Just What I Might Have Written to K.

Funny, I felt like 'Monday' today. One of those I-don't-want-to-get-up-and-go-to-work type days, and I don't have to get up and go to work... but Ana came and I had to go and find one of the microwave with covers dishes and explain to her that you have to wash the OUTSIDE of the dish before you put it away. Mindfulness is not her thing. She belongs to the 'hurry-up-and-get-the-work-done' and sit down and look at a magazine school of workers, or 'slap-dash-types' as Jessie would have said. I'm working on her, though... and she MAY learn... or may not. I still feel like Monday and I'm not getting anything done. Gee, I used to love Mondays, as I got a letter every Monday at noon. Old loves are all gone now though.

Ms. Katt gave me an amusing early afternoon. As I sat having my coffee and brunch, she sat in the right corner of the window, on top of the telephone books and enjoyed the green view outside. There is always something going on for her to see. She sits like a statue of an Egyptian cat with only the head snapping from one scene to another. We had a tiny hummingbird tap on the window yesterday... he's a constant visitor to the flowering bush next to the window. Then she can gaze at the butterflies that love the calla lillies and Aaron's roses, and since the Princess bush has pretty much died she can see all of the people and cars going by. That cute little head just turned constantly as birds flew in and out and butterflies fluttered back and forth... until she had a bit too much sun. Sylvia is just like her mother, cannot stand too much sun, so she jumped down and curled up in the shade for a nap. Now she came to sit next to me to say that she is unhappy with the new old lady food we are trying out (failure) and CLEAN the litter box!!

She can wait for Jovita tomorrow! I have to send my darling granddaughter a small check to spend when she is in NYC. My sweet little Bella, all of 11 years old, has won a dance competition for jazz and lyrical with her dance group and will be going to New York. She gets to see two Broadway shows and have a dance lesson with the Rockettes after touring Radio City. She is so good and works so hard at her dancing... always has. I can remember Bella watching her sister and doing all the steps better than the 'big girls' when she was only three years old and not 'old enough' to take the class. They finally let her come and dance with them the next year, in spite of the fact that they didn't take children until they were five. Her sister turned to more interesting things for her, but Bella stayed, she has always been a dancer, so it is only natural that she has won the trip to NYC. I hope that someday she goes to Julliard. So I congratulate Isabella Victoria Saperston -- never stop dancing my beautiful little star.

I wonder how long I am going to have to NOT SEE my favorite programs on PBS... they were doing the money bit all last week... and they are still doing the damned musicals stuff on 9-2, so it looks like I shut off my TV as soon as the News Hour is over. I am not happy with the news... it shows the present younger generation acting like their grand or great-grandparents in their terrible bigotry. I'm sick of john boner and his idiocy... I'm sick of Netanyahu and his disrespect of Obama... I am horrified at the stupid Sigma Alpha Epsilon boys (also younger gen) acting like they did back in the 1950s. I'm tired of fighting, I just want to see people being peaceful -- where is the new John Lennon to write another "Imagine" or why aren't the kids picking up on it and acting as he said. We need desperately to get rid of the old white republicans in Congress and get some real thinking, bright, understanding younger people in their seats. Not more like them... no Ryans, who never had a real job, or boner, who should be back sweeping old his father's saloon, or McCain, who has passed himself off as a hero all these years, when he was nothing but a guy who wrecked a lot of planes and wound up in a prison camp... that doesn't make you a hero. Weed them OUT. Yesterday was two anniversaries... that of the march in Selma, Alabama, a town that is  broken and crushed now... a sad thing, and showing again the stupidity and lack of education in this country. But it was also that for Women's Day... again the need for world-wide education for women as well as men. For the equality issue, the equal pay issues still not fair... and the world-wide need for even fair treatment of women.. ye gods... there are still stupid little boys saying terrible things about women. The Google page was full of the most childish and silly comments by males... unbelievable.

I still say we need to go to the POD system of education, where children learn with their peers in each class. Readers go to class with other children who read at their rate, not because they are the same age; math class must be for children who are at the same place in their learning... every class must be with children of any AGE, but at the same rate of learning for that particular subject. I don't care if a kid is any age from 4 to 10, if s/he is reading at 3rd grade level, s/he belongs in the 3rd grade level class... and no child should be told what level their class is... they are just with peers, that is it! Until the schools are run like this, we will always have bullies and kids being pushed back or ahead because of a failure to understand where they really belong. Mark was at his best when all he knew was that he was, "In Mrs. Wedeman's Family Group" if anyone asked what grade he was in. He was in three or four different 'grades,' depending on the class.

Another wasted day... but, as I watch how other states stretch and often fail to take care of older people, I am so happy that I moved to California when I did and worked constantly after retiring as a volunteer at several senior centers... so that I am in a comfortable place and well taken care of by Ana, Jovita and Altesha, which reminds me... have to go and look up some of my recipies for the big cook-out on Friday when Altesha comes... she's the great cook and we plan my meals for the next week so she can help me by taking over and cooking them for me.

No One Is Listening (Reading?)

I just noticed that I have 3 followers. I wonder who they are. No one ever writes a comment after any of my writings... I don't think my children or grandchildren have ever taken a minute to look at my blog... and I doubt that any of my friends have, as most of them are dead. Which is, apparently, what I should be by now. I obviously should be, everyone who ever knew me is either gone (dead usually) or completely uninterested in anything I have to say. I cannot get old Kirkie to even read my emails, let alone answer them. I MUST get my podcast going, but now I haven't heard from Larry for several days, so I wonder if he is going to read with me. I have been careful as hell about spending any money at all and I think I have enough to buy mikes and earphones, a new computer, plus whatever else we need. Most of the podcast people say you can start for almost nothing, but I might just as well buy good mikes to start with. Also, I have decided to go to a podcast MeetUp group on March 23... long wait, but hope I get some good info. I am bound and determined to put this podcast on the internet... the letters are good and it should be done... and should be fun... wow, I'm a poet! Well, I may be depressed and I may be through with life... but I don't think I have lost my sense of humour... or my penchant for writing English English.

I am tired... I am tired of just getting up... I am tired of watching my beautiful country go down the tubes... I am tired of stupid people... I am tired of hurting all the time... I am tired of new allergies all the time... I am tired of my nose running because of the allergies... I am tired of just staying up... I'm going to bed. (And I can't even put my writing in Comic Sans anymore, as they won't LET ME!!!) Forgot... I'm tired of having to learn a whole bunch of new Mac stuff... and I'm tired of having no one to teach me... after all the hundreds of people I taught how to use computers... even on the rotten old PCs I had to teach on.
Do these silly notes have dates on them....... I am also tired of things I seem to be forgetting... many.....
3/3/15

A Sad Day... the Passing of Bob Simon

I shall have a hard time writing this, for I must stop to wipe away the tears I cannot seem to stop. This afternoon a heard a few words on the early news program that caused me to stop in disbelief, then realize what I heard... Bob Simon is dead... a senseless death... killed in a cab that had rear-ended the car in front of it. In my first moment of shock I thought, no it can't be. That wonderful man, who had been captured in Iraq and come out of that incident alive, had been killed by a bad driver.  I do not know what to think. I have admired and loved this man for years... he seemed to me the last of the great reporters of the sort of Eric Sevareid... the kind who actually go gather the news then present it in a great and honest fashion -- not like the men and women who simply read other's news stories, sometimes embroidered to make them more exciting, on the TV. He was my favorite on 60 Minutes, with the most interesting stories, for he seemed to do the kinds of stories I would have loved going on... stories he obviously chose himself and loved doing. There are none like him anymore, nor will there be. He was one of a kind and one of the best. A man of intellect with a good heart.

When he was captured by the Iraqi years back, I, an unbeliever, actually prayed for him to be released and even wrote to his family to tell them that I did, and was sure that he would be returned to them. What a relief when he was. Now, I shall not pray for him (for I have the feeling he thought rather as I do about other's gods) but for them once more, for they have lost a magnificent husband and father, as life is hard without those you love around you. The world has lost a wonderful man and will miss Bob Simon, as shall I. His death will mark the death of real reporting on television. The world will be smaller and a lot more boring with his passing. Goodbye Bob... bless you, dear man.

The "Prayer Breakfast" in Washington

I am an atheist -- I have no religion. But what is ‘religion’... my simple little dictionary says a couple of salient things: “details of belief as taught or discussed” and “a particular system of faith.” Well, I was taught by my parents and teachers (particularly the dear Sisters of Mercy) to be a good person, be kind to others, to not be destructive, “don’t be mean, dear, be nice.” So I suppose that my ‘religion’ is goodness... perhaps to strive for the sweet goodness, kindness and generosity of my dear Grandmother Cartwright... who lived through hell as a child and came out of it with such a goodness of the heart and spirit, to raise a large family full of kindness.

I say ‘spirit’ instead of ‘soul’ for soul is a word used by religions, and I simply mean the being that one is. I am not always the good person that I can and should be, but as I get older and realize all the horror that is going on in the world, I know that I must strive to be as good as I can to those around me. I do not say ‘love’ all others as do all the religions, for they have almost ruined that word. The word ‘love’ is sacred to me, when I really love I love forever and with all of my spirit. I love my family and a few others with all of my being. But I do not need to love everyone. I do need to be good to all beings and I can at least hope for peace in this world. Perhaps I believe as the Dalai Lama does, “Treat thy neighbor as thyself,” for, although he is one of the kindest, best of humanity, he is not, nor does not have a “god.”

I do not pray to anyone’s ‘god’ for I know that all of the many ‘gods’ out there are simply a thing made up in someone’s mind to get what they desire, either from the earth or from the other people on that earth. If the other people of this earth wish to create a persona to worship, it is fine with me, as long as they do not use that ‘god’ to attempt to do acts of horror on other people or societies, or even to persuade me to believe as they do.

I have been reading President Obama’s speech at a prayer breakfast for Congress. I was impressed and brought to tears at times by his comments. I do not believe in his god, but I do believe in the strength and faith he has for our country and I am so sad that some of the supposedly religious old white men who have come to call themselves leaders of our great land condemned what he said and, as usual, attacked him for his words.

I was impressed by most of what he said, particularly this: 

 “And so, as people of faith, we are summoned to push back against those who try to distort our religion -- any religion -- for their own nihilistic ends.  And here at home and around the world, we will constantly reaffirm that fundamental freedom -- freedom of religion -- the right to practice our faith how we choose, to change our faith if we choose, to practice no faith at all if we choose, and to do so free of persecution and fear and discrimination.

“There’s wisdom in our founders writing in those documents that help found this nation the notion of freedom of religion, because they understood the need for humility.  They also understood the need to uphold freedom of speech, that there was a connection between freedom of speech and freedom of religion.  For to infringe on one right under the pretext of protecting another is a betrayal of both.”

And so, I am ashamed of so many of the purportedly religious old white men in Congress who roundly criticized what President Obama said when he spoke of the fact that the early Christian religion had committed much the same crimes as the fanatic Muslims have recently. Perhaps they should go to their fabulous church and kneel and pray that their supposed ‘god’ give them a little of that ‘love’ for all others that they constantly profess to believe in. Ah, but I must not say this, for I have just said that I believe in goodness and kindness for all. Ah, but it is so hard to love most of the members of Congress. No, I cannot love them, but I suppose I must learn to attempt to think kindly of them, and definitely not to swear at them when I write and tell them how absolutely disgusted I am at the selfishness and lack of real work for the people they do while saying they are there to help all of us. Often they seem to simply ‘work’ to line their and large corporations pockets, and do other such unkind and unchristian acts.

Oh Dear, I’m Not ‘Getting Old,’ I AM OLD

 Written 7/30, but it wouldn't let me post....
I just spent about 10 minutes trying to figure out how to get HERE to write. Of course, I have been doing that ever since I started this stupid blog, but one would think I could remember a silly little thing like that... well, maybe if I wrote something more often, I would. No... from the time I was a kid, I can remember Jessie, the wonder woman of remembering 'important' things like the names and addresses of the about 200 people in her Christmas card list, looking me straight in the face and saying, "Georgie Lou, Betty Rae... what IS your NAME?" I suppose she did the same thing with them... god, I hope so... or was I the odd man out in that crew? Now I'm doing the same thing with my IHS workers... I look at Martha and say... "Ana... no... (?? with the face) and she says politely, just as I said, "Peggy" to my mother, "Martha, Mrs. Cartwright." Yet I do the same thing with Ana... calling her Martha.

Oh the foibles of getting old. I think you forget the things you were bad at anyway. I was never any good at remembering names, ever! Well, we moved so often you had a whole new bunch of names to remember all the time, making the old ones easy to forget. I am ashamed of myself... last night I was writing to a bunch of people from the Women's Exchange and telling one named Jane something about another named Joan... so wrote Dear Joan to her and had to write another note of apology... but jeeze... Jane and Joan and writing about another Joan... the mind boggles. I'm going to be in the Chicago area for the month of September, and now I am trying to reconnect with some of the people I know there.

Lordy I AM OLD... I think by now I must be the oldest one in my family. There are almost no Cartwrights (of my particular line... England was full of cartmakers with our name) left but me... none with the name. I tried to get Mark to change his name to match mine (no one cam spell his fathers, let alone pronounce it correctly) but he kept that dreadful name. He is so much like Daddy that I do wish he had the correct last name, but he is/was as stubborn as Daddy (and me... a real Cartwright). I miss family... the Cartwrights used to have big family reunions and get-togethers up in Port Austin, in Saginaw and all over Michigan... I do still miss those, as I miss sitting with Grandma Cartwright in the big old house, or out on the round-the-house veranda. That's the first place I started for when we went up to the cottage in Port Austin...off to Grandma Cartwright's house as fast as my little legs could run. Mark's middle name 'James' is for Grandpa Cartwright, not for his father. Had I had my way, he would have been called Walter James, but Whitney always says that I should be happy Jim's uncle was called Mark, as it is a lucky name. Well, Mark is a lucky man, he has a beautiful, very bright wife and four gorgeous children, so he must be.

One of the worst things about getting old is being forgotten... and tomorrow is the anniversary of one of my 'triumphs'... the start of my beloved Oak Park Women's Exchange and I am apparently being left out of it completely. I took a look at their fairly new website, where I am not mentioned at all, even in the history. It sort of implies that it was just begun through other women's exchanges. I named it that to honor those institutions... but didn't really have anything to do with them. So, perhaps one of my old friends to whom I wrote last night will think to mention how we began... I built it all in my 'spare time' while working as a copywriter all day... often wonder when I found the time, as that job was a killer. I guess when you are doing too much, you get so you can take on more work without thinking about it. It was fun, and Lori McCarthy was sure a help. There were a lot of hard working women in that Village and we managed to do a lot to make Oak Park a better, more interesting place. Bobbie Raymond was one of the best of the crowd. She and I both divorced our husbands while we were working on big projects... she on being the Housing Director for the Village, and I on the Exchange. I remember going to her house for a 'raspberry party" (she had planted raspberry bushes all the way around her yard, and presented each of us with a little 'hospital pills' type cup full of them as we arrived). When I got there she grabbed me and said, "Peggy, I REALLY admire you!!" I was taken aback... of course I felt the same way about her, but she was so enthusiastic. "Why on earth..." I said. She quickly replied, "You had the damned nerve to take back your maiden name... and EVERYBODY knows it and calls you by that now. I was afraid to do that, figuring no one would know who I was or what my new name was. You've sure got a helluva lot more GUTS than I do!" Well, I didn't, and told her so, but it made me feel good... I had managed to keep all I was doing going, have everyone remember the 'new' name and forget the old. They all knew the whole story, as my life was an open book for pretty obvious reasons... Bobbie could have done the same, she just got cold feet at the last minute. I guess I didn't think... was just too angry about everything. Funny the little things you don't think of at all... but others can admire you for. Well, we'll see about tomorrow, and perhaps I will be permanently forgotten by the new members of my lovely co-op. Of course they are struggling to keep it going... times are hard and I guess they think since they have kept it going it is theirs. (And Bobbie... you'll never know how much I admired you!)

Now that I look over what I have written, I kinda get the feeling that one of my dear old friends over in the East Bay would say... 'That's all crap,' I think he feels that way about most of what I write. Well, he's never read any of my 3-Day novels. I am staying in S.F. through Labour Day just to write one... then I shall get on the plane and head for Chi... at least I have one dear old friend who will be happy to see me, Connie Fillippelli... the saint who is taking me in and will not only teach me all the 'Mac' things I have neglected to learn, but also try to get me back on my feet, walking and in good shape. Which reminds me, I'd better make sure I have an appointment with my doctor before I leave. Call now, Peg.......

Dozen My Favorite People of 2014

So... Time or some magazine listed the 12 most interesting people of the year... or something like that... with very few women both on the listing and listed sides... so I am putting here, my favorite people of the year... do I mean favorite? No... interesting maybe. Interesting to me anyway. I'm an old royalist I guess...
Anyway, here is my top 12 list
 Queen Elizabeth   
 Hillary Clinton
 Barack Obama
 Michelle Obama
 Angela Merkel
 Angelina Joli
 The Dalai Lama
 Aung San Suu Kyi
 Archbishop Desmond Tutu
 Pope Francis
 Judi Dench
 Christiano Ronaldo
I am not into voting for wealthy rock stars or athletes... they do nothing for their countries or peoples most of the time (but Cristiano is adorable! He is like the best ballet dancer who ever lived and gorgeous). You have to be a really great, hard working, charming man to get on my list.

If I wasn't so female conscious, I would have added Brad Pitt with Angelina Joli and George Clooney for all his work in the Sudan and other places. The Queen of England is one of the most amazing people around... she's almost my age and out there doing her job daily... and she looks great! The royal kids are pretty good too.

My Goodness!

What else can I say... I was thinking about 1939! Back in the olden days... like when Whitney used to ask me "Did they have phones then," or "Did they have radios then" I'm surprised she didn't ask if they had roads then. But it all came back with a bang when I was listening to the girls talking about it on PBS News tonight. Today in 1939 was the day Marian Anderson sang at the Lincoln Memorial... the famous concert arranged by Eleanor Roosevelt when the nasty little old ladies at the DAR said she couldn't sing in their "Constitution Hall." I have rarely seen Jessie as indignant as she told us all about it. She had, of course, heard that Eleanor Roosevelt had burnt her DAR membership card, then made the arrangement for the Lincoln Memorial concert. Jessie had been carefully doing all her research on our ancestors who had fought in the Battle of Lexington & Concord and other Revolutionary battles. She was almost finished with her work, which she swept up into a pile on her old melodian desk and burned... joining Mrs. Roosevelt. I can still hear her anger and disgust with the nasty, fussy, stupid little old women in the DAR... and telling us all (particularly Daddy) that she and Eleanor belonged to a much better organization, The Democratic Party. Those women really were stupid... the DAR was never thought of in the same way after that. Never thought of at all I suppose, except as a rather foolish bunch of fussy little old ladies.

Well, hooray for women like Eleanor and Jessie for standing up to everyone and making their voices heard... and yes, Whitney, we did have phones then, and radios then, and your big mouthed grandmother and little old me, watching and listening and learning how to be as much like her as possible. No, she didn't get to be the first woman to have a story accepted by Esquire Magazine, and she never got that stodgy old Norge Corporation board to give her the title of Vice President, but she sure ran that business, and it sure went under fast when she finally retired after working full time until she was 75 years old. And she was adored by a lot of people, including Kate Smith and Jimmy Durante and everyone else she came in contact with over her many years... even Arnold Gingrich, who couldn't publish her stories in Esquire when he was their editor, but he always wrote and told her how great her writing was and where to send it to be published.

And here's to Marian Anderson, a sweet, kind woman. She said herself she was no fighter, she was just upset at being lied to about why those nasty, fussy little old ladies refused to have her sing in their hall. That should be a lesson to all the racists still left out there. Amazing to think that even after all these years (from 1939 to today) there are still a few of them left. Fools are hard to kill off, though.