week, my appetite vanished. Score one point in the

positive column. With a molecule tweaking, the G. W. tendency to bash might vanish, though.

Score two. Government help is on the way. Heck of a job, John Wayne.

And, with that last thought, I'll let you be for another week.

Love,

Jody