AUGUST 2019 ENDS HALTINGLY

We say "Goodbye" to the enjoyment of loose fitting clothes and sitting on the ground to picnic.  We listen to the soft hum of the cicadas as sun sets amid a lingering summer breeze. We realize Fall is upon us.  Once again, we don sweaters and walk on paths with fast-changing colorful leaves and wild shrubbery.  We sit outside before controlled fire and tell stories.

In spite of turmoil created by human failings or nature's unprecedented furor. We know we shall prevail.  We have been given the responsibility of preserving kindness, trust and the ability to make changes under law.  We will use our votes to do so.  We will open our hearts and hands to help each other and the stranger in our midst.

Have a good Labor Day Weekend.

GETTING TO 90

There are speed limits for all motorized vehicles. From automobiles to rocket ships to ships at sea, when the meter reads 90 it means slow down!  Not so for people.  In retrospect, ninety year old people are vibrant and enjoying life albeit differently from earlier years.

When I reached my fiftieth birthday I held my own celebration because I had reached the half-century mark.  I did so in a small, screened porch in my home in suburban Philadelphia. I could not envision going from 1929 to 2019 but here I am! I am not much for giving clinical or "how to" advice but I share with you now those events and people who have nurtured me all this time.

 I was about one year old when my mother told me she was going to have a baby. Then mother disappeared. The most vivid memory I have was when my father told me he would take me to see mother, and my baby sister. We were not allowed in the hospital, but my father lifted me up on his shoulder and pointed to a corner window.  When I looked up I saw my mother holding my sister and waving at me.  My sister and I are just 16 months apart.  To this day, when I pass the site of the hospital, I remember the excitement of that day.  Then 10 years later my brother was born. Mother told us we now have a little baby of our own.  Since then my siblings and I have been close regardless of where life has taken us.

I had the good fortune of being born into a warm extended family of  grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins by the dozens. Mine is a family whose members are both ordinary and extraordinary.  My clan includes high achievers and some who have not met with success.  As a family we are well educated.  Some have opted for a life of labor and study, while others have become recognized nationally and internationally for their work in the arts, music and medicine.  Some of us have stood in unemployment lines as we sought work, and some have been denied work for reasons of hatred and bigotry.

All of this is recounted now, dear reader, as I mark a very big birthday.  The attempt  to put together a list of people who have influenced me over the years is worthy of a book.  Each person from food servers to cooks, to maintenance people, to considerate care givers all have enriched my life by the way in which they have shared their own with me. From my two sons and their families and to my two grandchildren and their friends and my own.  And to my companion and his family,  I thank you
for becoming a part of my life.  May each of you know the joy of kindness and respect as you reach the age of 90.

Keep well and keep in touch.  Beverly

MEMORIAL DAY 2019

A few weeks before Memorial Day, Don and I visited Jefferson Barracks, one of the country's largest veterans' cemeteries. We were there to honor a man who served as Chief Petty Officer in the United State Navy more than 20 years ago. Before going to the cemetery we went to a sectarian funeral parlor where eulogies were provided by children, grandchildren, friends and colleagues. People told stories about the man's humility, kindness and his love of art and woodworking. The parlor was filled with people sitting and standing. Almost all got into the long funeral cortege to go to the cemetery.

When we came there the day was warm with a breeze that rustled the trees and shrubbery. The family gathered under a sheltered, open air pavilion at the top of a hill. Below us a small group of sailors came forward. Some peeled off from the others to fire a nine-gun salute. Two others, a man and woman, came forward and stood directly in front of the family. They began to fold the flag, turned and joined the other sailors. Taps was played by a veteran who had a Service Dog on the grass beside him. As we heard the wail of Taps, two sailors walked up and placed the American Flag and the empty shells used to fire the nine-gun salute into the hands of family members.

As we left many people continued to emerge from their parked cars to greet the family, and I saw the stark whiteness of the more than 350,000 grave stones of men and women of all ages and beliefs who often give and gave their lives to this country. They and we believed it was for a "Just Cause."

That was and is what Memorial Day 2019 means to me.

AS THE RIVER RISES SO DO OUR HOPES AND ASPIRATIONS

My companion and I drove down to St. Louis' waterfront to watch the Mississippi River rising to record-breaking levels.  Streets and roads were blocked and we were unable to get through.  We drove on until we came to Carondelet Park which provided a spectacular view.  We could see the river as it carried heavily-loaded barges, some covered by water. All sorts of wooden items like gates and fences were hurtling past with the speed of the churning river.

As we looked around the park we found small historically significant buildings with old soiled signs advertising a summer concert held more than 100 years ago. The river continued to rise.  It seemed to mock us as it flowed past.  Homes and apartment buildings were close by.  Picnic tables,  swings and and rest rooms once in use are now in disrepair. Public parks are places for all of us  to enjoy if they are not neglected by users and government.(*)  It is in them we can watch the moon rise and the sun set, where children can learn to ride a bicycle where older people can meet friends and teenagers play basketball. As we stood in Carondelet Park the rain began once again. The river seemed to increase its flow taking with it our hopes and aspirations for the future of public parks and land.


(*) The St. Louis Post-Dispatch article, "St. Louis Parks Show Signs of Neglect," by  Janelle O'dea

TIME TO COME TOGETHER

In the past few months, a number of events happened that have strengthened my belief that we will live and respect each other as we enter this Springtime.

The first event was on a trip I took with my companion Don Snyder, on which we crossed the flooded Mississippi.  Water was rising and the banks held trees so distorted I ached for their inability
to stand upright, and the wetlands were so submerged I had to strain to see them.

The second was the toppling of the Notre-Dame Cathedral Spire Tower.  It may seem strange that two such unrelated events seem bound together much less produce hope for the future.

I believe Mother Nature has the ability not only to inspire poetic words and art work but to tame human ambition if it brings harm.  As many times as natural buffers and engineering devices try
to shore up coast lines, the river defends what is rightfully its own path.

When the Notre-Dame fire broke out I felt the anguish of losing so much history representing human creative ability and the horror we do to each other by closing down our ability to think.

So it is that I believe we can come  together if we use the ability we have to think.

APRIL BEGINS BY GETTING RID OF MARCH

In the month of March, Old Man Winter behaved like the guest who is invited to dinner then stays late.  St. Louis was treated with the same quirky weather as were other cities and nations on this Planet.  When it should have been  time for Spring to come to our table, she remained hidden behind layers of mist, fog, snow and ice.  The lady seemed deserted by the Sun. Rivers raged when they should have been bubbling brooks.  Winter came to us much too soon and is still hanging around.

No matter how bad things were, some of the upside to all this was the presence of the young and old who raised strong voices to tell us we need to change our ways if we are to protect Mother Earth and  ourselves.

SUNDIALS IN THE MIDST OF TURBULENCE

In the midst of automation and world-wide turbulence a small number of people will meet in Denver Colorado to see Sundials. They are part of a smaller number of men and women who are members of the North American Sundial Society which meets annually. The Society's membership is made up of men and women of all ages and includes medical and professional business people, naturalists and educators and even families. During the Society's 3-day Conference participants will tour local  Sundials of historical interest.

I attended the 25th Annual Conference held last year in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The Conference tour included sites which gave us a glimpse of the way people measured and recorded change through Sundials which became a part of that city's history.

The Society's 2019 Conference will be held in Denver, Colorado in June at a time when our country is in great natural and man-made turbulence. Perhaps touring and measuring Sundials will once again help us better understand how to cope with human and planetary movement that sometimes appears uncontrollable.

(For more information about the North American Sundial Society go to: http://www.sundials.org/)