tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65279094203936817212024-03-14T09:15:12.161-04:00Janet's PlanetOrbitting the Town of Matthews and beyond.Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-20355679961121505792013-08-11T21:46:00.004-04:002013-08-12T03:41:52.699-04:00The Original Universe<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">You can't know how much you've got 'til it's gone - parents, certain
jobs, skin elasticity and muscle tone, home. T</span>rite perhaps, but true. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Eleanor Josaitis - my
original universe; the portal through which I traveled with four others, has been
gone for two years now this weekend. She
lived and died in the city that she served - Detroit. My mom used to tell me that she
planned on living to be 100 years-old. She had a certain way of flipping the
middle finger at conventional expectations – in a nice, Catholic girl kind-of
way, you have to understand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">In reality, cancer took her
from us at the age 79 and the irony of such an “early death” would not be lost
on her because she would be the first to say, “Well, Jay, Man plans, God
laughs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">God, I miss her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">She always gave God the
glory. Always! She urged her children to heed that gesture, as well. I believe
that we all have, if not exactly in her fashion. Ever since she was a teensy
kid she pledged allegiance to Jesus and his rag-tag band of radicals who also,
according to the centuries-old stories, flipped the bird at convention by
defying the Powers That Be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">As an adult, she helped lift
up the lowly because, she believed they deserved to enter the Kingdom of God despite the
Gatekeeper’s insistence that one should be just right; just tight; just white. That
was her story and she stuck to it. That’s more than I can say for a lot of
God-fearing folks who bloody their knees for the pageantry of it all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I think my mother would’ve
been a great nun had she not fallen in with the boy down the street who built
model airplanes for fun and liked gadgetry. Marrying him was the more
reasonable thing to do in the 1950s. It made more sense than crouching inside
the hallowed-fortress of her God trying to be more worthy than she already was.
Thank the Catholic Church for that nagging feeling of unworthiness, I say
bitterly to myself sometimes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">But, Mother Church taught my
own mother a great lesson in duty. She passed that on to most who knew her. My
mother was dutiful among all other things. That duty earned her a husband for
life; five healthy children; a galaxy of friends; a beautiful home; an awesome
career with a certified Man of the Cloth and the chance to serve her Creator. What
more could a girl ask for in this crazy, mixed-up universe? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Mom, Original Universe, you’re never gone
from me. Thanks for all the love and lessons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-28153267483130105152012-11-02T11:15:00.001-04:002012-11-02T15:27:58.127-04:00Mercy me! Creature comfort <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5IxS7X6p9YPQQIMZabULlI4SBzxE0W__W8PuFJtAsIRU33kGCYYMN9VWYk1YnMEjEfUb8IebXMZl3b62D8V_ourQHxXx4YzL2alnHkETgUL5FK5TBkmWjLuffBlTchrZ09c8K8UGGj0/s1600/mercy+me+foto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5IxS7X6p9YPQQIMZabULlI4SBzxE0W__W8PuFJtAsIRU33kGCYYMN9VWYk1YnMEjEfUb8IebXMZl3b62D8V_ourQHxXx4YzL2alnHkETgUL5FK5TBkmWjLuffBlTchrZ09c8K8UGGj0/s320/mercy+me+foto.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Tasha," by Ali Denk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Our cat Tasha still sucks my finger like she did
when she was abandoned as a kitten. She's not a baby anymore. She's more like Middle-Age. But some things are hard for a girl to let go of, even for felines.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>We think it’s a comfort thing, an emotional phantom
limb-like gesture to soothe herself because she still needs her mama but never
got the memo that the old girl ain’t coming back.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Some, like my kids, find it odd and kind of
disgusting. Perfect strangers would find me weird and non-pet people might
consider having me committed. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>But I don’t really care. I think of it as a selfless
gift to her – an act of mercy - if you will, albeit small and slightly bizarre.
<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>The way I figure it, over the years, I've tried to be merciful in my appointed duties.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>I’ve cared for
kids by changing diapers and picking up messes; worked with drunks late into
the night and on “the morning after;” and assisted the elderly, particularly
the dying, the most profound of whom was my very own mother. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>So when you really think about it, what’s a little
cat spit if it soothes a soul?
Particularly when that soul turns out to be your very own.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Sometimes the only place I can meditate in secret is
in the confines of my walk-in closet. Sometimes the cat finds me there and roots around my folded hands to find my pinkie finger and suckles. Strange, yeah, okay. I admit it. But peaceful, too. Together we hide out and try to hear the sound of God listening to us.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Coming out of the closet is not all it’s cracked
up to be. Especially given all the creature comfort one finds while being
still. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But, I’ve learned that I won’t </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">get
</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">any comfort, if I’m unwilling to give it away.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Mercy can be found in the strangest places.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-31849936290531789672012-09-18T22:04:00.001-04:002012-09-18T22:17:45.223-04:00Cirque de Charlotte 2012<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAb25uvDzuCbGjR6rEhbVfzvSpAWYky4AuQdYlG0udpp_SjR5KUgHt_akQtFsc0nhtcSXrpbDNNeR7rSvCCXtn8asDsPA-ZEesN4_hzslLXg5ZoFIAWfZu6Kx7blLifWlCo2Fi_q8yiaw/s1600/confetti+dnc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAb25uvDzuCbGjR6rEhbVfzvSpAWYky4AuQdYlG0udpp_SjR5KUgHt_akQtFsc0nhtcSXrpbDNNeR7rSvCCXtn8asDsPA-ZEesN4_hzslLXg5ZoFIAWfZu6Kx7blLifWlCo2Fi_q8yiaw/s400/confetti+dnc.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13px;">All photos by Getty Images and Associated Press photographers</span>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="grand"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">“We didn't reinvent the circus. We repackaged it in a much more
modern way.”</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Cirque
de Soleil founder Guy Laliberte was describing his business model. But, he
could’ve been talking about the 2012 Democratic National Convention held in
Charlotte last week. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Big
Screens. Busloads. Banners. Broadcasters. Bloggers. Flashing Lights. Shooting
Stars. Yes, yes. The president and all that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Who
cares about politics? I’m talking </span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">about the pomp, the
pageantry. Oh! What a spectacle it was -
with the entire world watching, to boot. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">Though I never made it inside
the arena for the gladiator show, I absorbed the positive street vibe which is
a mainstay of national conventions. Heck, even the Republicans want to throw a
party here next time, according to news reports. </span></span></div>
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<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">Also according to reports, Charlotte
is unfailingly clean and friendly, even if we <i>were </i>over-policed and bedbugs made too prominent an appearance in
some rental rooms. Oh, yeah, weather put a damper on the “people’s party” at
the last minute. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">But, if you’re a fan of human
nature, it was worth the price of admission last week to simply stroll the
streets. </span></span></div>
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<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">The excitement began for me the moment I stepped off the Lynx Light
Rail platform and onto Stonewall Street where vendors peddled everything from
pro-life propaganda to pet collars for presidential candidates. There were
jugglers, musicians, cops, kids, politicians, protestors and an endless supply
of people in funny hats.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">As a former newspaper gal, I
took great pleasure in watching members of the media trip over each other to
cover everything from foreign policy to celebrity sightings. Journalists are
not shy about hanging around the food tents spitting cracker crumbs at each other and swapping notes. </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">Media Command Centers were
everywhere! Print. Electronic. Everything in between. The air buzzed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">Back home, I enjoyed reading
the news stories and watching the coverage from the comfort of my well-worn
living room couch. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">Some pundits were a hoot. Comedy Central’s Jon Stewart taped
his show out of my favorite uptown library with a crack crew of funny sidekicks. "You're all so nice. It's starting to get annoying."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="grand"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">Others were crabby. Charles
Krauthammer, despite his self-styled brilliance, channeled Eyeore on a bad day. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Brit broadcaster Piers Morgan stirred fond memories of old-school newsrooms
when he interviewed subjects – highbrow and low – from a bar stool in that boozy,
newsy-kinda way that made you feel like you were eavesdropping on your parents’
late night party. Commentators commented from every corner.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Charlotte’s
more like a Ghost Town than a Host Town today because the circus came and went.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">I
don’t know if the bluster on either political sides will settle down and amount to much. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">I continue to pray that we’re going to shake hands and play nice when the time comes to really serve this great nation. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">I’ll continue, in the meantime, to perform my civic duties, in all their various
forms, just in case.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">But,
I will say this. The party sure was fun.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-89933722338534607522012-09-05T13:24:00.002-04:002012-09-20T12:04:18.842-04:00I'm going in!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNoz-ovoAfqzxEuD7TJHkVTilb4NDsfwOOQyD2gG7kRlxweIkyZu3WsUXE3l2c26oMV35cdWqlmzYhZuzPKODai97FHQgH7BEd1SPa8lf344vJKmCfNbc8sOp-BvVPm_NChWVrixUK7SM/s1600/dave+over+prague.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNoz-ovoAfqzxEuD7TJHkVTilb4NDsfwOOQyD2gG7kRlxweIkyZu3WsUXE3l2c26oMV35cdWqlmzYhZuzPKODai97FHQgH7BEd1SPa8lf344vJKmCfNbc8sOp-BvVPm_NChWVrixUK7SM/s400/dave+over+prague.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My First Born in a Land I'll Never See<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“If you want me, I’ll be in Prague.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">This - from a male in my household who, just a couple of years ago, couldn’t find Prague if it arrived on his doorstep. </span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">But there he was, days later on Facebook with a travel memo and photos ...additional flesh art crawling up his arm, smiling his little
self-satisfied grin having just concluded a pub crawl with colleagues.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me? I’m just the mother with nary a postcard over the last
year of my son’s journey across the pond.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
I dig postcards and implore him to write. With a pen. Oh, and to use a stamp. It's an old-school thing. He prefers cyber salutations. I harass him. In a good way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It’s mother-guilt, I know. </span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It’s mother love, no doubt. </span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It’s a little envy and a whole lot of “missing him.”</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He’s traveling into spots not far from his military duties
where he takes advantage of the R & R. Deep down, I know that, despite the
opportunity and adventure, he really misses home. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We tell him to “stay the course, son.” Four
years is over pretty quick and there’s not much to come back to here in the
dismal United States of Where-The-Hell-Are-We-Going?</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The Democratic National Convention is in town this week. I’m
going to observe the circus, if for no other reason than, to connect - to feel less lost, less homesick, less forgotten. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">My president’s First Lady thanked my family - and thousands like us - last night in
front of millions of viewers. Our Mom-in-Chief
thanked the kids serving our country. She thanked military families. I'm determined to find her and hug her
for that. It's a long shot but what isn't these days?</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">So, son – if you want me, I’ll be uptown Charlotte.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I’m going in!</span></div>
</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-68796247459815080352012-08-22T15:09:00.001-04:002012-10-10T14:42:43.518-04:00One-Man Crowd Control<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">He’s named Thomas the Turtle and I discovered him in
my backyard polishing off a discarded strawberry. He appeared one day behind
the lemon balm and <i>“liked to startle the be-jeezus out of me,” </i>as my Grandma
Reed would say.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK-UyF5hnec6Fs_n-NLaS0pkQrz4nG9YkipeeB8xN9wmtlvyu7HMf6WWg0x3H9CqbJJDmRoW3G8tfZO5HiXvu1qUrDaVFmYgCmvq2QQ8VfMZGweG-VJiEztVB_-zxBKvc-ko0PeDnIbaY/s1600/strawberry+turtle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK-UyF5hnec6Fs_n-NLaS0pkQrz4nG9YkipeeB8xN9wmtlvyu7HMf6WWg0x3H9CqbJJDmRoW3G8tfZO5HiXvu1qUrDaVFmYgCmvq2QQ8VfMZGweG-VJiEztVB_-zxBKvc-ko0PeDnIbaY/s320/strawberry+turtle.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas, by Janet Planet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Glaring at me with a combination of disgust and
amusement, we run across each other on occasion. He,
with his crusty eyes and bad attitude; me, with my skittish nerves and garden
tools - two such different beasts sharing the same stomping grounds making our way
on an ever-shrinking planet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Truth is, he reminds me of Bill Hill, an ornery friend from my
hometown Detroit whose lessons in survival were never sugar-coated musings.
Rather, truthful and annoyingly spot-on. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">I like those kinda guys today.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">I’m married to one now. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">They are not for the
squeamish.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">But it wasn’t always that way. I used to be more
gullible. Denser. Frightened stiff and
stupid. You might not have known that about me if we were sharing the same seat on a bus. But smoke and mirrors can hold off a truckload of delusion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Bill was one of those tribe elders who helped me see
the light. When he entered a room, in One-Man Crowd Control fashion, people
were relieved to see him because they needed his stubborn strength or they were
horrified that he showed up. It was hard to be neutral about him. That's what made his lessons stick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">“Too damn bad,” was a common response to my
impatient whinings, back in the day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">That’s what I imagine Thomas uttering when I gripe
about bug infestations or stubborn weeds or things that don’t grow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">“So? What the hell you gonna do about it?!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">I don’t know what happened to Bill. I can’t track
him down. As of late, the same goes for my Eastern Box Turtle friend. But their
hard-scrabbled lessons of survival continue to shore me up in wildly uncertain
moments. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">“Deal with it!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">So, I do.</span></div>
Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-28497023487015245502012-08-08T19:43:00.002-04:002012-08-12T13:34:49.690-04:00Polar opposites<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqCmE96TaGJenw0xXpcOW13eUT5vUFb8zBkZXh1-WInoUrgMZQrHyaq0O88NDunJryBFtS9nSbTamNoNBGmNorZweADVEEfEmkEZ77V0SmnQ-sRTVnaH47C0gsb4FHI63w8ZDn88iDHU/s1600/strangeweatherstrip.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqCmE96TaGJenw0xXpcOW13eUT5vUFb8zBkZXh1-WInoUrgMZQrHyaq0O88NDunJryBFtS9nSbTamNoNBGmNorZweADVEEfEmkEZ77V0SmnQ-sRTVnaH47C0gsb4FHI63w8ZDn88iDHU/s1600/strangeweatherstrip.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos courtesy of Ali Denk</span> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">One of the hottest summers on record could not stop Mother Nature from hurling a few hailstorms our way. Take<i> that, </i>global warming!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">By contrast, mere mortals aren't nearly as impressive as they would like to believe.</span>Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-23884665823523345412012-08-05T13:11:00.002-04:002012-08-27T13:29:39.622-04:00Keep the coop clean and carry on<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zioRIWjJNK7gJjOUIM8eBlm3U2zZ-BxDLywTDB89RYVT6nvoWH7Al-3KNQIZeILKOXoS9WLlcnACSQgFMOk4sbvyYFHSBdDq3HuO4JDBz9E1Bf9BYYIqnzqd4GLMrhAj_kk2gUSvft4/s1600/robs+chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zioRIWjJNK7gJjOUIM8eBlm3U2zZ-BxDLywTDB89RYVT6nvoWH7Al-3KNQIZeILKOXoS9WLlcnACSQgFMOk4sbvyYFHSBdDq3HuO4JDBz9E1Bf9BYYIqnzqd4GLMrhAj_kk2gUSvft4/s320/robs+chickens.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Marilyn, far right, as a groovy, young chick, with gal pals. Photo: Robert Schley</span> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: large;">I just learned that Marilyn was mauled last week and didn’t
survive. Having just spent the weekend with her room mates, I’m shocked. I am
sitting shiva, albeit belatedly, to honor my friend. God accepts all
petitions, I believe, even those for fine, feathered friends from fallen away
Catholic girls like me.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif;">Marilyn was an Ameraucana chicken - a lusty, busty hen who lived a
cozy little life in the Town of Matthews with her pen-mates<span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span><i>until</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>a raccoon invaded their home and, well
– that’s that.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif;">Nature is an evil bitch, at times. But we remain calm and carry
on. What choice do we have?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif;">Part of my newly-crafted career as a
Middle-Aged-Woman-Without-A-Steady-Job includes chicken sitting duties. My
friend Jane hired me to handle her menagerie while she and her hubby Brian
travel. Our grown sons have been buddies since elementary
school. Jane was a rabid fan of my family’s now-defunct community
newspaper, for which I will always be grateful. She’s always had a thing for
such newspapers, having grown up with a father – Neal Friedman - who wrote a
wildly popular column in the Baltimore Jewish Times.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: large;">So, now I feed her animals, where she<span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span><i>used</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>to feed me story ideas. It is a fine
arrangement, as she pays well, and I get all the chicken poop I can handle for
my garden. My finned and furry charges also include a skittish but painfully
lovely rescue dog named Delilah; a tank full of fish; and the coolest cat
on the planet, Mr. Kitty, who thinks he’s a dog and has a face not unlike the
actor Elijah Wood of Frodo Baggins fame.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stock photo: Mr. Wood</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1pCa8V9R5_PNWqUbvgpY5pkp0MmLcQyQmEEe9IqQNKu53e8hxxEZZmPCIuAZ73uLsLTyPTRQshk6G1N1HJrNrXv3xLsuhaI66YBtHhr-HoRr9tlsmH7CgIR-L7M2qYBfMt4NS4WtuKY/s1600/DSC_1558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1pCa8V9R5_PNWqUbvgpY5pkp0MmLcQyQmEEe9IqQNKu53e8hxxEZZmPCIuAZ73uLsLTyPTRQshk6G1N1HJrNrXv3xLsuhaI66YBtHhr-HoRr9tlsmH7CgIR-L7M2qYBfMt4NS4WtuKY/s200/DSC_1558.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family photo: Mr. Kitty</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: large;">Rest
in peace, Miss Marilyn! We’ll keep the coop clean and carry on!</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-29975190304794339302011-11-18T22:09:00.001-05:002012-08-16T10:25:57.774-04:00God shots to the gut: Confessions of a woman who's quickly losing faith<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taylor Swift concert, Charlotte, NC</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">First – my daughter scores primo seats, at a deeply discounted rate, to her first-ever concert.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then - my husband gets a real live, old-fashioned job-with-benefits following a dry spell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And this just in! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome back, frogman<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">The Hula Painted Frog, declared extinct, rears its slimy little head in an Israeli swamp for the first time in 50 years, according to AP reports.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My God, m</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">y God. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">You really <i>do</i> have faith in us lowly creatures. These are small things, I realize, in the big scheme of things. But, little-by-little, perhaps we'll get to know each other again. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">Thank you from the bottom of my cynical little heart.</span></div>
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Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-50136802183393443562011-09-06T08:23:00.002-04:002012-08-11T23:04:25.387-04:00Grateful on Labor Day 2011<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Logo courtesty of <a href="http://www.madeindetroit.com/">http://www.madeindetroit.com</a><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: large;">I gladly labored in the 90-degree heat in order to earn a small wage this past weekend - volunteered with the “Women’s Club” at a small, southern town festival; babysat two yuppie larvae a couple of nights before; cleaned out a chicken coop and planned a business trip for a new part-time job.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: large;">Whose life is this anyway?</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: large;">I made more money and had greater job security as a copy boy in a northern, big city newspaper in the 80s-90s than I did as the publisher of my own newspaper a decade later.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: large;">When I was a toddler in the late-1950s/early-60s at the height of union participation in the U.S., more than a third of all American workers belonged to unions. Last year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the union-membership rate was less than 12%. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: large;">Am I anti-union? Heck, no. But I’m searching for the happy medium. Is there such a thing? The pendulum swings, so I hear.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Some argue that over the years unions had become too powerful and in many cases harmed the very businesses that employed its members. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">But, as Time Magazine recently pointed out and many still strive for, unions also helped bring about a minimum wage, a reasonable workweek and rights for employees within the workplace. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">It was tough celebrating “labor” this weekend, with the sickening lack of work in this country, but I’m grateful for the pennies I collect.</span></div>Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-28271956714317059932011-07-08T14:14:00.002-04:002012-08-12T13:44:39.511-04:00Wood ‘N Soldier: tribute to a brave husband<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN996S5TmPYVbnTklXD-L9JN3yaaRVQWcIQOj6L2B8kuOtqM79KN19hmGSD3RqAgZtx7JGTRL8daJ6AwYwRXcSeI4IFBfJBYkqTkp7qCjcEfnbHYWqfM8ZZyQvwqlzhv3RD-I7L-rztuM/s1600/woodenfotos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="tribute to a brave husband during underemployment daze" border="0" height="273" m="m" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN996S5TmPYVbnTklXD-L9JN3yaaRVQWcIQOj6L2B8kuOtqM79KN19hmGSD3RqAgZtx7JGTRL8daJ6AwYwRXcSeI4IFBfJBYkqTkp7qCjcEfnbHYWqfM8ZZyQvwqlzhv3RD-I7L-rztuM/s640/woodenfotos.jpg" title="Wood N' Soldier" true="true" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: Family photos<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He scavenges the woods for ruined timber, mostly expired cedar trees, then drags them to safety like a well-trained soldier refusing to leave the wounded behind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Scampering up clay paths lined with scrubby brush, he tosses the pieces over the fence into his suburban backyard and begins to fortify the fallen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some bodies are solid, others are frail reeds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Surgery ensues at ba</span><span style="font-size: large;">se camp - a brick pad behind the garage.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blades and beads. </span><span style="font-size: large;">String and stain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tools of the trade plied during private conversation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some time passes before he heaves the transformed trunk or twigs upon his shoulder to return them to the forest floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Battle-scarred and oddly beautiful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mission accomplished.</span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh47pJX3RmbpCHLkl-aGgSszGvYWoV81HfkKqXQI2PALHhhyDSQQFAVpnSJhXQnlRTmfNOCIkMO2Yxoc6z46LZdk6OfyUbnPgB2kk5VYthRwOLNumG1nYaZiHZi5f346lbBsH-mJGQd9RQ/s1600/jim+woodworking.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh47pJX3RmbpCHLkl-aGgSszGvYWoV81HfkKqXQI2PALHhhyDSQQFAVpnSJhXQnlRTmfNOCIkMO2Yxoc6z46LZdk6OfyUbnPgB2kk5VYthRwOLNumG1nYaZiHZi5f346lbBsH-mJGQd9RQ/s320/jim+woodworking.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-37233230718642545932010-12-16T10:31:00.000-05:002012-08-12T00:22:49.060-04:00Tides and Carmel-Covered Vocal Cords<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6tnNe0zyuCed17iSPMAv1JH1AUCnw-LMxUJjfNoPEVGgwWUOGS0XeNb0V4IkoikfkpCGqR6ArQG6fG-zfXNo-WveERzikPbK599EaznLcJIFi3ijtgNMO2Mkf7lO8NLSJBisqKRyld0/s1600/carmel+sauce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6tnNe0zyuCed17iSPMAv1JH1AUCnw-LMxUJjfNoPEVGgwWUOGS0XeNb0V4IkoikfkpCGqR6ArQG6fG-zfXNo-WveERzikPbK599EaznLcJIFi3ijtgNMO2Mkf7lO8NLSJBisqKRyld0/s320/carmel+sauce.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">File photo</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Calvin has caramel-covered vocal cords, or so it seems to those of us listening to his guided meditation. This strapping, midwest-born, southern-bred staffing sargeant is practicing to become a spiritual director. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After finding God in the valley, he's been steady climbing hilltops and often shares the experience with others on his journey towards a better life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some of us, guinea pigs really, have been journeying with him experimenting with stillness through meditation - a concept quite radical in this noisy world though certainly not new. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As we lurch toward serenity, many of us are discovering a few of the fruitful gifts of this ancient practice: lowered heart rates; better concentration; patience, community; humility before a God of our understanding. </span><span style="font-size: large;">More shall be revealed, it is rumored.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Calvin led us down a path recently towards the ocean to ponder the tide.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> "Listen to the sound of the water, as it meets the shore," the carmel cords compelled. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We listened. We felt the hot sand and churning water beneath our toes. We breathed. We tried to "hear the sound of God listening to us," as a fellow traveler once coined.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stomachs growled. Legs shifted. Throats cleared. Nasal passages wheezed. (Sounds of life, in all their glory, are not quiet, dainty things. <i>Internal</i></span><i style="font-size: x-large;"> </i><span style="font-size: large;">stillness, Janet! Inhale. Exhale.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I tried to let go of the image running across my mind's movie screen of my teenage children laughing at me trying to sit still in a roomful of strangers. And. Being. Quiet.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">A vision: a collage of friends and foe alike, who know me to be a chatty Cathy, a nervous Nellie, the princess of perpetual motion, laughing at me. I gently let <i>that</i> image roll by, as instructed. There's a lot of reference to water. I tried not to think of my bladder's business, having just slammed a 16-oz cup of decaf tea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Perhaps you're standing on the beach at high tide,' Calvin coos, 'or maybe it's low tide. Just be still and take in the moment."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ha! Tell that to the ping-pong Olympians inside my head!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Breathe, Janet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When life seems like a series of twisted roads and painful rest stops with no end in sight, it feels like God is testing us. No, that's not honest. It feels like God has vacated the premises. Hasta luego, sucker! </span><span style="font-size: large;"> A good soulful friend might use this time to remind us that the hard times pass; the good times will come again. I need to be that good friend to myself and to others. Tides go out, tides come in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i></i>Mindfulness meditation is not an easy exercise for those with chatty minds and troubled hearts. But, as many of us are discovering, it is essential for our spiritual and emotional development. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Call it Ground Zero for monkey minds. Call it meditation. Call it prayer. Call it communal listening. It probably doesn't matter what you call it, as long as you open your heart and mind to the idea that, with a little faith and a lot of practice, it is possible to experience stillness amidst the raging sea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It also doesn't hurt to hear this lesson through carmel-covered vocal cords.</span>Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-28960954469343238672010-12-13T21:58:00.000-05:002012-08-22T19:54:58.467-04:00Dear Diary?<em><span style="font-size: large;">"The fear of being laughed at makes cowards of us all."</span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Mignon McLaughlin</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Like any reasonable woman, I am slightly afraid of the Blogosphere. Cyber crimes and wiki-weirdos notwithstanding, it seems so big and dark and scary. It's also seductive and exciting and full of new relationships in a different kind of community than I've ever really known before.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm trying to start a blog. I don't know who will read it and I'm not sure how to proceed. I'm more of a print gal. But, I'm just going to dive in and start swimming. I want to write about my community, my family, my friends, perfect strangers, gardens, art, cancer, journalism, faith, fear, food (goodness, I can think of all kinds of stuff.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blogging was made for people like me. I have kept a journal my whole life beginning with a denim-covered diary (lock and key provided) simply because I needed to write stuff down.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some entries I shared. Some were just for me. Is that how I should approach this new-fangled form of expression?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Journals and diaries have carried me through adolescence and teen trauma to marriage, mortgages and being a mama. As I navigate my fifties with the ability to walk and chew gum at the same time, I should have enough fodder to keep Janet's Planet a lively place to orbit for awhile. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wasn't it Flannery O'Connor who said that anyone who survived childhood has enough material to write for the rest of his or her life? Amen to that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Writing is a courageous act. To share it, even more so. I don't want to be afraid. Anybody out there?</span>Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6527909420393681721.post-27306862462955478712010-09-30T16:22:00.000-04:002012-08-22T19:41:24.243-04:00A Great Gust of Wind<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJ863TT6dQsuq7djkHLX69FTOBV0M7lXUR2YaN0U6I-rQ_kdsOXZ3c1FFBdYRU0EAADmf0sRCHjAs3BRLN31I3piVitkPyIOqeuKkPpTGRoiFF200R5WKZ9kiSXvicZh_EAV_ooN40YY/s1600/shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJ863TT6dQsuq7djkHLX69FTOBV0M7lXUR2YaN0U6I-rQ_kdsOXZ3c1FFBdYRU0EAADmf0sRCHjAs3BRLN31I3piVitkPyIOqeuKkPpTGRoiFF200R5WKZ9kiSXvicZh_EAV_ooN40YY/s640/shoes.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family photo taken from the bedroom window</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What's the story behind those shoes dangling from telephone lines? How do they end up there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Strewn randomly across lines in the sky, they seem to be everywhere once you become aware of them - by schools, near tree tops, on lone highways, in fields, at parks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Is it just pranksters pulling Pumas from gym bags, then tossing them up in the air? Or is it something more sinister that draws my attention to footwear foisted onto high wires?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My son David’s old Nike gym shoes have been suspended from the pine tree in front of our house for several seasons. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At first, I didn't mind. He’s eighteen and I barely get to see him these days between work and school and friends and getaways. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The shoes gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling that he really enjoyed "hanging around" his family, pun intended.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One day soon, like a great gust of wind, he’ll be moving on. That makes me melancholy and moments like that don’t come with operating instructions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I tell myself that the shoes are a sign of a truly lived-in, comfy home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In reality, the ratty old sneakers have taken on all the romance of a white trash tree ornament. I want them removed. But I am powerless to eradicate the situation because another mother has entered the scene.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Earlier this year, a chickadee built her nest in them. Not in one shoe, but both of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At first, I was smitten by this dangling duplex for my feathered friends. Now, not so much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, another season unfolds. Summer is turning into fall. Then winter will be here again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The birds have left. The shoes and the Man-Child son remain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These days, it just doesn’t feel right to shake the shoes from their branches. They’ll just have to dangle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Demolition has been delayed and I’m left awaiting further operating instructions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That, or a great gust of wind.</span></div>
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Janet Denkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270595678794537440noreply@blogger.com2