Tag Archives: Holidays

Thanksgiving: Things Change (Again, Again!)

“The only constant is change.” — Heraclitus

Things do not change; we change.” — Henry David Thoreau

From November 25, 2020…

As I write, it’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I’ve been rereading Thanksgiving Holiday journal entries from the past 12 years, plus my Thanksgiving blog reminiscences. A theme emerged which I’ve addressed before, yet continues to weave through my life — and the lives of loved ones — things change.

I begin this reminiscence and musing about the Thanksgiving holiday with the same quotes and sentiment from a year ago when COVID-19 was surging and many families and friends had to make the difficult decision of whether or not they would celebrate in-person, and how it might be different from the traditional holidays from the past. The only change in this introduction is I’ve been rereading 13 years of journal entries, and two years of Mixed Metaphors, Oh My! Thanksgiving: Things Change essays. Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispatch from the Hideout: A Shot in the Arm

A Shot in the Arm: A stimulus or booster, something vitalizing or encouraging — Dictionary.com

Like many anniversaries, the date you choose to celebrate, or mark a year, depends on how you count and what date you choose. For romantic relationships, some people will choose the date they met, their first kiss, or when they made love the first time, sometimes it’s when someone declares, “I love you.”

The anniversary of the COVID-19 Pandemic is similar in that there are a number of dates to choose from, depending on what country you live in, the degree of truth or disinformation delivered by the leaders, the weight and influence given to the medical and science community, and the impact of commerce over health concerns. Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispatch from the Hideout: Love In a Pandemic

“I am grateful to have been loved and to be loved now and to be able to love, because that liberates. Love liberates.” — Maya Angelou

“Love yourself first and everything else falls into line.”  — Lucille Ball.

Valentine’s Day is here. As it approached, I drafted this musing about the holiday and romantic love, a look at relationships, dating, and my single status while ‘Home Alone.’ Yes, love in a pandemic. As a single person, it’s a look back at the past, skin hunger in the present, and desire for companionship in the future.

Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Mouse Turd Cake & Other Birthday Memories

“Auntie Linda, it’s okay that you’re old. It means you’re not dead!” — Four-year-old niece, Gemma

The Backstory: When Gemma was four years old, I was bending over her car seat buckling her in, she saw my face up close, let’s be precise, the wrinkles of my face up close. In that observational, yet nonjudgmental matter-of-fact manner that children possess, she commented, “Auntie Linda, you’re old!!!” My old, wrinkled face couldn’t hide my hurt feelings. My niece Gemma loves me wholeheartedly and clearly didn’t want me to feel bad, so she replied in a cheery voice with a smile on her face, “Auntie Linda, it’s okay that you’re old, it means you’re not dead!”  And you know, she’s right, I’m not dead, and I’m grateful for that. Gemma is now 16-years-old and I remain older and above ground. Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Random Topics VI

Doomscrolling, Flight Diapers, & Zoom Face

Dateline – Christmas Day, 2020

As I write, I’m celebrating a ‘Home Alone’ holiday this year due to the pandemic. This morning after 6 a.m., just as I made coffee and logged onto my laptop, I turned on CNN, which is part of my routine during my safer-at-home, semi-lockdown, life.

A bomb exploded in an historic district in downtown Nashville. As the day unfolded, so did the investigation and developing story. An RV arrived overnight, parked, and in the morning, in what was described as a female voice, broadcast an announcement of an impending blast including a countdown. Earlier, witnesses heard shots being fired and called 911 which is why first responders arrived at the scene and heard the bomb warning. The area was evacuated and at 6:30 a.m., the RV exploded, injuring three people. It’s suspected the explosion was intentional, yet suspects or motive for the blast are unknown at this time. Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispatch from the Hideout: Riding the Coronacoaster

Coronacoaster (noun): the ups and downs of a person’s mood, or life generally, during the coronavirus pandemic. 

Some people experience motion sickness and avoid amusement park thrill rides. I’m one of those people. I’m also a person who has a reoccurring dream when I wrestle control of vehicles headed in a dangerous trajectory to avoid catastrophe or death. Those began as a child, when from the backseat of the car, I leaped to the front seat to grab the steering wheel from my parents. Oh, My!

Yes, I’m on the coronacoaster and I want to get off — or seize control! Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thanksgiving: Things Change (Again!)

“The only constant is change.” — Heraclitus

“Things do not change; we change.” — Henry David Thoreau

As I write, it’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I’ve been rereading Thanksgiving Holiday journal entries from the past 12 years, plus my Thanksgiving blog reminiscences. A theme emerged which I’ve addressed before, yet continues to weave through my life — and the lives of loved ones — things change.

Thanksgiving is traditionally a family holiday, whether you celebrate it with your bio or chosen family. I’ve done both. Another theme became apparent as I reread what I’ve written in the past, grief and gratitude go hand-in-hand. Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A Solitary Life: Living Independently

“What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it.” ― Gabriel García Márquez

“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” — Oscar Wilde

Today is the 4th of July, the Independence Day Holiday. Yesterday, I began reflecting on the meaning of the day, which celebrates the independence of a nation following a revolution and the freedom of its people from an oppressive government. Of dire concern — we are living through what may be judged as another oppressive government — our own — as our elected leaders dismantle democracy and favor the corporate aristocracy and dominant white culture. We are not truly free and independent until we are all free and equal under the law. Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispatch from the Hideout: What Was, What Will Be

“You can’t go back home to your family, back home to your childhood…back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time…” — Thomas Wolfe

On the Friday before the Memorial Day Holiday weekend, I reminisced about holidays past. Years ago, a group of friends nicknamed, ‘The Orphans,’ would plan an annual camping trip to Peninsula State Park in Fish Creek in Door County, Wisconsin. We dubbed these one of the ‘The Orphan Holidays.’ From a vignette from my memoir in the works, Perfectly Flawed.  Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispatch from the Hideout: Home Alone Easter Holiday

Like most holidays I celebrated as a child, Easter was a hybrid of religious traditions, the social culture from the generation in which I grew up, and our own ethnic and family rituals, which we repeated in some fashion every year.  

Easter Holidays Past

Note: Includes excerpts from Poop Eggs & Lamb Cakes

Today is the Easter Holiday and Passover. Growing up in the 1950s and 1960s, my family had many traditions which we repeated every year, some with glee, and others with complaints. On Easter Saturday, we’d color eggs, which the Easter Bunny would hide that night. Mom boiled two or three dozen as our family grew. She’d cover the kitchen table with newspaper and the kids would crowd around it with our crayons, the white wax marker to write our names, a spoon in hand ready to dip the eggs in the assembly line of Easter egg dye in her Corelle coffee cups. Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,