Huxley Had it Right

I was sitting in the outdoor cafe section of the Argo Tea Shop in Chicago last Sunday, the sun warm and bright (at long last), sipping some iced limonello tea and browsing through one of the freebie papers offered at the shop, when I glanced at the horoscope. My friends had left town and my train didn't leave for another few hours. This was what it said for Leo.

"In the 1934 book "Beyond the Mexican Bay," British author Aldous Huxley observed that "the natural rhythm of human life is routine punctuated by orgies." He was using the word "orgies" in its broadest sense - not to refer to wild sex parties, but rather to cathartic eruptions of passion, uninhibited indulgence in revelry and spirited rituals of relief and release. That's the kind of orgy you're due for, Leo. It's high time to punctuate your routine."

I don't know if I'd ever thought of an orgy in these terms, but when you look at it that way, it was precisely what my Chicago weekend was. And, it was very sweet indeed!

I met up with two friends, friends I'd known for several years and "punctuated my routine!"

The comments our families had before we met ranged from "How do you know these people?" to "Mom, it's going to be a 40-year-old man with bodies in the basement."

But I liked Diana's husband's name for us best -- the bloggies.

I was meeting with Diana (aka Oh) of The Writing Life (and for old timers as Oh, Books! Oh Paper! Oh, Life!) and with Kerry (aka Qugrainne and now Kerrylee.org). (And that's the order of us above, with me in the middle!)

We have been following one another's blogs for at least two years, when Becca started "Write on Wednesday" and for all of us, writing and books play a major role in our lives. We also share an artistic streak, appreciating art and creating our own.

What better place to connect, then, than in a city midway that is filled with art, life, beauty and music! (And bustling city streets with traffic! This enthusiastic woman danced on the street, almost as though choreographed!)

We met on Friday and while we'd never set eyes on one another until that day, we felt as though we'd been friends for a very long time. As we walked the city that first day (and we walked a lot!), we talked about writing and books, our families, our career plans, our travels, our lives.

We'd mention fellow bloggers in conversation as though they were neighbors -- "You know, Ruth, don't you?" "Oh, I love her!" "Anno's sure had a lot going on!" "Linda has a good system -- one long post a week." "You read Bella, right?" And when someone said "Do you know Carl?" I knew I was going to come home and check it out.

To kick up your heels and meet up with friends you've never met was interesting -- I've traveled with people I know far better and with whom there have been more travel challenges: "I want to go here" or "I want to go there." Our group all had some similar interests -- we knew the art museum was a must -- and we were all game for anything.

No one was conceding to be polite. We were simply up for it. And if anyone had said, "Gee, I don't think so," we all would have agreed, knowing there were plenty of alternatives.

All of us have a passion for photography so no one was impatient when one stopped for photos -- usually, we'd all pull out our cameras and shoot! (And I confess, I'm excited to see everyone's photos to see how shooting the same images differ!)

In moving along in an unscheduled, unplanned way, we discovered beauty when we least expected it (like this stained glass exhibit at Navy Pier.)

We spent the day doing what we liked with people we liked, whether it was at the museum...

Navy Pier...

The Blues Fest...

Walking the city (with a little shopping and photography thrown in!)

Or simply doing what we did best -- talk, compare notes, share stories, talk about things that made us angry or sad or concerned.

If we wore on each other's nerves, I couldn't tell it. I know no one was on mine, and the only disappointment was saying farewell.

There's more to say, to share and show about this wonderful city -- but I've rattled on long enough. Except to say this...

I think you can tell from reading a blog if a person is a bit of a kindred spirit. We share how we live, our passions, our lives, our talents. We may or may not agree on every topic, yet we can tell when one is being authentic.

I think all of us were curious, but none of us really believed that we'd come to Chicago and encounter a 40-year-old man with bodies in the basement. Or if we did, he wouldn't be one of us!

To connect face-to-face merely adds a third dimension to the person we see in a rectangular format on a screen. Sometimes the warmth leaps off that screen, we might even see a movie so we know what the voice is like. But that third dimension is icing on the cake -- and we all know, frosting is the best part!

Who ARE These People?

I've been MIA a bit for a lot of reasons (work and weekend related). Here's one reason why I didn't post anything this weekend!

Who are these people? Some of you might know!

And, with a little luck, in a day or so, I'll have a post about where we are and why!

Harry Has a Friend

I hope you're not getting too sick of Harry the Heron.

He just stops me in my tracks.

Last week I was coming home from the mall and passed by the ditch, and saw Harry closer than he had ever been.

Of course, I didn't have my camera with me, but that didn't stop me from hurrying home and walking back, hoping he was still there.

He'd moved back a bit, but I still had to try to get better shots than before -- no easy feat with a small hand-held instant digital with a lens that gets shaky on full tilt!

I was nearly ready to leave when I saw something move on the island behind Harry. I was confused -- it wasn't the place a person could easily get to with the swampy water surrounding it, and perhaps even covering part of the land.

Look -- can you see that brown bit?

Look a little closer -- it looks as though Harry has a friend!

These photos are terribly fuzzy -- but as you can see, Harry's friend is a beautiful doe, enjoying happy hour at the shore.

A couple was sitting on a bench, also watching. "She's heavy," the woman said. "I wonder if she's going to have a fawn? I saw one here last year.

You think I'm going back often at twilight?

You think right.

Hi, Lily! Hi-Lo!

us
Rick's Lilies of the Valley come up before mine. There is a different quality of light in his yard. I broadly hinted how nice it would be if he would pick me a bouquet of lilies and surprise me. I did this multiple times. I'm glad I have my own lilies!

This is actually about the time they always used to emerge. When I would go to the cemetery on Memorial Day to plant flowers on my family's graves, I would also pick a few wild Lilies of the Valley from the slope behind their burial spot and place them on my parents', aunts' and uncles' headstones. For a few years that hasn't worked out -- spring was early and by then the lilies were gone.

Tonight (which is last week by the time you are reading this!) I picked a lovely bouquet. As I did, I thought of Vagabonde, whose post about these short-lived gems is HERE and well worth a read. Her photos are lovely, she weaves a magical story and uses wonderful vintage graphics to cap it off. She also reveals how this is a May Day tradition in France, her native country. OK, a month late. C'est la vie!

The act of doing so reminded me of one of the reasons I love blogging. By reading all of your posts -- so varied in style and content -- I learn so very much.

I learn about flowers and decorating and antiquing. I learn about books and about art. I learn about families and love. I get a little history here and there, read some wonderful poetry and learn about all sorts of exotics places -- some of which I would love to visit and some to which I long to return.

Most of all, I get to know you. I get to know what makes you happy or sad. I experience your highs and lows and we share a multitude of feelings. You have often been there for me, and I do my best to be there for you.

So, to you I give a bouquet of Lily of the Valley. They will not last long; their sweet fragrance will fade. But I will eagerly await their return next spring as I spend this year with you.

(NOTE: Now at Chopsticks and String, an artful look at Paris in a wee, delightful book!)

Goodbye for Now

We stood at the counter of a fudge store on Mackinac Island, the fragrance of chocolate and peanut butter swirling around the glass window where it felt warm, the warmth of late summer. My cousin was sending fudge to her son who had just left home for college. When the clerk asked for the address, she burst into tears. Ten years later, that memory is as powerful and sensual as it was that very day.

When Kevin, Rick's youngest, left for college, there was a sad excitement, but not a lot of tears. He was going far from home, but like many teens, his high school years hadn't exactly been those of bonding.

Kevin was a football player and in high school he took on the stereotypical characteristics of the high school football player/popular kid. Our conversations and questions tended to get replies like "whatever," "huh?" and "Why do you want to know?" When he left to take his football scholarship, it wasn't like we were losing our great hang-out pal. Which in some ways, made it sad in its own way.

Two years later, injured and unable to play football, he transferred to MSU and we started to see more of him. I think that time away was good for him. It turned him into an adult. He may have still thought we were nerdy, but at least he was beginning to "get it." And "It" was everything from understanding life as an adult to work ethic to realizing his dad sort of knew something.

No, more than that -- it turned him into a downright terrific young man.

This week Kevin left for a six-month internship in Atlanta. The company he is working for has a reputation for hiring its interns, and he hopes that will be a job option after he finishes his final semester to graduate a year from now.

We'll miss the Kevin he is now. A lot! And we'll miss his girlfriend Molly, who is moving north to continue school at Central Michigan University -- not far, but not "regular."

But I think one of the things we miss most is that because Kevin is a grown up now, he isn't this guy, who wanted a beige stuffed puppy more than he almost express. It was the happiest Christmas gift Rick ever gave him.

We've watched him grow up in every way -- good times and challenging. And we'll miss all of him.

We'll miss this little guy -- enamored by his first fish, both reluctant and relieved to toss him back.

We'll miss this guy -- always first with a joke as he was this day, dining at Frankenmuth, Black Jack gum on his teeth.

We'll miss this one, too -- the kid who volunteered at WKAR's Auction.

And the one who loved Harry Potter.

I'll miss Cookie Boy -- although, some things never change and we'll see Cookie Boy in December. (It's always a little scary how much frosting that kid can put on a cookie!)

We'll miss this one who always wanted to light the candles -- and still does.

And it was nice to have someone who actually wanted to row the boat ashore -- or beg to mow the lawn (I wish I had a photo of that; I wrote a poem about it, as he pushed this mower almost as tall as he was! Even now, he'll work harder than anyone I know to earn some cash!)

We'll miss the vacation we took to North Carolina when he was a kid -- everything was new!

And we'll miss having a taste-tester to check out the gooey string of the roast at Christmas. (Hopefully he'll be back for that one!)

I'll miss his hugs!

And come Father's Day, we won't be able to come up with a 2011 version of this family favorite.

Every now and then there's still a time close to this one -- though now they can't fit on the sofa together! Those talks take place at the kitchen table or on the patio. But they happen and they are good, frequent. Nice.

We know Kevin isn't "rowing" off into the sunset forever, that he'll be back in December for another six months before graduation -- then who knows? This is a practice run for the future. And it both fills us with joy and makes us sad indeed.

Keep in touch, Kev.

We'll miss you. We already do.