“The World is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion.”
So I wonder, amidst all this life in bloom: will I be an annual or a perennial?
Real life demands real hands-on purpose. I hope that I am transitioning from one very fulfilling job to another.
So I try to live my fullest every day, to ease those I know “in transition” while I can, and comfort those whom they leave behind. I celebrate their lives and cherish their memories.
Just like this society, we are stronger together.
Life has changed with the pandemic, but love has not.
More than a quarter century ago, I teased my good friend, Sister Libby, about her ugly nun shoes. Indignant, she claimed that she wore orthotics because she had bad feet. At the time, I walked around in medium-high heels, leaning decidedly towards the pointy-toed kind. High heels gave way to fashionable flats and wide sneakers.Continue reading “Imelda Marcos—Not!”
GG was an archetypical Pollyanna. She made lemonade.
The latest addition to my wardrobe is a finger glove.
The Bobe, or Babushka, was the old crone in the faded sepia photograph in the dusty family album or, at best, in a tiny frame tucked behind a vase on the credenza. I was not going to be that person. Long before I discovered dozens of websites full of cool names for grandmothers, I knewContinue reading “They Call Me Dalma”