Poems du Jour

Seasonal Weather
By C.K. Armistead
12/27/2015

That Vandal, Banshee wind
Charges down the plains
From the North
Roaring its displeasure
Rattling fences,
Overturning suburban trashcans
Making the steam rising
From the neighbor's heating vent
A ragged banner, flung violently
Southward,
As if issuing a challenge to Texas.

The sparrows huddle in the
Lee of the house
Popping out now and then
To steal seed from the feeder
And return to the shelter
Of the small evergreen shrub
Beneath my window.
Breathless in the face
Of the wind's onslaught.

And here I sit, behind double-paned windows
Cozy in my room, cup of hot tea
In my hand
And books to warm my soul
Insulated from
That howling Banshee's roar
Though I can feel it,
Yes I can.
An ache, a twinge of warning
In my joints, in my very bones.
Winter has arrived
In his noisy chariot
Behind his howling steeds.


Second Wave
By C.K. Armistead 12/27/15

Now Winter's most insidious minion,
Cold
Picks and pries and seeps his way
Into our homes, into our bones.
All our modern comforts cannot
Completely banish him.
He finds the loosely fitted window,
The poorly insulated wall,
The edge of an aging floorboard
And flings his icy darts at us
As we read, or rest.
At night, only the warmth
Of many blankets-
And our bodies -
Keeps him at bay.
But when you must get up,
He waits to nip at your toes,
And breathe chills down your neck.
There is a warmth in our hearts, though,
That can thwart him.
Love.
Thoughts of those we love
Can send warmth spreading
Outward from our hearts
And can stop Winter's true cold
From harming us.


Oklahoma: 12/27/15
C.K.Armistead

Grey
So dreary and dull
The Oklahoma sky that usually
Sparkles the bluest blue
Cold
So cold that the North wind comes
Screaming down the plains
Freezing the puddles
Trapping the fallen oak leaves there
Like flies in amber
Snow
Not pretty, not yet.
Just a hardscrabble
Central Oklahoma frosting
 So far-
of snow and fallen sleet
Dead grass, dry leaves
And bare branches
Still plain to see.

Pop's Pen
CK Armistead 12/27/15

Fountain pens are living things
Tools with a soul-
Closely associated
With the one who uses them
Many have I collected,
Some very fine
And a joy to use,
But this one,
This one is special.
It's been to War
And back.
It's written letters I've never read.
It has languished long years
Saved in a drawer
Unused.
Its song stilled.
I have inherited it,
Cleaned it,
Refilled it,
And given it a chance.
Now it sings for me
Helping me tell my stories
And remembering
My Pop for me
By the wear of its nib,
The wear on its body,
And the fine accuracy
 Of its point.

Last Week of Advent

Sunday was the fourth Sunday of Advent.  We forgot to light the wreath here at home.  I had a voice recital that evening, and chores from Saturday left to finish, so I guess it got lost in the shuffle.
Things are beginning to feel more Christmassy, but the weather is not.  Far too warm here in Central Oklahoma for me to believe that it is December.  I miss my cold blustery weather. 

Trying to find my way to the Christmas spirit, I wrote this poem today:

Seeking Christmas
By C.K.Armistead 2015

It seems we notice
Only once a year
That Christmas time
Is drawing near.
When, if we really listened,
We would always
Hear
The singing of the angels
Bidding us forget our fear.
For Christmas to keep working,
For it to make a difference
In our living,
We must remember WHY it
Is coming,
And not live for the getting,
But the GIVING.
It comes not to fatten
The bank accounts of merchants,
Or to fill the seats of
Theater-like mega-churches,
It comes not to depress us,
Or to give us "all the feels",
It comes to remind us
That even in great darkness,
Light can be found
It comes to tell us of
Love without bounds
To tell of hope renewed,
To remind us
That we are LOVED
And that joy and love we feel
At Christmas to be near
SHOULD be seen
Every day of the year!

In our church, Advent is the season that begins the church "new year".  We start the cycle over with Advent, waiting in expectation for the One God is sending us, Christmas celebrating His arrival, and on from there through the church year, celebrating and meditating on his life, and what it means to us today, how it should change us, make us better.  Often, it is easy to get stuck in routine, but this tradition does not cause that for me, I find a comfort in the liturgies, the rituals that have been around far longer than I, words that focus my thoughts on Christ, and on what His works, words, and sacrifice mean to me here and now.  There is a comfort in that structure, one that makes it easier for me to travel on in this journey, like a well-marked trail leading on.

So, as our season of anticipation nears its end again, I wish for you a joyful and meaningful celebration of the arrival. May the love that came to earth that night make a difference in those touched by it so that the world may be a better, more loving, more peaceful place.

Third Week Of Advent

Last Sunday we lit the third candle on the Advent wreath, the candle of joy.  Only problem is, this year, I'm not really feelin' it.  Oh, I'm content enough, but I just don't have the anticipation that I usually feel for the Holiday season.  Christmas has become just another set of chores.  This makes me sad, because I have always loved this time of year. Usually, you can feel the extra joy and caring in the air, but this year, everything seems so sinister, and depressing.  So much hate right here in our own country, so many hard hearts, so little compassion. 
Even the traditions I cherish are not giving me much peace or joy this year.  I don't feel particularly depressed or anything, just kind of blah.  Hard to get excited about anything much right now. 
I know there are good things happening, there are LOTS of caring people around still, but the overwhelming media blitz of idiots spouting hate is blotting it out.  Let's hear more about the good things people do, and less about the politicians who just say whatever to get attention. 

Let those of us who are Christians act a bit more like Jesus, and a bit less like the Pharisees.  Let us all be a bit less swift to judge, and a lot faster to offer help. 

I wish for all of you a season of peace and joy, of little things that bring comfort, and loved ones to share it with.  I wish for all of us a world where love grows and hatred fades, and where the joy we are supposed to find in this season is ours all year long.

The Second Sunday of Advent

The Advent Wreath

Which happens to also be the first night of Hanukkah!
So much light in the world this week, in spite of the darkness that is trying to snuff out that light.

This week, even though we have heard news of evil deeds, I have seen acts of compassion and kindness right here in our own home town that give me hope.  Indeed, such things go on all the time, but the world only seems to note the devastating and evil things, never the hopeful things.

Perhaps, in this season of anticipation and the growing of light, we SHOULD focus on the good things in people, and ignore those who would seek attention by their evil acts.  We should avoid lashing out in anger, and rather gather ourselves in love, because love is far stronger than anger, or hate.

Father Tim Sean Youmans, who serves in our parish at St. Paul's, and teaches at Cassidy School, preached a very good sermon this morning.  He talked about the four basic groups that Jews were divided into at the time Jesus started His ministry, and how some of the more extreme ones actually hated the others.  Then, he pointed out how Jesus gathered His twelve disciples from ALL those groups, and got them to work together.  Even then, we were being taught that we ALL need each other, and we ALL have to work together for the good of everyone.  (For God's kingdom is all about love, and using it to overcome fear, anger, and hate.)

It is very difficult to remember love when you are hurt, shocked, and angry.  VERY difficult.  But Love is the Light that we are seeking in this dark time, Love is the Light we are anticipating, the miracle that gives us hope.  We must, in this dark, cold, season, cling to that light, keep it burning in our hearts, and warm others with its warmth, and shed the light on the way for all.

Another Fine Group of Trivial Insights

867-5309 Jenny has to be the catchiest creeper song ever recorded.

When you have online friends, they are often just waking up when you are headed to bed, and vice versa.

Of all the coins that multiply in bottles, dishes, pockets, old purses and under couch cushions, why do pennies have to be the most prolific?

No matter how annoying, there is still something mournful that makes me think of tales that could be told in the notes of a train horn.

Random songs often get stuck in my head, especially things I'm working on for voice.  My voice coach says that this is my subconscious going over the details on its own.

Whenever someone comes to dine at our house, they end up spending an inordinate amount of time keeping us company while we do dishes.  (Small kitchen, lots of dishes.)

Being tired and knowing it's time to go to sleep doesn't make it any easier to get up from this desk and go get ready for bed.  The idea of getting up and doing that much stuff wears me out.

"Instant Dry" nail polish never is.

Laundry:  Another one of those jobs that has to be done again almost as soon as you're finished. Like dishes, cooking, or checking in books.

Yes, the Oxford comma is VERY important.

Coffee after 7pm or so is generally a bad idea where I'm concerned...

In winter, I can honestly say that I love my hot flashes.  (I'm never cold for long!)

My husband is a sweetheart, and he indulges me something awful.

Major appliances are always just waiting for the chance to betray you. This is why we buy service agreements.

I know I'm part Scot.  I know this because bagpipes stir something deep in my soul.  The response I have is visceral, and the old songs seem too familiar for the number of times I've actually sung them.

Why is it that on the days I really WANT to go out and walk, the weather is such that I cannot, and thus am stuck on the elliptical again?

Winter always reminds me exactly how many times it has visited me in the past.

Just because Shasta doesn't sell a diet version of their "California Dreamin'" Orange creme soda, doesn't mean I can make my own.  Half diet Cream Soda, half diet Orange Soda.  GOOD.

Cape Cod Sweet Mesquite kettle cooked potato chips should probably come with an "addictive substance" warning.

Giving feels especially good when you know it will benefit a cause dear to your heart.

The news media just CANNOT go with the information they have in hand, they HAVE to speculate.  It's never a good idea.

Some communities do not recognize the importance of their libraries, for instance, relegating them to "leisure activities".  Very thankful that our community sees us as a MAJOR asset, and not a "leisure activity", though we certainly provide plenty of leisure activities.  We are mainly seen as a valuable information and technology resource, and a partner in the education of the whole community.

Writing the Christmas cards is probably my least favorite holiday activity.

I must have been suffering from temporary insanity last year.  I put one of the cat's old bells on the zipper pull to this sweater.  Now, when I move, I keep looking for the cat so I don't step on her.  She's been dead more than two years...

I must be getting old.  It used to seem, when I was a kid, that Christmas would NEVER get here, and now, it seems like I no sooner get the decorations put away, and it's time to haul them out again, because Christmas is breathing down our necks again.  Still, I love this time of year...

First Sunday Of Advent

This Sunday is when our church starts preparing for Christmas.  Advent is the season of preparation for the coming of Christ.  It is to be a season of meditation and self-examination.  A season of quiet, not a season of conspicuous consumption. 
For us personally, it is a time of preparation, and is often more hectic than it should be.
The seasonal decorations trickle out over the four weeks of Advent here at our house.  The tree will usually come out in the second week.  The lights in the windows and some of the smaller decorations will come out sooner. 
This year, I do not think we are going to be doing a lot of shopping.  Our gifts to each other we have pretty much already exchanged, in the form of a trip we both enjoyed, and special things purchased when the opportunity was available.  Mostly, this season for us is a time to remember loved ones and the gift of joy that we have shared over the years.  Even our traditional foods will have to be modified a bit, since we are both more conscious of our health these days. Oh, there will be some excesses, but not as many as usual.
As this season progresses, I pray for our whole world that we find more peace and less violence, more love and less hate, more forgiveness, and less seeking for revenge.

May the Peace of the season be upon us all.

More Random Observations

The volume of the music in the library's Zumba class is directly proportional to how quiet the rest of the building is. The quieter we are, the louder they get!

People enjoy the Zumba class rather a lot, judging by the volume of their shouts during the class.

It only took 55 and a half years, but I'm finally happy with my hair.

My actual hair color now. No dye, no filters.

If you have more than two unfinished craft or needlework projects packed away, you have too darn many hobbies.

One really can have too many books.  Or is the problem really never enough bookshelves? Still pondering that one...

Sometimes, a nice cocktail at the end of the day is a very pleasant and relaxing thing.  The process of mixing it is part of the joy of the thing.

There are few things as pleasant in this life as good coffee, and something sweet to dunk in it.

The older I get, the creepier my hands look.  (Arthritis helps in this process.)

There are few things sexier than a man who is willing to do dishes.

My sinuses really are out to get me.

The likelyhood that nail polish will get chipped is directly proportional to the time it took to do the manicure.

The current manicure.  Base coat, color, glitter, and top coat.

The battery in the tablet will always run out in the middle of the best part of the story you are reading.

A small bottle of good quality single- malt Scotch Whisky is necessary for medicinal purposes.  (Such as feeling the incoming cold front in  your joints on a windy night.)

When it is really time I should be sleeping, I'm wide awake.

The capacity for hate and evil in humankind is a constant source of dismay to me.  Conversely, the amount of love and kindness I see pouring out in response to evil acts is a source of hope.  It shouldn't require a tragedy for us to pour our love and support out on a hurting world, though.  That should be evident every single day.

No matter how cold it is when you start your exercise walk in the morning, before you're halfway done, you'll still be sweaty, if you're doing it right!

Fall weather has truly arrived the day I finally put the heated mattress pad on the bed.

If I am rooting for a football team, they seem to do better if I don't watch the game...

Every single "holiday" can of Coke Zero I have had this year has said I should "Share a Coke Zero with a POLAR BEAR. " Every. Single. One.  Tell me, where do I find a Polar Bear that can drink Coke Zero?

Every single can in the 24 pack I just bought looks just like this.

The reason some of us really love to wear spandex workout wear is because it makes us feel like a superhero.  (Also, if you've lost as much weight as I have, it is excellent reward and motivation all rolled into one!)

Aren't these cool?

 

 

Some people will never understand about "personal space", no matter HOW many anti-harassment trainings they've been to. (Get outta my face, ok?)


It's always pleasant to find out that people assumed you are younger than you are. (Well, if you're as old as I am, it's pleasant!)

Some people get better looking as they age.  Really not fair to the rest of us. 

When you realize that someone who has a lot of fans actually knows who you are, and is glad to see you when you visit at a convention, it's still unbelievable.  (But it's great! )

Small acts of kindness eat away at the sadness and hopelessness so rampant in this world.  I am grateful both for the kind gestures others extend to me, and for the chance to be kind to others.

Some workplace break rooms really need the sampler someone hung in the school kitchen where I taught: "Your mother doesn't work here.  Please clean up your own mess."

I really do wonder if the Hokey Pokey really IS what it's all about.

Those who think suggestive or vulgar language in song lyrics is a new thing really need to listen to a cd I own.  It's called the "Art of the Bawdy Song" , and is all about tunes from the 16th century, and perhaps before.

Sometimes, you just have to decide you're finished with something and call it good.  I'm calling this post good.

Rambling Thoughts On A Friday The 13th Evening...

So much tragedy everywhere on this all too tiny planet we call home.  So much of this tragedy made by our own greed and unwillingness to listen or even try to understand one another.
The events in Paris call forth loving messages of sympathy from many, dredge up bitter anger from some who feel their own tragedies are ignored.  The loss of ANY life is tragic.  Perhaps places like Paris get more notice because they are more present in the Western mind, more real, more recent.  It is unfortunate, but often true.  That does not mean we don't care about the losses in Syria, Iraq, Iran, any place plagued by unrest and war.  What does happen is that we become fatigued by so much information about tragedy in those places, and alas, we begin to EXPECT tragedy in those places.
The atrocities committed during any war or any terrorist act ANYWHERE are deplorable, and injure mankind.
Donne said it best:
" No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in makind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

We are all of us part of the same whole.  Some people really don't want to believe that, but it's true.  We are ONE race, the HUMAN race, and whether we like it or not, we're stuck with each other.
Those who would claim the Christian faith must remember that our Founder told us as much.  We have been instructed by Jesus Himself:
"Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ saith:
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.  This is the first and great commandment  And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.  On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets."
-from the Book Of Common Prayer, 1979, Holy Eucharist Rite I, page 324. Quote is from the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter22, verses 37-40

I find it continually baffling that so many of those who profess to be Christians forget these two commandments.  Assuredly, they ARE difficult.  To love God so profoundly is beyond the grasp of most of us, and as to loving our neighbors as we love ourselves, well, first we have to love ourselves, and most of us truly do not. We operate quite often out of our insecurities, our deep knowledge and fear and hate of our own faults.  Many times, we ENVY our neighbors, who to US seem to have it together far better than WE do, when in reality, they are JUST as insecure as we are.
It is well past time to start looking beyond our own hurts and insecurities, and seeing the wounded people that we ALL are, it is well past time to look with compassion, not pity, but in recognition of the hurts of others in light of our own hurts.
Every day, I know I fall short of this standard, every day I pray for grace to do better, for strength of will to surpass my own love of the status quo.  I see so many obviously trying to do good, to reach out in love.  We must all try, and we must shore each other up when the going gets rough.  No regard to belief system, or ethnicity, or any difference that truly IS no difference.  We are ALL human, we are all on this planet together, and we need each other.  ALL of us.  For our own sake, we need to remember that.
For those of us who are Christians, we must remember that Jesus basically told us as much in that passage about the Great commandments.  We are all children of God, loved by God, and we are responsible TO and FOR each other.  I don't think Jesus was making any distinctions about your neighbor's race, or religion, or anything else.  Your neighbor.  Your fellow human being, that person that maybe you don't really like, but you know what?  He's stuck on this planet with you, just the same as you're stuck with him.  Really not easy, that "loving your neighbor" stuff.  I know.  I fail at it every day.  Every time someone gets on my very last nerve, or says something completely stupid, racist and hateful in the media.  I don't love that particular neighbor very much at that point.  Perhaps I need to pray for them instead of call them nasty names in my head.  Might be better for me, and it might even improve them.  Worth a shot.  Tell you what, you pray, or think good thoughts, or whatever your particular belief system asks you to do, for me, and I'll do the same for you.  If all of us do it, maybe it really will work, and we really will improve.  Even a little bit would be good.

Another quote comes to mind when I think about this planet of ours, and our need to get along on it.  This one is from Star Trek.  (HEY, I'm a geek girl, remember?  I cut my teeth on Star Trek fandom.  Don't let that put you off, there's a REASON that show stuck with so many of us for so long.)

"KIRK: Give me your hand. Your hand. (she does) Now feel that. Human flesh against human flesh. We're the same. We share the same history, the same heritage, the same lives. We're tied together beyond any untying. Man or woman, it makes no difference. We're human. We couldn't escape from each other even if we wanted to. That's how you do it, Lieutenant. By remembering who and what you are. A bit of flesh and blood afloat in a universe without end. The only thing that's truly yours is the rest of humanity. That's where our duty lies."

Even if we believe that we do not share the same heritage or history, we really do.  We are all the product of living on this planet.  Everything that happens on this planet effects everything else on it.  We do not really live isolated from one another, as much as we might wish to believe sometimes. We need to remember that we are responsible to one another, and FOR one another.  
Sigh.  So difficult to do, but so essential.  There is no easy answer.  Humans are complicated, and we love to complicate things.  Doing what sounds simple is the hardest thing of all.
That's about all I have to say on that subject right now.

On to other things:

Today should be a day of happy celebration for a friend of mine.  It is the anniversary of her birth.  Yet this tragedy in Paris happened, and it has cast a pall on her happiness.  
I for one wish to celebrate the fact that she was born, and is still here on this earth.  She is a person who has a generous, loving heart and a fast wit, who has suffered many things, and yet still finds joy in life, who shares her light with all of us, even those she's never met face to face.  I know she loves me, and I love her like a baby sister, or a niece, someone close and treasured.  Even though we have never met in person.  
So, I hope that her birthday is still a day of joy for her, a day that she realizes that there are MANY of us out here who are very, very glad she was born, and that she loves us. 
Happy birthday , Fi.  Be well, and know that you are LOVED.
 

Clutter

There are all different sorts of clutter in our lives.  The visual clutter of the urban/suburban landscape, the auditory clutter of all the traffic, machinery, music, shouted cell phone conversations, and cat calls also present in those environments.
Then there's the clutter in our homes. Most of us, if we are honest, have WAY too much "stuff".  Stuff we hardly ever, or even NEVER use.  Clutter.
There's mental clutter-  all the thoughts that run over each other and plague you when you try to fall asleep, the endless "to do" lists, the things we fear we forgot, the worries that niggle at us.
For some of us, even our computers, phones, laptops and tablets are cluttered.  Poorly managed files, excessive apps, email that needs to be weeded out.

For me, the physical clutter is often frustrating, though some of it is things that comfort me just by being there.  The mental clutter gets to be so bothersome, I sometimes get out of bed and write things down so they'll stop plaguing me and let me fall asleep.  Now that our house has better insulation and better windows, we don't have as much auditory clutter invading our private space, but the train still makes itself heard. Sometimes, the PA system at the high school stadium does as well.

It is often hard to tackle physical clutter because the prospect is exhausting.  One doesn't want to get rid of something only to need it a month later.  One must become rather ruthless about it, in fact, and remind oneself that if the item hasn't been used in more than a year, it is taking up valuable space and not giving any benefit. Perhaps it needs to go to someone who WILL use it...
 However, this is difficult because we often have emotional attachments to our things, whether we should or not.  I haven't done any cross stitch embroidery in more than 10 years.  I have entire drawer full of supplies for it, though, that are STILL sitting there.  My eyesight isn't really good enough anymore to do cross stitch without a VERY strong light and a magnifier.  Must decide whether I will ever do any of it again or not.
There are books here that I have not consulted in a very long time, but I will not part with them.  They are old friends.  Anthologies of poetry, references, dictionaries, music theory books, even a volume or two of educational theory that are about 34 years old, and probably have come back into vogue, as theories do.
There is an entire file drawer full of fabric scraps and "fat quarters" that I used once for projects, and haven't touched since.  Knitting needles, crochet hooks, a variety of yarns, old photos, high school yearbooks, books I bought at the Friends' sale and haven't read yet, figurines of characters from movies and TV shows that I love, a whole collection of fountain pens, pencils, and art supplies, mugs, blank cds/dvds, a whole mug full of bookmarks, notecards, candles, just TONS of stuff, and that's just in my OFFICE. 
The kitchen is a major clutter collection.  There are cake pans I haven't used in years in one cupboard, at least FOUR sets of dishes, NOT counting the fine china (service for 16) that is in the dining room hutch, several collections of mixing bowls, a large pitcher full of wooden spoons, more cookware than we'll EVER use, and the usual small appliances that only get used rarely.
Let's not even talk about the board games, Wii games, dvds and BluRays, and knicknacks that clutter the living room. Also, lots of music books. Most of those, though, I'd like to keep.  We do use them on occasion.

Decluttering the house will be difficult.  Decluttering my mind is surely impossible.  I have always had a noisy mind.  Can't seem to quiet it very often. Writing helps, especially the poetry, for often what is clamoring around in there is a phrase or an idea that wants out, but doesn't want to be lost.  So, I also have a huge collection of notebooks and journals, AND this blog.  I try to clear my mind and sit quietly at times, but it is very difficult.  I seem to live inside my own head a lot, and though I am very interested in people, and I socialize well, large groups of people exhaust me. Too much input.  (Noise, sights, emotions, ideas, all crowding in on my already noisy mind.)  I often wonder if my celebrity acquaintances who have met me at conventions think I'm rather drifty in person.  They know me from social media, but when I post, I am usually alone in my office, with a more or less quiet environment. At the cons, especially the large ones, I am so overwhelmed by the crowds that I feel almost like I'm sleepwalking.  I think I did better in San Antonio, I was able to concentrate on the people nearest me better, and I hope I sounded less like I was half asleep.

I don't have any real solutions to offer for the problems of clutter.  I have never really dealt with mine. Until 1998, we had the Air Force solving some of the problem for us.  PCS moves come with a weight allowance for household goods, so it's a good reason to purge.  Guess we'll have to pretend we're moving and just start evaluating our stuff.
As for my cluttered mind, well, this has helped a bit.  

What Lasts

My Mom is slowly leaving us.  Her mind is wandering off.  She forgets to eat, she forgets what day it is, sometimes she forgets where she is, but she never forgets the ones she loves.  She always knows us kids when we call, and my sister and I visited last week, and she knew exactly who we were.  She remembers all about our Pop, and what a good husband he was.  She misses him.  She remembers love. 
Of all the things we have in this life, of all the things we leave behind, love is the one that trumps them all.  When I remember my childhood, I don't remember all the stuff I had, I remember all the fun I had with my siblings and with Mom and Pop.  I remember the love.  Our family isn't very demonstrative, or especially mushy, but we know we are loved.  We have had our differences, our ups and downs, and our distances, but we love each other.  Love is durable.  It can stand a few falls into the dust, and come up shinier than ever. 

When I leave this world, I want to be remembered for being loving.  Love is the best thing to give, because it multiplies and comes back to you.  I want to be thought of with love.  To achieve that, I have to be willing to be giving and loving even when that is hard work. 
Marriage teaches you what hard work loving can be.  If you learn the lessons well, you come out stronger.  Matt and I have been through many ups and downs together.  We always see it through.  We love each other.  Always.  Even when we are irritated with one another, even when things get to us, we still love each other.  Matt can nearly always make me laugh.  More than 31 years together.  Both of us are still alive.  We like that old joke: "We've never once considered divorce.  Murder, yes, divorce, no."
Working with young children teaches you about the work involved in loving, too.  Patience is not one of my virtues, but for the sake of the kids I have worked with, because I love them, I learned.  I still pray for those kids who were my one full time class. I wish I could see how they all turned out.  They all still take up space in my heart.  There are many others who have added themselves to my heart over the years. 

Friends are another source of love.  I have many.  I am blessed.  A few who are especially close, more like a family.  Some I've only met online, one or two of those feel much closer than that. 

Mom had students, too.  She touched many lives when she was a preschool teacher.  Those kids loved her, and she loved them, too.  All her friends where she lives now love her.  Even the staff where she is tell us how she has worked her way into their hearts, how funny she is, how obviously caring.  Even when she isn't entirely there. 

As legacies go, one could do a lot worse than to leave behind as much love as Mom always has.  I only hope that the ones I love know they are loved.  Treasured, even. 

Those of us who are Christians, our faith calls us to love.  Jesus was (and is) all about the love.  "Love one another as I have loved you." "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your spirit, and your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets."  We are not called to judge, to see if we (or others) "measure up".  Jesus chose the broken ones, the less than sterling characters to be his disciples.  He loved them.  We are supposed to operate on the same principle.  Love.  Far too often we fall abysmally short.  That we are still loved is testament to God's faith in us, in our ability to learn and grow in love. 
I pray that we all, regardless of our faith or lack thereof, learn the value of love. That we learn to live in love, to share that love, and to leave that love behind us when we go.  Because love is the only thing that truly lasts.

First World Problem Leads to Real World Blessing

Less than halfway through the walk, the music app on  the phone died, and left me with no tunes to motivate my exercise.
No real problem, though, because I had a whole world around me to listen to.
The quiet of a suburban neighborhood in the midmorning is surprising.
There were subtle sounds all around, though.
Small planes droning their way across the unbelievably blue sky,
Blue jays hashing out a territorial dispute on the next block,
A light breeze whispering through the trees,
The subtle crackle of dry leaves on the sidewalk,
The rhythmic beat of my own footsteps on the pavement.
Sometimes, the hum of an air conditioning unit as the early Autumn sun is very warm,
As I get nearer the main road, a bit more traffic noise,
Tires humming on pavement, bodywork rattling over the railroad crossing,
In the distance, a train horn.
The lonely, twangy song of a lone cicada, who somehow overslept the end of the season,
The buzz of the locusts as they hop-fly out of my path,
Quiet cricket chirps from the deep shade under a nearby stand of trees,
Whirring of dragonfly wings as one swoops by me,
Sometimes a far-off , muted roar of a jet flying far, far overhead.
The occasional weed trimmer and/or lawnmower may be heard as well,
And one neighbor is power-washing his house.
Gotta get the dusty grime of the Oklahoma summer off before winter hits!
Greetings from the neighborhood dogs as I pass.  Usually friendly barks,
Sometimes territorial assertions, at least until I tell them they are good dogs, doing a dog's work well.
Then, the greetings are friendly, tails wag behind their fences.
Machine noises and rattles and bangs behind the supermarket, deliveries made, and garbage taken out.
Back on the noisy main road, and headed toward home, the noontime traffic of high school students heading toward the fast food places for lunch, another train warning of its approach.
Back to my own front porch and the creaky squeaky storm door, and the satisfying snick of the key in the well-oiled lock.
Now I seek the comfort of the ceiling fan in the dining room, and put away all my "walk support equipment".
I come in here, do some free weight exercises, stretch, and get this machine going.
And then I wrote this.
Now I have to go wash the grime of exercise both physical and mental off myself so I can continue with the day's work.
All this I actually paid attention to
Because my favorite distraction was silenced.

Lingerie Fashion Update - (Skip this one guys, unless your lady might be interested...)

I have finally found a manufacturer of brassieres that makes high-quality, properly-fitting, and SEXY bras for women MY SIZE!!  This has been a challenge most of my adult life because I am fairly small around the torso, but have LARGE breasts.  Precious few stores carry size (US sizing) 34 G.  I have to special order.  Usually, this means settling for a "minimizer" that is really a 34DDD, but since the cups are larger, it works.  Not so anymore.  Now I have found Panache!
See their wonderful website HERE

Not only can I get a 34G, but I can get a SEXY one!

Also, the first and ONLY sports bra I have ever found that really works!

(And doesn't cause uniboob.)

Here are some pictures of the styles I have tried so far:

The sports bra.  I have one like this and one that's coral. (I don't know when Safety Orange became known as coral, but...)

This is the "Hepburn" bra.  Gorgeous, and comfy.

This one is called "Maddie"

This one is called "Juna"

This is the "Loretta" style

This one is known as "Neve"

I really like the Neve and the Loretta styles.  I ordered one more of each of those.  The Maddie and Juna are two I just got, and haven't worn much yet. 

My husband really gets the credit for finding Panache for me.  He had heard me bewailing the fact that I have NEVER been able to find a sports bra that looks good and feels good, AND reduces bounce.  He started researching bras with lots of purchasers and lots of good reviews.  He found Panache.  If you peruse the website, you will see that they make brassieres in a LOT of sizes, not JUST for "full figure" and not just for charter members of the "itty bitty titty committee."
I always envied my smaller friends, because there are SO many cute bras out there in the smaller sizes.  I have never before found cute ones in MY size. 

I have purchased all of my Panache bras through Amazon, and DO take heed of the sizing chart that is available.  Panache bras are made in UK sizing, and it is a bit different from US sizing.  When I order Panache, I get a 34 F, because in the UK, 34 G is a larger size than it is in the US. When in doubt, go get yourself professionally measured.  You can have this done at any large department store like Nordstrom, or Dillards.  That's how I found out I really needed a larger cup size, even though my band size was correct.  I did find a nice strapless that I needed for a particular dress at Dillards, but the rest of what was available in my size was less than inspiring.

If you are a woman who has difficulty finding a bra you love in the size you need, give Panache a try.  If you are a guy who knows a lady who complains about never finding a bra she really likes, tell her to try Panache.  I have been amazed at the quality, the comfort, the fit, and how great I look wearing them!

The Relativity of Aging

I may be getting older, but I certainly don't feel OLD.  I feel better about myself now than I ever have, I think.

I have lost a lot of weight over the last two years, I've started paying more attention to what I wear, and not feeling so constrained about what is and isn't appropriate for my "age" as I used to.  I go with what looks good.  If it looks tasteful and not tacky, it's a go.  If it's a snugger fit, or a slinkier fabric than I might have felt comfortable in before, once again, if it looks  right, I get it.

For so long, I thought I was too chunky, too busty, too old, too conservative to wear the things that deep down, I really wanted to wear.  Skinny cut jeans (with stretch, I'm no masochist, not even for the sake of looking good), low cut tops, metallic fabrics (within reason), dresses that are form-fitting, bras with less than 4 rows of hooks.  I have found that I can indeed wear these things, and they look fine.  I don't look ridiculous, and I am comfortable.

I've been playing with nail polish again, too.  Not only looks cool, but it protects my nails from all the slams and scrapes of daily life.  Makes it less likely that I'll have raggedy cuticles, too.

I am also letting all the dye grow out of my hair.  So far, it looks pretty good.  Next cut will tell more about how much gray there really is.  I have decided to just own the fact that I have gray hair, and live with it, at least for awhile.  If it looks like I think it will, it should be fine.

This shows both my style and my haircolor.

The best thing that comes with age is that sense of being comfortable, confident, even powerful in your own skin.  I know that I have more confidence in myself today than I had when I was 25.  Today, if a boss dared be so unprofessional as to raise their voice to me, they probably wouldn't like the scolding they'd get in return. (None of my supervisors are that unprofessional. I was remembering one I had in my 20s.  Would not go down that way now. )  3o years lends one wonderful perspective.

This new confidence does flee on occasion.  It is indeed difficult to overcome a lifetime of habitual slumping, hiding, and being meek.  I am trying to remember to walk tall and sit tall, and be proud.

A friend posted this on Facebook recently, and it struck me as something I've been trying to tell myself a lot lately.  I'm DONE hiding.  Time to own how good I look, and ENJOY it!

Learning to be comfortable in my own skin, to be confident, is an ongoing process.  I still have moments of abject panic, as when I have to sing something I am less than prepared to sing in public.  My brain just seems to shut off on such occasions, leaving me certain that I cannot do something that I SHOULD be able to do. Still working on the courage to do things that I might regret not doing in the future.  Chances that should be taken, words that should be spoken, poems that ought to be written.  People that should be hugged, walks that need to be taken, songs that must be sung!
I am still very much a work in progress.  I have let chances go by even just recently that I should have taken.  I have also taken some chances and been very glad I did!
Also resisting the urge to correct the grammar in that graphic I used!  Ha!  Once a teacher...

Music Updates

I've added so much to my music collection since the last update, I don't even wanna try to figure out what's new. 
I'll just share what I'm listening to the most lately.

Tom Waits' Closing Time
I already owned a pretty comprehensive Tom Waits collection, but a couple of online friends recommended that I get this one.  They were right.  Lots of good stuff in here. 

The sound track from Amazon Originals' great new drama Hand Of God.  Not only is the theme song (by Fantastic Negrito) totally awesome, but the rest of the music used on the show is equally good.  A nice backdrop to desk work, and by the way, YOU BETTER GET ON AMAZON PRIME AND WATCH THE SHOW!!! 

Roll Away by Miss Brown To You (Featuring Louise Goldberg and Mary Reynolds)   These two musicians are friends of mine.  Lovely voices, beautiful people, and such uplifting music.  Give 'em a try, the album's on CDBaby and iTunes.  You'll be glad you did!

The Shirley Jones and Jack Cassidy recording of Brigadoon.  I had a piece to learn (The Heather On The Hill) from this one, so I found a good soundtrack recording to listen to.  Not at all Scottish, but entertaining all the same, and the music is pleasant.

This is the EP that includes "An Honest Man" the theme song for Amazon's Hand Of God.  Good song.  Great album, Xavier is also the NPR Tiny Desk Concert winner.  His story is inspiring, his music is bluesy and real.  Lots of soul.  You should give it a listen.  Then you should buy it. 







That's what's on the "most recent" list of my music.  Hope you find something that you enjoy as well.

The Saga Of Our Comic Con Trip

"Happy anniversary," he said, "I bought us tickets to Alamo City Comic Con in San Antonio.  Ron AND Michael will be there, and I know how much you want to meet Michael, and get Ron to sign your book."
He was right, it was the best anniversary gift ever.  I was afraid I put it in jeopardy by falling and hurting my leg, but the leg has healed nicely, and I was good to go for our epic journey.
To get to San Antonio from Moore, Oklahoma, one must drive for a VERY long time if one is not willing to pay for plane tickets.  We were not willing to pay for plane tickets.  We were in the car for about eight hours, plus a couple of pit stops.
The only bad thing that happened was that Matt left his cell phone behind at one stop, and by the time we realized it, someone had taken it.  We suspended the service to the phone, reported it stolen, and the insurance is sending a new one.  None of his accounts have been messed with, he changed all his passwords, and soon as he gets his replacement phone, he'll be in good shape.
We still managed to have a blast at the con.

First and foremost, I got to meet someone I have communicated with on Twitter for more than two years now.  Someone that has reached out in kindness and absolutely made my day with a tweet.  Something just that simple, a small kindness, really, takes just seconds, and it can turn around a person's whole day, which can, in turn, make the day better for everyone they come in contact with.  That's what Michael Ornstein did for me with a short little tweet on a day that was going south rapidly for me.
It had been a hectic morning at our library, and I was getting ready to go out to the Customer Service Desk, and I wasn't in a very positive mood.  I checked my Twitter on my break, and Michael had posted a picture of one of his most recent paintings.  His use of color is amazing.  He paints things that look like they are lit from inside, luminous, gorgeous.  I responded to the post and thanked him for posting it, because I needed to see something beautiful that day.  His reply: "Go look in the mirror." I almost cried.  So very sweet, and just made me remember that bad days will pass, there is beauty inside that we can let out.
I was so glad to meet Michael in person, and finally PROPERLY thank him for that tweet, and give him a big hug.  Not only did he make my day, but by cheering me up, he helped quite a few of our library patrons have a better library visit than they might have.  Easier to smile and be pleasant and helpful when you remember that you carry something beautiful in your heart all the time.  Love.  Letting it out doesn't deplete it, it just makes it better, makes it multiply. It's the truth.  I know.
Michael and I had a couple of nice chats during the con, and he signed one of the prints of his paintings he had for me.  

Yours Truly and Michael Ornstein- Actor, artist, all around great human being. I was wearing my "lucky shirt" one with one of Michael's paintings on it, that I have worn during 3 different tornadoes, and I've made it through unscathed each time.( I figure the shirt couldn't hurt, and neither does the prayer and pleading that goes on while I'm hiding in that closet!)

On Saturday, we finally caught up with my pals Mary and Jana, and we all went to see Ron.  (Perlman, that is.)  Ron looks like a tough guy, he can be a tough guy, I have no doubt, but he's really a big sweetheart.  At least to us.  He loves his fans, and he knows that the three of  us have been in  his corner for a long time.  He always seems genuinely glad to see us, always wants hugs and smooches, and kids around with us.  It always astounds me that he really does know who we are, remembers us, and cares about us.  He's busier than he was a while back, so he doesn't tweet quite as much  as he once did, but he has also reminded me that I am not invisible, even when I sometimes feel like I must be. Never one as dramatic as the tweet from Michael that came at  JUST the right moment, but still.  Just when I figure he's too busy to catch any of our tweets anymore, he'll favorite, or respond with a word or two, letting us know he's keeping tabs on us.
I have lost about 30 pounds over the last 2 1/2 years or so, and just this last year, I've gotten into better shape by walking and working out with weights more.  Ron made it a point to tell me that I look great.  Makes me feel good to know the hard work is noticed.  (Oh, my husband notices, but hey, he sees me every day!)  Ron always looks amazing.  He seems to get better looking every year.  I have told him it isn't fair.

Here's me with Ron, who looks better every time we see him.  My favorite actor, and one hell of a nice guy.

I always enjoy a chance to see my friends Mary and Jana.  There are others in our little fan group  that I have met, and enjoy spending time with, too, but I've seen Mary and Jana the most.  We have history.  We always have fun together, and if we stop giggling, it's probably because we finally fell asleep.  Hope to meet the rest of the #Perlgirls in person some day.  Especially Fi.  I love that girl, feel like I've known her for always, and I've never met her in person.  The stories I read and put on YouTube are mostly for her little boy. (Though I hope my grand nephews and other kiddos who might enjoy the stories also watch and listen. Like Malory's kids.  Mal's another of the #Perlgirls, and I've met her too.  She looks like she's about 15, but she's  an Air Force vet, a mom, and a very energetic and sweet gal.)
We didn't get to spend enough time together this trip, but then, Matt designed this as an anniversary celebration for us.  (A bit early, but still, we've been married 31 years now, so we're entitled to celebrate early.)  (Actual anniversary is September 22.)
So, because Matt and I spent some quality time together, I didn't get to hang out with my friends as much as I wanted.  We did, however, meet up for a visit with Ron, the SOA panel, and the photo op with Ron.

Here's the Three Amigas right before the SOA Reunion Panel on Saturday. ( My long suffering spouse is on my left.)

We still had fun together, and Mary and Jana had a chance to go out and have fun on their own.  Matt and I went out to a very nice dinner at Fogo de Chao for our "anniversary dinner".  Excellent food in a relaxing atmosphere.

Popping back to Friday for a moment, we also visited with Kim Coates, Ryan Hurst, and Mark Boone. Kim had his helper take a picture of him with Matt and I.  The one that's least blurry, I have my eyes closed in.  I am my mother's daughter...

Before leaving for this trip, I got some of our Pioneer Library System "swag" from my boss and the Info Services manager at our branch to take to the folks working the San Antonio Public Library's table in the "Kids Planet" section of  Comic Con.  They seemed pleased to be remembered by their fellow soldiers in the cause of literacy, and I had my picture made with their mascot!

This is the "swag" I took to the San Antonio librarians.  A Pete the Cat bag with I love my library mints in it, a PLS cup, pens, stylus pens, bookmmarks, and an unbrella

Me and the SAPL mascot.  Sorry, I didn't catch the name!  They had an awesome booth with cool activities for kids, teens, and even a few for adults! Great job SAPL!

There were so many people walking around in really cool costumes, but Saturday especially,  it was SO crowded, and we were short of time between events, that we couldn't get pictures made of them.
The con was a really great event.  They grew so quickly though, they need a bit more logistical know how, and they need to make maps that are oriented around where they are in the building, so people can figure out which way they need to go.  The volunteers and staff were unfailingly polite, and the staff were usually pretty knowledgeable, but the volunteers weren't always well briefed, though they'd go find someone to ask if they didn't know the answer.
Can't say enough good things about the staff at the Grand Hyatt.  Very attentive, very helpful, and the hotel looked great, and our stay was most comfortable.

The trip home was marred only by being SO LONG.  There was a traffic jam up due to ongoing construction before we got to Fort Worth, but after that, it was smooth sailing, and we took our time.  We stopped at Outback Steakhouse in Ft. Worth, and I had a Blood orange 'Rita with my burger.  (Thank God Matt was driving so I could indulge!)
We made  our obligatory stop at Chickasaw Travel Stop near Davis, so we could pick up some more Bedre Chocolate.  ALWAYS stop, both coming and going to and from Texas, because it is clean, the people are pleasant and helpful, and they have that wonderful chocolate for sale.

We got home around 10:30 pm or so on Sunday night.  Tired, but happy, and then we had to unload the car and put all that stuff away!
I have con swag for my coworkers, I gotta put the flair back on my lanyard and add the three new pieces I got, and figure out where I'm gonna display the new photos I have...

Finally got Ron to sign my book.  I'm keeping that inscription close to my heart.  So very sweet, and special to me.

All in all, a really great trip, and the only other hitch was discovered this morning as I was finishing my unpacking.  I went to get ready to walk, and realized I hadn't seen my Motorola Buds since Saturday.  Seems I left them by the safe in the hotel room.  Sigh.  Oh, well, they were about two years old, and had definitely seen better days.  Ordered replacements for a lot less than we paid for those.  Same exact thing, too.

I will be smiling about this trip for a long time to come.
Thanks, Matt, world's greatest husband! I love you even more than I did 31 years ago.
Thanks to Ron Perlman, The Man Himself, who is just awesome, and well, I love ya big guy.  You know that.
Thanks to Michael Ornstein, for being so kind,and original, and well, you know I love you, too, right?  After all, we are both survivors of being stuck in airplanes with pilots who thought they were comedians... ;-)

Random Sunday Observations

There may be more welcome things on a very hot afternoon that a very cold beer, there MAY be.


The wait for the next book in a series of novels you are hooked on is endless.  And frustrating.

The amount of mental energy available NEVER matches the task at hand.  (At least in my case.  Rarin' to go when it's time to sleep, and worn out when there's stuff to do...)

Some days your optimistic approach to the clearance clothing racks is rewarded.  Other days, you leave convinced that decent clothes may never be obtained at reduced cost. (Today was a good day.  I scored a really nice peasant blouse for $17 at the BX...)

The odds of your voice failing you are directly proportional to how exposed your voice part is in the difficult section of the anthem...

Even before the season officially changes, you can see changes in the quality of light, the color of the sky, the texture of the air... here lately, hints of Autumn are everywhere.

I'm one of the youngest 55 year old ladies I know.  Lou Kohlman is another young one.

Physical therapy is an ongoing process...

The older you get, the more built in barometers you have.

Sometimes I let people think they've convinced me of the truth of  an untruth.  They need to believe it so badly, I just let them go on. Not my job to call them on it.

For all its advances, modern technology still behaves like a two year old when you ask two different manufacturers' products to interact with one another.

For every year you age past 20, time speeds up by a factor of 10 every year, until you are like me, in the 2010's thinking the '80s was only 15 years ago...

The number of things on the "to do" list will always exceed the amount of time available to accomplish them.

Any witty thing you think of will fly right out of your mind the minute you sit down to write it!

It's Been A Month...

Exactly one month ago, on July 10, I fell while out walking and gravely insulted my right hamstring. 
The bruise I got from that fall succeeded in creeping out more people than most zombies do. 
The bruise is completely gone now.  I am almost back to normal.  The leg still tires a little sooner than I'd like, and I am still going to Physical Therapy twice a week, but that may change soon.  Each time I go, I am given more difficult exercises to do. 
My walks are still not up to the length or the speed I want them to be.  I walk about a mile and a half each day now, and I was doing four or five miles before I fell.  I was also managing to maintain a quicker pace than I can right now.  It's getting better, though.  Saturday and today were both longer and faster walks than I've been able to do since the fall.  I am also back to my free weight workouts four times a week, plus a few exercises added by my physical therapist. 

I'll get there, it's just going to take awhile.  I don't want to push it too hard and end up straining the muscle, or God forbid, falling again.

Dribbles of Poetry

Rainy Thoughts
CKArmistead 2015

Today I saw as I passed by
A large rain puddle full of sky.
The majestic clouds and hints of blue
All on the surface of the water flew.
I have to be mindful of the ground I tread,
But Nature still showed me the wonder above my head.

Time Flies
CK Armistead 2015

The young man standing there
So tall of stature
And dignified of mien,
Was only yesterday, I swear,
A sloppy, slouchy,
Happy go lucky teen.
When did he learn to stand so straight?
When appeared that calm confidence?
Time seems to have a galloping gait,
And to have left me behind long since.
Proud I am to see him so,
 Intelligent, and kind
Sure of where he wants to go,
And with a thoughtful turn of mind.
Well I remember the bright young scamp
That asked for a sticker at the desk
Who sat close at reading time,
Said he liked our stories best,
And long ago stole this teacher's heart of mine.

That's what's been rambling around in my head wanting to be written down lately.
Hope you enjoyed them.

Three Weeks Later...

As of Aug 1, three weeks after the fall.

It has actually been a little more than three weeks since I pulled a stupid and went walking in the wrong shoes, thus causing myself to fall and strain my right hamstring.  If you have seen the earlier posts about this misadventure, you have seen the bruise in all its technicolor glory.  This is how it looks this week, almost gone.  The last remaining bits are mostly yellow.

I have had three Physical Therapy sessions, and things are going very well.  Swelling is down, and I am able to do more things, wear the snugger fitting jeans, etc.  Adding activities back to the schedule slowly, being careful not to overdo it.   The medical types said it would take MONTHS for the bruising and discoloration to go away.  Not so.  The PT has done wonders. 

Any of you in the 405, if you ever need physical therapy, I highly recommend R & S Optimal Rehab.  They have an office right here in Moore, so it's very convenient, and they are very good at what they do.  (They also take TriCare, obviously.)

I am working hard to get myself back in shape, because I have a couple of trips coming up, and both will involve a lot of walking.  (Also sitting, which has been a problem until recently...)

In other adventures with my aging self, I am going to get more of the dyed hair cut off today, so we may finally find out just exactly how gray I am.  I will try to post a photo.  I don't know if it'll depress me too much or not.  I just really hate the expense, the smell, and the fuss of dying my hair. 

Back view of the hair with most of the colored part cut off.

Front side view of hair with a lot of the color grown out.  Matt says it's "sparkly".

So far, the gray doesn't look too bad.  I am afraid once the rest of the color grows out at the top it's going to be really white on the one side and dark on the other, but we'll see.  Doesn't bother me at all right now.
Please do excuse the poor selfie.  I am pretty tired after my busy Monday, and not looking forward to TWO fillings at the dentist tomorrow, so I look about as wiped out as I feel. 

That's about all the excitement I can stand for one day.  My leg and I are going to retire to our couch with a good book and a heating pad.

A Bit of A Book Review : Go Set A Watchman by Harper Lee

There has been much controversy about this book, about whether Harper Lee ever really intended to let it be published, or whether she is being taken advantage of. 
I don't know about that, but I do know that the book does not seem to be an earlier draft of To Kill A Mockingbird.  It is very much its own story.

Mockingbird gives us a good foundation for this story.  This one is, perhaps, not as compelling, not as much of a strong statement about justice, but it is the story of a young woman coming to terms with her past, her heritage, and her hero worship of her father.  It is an uncomfortable story, about a very uncomfortable time and place, and a lot of uncomfortable realizations for this young woman whom we met as Scout, when she was but a child.
Scout's a young woman now, 26, I believe we are told.  This book fills in a few details about how she grew up.  It also shows us her struggle to realize that the father she idolizes is a human being.  Most children get this message early on, but Atticus being who he is, she never sees the feet of clay.  Until now.  Until an ugly issue threatens to tear the whole town apart, and she sees her father doing things she doesn't understand and will not condone.

I think perhaps the decision to publish this book was taken because the issue of race is STILL divisive in this country, and this book invites conversation about just what is the best way to deal with the undoubted injustices that have been done against African Americans.  The book doesn't argue a case for one way or another, but suggests that people on all sides be willing to listen to one another, really HEAR each other, and try to find the best way forward for EVERYONE. 

That is what I got from reading this book.  I, too, was sickened to think Attticus Finch would ever join a "citizen's council" or sit quietly while a racist idiot speaks, but there's a method to his seeming madness, and he will ALWAYS do what he thinks is in the best interest of the ENTIRE community, not just others like himself.  Perhaps, like Scout, we all have to be willing to let Atticus be a human being.  A person who does not always make the right decisions, who does not unfailingly take the difficult and controversial stance so publicly as he did in Mockingbird.  None of us is perfect.  We are all, in fact, human, and that very humanity is what we need in order to really understand each other.

I have heard the arguments Atticus makes for the "Yankee" approach to desegregation being wrong headed and too sudden.  (Things in the South have to happen slowly, or hatred and resentment just distill and get stronger yet.  I think we are seeing some of that today...)  My own father made that argument while observing the debacle in Little Rock.  In Fayetteville, where he grew up, desegregation started with the kindergarteners, and each year added another "generation" of integrated classes.  There was none of the violence or protest you saw in Little Rock.  Perhaps because Fayetteville is a university town, perhaps more enlightened people were living there, I don't know, but Pop said Coach Blossom, who had become superintendent of schools, said it worked because the kids got to know each other, liked each other, and worked and played together despite their parents. Kindergarteners are still young enough to realize that a kid is just a kid, somebody to play with.
I do not know.  Every school I ever attended was integrated, except the high school I graduated from.  There were perhaps two black faces in  our senior class, but lots of brown ones.  It made me a little nervous at first, coming from Compton as I did, to see almost no black faces in class.  Most of my friends had been black, including Nadine, who moved out before we did.  (Her father pleading with my Pop to please move, "because it just isn't safe here anymore for anybody, and my family and I really like and respect your family, and we just don't want to see you hurt.") Nadine was smarter in math than me, could run faster, jump higher, and look better doing it.  I loved her and I envied her.  We sang together in glee club, played handclap games on the playground, and pretended to be all sorts of things many afternoons in the old neighborhood.  We completely lost track of her after they moved, and I have mourned that loss a long time. 
(Nadine, if you happen to read this, I STILL have stupid hair.  It won't do a thing ANYBODY tells it, and so I have cut most of it off!)
 Perhaps I should say here that my Pop was one of the whites who stood up to the block busting real estate practices in Compton.  He talked to the frightened neighbors who were hell bent on selling and moving out before the "place was overrun".  Pop told them that these were good people who bought the first two houses in our neighborhood that sold to black families.  He told them that these folks just wanted all the same things you want.  A safe place with decent schools to raise their kids and live in peace.  He said that if they could afford to buy a home in the neighborhood, you could bet they'd take care of it, probably better than a lot of the white families did.  He was awfully disappointed in our neighbors who "white flighted" out of there.  He was right, because the first two families contained my friend Kathy, and my friend Nadine.  Both families were hard-working, kept the house and yard beautiful, and those kids were well behaved and SMART in school.  We had some good times before the whole place just crumbled. Perhaps others who were older than I at the time will remember it differently, but these are my memories, clouded by time and distance as they are.

Compton didn't suffer from racial unrest so much as from an influx of gang activity that was greater than the local police force could handle.  The danger wasn't because of race, but because of crime.  (I realize in some minds the two go together, and perhaps race was a factor, but for the first few integrated years, there were no such problems. )

The above are all just my opinions, based entirely on my own admittedly limited experience, but I do think that this book is rather timely given the fact that problems between black Americans and white Americans are STILL an issue today, when we SHOULD be doing much better at getting along than we are.
The book is uncomfortable, the subject is uncomfortable, and perhaps that means we all need to look long and hard at our cherished attitudes and do a lot more listening, real listening, and less talking at each other. I for one believe that love is required. Love is difficult sometimes, but always worth the effort. 
As I said above, Your Mileage May Vary.