What do you remember????

  

For Jerry on Valentine's Day 2014

Walking (with Jerry)

We walked in autumn
under arched canopies of gold and red maples
on a path made from an old rail bed
along the swift moving Schulykill
full from late summer rains.

We walked in spring
on trails trimmed in fern and moss
shaded by Douglas fir and sweet smelling cedar
Jason racing ahead in fits and starts
to dig in the damp dirt of
the secret amber place.

We walked Yosemite in winter
Jason in a carrier on your back
wearing a sky blue knit beanie
eyes round in excitement at the sight
of puffy snowflakes
landing on his tiny hands.

We walked in summer
on high slopes of the Montana Rockies
searching a mountain pass for
whistling marmots and mountain goats
shivering in the cold
despite the bright sun.

We walked many seasons
the sage hills of Laguna
the concrete and glass canyons of Manhattan
the rocky shores of the Pacific in Baja
Vancouver, and Oregon.

We walk hand in hand now
under palms on Coffee Pot Bayou
manatee, dolphin, turtles
rays and egrets keep us company.
We talk of everything and nothing
content with the season
and each other.

Read the Damn Blog!

This blog post is really just for Lisa Adams...I want her to know what I wrote in a comment to Bill Keller's recent editorial in the NYTimes. 

"I am absolutely convinced that neither you nor your wife have sat down and taken the time to actually read Lisa's blog...so do it. Grab a cup of coffee and start about two years ago, before her met diagnosis.  Get to know her, then follow her journey. do NOT cherry pick. do not rely on just tweets. READ THE DAMN BLOG. Then come back and read your editorial. and try to tell me it reflects Lisa's opinions or experience.  Because it does not. She would tell you that every person's journey through cancer is unique to themselves and there is NOT one way or a right way to make that journey.  She would agree with you that the "battle" metaphor is unfortunate...it is one she NEVER EVER uses...the fact you read it into her experience is from something in you that brings it to the table. I just can't believe that you have compounded Emma's misstatements and misunderstandings with your own. It is a sad day and many, many of us who call ourselves friends of Lisa are sad, angry, and disappointed. You do her a a great disservice at a time when she does not have the energy to combat it. So we will do it for her. "

Everyone is ready for Christmas Eve including our tiny tree. Merry Christmas all.

Everyone is ready for Christmas Eve including our tiny tree. Merry Christmas all., a photo by abaesel on Flickr.

Our Christmas celebrations have gotten simpler as the years have gone by. Jason grew up and away. We moved. Mom passed. Some years I still put up the Christmas trees laden with ornaments from Christmas past. But more and more we keep it simple.

Two years ago we met Jason in Montreal and shared a simple tiny tree, wintry snow, and a home cooked meal.

This year we are in Seattle where Jason now lives. It is just the three of us. We rented a small house for the week not far from Jason. It has snowed and rained. It has been sunny and windy. Today is mild with the sun playing peekaboo behind gray clouds fringed with white wispy tendrils.

Over the past few days I've gathered a tiny tree from Trader Joe's to go with the snowmen, elf and penguin I brought from home. Jason bought me the husky ornament from REI and I found the cute kitty at Pottery Barn. The rum bottle is from my friend Kim, the shortbread from Daryl, and the Corgi is from yesterday's tea at the Queen Mary tearoom. Symbols of past and present holidays, good friends, and family.

Today we'll roast e a rack of lamb, sweet potatoes and zuccini, and bake an apple crisp. We'll open a bottle of good wine and toast to our good fortune to be together on Christmas. All under the watchful eyes of a few dogs,a cat, and a penguin.

Merry Christmas all.

The Address Book

  This year when I was doing my Christmas cards, Jerry was stuffing the envelopes and I was addressing them.  For years, we have said we should put the addresses in a computer program that will spit out the addresses on labels to save time..  But I’ve never done it.  This year I realized why.

Taking the time to write those names and addresses gives me the time  to remind myself of all the wonderful friends and family that we are blessed with. 

     There is family: old, new, and blended. There are people on the list I’ve known since I was four, Jerry has known since high school and ones who have made us feel welcome and part of a community here in St Pete when we moved here 4 years ago. There are business associates who became friends and neighbors who have stayed neighbors of the heart if not in fact. 

     I’ve decided to stop trying to make the list smaller and instead will revel in the memories that each name brings and shed a few tears for those who no longer have an earthly address.

     So no more grumbling about writer’s cramp and the taste of the envelope glue, instead just remembering and rejoicing. 

Jason on the "front porch" of the gnome house of our Issaquah home 1992. Our first snow.

Jason on the "front porch" of the gnome house of our Issaquah home 1992. Our first snow., a photo by abaesel on Flickr.

Memories on a Tree

Memories on a Tree

by Annette Baesel      

A

gold

silver glass

 globe worn thin,

 the oldest, reflects

 the merry years of trees.

 A tiny polka-dotted red ball

replaced the one that fell, broke to

splinters. White lacy snowflakes, first

 ornaments for a bare apartment when a

scrawny Charlie Brown tree was perfect.

A crystal angel nests in the heart of the pine

 blessing lives braided into a single long plait.

 A small green pickle, hidden deep, brings luck

 and laughter.  A round red bell says I Love Grandma,

dangles in its place on a low branch. Etched bronzed

hounds race through the tree scaring the winged black cat

named Mabel. Yellow kayak and oar, sea otter, snowshoes

 speckled blown glass salmon, tokens from a time in rainy cedar

 forests.  Painted glass peonies, amaryllis, iris, reminder of spring

 in four seasons country. Delft Dutch shoe, cable car, sea shell,

cactus in a cowboy hat, Canadian Mountie moose, Peruvian llamas,

 tell tales of journeys far. A simple heart of multicolored beads made

by tiny hands a reminder of early years and mother love.

Regiments of scarlet coated nutcrackers

Santa-hatted Scooby-Doo

oversee the cast of soldiers,

 gnomes,  ballerinas, ponies,

echoes of Christmas past.

Throwback Thursday: High School Graduation

graduation, a photo by abaesel on Flickr.

Mom and I standing in front of our home on Call Street in Pico Rivera before my graduation from El Rancho High School in Pico Rivera. I was so incredibly excited...so was she. It was 1973, but seems like just yesterday.

The Sound of Angry Snowbirds

I do not like the sound of angry snowbirds, especially when they are right.

We’re vacationing in Montreal where we have a flat. Yesterday (Thursday) we stopped by to say hello to an acquaintance of ours who owns a shop in Old Montreal. After a few moments of chit chat she mentioned something about now needing an international driver’s license to visit Florida. I said, “Are you kidding?” Being a newspaper reading, news junky resident of Florida, I figured I would have heard about that if it were true. I thought, “She must be mistaken. Why would the U.S. do that? We do not need an International Driver’s License when we drive in Canada, even in French speaking Quebec.” 

Sadly, she was not mistaken.  But it was not the U.S. that created the new requirement; it was just my state of Florida which quietly and with no fanfare or heads-up, passed a bill effective January 1, 2013.  JUST Florida, no other state in the US has such an all-encompassing requirement.  Our State legislature passed a bill requiring that ALL foreigners including those from English speaking countries who wish to drive in our state must have an International Driver’s License.   The requirement was part of a 105-page piece of legislation introduced last year by Florida Rep. Ben Albritton, R- Wauchula, dealing with Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles.

On Thursday, newspapers all across Canada had front page articles about disgruntled Canadians rushing to the CAA offices to pay $25 plus the cost of passport-sized photos for an International Driver’s License. And stories of vacationing Canadians already in Florida who are perplexed and trying to figure out what to do since the only place they can get an International Driver’s License is in Canada and they are already in Florida.

Interestingly, there were no stories in Florida papers, until this morning, when Florida woke up to the outcry of angry snowbirds.

A rational person must ask why did the legislature see the need to pass this measure?  There could be three possibilities: Safety, Money, or Making the job of a Highway Police Officer a little Easier.  

Safety? I have seen no evidence that we have a rampant problem with unlicensed drivers from foreign countries causing unsafe driving conditions on Florida highways. Why would we? In order to rent a car when visiting, one must show the rental company a valid driver’s license.  They are not going to rent to someone without a license. Some rental companies even require an International Driver’s License from certain foreign countries where language may be an issue. Snowbirds arriving in their own vehicles are coming from Canada. They are not driving all the way down from Canada without a driver’s license.  

And what exactly IS an International Driver’s License anyway.  You do not have to take a test for one. It’s simply a document that translates into a number of different languages the fact that your driver’s license is in fact, a driver’s license.  That’s all.  You are not going to be a better or more informed driver just because you have an International Driver’s License. All it does do is make it a little easier for a Highway Patrol Officer to figure out your license, that’s all. And really, what is most important on a license? That it is current. And numbers are numbers…dates are dates. An officer should not need a translation to figure out if your license is current or not.

But what makes this piece of legislation truly bizarre is that it applies to all foreigners whether your license is already in English or not. One can just imagine how visitors from UK, the birthplace of modern English, must feel about the requirement to get an International Driver’s License when in fact their license is ALREADY IN ENGLISH.

So if the legislation will not necessarily result in safer conditions on the highway and only helps out Highway Patrol officers a little, could the rationale for the law be money? I certainly hope not, but it must run through the minds of visitors to Florida, especially those who come every year for months at a time. If they get pulled over and do not have the appropriate International Driver’s License they can be fined even if they have not broken any other law.  Penalizing the very people that provide the state of Florida with a robust tourism economy, not smart?

And let’s talk practicalities, what if a visitor from the UK flies into, let’s say, Boston. They rent a car with a valid foreign driver’s license and take off on a road trip of the eastern US. Everything is fine.  They decide to head to Orlando and Disney World. How would they know they are required to have an International Driver’s License once they hit the state border just north of Jacksonville? They would not. And if someone tells them in a truck stop somewhere in Georgia, what can they do about it, since you cannot get one except in your home country?

So in one case “happy foreign family” enters the sunny state of Florida not knowing they need an International Driver’s License.  In Orlando they get into a small, fender bender, when someone rear ends them at a stop sign. Police come. “Happy foreign family” is already concerned about the dent in their rental car and then they are informed they will have to pay a fine because they do not have an International Driver’s License.  How does that say “welcome to Florida we’re happy you are here and spending money in our economy”?

In another case “happy foreign family” finds out from a fellow traveler, somewhere along Interstate 95, that they need an International Driver’s License to enter Florida (or else they might get a ticket and have to pay a fine).  The “happy foreign family” thinks that maybe the 6 Flags Amusement Park and beaches of North Carolina look friendlier and they’ll skip Florida this time.

As you might guess, the Florida Tourism Board is up in arms, as it should be, with concerns as to how this nonsensical measure could impact tourism in a state whose economy is tied heavily to visitors, domestic and foreign. The state has been informed that the law may in fact violate provisions in the Geneva Convention on Road Traffic so they are, for now, not enforcing the requirement.

Florida is not an island. Florida relies on the kindness of strangers…those wonderful visitors from foreign shores who come and visit, make friends, and spend money.  Let’s not embarrass ourselves with this bit of nonsensical red tape that will not result in safer streets but would result in many unhappy visitors to our sunny Paradise.

Gov Scott's new logo: BusinessMEN only, please.

So, our governor, Rick Scott, in concert with Enterprise Florida has decided that what this state really needs is a tax-payer subsidized slogan, logo, and branding campaign to attract more business to the state of Florida. 

After paying over $200,000 for development of the logo and slogan, the Governor is looking to spend $3 million of state money for a campaign based on the new brand.

And what is that brand? The slogan is kind of catchy: "Florida is the perfect climate for business."

But the logo?

That "i" in the "FLORIDA" is a necktie. Yep...a necktie. A NECKTIE!  Clearly this branding/ad agency doesn't have a single woman working in the creative department. And apparently the Governor doesn't think there are any women entrepreneur/business owners. 

I'm sick at home laying in bed watching the news. When I saw the logo on the local news, I sat up and said, "Are you kidding me? What? BusinessMEN only should apply?" 

My husband Jerry (who in his career worn more ties  than he'd care to think about) said "Who wears ties anymore?" 

Judging from the picture above, dopey politicians do.

Almost as important as offending the female side of business, the logo practically screams, "hey, all you techies with the next big Twitter/Facebook/Google thing? the ones whose corporate attire is bluejeans and a tshirt? Don't bother, we want suits...in Florida...where it's hot...and muggy".

The logo is dated, offensive, and out of touch. Is that the image we want spread across the US to attract business? I hope not. What are they thinking? 

What do you think? 

No. 4 of #52Lists: Favorite Smells

Here's my entry today for the 52 List Project started by Pip Lincolne on her blog Meet Me At Mike's (here's a link to her blog).

Smells...they can bring back memories, relax you, excite you, bring a smile to your lips, make you hungry! 

Here's just a few of my favorites.  What are yours?

CHOSEN

          I was twelve and stood in a sky blue coat dress feeling very small among somberly dressed adults at the edge of my father’s open grave. A slim silver crucifix lay on top of the simple oak casket. An only child, I stood with my small hand nestled inside my mother’s. She trembled from the cold wind that blew out of the March sky and the grief that had come from nowhere into her life descending like a twister from a Midwestern sky.

 I felt lonely and afraid yet at the same time comforted by the strength and love that flowed from the family and friends who gathered around my mother and me. These people stood around us like an army ready to do battle in our names. They were the promise that we would survive.  This circle of guardians was a reflection of the life my parents had created for themselves, a life filled with decent, fair-minded people who, just like them, treasured and nurtured true friendship and supportive love.  

 Years before that day at my father’s grave, there was a half-moon high over our rose-colored, one-story tract home.  It was a warm Californian summer night. I smelled orange blossoms from the small grove down the street. mingled with the heady aroma of gardenias from our neighbor’s well-tended yard. 
         I was five years old, small and skinny. Mom and I waited at the side gate while Dad drove the long, pink Oldsmobile into the garage. His teeth flashed white in the dark as he smiled and walked towards us. Mom took my hand in hers. We walked into the backyard and I heard the gate clang shut behind us.  My entire universe was within my sight, my parents, our tidy backyard with the big leafed mulberry tree, the light from the kitchen window, and the brilliant starry sky.

We walked out from under the spreading branches of the mulberry tree.  Mom sat down on the top step leading to the back porch of the house. She gathered me up into her arms and looked up to the sky. “Look at all the stars, Annie,” she said. I obediently looked up at all the twinkles. She continued, “You know, you can make wishes on stars? And sometimes they come true.” I nodded, liking the idea quite a bit. With a bit of a hug and a kiss to my forehead she said, “Your Daddy and I wanted a baby for so long.   We wished and wished for a little girl.  Finally one day, a little star was given to us…you.”

After twelve years of marriage and trying to conceive, they adopted me, a three-day-old baby girl. Mom would tell of crying tears of joy the entire seven miles from hospital to home, saying, “Oh, Jimmy, she is so beautiful.”  When they got to the house, she ran to the bedroom to undress me and to stand arm in arm with my Dad staring at the miracle of a beautiful, naked baby on their bed, their own child. 

 That sense of being chosen shaped much of how have I lived my life. Our close-knit family was comprised of people related by blood and people my parents chose to make family. They knew to nurture all those relationships like prized orchids.  They took nothing and no one for granted. So when I stood next to my father’s grave with  my numb and bewildered mother I was a little less afraid because of the presence of all those that stood with us, stood for us.

My father’s death at age fifty-two following heart surgery was unexpected.  My mother was cast adrift.  She was suddenly without her smiling Jimmy, her anchor, her light-hearted partner.  She was a single mother with only a part-time job and large medical bills. She was faced with sleeping in an empty bed for the first time in twenty-five years.  She was stunned, angry, and afraid.  Our community of family and friends supported us in ways I only fully came to appreciate later as an adult.  They sheltered me from just how badly damaged she was until I was old enough to understand.

 Through gestures and actions both small and large they got my mother through the first couple of years helping her find herself and her direction. She gradually regained her smile and found a new path into the future.

 Our community of loved ones kept laughter in our lives, even at a time when it seemed hard to find something to laugh about. These were conscious, deliberate decisions on the part of our family and friends.  They chose to support us, to remain as close as we would allow, to help us remember the good times, and face the bad times.  

Thirteen years ago, with the support of my adoptive mother, Maxine, I made the decision to search for my birth family.  Unlike some, I was not looking for the “missing piece,” as I have never felt incomplete or discarded.  Rather, it was the simple importance of family connection and community that drove me to search for my birth family at the age of forty-three.

With a few facts my mom remembered of the circumstances of my birth, I found my older half-siblings, a sister and a brother. Despite the passage of years and circumstances surrounding my adoption, our coming together was immediate, intense, and joyous.  There were long late-night phone calls, even longer emails and letters, and the sharing of many photos. 

My birth mother, Betty, was relieved to find out that the daughter she had to give up was safe, loved, and happy. Yet she was not ready to meet me.  I understood. I was content with the relationships that I was building with my siblings and the eight nieces and nephews that I acquired almost overnight. I believed that time would take care of the rest.

Eventually, my birth mother and her second husband made the long emotional journey to my home. We shared many secrets, shed tears together, and began to forge a relationship.  When several years later, I planned a visit to California to visit my adoptive mom, my birth mother emailed me to say she was ready to meet my mother.

A Christmas tree stood in the corner of the common area of the senior apartments where my adoptive mom made her home.  Good King Wenceslas was playing on the stereo system and the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies floated through the air. Mom and I held hands while we sat nervously on the small love seat next to the fireplace.  We saw the car pull into a guest parking space. 

Mom could not wait. She rose with remarkable speed given the arthritis in her knees and walked outside.  I stayed behind a few steps. Betty walked across the small palm-lined parking lot towards my mom, followed by her husband a few paces behind.  Under a big blue Southern Californian sky my two mothers embraced. They stood with their arms around each other looking into each other’s eyes. Betty said in a whisper, “Thank you for taking care of her.”  My mom gently responded with tears on her cheeks, “Thank you for letting me.”

 It was the intersecting of two worlds, two lives, through me. My sense of being chosen was never stronger. I had been, in fact, chosen twice. Once by my adoptive parents when they chose to make a family with me, and now a second time when my birth mother chose to reconnect completely with me,  my mom,  and my family.

The following years brought a sad, slow decline in my adoptive mother’s life as she battled poor health and dementia.  As heart wrenching as it was, she and I never doubted the love and connection we had with one another. Nor did we ever feel abandoned by our pieced-together family that surrounded us. We navigated the unwelcome and uncharted waters of her last few years by the light that shone from the many lanterns lit by our loved ones. 

In her last days in hospice, we were surrounded by pictures of her beloved Jimmy.  I would sit holding her hand like I had so many times before. We listened to the Big Band music of her early days with dad.  Long after she could no longer speak or perhaps hear I would talk of memories, of family, and of friends. At the end, as it had been in life, it was the family we chose to create that gave us the strength and courage to fight the battle and face the unknown.

She died in the middle of the night.  When I left her for the last time, I walked out under a star-filled Florida sky not unlike the one she and I had sat under so many years ago back in California. I remembered how once upon a time she had wished upon the stars for a little girl. Now, it was me looking up to the stars in thanksgiving and grief. It was me wishing on the stars for her safe passage. It was me giving thanks to the stars for choosing to bring us together. As I walked to the car, I knew that family waited for me at home to wrap their arms around my aching heart with love and support. I knew that I would grieve. I would heal. I would grow stronger. I would remember. I would remember that I was chosen.   

3 of #52Lists (Favorite TV Shows from Childhood)

TV Shows I loved from Childhood

What did I forget? (update below)

50s to 60s

Sheriff John’s

Wonderful World of Disney

Bonanza

To Tell the Truth

Many Lives of Dobie Gillis

Ed Sullivan Show

Donna Reed Show

Father Knows Best

Make Room for Daddy

Leave it to Beaver

Seahunt

I Love Lucy

Lassie

Our Miss Brooks

Real McCoys

Red Skelton Hour

60s

Addams Family

Andy Griffith Show

My Three Sons

Flipper

Gidget

The Flying Nun

Gilligan’s Island

Batman

Beverly Hillbillies

Brady Bunch

Green Acres

Here Comes the Brides

I Dream of Jeannie

Patty Duke Show

Petticoat Junction

Dick Van Dyke Show

F Troop

The Flintstones

Hogan’s Heroes

That Girl

The Mod Squad

The Monkees
Rocky, Bullwinkle, and Friends

Update: I got a lot of response from friends on Twitter and Faceback nudging my memory...more favorites include:

What's My Line?
Password (I adored Alan Ludden)
Candid Camera
Spin & Marty
The Mickey Mouse Club
Beanie & Cecil
American Bandstand
Shindig
Ding Dong School
Captain Kangaroo (how did I forget him)
Soupy Sales Show
Laugh In
The Westerns (besides Bonanza already on the list):
     Big Valley
     Rifleman
     Gunsmoke
     Rawhide
     Wagon Train
Topper
Ghost and Mrs Muir
Casper the Friendly Ghost  

First (and Second) List of 52

Today I saw on Twitter that there is a #52lists project going around.  With @meetmeatatmikes as the catalyst, I'm joining in.  A list a week (but I'm behind so here are two). Shared here on my blog and on twitter via @abaesel2.  Join me?

Places I Have Lived

Pico Rivera, CA (the longest place I've ever lived...my first 18 years)
Cypress, CA
Edinburgh, Scotland (summer of 1978)
Irvine, CA (my first place on my own)
Newport Beach, CA for all of about 6 months...great apartment...but I got married and moved to....
Laguna Beach, CA where we lived in 3 different houses on
     Panorama Dr
     Bonn Dr
     Nestall Rd
Maple Valley, Wa (yay, we escaped California)
Issaquah, WA (our beautiful home in the middle of a forest)
Ashland, OR (too short)
Villanova, PA
St Petersburg, FL (the last move)

and on and off in Montreal, Quebec

Jobs: Loosely Defined

Candystriper
Bookkeeping Clerk, Kilsby Tubesupply
Salesperson at Bookstore
Bookkeeping Clerk at Bookstore
Intern, Orange County Office of Consumer Affairs
Staff Researcher, Orange County Office of Consumer Affairs
Bank Teller
Research Assistant at UC Irvine Graduate School of Administration
Planning Intern, City of Irvine
Environmental Planner/Project Manager: LSA Associates
Environmental Planner/Co-Owner: Sanchez Talarico Associates
Environmental Planner/Owner: ASB Planning, Inc.
Mother, Wife, and CFO of the Baesel Family
Board Member and Chair: Issaquah Rivers and Streams Advisory Board
Parent Volunteer at Arbor Montessori School, Clark Elementary, Ashland Middle, Welsh Valley Middle
     School and Harriton High School
Chair, Parent Advisory Committe for annual Career Symposium at Harriton High School
Board Member: Bryn Mawr Newcomers Club
President: Bryn Mawr Newcomers Club
Blogger

Dragonflies: My New Totem

Dragonflies zipped and zoomed across the lawn momentarily halting their race to hover.  What are dragonflies doing when they hover? Are they feeding? Stopping to chat? Surveying the next racing circuit? Whatever they were doing, for me they were like friendly, frantic sentries welcoming me to campus, my campus. My new campus.

I am a college student again.  A college coed? There really should be a word for a coed over 50.  And where did that term come from anyway? Was it for a female student once universities were integrated and allowed women?  What were male students? Boy-eds? How about an experienced coed….perhaps not the connotations I’m looking for. Perhaps, a seasoned coed…good for someone going back to culinary school maybe  Ok…how about just plain student.  A student of learning. A student of life returning to an institution of learning.

I got a rush handling my new Student ID.  The last time I had one would have been in March 1980 when I was graduating from UCI’s School of Adminstration,  32 years ago?  It’s just a  piece of laminated plastic with my smiling happy face.  But it represents a whole new phase of life, a course adjustment, a future.  Funny how such a small, humble thing can represent something so important.

Dragonflies are symbols of good luck and good fortune some say.  So I take it to be auspicious that I walked into my orientation under a canopy of lacy wings. Dragonflies are insects of such grace and beauty in motion but with great power and precision.  On close inspection they are a mixture of beautiful wings and somewhat homely faces  who delight in the air and repose in the sun.  My new totem for my new life. 

A Valentine's Day Proposal: Before Cell Phones

Twenty seven years ago tomorrow my dear husband, Jerry, gave me my engagement ring at a small bistro in Claremont, CA.  It was charming bistro with wood floors, high ceiling, and a good chardonnay on the wine list...and boy did we need that chardonnay.  Because getting to that restaurant  turned out to be quite the adventure.

Jerry and I had pretty much decided on New Year's Eve (at the lovely and romantic Two Bunch Palms in Desert Hot Springs) that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together.  After a bit more soul searching and a little diamond shopping, we decided to make it official on Valentine's Day.

At that time Jerry was working full time for an investment management company in Newport Beach and taught investments part time at the Claremont Business School (about 6o miles inland from NB).  I was a partner in a small environmental consulting firm also in Newport Beach and we had a contract with the Claremont planning department.  Valentine's Day fell on one of Jerry's "teaching nights" and I had business meetings at Claremont city hall that day.

So we decided to have an early bird dinner at this lovely bistro in charming downtown Claremont  before his class. I had one of my employees drop me off at the restaurant where I was to meet Jerry.  And where I proceeded to wait and wait and fume and wait and worry and wait.

This was 28 years ago when cell phones were the size of shoes and hardly anybody had a personal one, I certainly didn't. After asking the hostess, too many times to count if Jerry had called,  I walked a block from the bistro where there was a pay phone and called his office.  They said, "he'd left at 3:00".  That was plenty of time to get to Claremont.  I thought "OK maybe there was a bad accident and he's stuck in traffic".  But I had no way to know because not only is this before the time everyone had a cell phone in their pocket, this was before smart phones and twitter where I could check traffic conditions.  So I waited and waited and waited and paced and waited.

All this time I'm looking for his bright red Porsche 911 (which we still own) which is hard to miss in a small quaint downtown. No bright red car. We've now missed dinner and I'm starting to think maybe it was JERRY that was in a car accident and how would I know.  I called a good friend in Laguna, no, they hadn't heard from him.   And to top everything off, I realize I don't have an easy way home.

So I decide to walk to his classroom.  I figured maybe if he was in an accident he might have called the school from the hospital.  Maybe someone would be at the classroom to tell me what was going on.  So one mile in the dark later I got to his classroom, where I see his students exiting class (when they should have been entering).  For a split moment, I think "oh my god, he WAS in an accident".  And then, I see him.  Relief streamed in, followed quickly by a "What the hell are you doing here? and you better have a really good story mister"

He was equally relieved to see me and yes, he did have a good story.  As he drove from work in Newport Beach to the freeway, his clutch went out....bang....just like that.  So he pulled over to the side of the road, called AAA, and thought "how the hell am I going to reach Annette" (remember no cell phones).  Right about then our friend Susan drove by and saw his car and pulled over.

Jerry quickly brought her up to speed as to his romantic plight and she gamely gave him her green Datsun 240 Z and took over waiting for the AAA.  So Jerry drove up to Claremont only to find I was not at the restaurant.  Of course I wasn't, I was at the damn phone booth calling his office and our friends and watching for him to drive into town on the main road. (although I did eventually go back to the bistro, he was long gone). I was looking for a bright red 911 not a dark green datson 240 z.

So Jerry did the only thing he could do...he went to the classroom and cancelled class because he figured he was going to have to drive all over hell's half acre to find me (with the engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket).   And then, there I was.

The lovely little bistro was fully booked for Valentine's Day.  But in the spirit of the day and our adventure, they  took pity on us and gave us a cozy table and a great Chardonnay.  And so there with a little wine, lot's of relieved laughter, and a beautiful diamond,  the rest of our life began...together.

Happy Engagement Anniversary Honey.

The Komen aftermath: Where Do I go from Here?

Over the past few days , many of us have wallowed in the sh*tstorm that rose up around the Susan G. Komen organization's decision to prohibit Planned Parenthood to apply for future grants and SGK’s uncharacteristic ineptitude in dealing with the uproar that followed. I’ve attempted to figure out exactly what happened and why, how it matters to me, and why I felt so angry and betrayed by an organization to which I’ve given time, energy and money over the past 8 years. So this is what I’ve figured out.

1. The Susan G. Komen organization has the right to decide who and what will get funding based on whatever criteria they choose.

I know, that seems like such an obvious statement. It’s just that I never thought that they would choose to start down a path which is a clear departure from previous policy without being up front about it. I don’t expect them to ask permission, but I do expect them to be honest. They were not. I don’t buy the spin that this isn’t a decision to follow and align themselves more closely with the more conservative right-to-life political and religious groups that have been pressing their agendas for some years now. Besides the Planned Parenthood “change of heart”, SGK (also quietly) has decided to no longer fund any research using embryonic stem cells regardless of its research potential. One has to wonder what other “course corrections” they are considering?

Again, they have the legal right to make these changes to how they spend their funds. But I believe they have the moral and ethical responsibility to tell us, so that we can decide if there is another deserving organization to which we’d prefer to align with.

2. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

I believe the reason that SGK wasn’t upfront and public about these decisions is because they knew that there would be some long time supporters who would not like the decisions and the trajectory the organization now seems to be on. In other words, they’d like to keep us in the dark so we’d still give of our time and money. Or perhaps they naively believed it wouldn’t matter to some of us because the SGK organization is so spectacularly wonderful that we wouldn’t care. But I don’t think they are that naïve.

The only other explanation would be that they acted hastily with arrogance and little forethought, were not given (or did not follow) good PR/Marketing advice, and underestimated the power of media and social media. Given the sophistication of the SGK organization this also seems implausible to me. (and if it’s true this is worrisome on an entirely different level)

3. Trust, once lost, is hard to win back.

Unfortunately, I believe we were lied to, at the least by omission and silence. And I believe that when “caught” the organization including Nancy Brinker attempted to “spin” the problem instead of talking honestly and in detail as to what was actually going on. So now of course I have to ask myself what other half truths am I listening to? I can’t help it. That’s the way lies work: you lie, it’s hard to believe you the next time.

4. Breast Cancer isn’t the only fish in the pond.

I originally got involved with SGK to honor and celebrate the survival of my mother from breast cancer. I do not regret one single moment or dollar I spent involved in five 3-Day walks. I’ve met hundreds of people who enriched my life. I’ve danced and hugged women (and men) of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds who all carried different histories and reasons for being at a 3Day. I’ve put my arms around women and cried…and laughed. And I know that working as support crew I’ve given back to walkers and survivors as they made their own journeys.

But life moves on. My mother who so valiantly conquered breast cancer eventually succumbed to congestive heart failure and Alzheimer’s after a two year battle where dignity and laughter were hard to come by. She suffered from diabetes and ultimately had a stroke that took her life. Suncoast Hospice was a godsend in her last stages of life giving her kindness and easing her (and my) fears of the final steps of her life’s journey. My sister-in-law died before the age of 60 due to complications diabetes and congestive heart failure.
In other words there are other diseases to be conquered, other needs to be met.

5. So where do I go from here?

Perhaps I should be thankful in some way to the revelation of SGK’s astonishing lapse in honesty. It has caused me to look in greater detail at the makeup of their board and other decisions they’ve recently made. I believe that SGK is going down a path they have every right to choose, but I will choose not to follow. I believe that their future choices regarding grant funding will use as a litmus test whether the group or method of research is something that the conservative pro-life groups will support or not. I believe this could ultimately hurt the provision of health care services and perhaps retard the advancement of research in the treatment of the disease. If you are REALLY serious at helping women and finding better treatment and yes, a “cure”, these issues should be left at the doorstep. But I don’t believe they will be.

And I don't believe if I refuse to give SGK my money that I'm "hurting" the breast cancer cause.  They are NOT the only organization dedicated to assisting women battle and survive breast cancer.  They are not the only organziation funding breast cancer research.  They are not even the only organization organzing walks and races in the name of breast cancer.
So I am turning my immediate attention to finding other organizations related to hospice, breast cancer, and women’s heart issues. I’d love to hear from anyone regarding organizations that they believe are worthy of my time and energy. Just don’t try to sell me on Susan G. Komen.

The Jacaranda in January

 Today was a mild, breezy day after a day of hard rain, thunder, and wind.  We needed the rain and the garden was thankful.  So in the sun of this afternoon I took the first 2011 pictures of my tree.  She is multi-trunked and gnarled.  Her green fern like leaves are shiny green after the rain and seed pods stick up like cowlicks. Seedpods litter the sidewalk below as well.  Here are some pics of my Jacaranda on a mild January day in Florida.

 The seed pod is a very hard disc that has lots of little flat seeds inside.

 I think they look like little sting rays in this picture.

My Tree for the Year: Jacaranda

I've joined the Tree Year Community where I have pledged to observe, research, write about, photograph, and live around, under, and with one tree for a year.  I've chosen the big, mature Jacaranda that graces the front of our home in St Petersburg, Florida.  Here it is:

That's the tree on the right of the photo...its sibling is off to the left on the south side of the house.  The tree had a rough couple of years with an extended drought and little irrigation due to a two year construction project involving our home.  But in the last year, selective pruning, a decent amount of rain, a regular watering schedule, and a bit of fertilizing has brought her back to good health.

I grew up in Southern California where the Jacaranda was a popular street year planted in many of the parkways along the growing suburbs of So Cal developed in the 1950s.  I used to love to drive down streets in Whittier filled with huge old Jacarandas vividly purple in spring when they bloomed.  And where the streets had a dusting of lavender from falling petals.  I then spent nearly 20 years away from a "Mediterranean" climate which the Jacaranda so loves.  In moving to Florida last year, I've come back into the climate zone loved by one of my favorite trees.  I look forward to seeing its beauty throughout the year.

A few facts about the Jacaranda:

There are over 50 different types of Jacaranda.  J. mimosifilia is the type most common in Florida and for now I assume is the type I have growing in my front yard.  It will usually bloom twice a year. It likes sandy, well drained soils.It is hardy in zones 9 - 11.  It is usually propagated from seed.  Selected varieties are grafted.

And one lovely legend:

If a jacaranda petal falls on your head, you'll be blessed with good luck.

Why I Love Twitter.

I love Twitter. There I’ve said it. It’s not for everybody. I may be addicted. But I don’t care. I love it anyway. The question is, why? I think there isn’t just one answer to that. But one thing I do know, is that I love feeling connected to a larger world: a world beyond my geographic and experiential boundaries. Maybe it’s similar to the urge I had when I was in junior high to have a pen pal in a foreign country. Only this is immediate and I have many, many “pen pals”.

Take for example @familyonbikes. I started following Nancy and her family over a year ago when they were somewhere in Central America on their bicycling journey from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego. I was attracted to their spirit and sense of adventure. I was fascinated (although not envious) of a family who would set off with twin 10 year old boys and take 3 years to bike the length of the Americas. They have shared their adventure through their blog the entire distance. They are now in Bolivia and I have experienced some small part of their journey every few days through their tweets, photos, and videos. We’ve shared a few laughs via twitter. And many of us have given words of encouragement when the trip was going tougher than expected. And this morning I got up to watch the Vogel family via Skype on @GMA Good Morning America as they were spotlighted on a Family segment. I’m sure many of their followers across the US were doing the same, cheering them on and wishing Tim a Happy Birthday. For about 5 minutes there, the world got very small. (check them out at http://www.familyonbikes.org/)

One of my favorite adventuresome tweeps of all time is @aeevans (formerly @bus2antarctica). I heard about him through a National Geographic tweep @marilyn_res just as he was starting his epic bus trip from Washington DC to the tip of Tierra del Fuego (seems to be a popular route these days). For the 6 weeks or so it took him to travel, I, along with a whole fan club of tweeps, followed his every word as he described his journey through words and photos (he has since published an article in National Geographic Traveler Magazine). He is now off exploring Greenland and again sharing his journey, discoveries, and observations in 140 characters or less. He really is one of the best at creating wonderful word pictures in so short of space. A recent tweet from Greenland:

Everyone smiles here. Everybody waves, even from half a mile away. Out of the emptiness, acknowledgment of another human life

Then there is a new “follow” of mine: @followengine. 28,000 miles, 5 Continents, 26 countries, and 1 Fire Engine: a Charity trek by a young man who lost his father to lung cancer. This will be an epic adventure as he, along with a series of “crews”. will drive the truck around the world raising monies for 3 charities and raising awareness. They have just finished Stage 1 (the Mongol Rally) which ended in Ulaan Bataar and they are now headed to the Chinese Border. Their website maps their GPS coordinates, has a blog, and information about how to donate. Here’s a recent tweet:

It's not often in life you camp in a field and then suddenly a train on the Trans-Siberian Railway rattles past. Glorious!!!!!!

I follow birders and nature lovers across the United States even a woman who used to live on a narrowboat on a canal in the Midlands of England and loves to band birds. I tweet with Tampa and St Pete locals which has enriched my experience of getting settled in a new place. I follow people who are clever with words, talented with a camera, adverturous in spirit. I've reconnected with an old friend from the Pacific Northwest experiencing her through her very clever words. Yes, I follow a few dogs and cats (ones with pretty darned clever owners if you ask me) and even a Canadian squirrel. I follow a British expat who lives in Bali and who Jerry and I met In Real Life (IRL) last year when we visited Bali,  I’ve started searching out interesting Italian tweeps in preparation for my 2011 fall travel plans. I follow bakers, readers, writers, animal lovers, travelers, and food lovers. Basically I follow people with interesting things to say and who are generous in spirit. I can't wait to find out who I meet up with next.