Tennis

The Visible Woman...plays.

A friend who is older than I am and still working asked for advice about retiring. I couldn't think of much to say. It really seemed easy to me: don't go to work and do more things you want to do. And...maybe catch up on some chores.

Well, in retirement (I've logged over eleven years now) I have taken time to do things I want to do. And one of those things is tennis. When schedules and weather permit, I get out and play three sets of hit and giggle doubles three times a week, playing a set with each of my friends if there is time. The participants change (and they range in age from 40's to 80's), but all are generally out there for fun. I use a racket that I bought before I retired. (I do buy new tennis shoes every couple of years.) Sometimes we play on clay. Sometimes hard courts. It is fun. It isn't really exercise exactly but it is moving around.

I hope I'm still doing it when I'm 80.

Snail Mail Tradition

The Visible Woman...connects.

It's that time of year when I design a holiday card (or occasionally buy some) and then peruse a Microsoft Access database deciding which of my friends, family and acquaintances will receive a card in the mail. At the moment there are over 600 rows in said database. However, I only had 150 cards printed. I clean up the database this time of year, eliminating the deceased (there are always some of these in the last few years) and also letting go of entries for people I've lost track of---where I haven't had a good address in years. Let's be honest: some people stay in the database just to remind me that once I knew them and perhaps even counted them as friends. Others were placed on the list temporarily and I just couldn't eliminate them for some reasons...like friends of my parents that I'd invited to events for them.

I pick out a set of people I want to communicate with, however impersonally, at least during this once a year flurry of envelopes and stamps. I favor people we've been seeing a lot as well as those who are far away but in our thoughts. I also favor people who send cards themselves. Admittedly there are people we see who aren't in this database. We've just never had occasion to collect a postal address. And there are people I'll probably never see in person again but with whom we faithfully exchange cards.

I rather enjoy sending them and, to be honest, I enjoy receiving the cards from others. Already we've received two from friends and two or three from businesses or non-profits. I even like the long letters surveying a family's year. Often the only decorations in our apartment for the season are a bunch of colorful cardboard designs and glossy pictures of other peoples' kids and dogs.

As the years go by and we communicate less and less by mail I find the ritual feels more and more archaic and strange. Somehow, though, this makes it seem even more important.

A few cards have already arrived.

I Promise to Keep in Touch

Text of an actual postcard sent to us by a friend (RIP Al) twenty-eight years ago. When we did  things like sending picture postcards.

I last posted here in March (a SXSW film wrapup). And before that on January 1st of this year, 2013, which is now hurtling toward a close. But I've been thinking for a while about communicating more. Here in my blog and also directly with friends via the post office, the electronic message and yes, face to face.

In short I've decided to make Visible Woman more Verbose. Not just tweeting and commenting on facebook and posting pictures of Manhattans. (If you are not my facebook friend, I sometimes drink the cocktails named Manhattans and post photos of them. Yeah. Ho. Hum. But a surprising number of people are intrigued by it. There you go.) I've decided to blog old school. So old school that I'l call it an online journal (how quaint).  Instead of just hunting up a photo every day from Austin, I'll create a more organized and coherent communication.

I begin in earnest today trying for a daily post connected to this year's Holidailies (the 14th annual if you can believe it). That January 1 post was, in fact, the last of my efforts in 2012/2013 addition of this blog portal.

In this new stream of blogging I'm going to try to focus each entry on one or more of the following present tenses of verbs: Drinks, Eats, Sits, Walks, Remembers, Connects, Learns, Owns, Does, Draws, Watches, Listens, Believes, Plays and Opines. Other areas may be added. I considered including 'suffers,' for example. It sounds a bit too dramatic, however, in light of the real suffering in the rest of the world. And I'm often a bit reticent about my aches and pains and injuries.

In any case, peek in here in the next few weeks for more of me if you will. And don't be surprised if the (Verbose) Visible Woman does some "sitting, drinking, eating, drinking & drinking" in honor of my dear old friend Al. (See above.)

My SXSW

SXSW has grown to this gigantic amorphous thing that is not the same for any two people. Oh, you discuss other peoples' experiences as these two gents are doing on the escalator at the Convention Center. And you find lots of common ground. You may even find yourself on a wave length that puts you in line next to the same people over and over. But no one person experiences the thing the same way, not even close. Not even if the others are concentrating on the same sorts of things. Not even if you see all the same programs. (Like FFP and I did.)

We bought film badges. Our music experience was limited to the entertainment at the one party we attended (The E Flat Porch Band at the Austin Film Festival alum party at Star Bar) and the bands playing a set at Lenoir's backyard on Sunday so Todd Duplechan could use up the goat he ordered for a SXSW party that canceled.  (Smoked and served with sunflower sprouts, cilantro, etc. in sturdy lettuce leaves.) Oh, maybe he was planning the event anyway but the cabrito was from a canceled party. ("It's SXSW, that's what they do," he said, cheerfully.) Oh, there was music leaking out everywhere...crashing up from the La Zona Rosa and Austin Music Hall and Cedar Street, around every corner from street buskers, out the doors of bars. And we walked by South by San Jose and Guero's on Sunday, hearing a few bars of music. Indeed, there were musicians playing at Ruth's Chris when we sought solace there. They were playing regular weekly gigs, though. Free to attend.

But movies were our concentration and music was a side light although, since it's SXSW, some films were about music and one showing even featured a brief performance.

We bought film badges back in September. They cost $450 each then, the cheapest price. Pretty pricey to stand in long lines and see 20 movie programs and one panel discussion and wander through a trade show. Over 20 dollars an event. We stood in slightly shorter lines for some shows but only because we stood in a long line to get another pass (the SXXpress pass or some such).

The only panel discussion we went to was "A Beginner's Guide to SXSW Film." We weren't beginners but someone we like was on the panel and so we thought, why not? And we heard from director Yen Tan whose movie we later saw ("Pit Stop.") We did learn a little. In any case we knew more than 99% of the volunteers.

So, yes, we saw 20 movie programs. I couldn't name them without a cheat sheet. I'd always forget one or two. But I'm going to round them up with this cheat sheet provided by the SXSW schedule thing. Links may disappear and I plugged in Short Game where we didn't really see it because the link wouldn't work from the one where we saw it (a TBD). If that makes sense. (And it doesn't make much to me now. The SXSW scheduler and app are great except when they are not which is frequently.)

We did not drive our cars to any venue for a SXSW event. We attended movies at all the 'walkable' venues: the Vimeo Theater in the Convention Center, Alamo Ritz, Stateside, the Paramount, Rollins at Long Center, Violet Crown and Topfer at the Zach. There was a little rain at first but mostly the weather and the walking were pleasant. We did not get a single free drink nor any free food. Just the idea of free signals to us crowded and untenable. We ate popcorn and drank sodas and beer and coffee in some of the theaters and we treated ourselves to meals at Bess, Garrido's and Henri's and snacks and meals at Ruth's Chris in the lounge.

We didn't get turned away from any theater but we did give up getting into one movie at the Paramount, now out in general release. The line almost wrapped back from Congress and Eighth to Congress and Seventh. I believe we went to Ruth's Chris and had food and I drank a Manhattan. Below I've collected my thoughts on movies and people and general stuff. These aren't reviews. I'd be a terrible movie reviewer. They are more like 'impressions' and thoughts and likes and dislikes.

Shorts Program 1
Of particular interest was the Kat Chandler short Black Metal. Our friend Kelly Williams was a producer and Kat Chandler wrote and directed. I was very impressed with how much they were able to do with a short to show the multiple sides of a heavy metal artist who is also a husband and father. No preaching, just showing. Another short in this program stood out for me: Natives. I was particularly captivated by the actors playing the parents. Stoic, deadpan, unaffected. This film had at its center a lesbian couple. Gay characters abounded in the offerings, it seemed. Whether this is just a general trend (I tend to think so) or SXSW is trying to gobble up the local GLBT fest is a question I asked myself.

Harry Dean Stanton: Partly Fiction
Harry Dean. And, and Wim Wenders and Kris Kristofferson. David Lynch. Sam Shepard. Clips from movies we all love. Harry Dean doing music and more music. Kris singing. Lovely film that I'll try to watch again someday. Must see for the film buff.

Before You Know It
Aging and its perils have been on my mind for quite a while. Nearing Medicare myself, ushering aging parental units on the long final slog from 2000-2011, watching friends die. P.J. Ravel's focus here is aging people in the GLBT community. He focuses on three men and the people around them. They are quite different people leading disparate lives in different places. I found all the people engaging. Only knock on this one is that it is too long and gets repetitive. One of the ones where you start mentally making the cuts yourself. ("I'd cut the bar's mardi gras footage right here. I'd lose part of this gay wedding. We don't need to see them arguing over that shopping bag.") But great insight into these people and their very real lives. I felt like I knew them and felt for their struggle.

Before Midnight
Richard Linklater, Julie Delphy and Ethan Hawke return to their riff on contact, communication, attraction and chance. Tour de force acting. Just people revealing through talking. Which I love!! Great scenery, too.

When Angels Sing
Turk Pipkin must have always dreamed of turning his little book, a homage to Christmas, into a movie. A movie with deep roots in music and Austin. He did it and we saw it with most of the people in the movie. Marcia Ball, Sarah Hickman, Willie Nelson as Santa. Sappy but fun and good for Turk, living his dreams.

Linsanity
Jeremy Lin says it's all about God. I say it's chance and talent and desire meshing. Still, great doc and the man himself was there. Not a sports fan, really, but enjoyed the film.

Getting Back to Abnormal
Beautifully put together. Telling a pretty big tale of NOLA politics and history, Katrina and the lore of the Crescent City using the seemingly small lens of one city council race. The scope ends up being pretty sweeping and the even-handed way the people and issues are handled sings.

Rewind This
This doc is about video tape, the experience of watching movies and other material in this medium and current collectors of those clunky plastic cassettes. Entertaining and informative in the same way that those TV shows are that are about guys who are antique or toy experts and go around collecting things. It didn't make me sorry I tossed a multiple tape set of "Titantic" but it did make me glad I saved my cassette of "Pink Flamingos" signed by John Waters.

Muscle Shoals
All that music from a litle spot in Alabama called Muscle Shoals? If you wrote this doc as fiction, it would seem fantastical. The Fame Studio and the risen from poverty Rick Hall, backup musicians called the Swampers and their offshoot Muscle Shoals Studio defined the sounds we were weaned on. Most people leave home to make something grand happen. The world came to this spot on the Tennessee River and took the sound away. If you can't enjoy this one, you don't like Blues, Rock 'n Roll or a good tale.

Sofia's Last Ambulance
The grimmest thing I've seen on film in a long time. Follows a ambulance crew in Sofia, Bulgaria with shaky handhelds keeping patients out of the picture. Sometimes you just see a few points of light and hear the dialogue with the patient and those around them while a dog barks mournfully somewhere. Sometimes you are just watching the weary faces of the driver and the crew from a dash cam as they discuss their calls and their lives. In the middle of SXSW where emergency help is only minutes away you watch as the crew struggles with calls that end with decomposing bodies, long frustrating searches for unknown addresses, snarled communication and struggles to keep patients stable over roads that rock the ambulance with deep potholes. Definitely not the place to fall ill on vacation. It's amazing to get this close to people's lives in another place.

Continental
This doc by Malcolm Ingram is astonishing. If only there had been better film shot inside the baths. No, no, not that sort of film. I mean the entertainment that miraculously appeared there. Bette Midler for example. At this movie's center is a man so interesting and complex that his own sexuality is a footnote. Steve Ostrow now teaches in Australia. His operatic voice is still credible. But his Continental Baths in New York City became a beacon that attracted not only gays for sex at a time of barely emerging freedoms but a series of unbelievable musical acts, a famous DJ and many celebrities. It must seem like fiction now to all involved. And more so to us.

William and the Windmill
This is a doc about a young man in Malawi who had to drop out of school during a drought and famine. Hungry for knowledge (and food) he tried to cadge school notes from friends still enrolled and finally resorted to borrowing books from a sad little library. One on energy encouraged him to try building a windmill and he succeeded in doing so. His story gets into the TED vortex and he is mentored by Westerners, eventually co-writing a book, going to a prestiguous PanAfrican prep school and enrolling at Dartmouth. Every moment you feel afraid that someone will take advantage of this bright, lovely young man. Or already has. You were never sure it wasn't already happening. It was a bit hard to figure out at the end of the movie if the story will remain a bright spot among many sad tales of this continent. One hopes so. This won an award and it's indeed a good story but the story drags a little in places and seems mired in waiting for something more to happen.

Pete and Toshi Get a Camera
It's 1963. People (especially free spirits like Pete and Toshi Seeger) did things like this: pack up the whole family and wander around the world. Toshi (mostly) used her 16MM movie camera while their teenage son recorded sound and Pete interacted with musicians: listening, asking questions, playing stuff himself. There are also family shots but this is mostly an amazing trip through our world told through ethnic music and dancing from fifty years ago. The original film and other artifacts are now in the Library of Congress, I believe. William Eigen has done a magnificent job of using these materials and modern day interviews to pull together this adventure into an amazing film. Makes one so glad that Pete's conviction for refusing to testify for Joe McCarthy was overturned and his passport returned.

Pit Stop
A friend is a producer. The blurb said 'small Texas town' and 'gay.' How could we not go? (Sorry for that LGBT fest, whatever it's called now, but your mission is compromised.) Very polished, sophisticated, great character development and...John Merriman...Austin's favorite character actor, playing straight and nerdy as only he can do.

Brothers Hypnotic
A father wants a band so he has lots of kids and teaches them music. A bunch of sons (one is not actually his child, three mothers involved) start a brass band called Brothers Hypnotic and take it all over. They do what they have to do. They don't sell out. Still...it's not how Pop thought it would be. Really quite fun and very interesting people.

Hawking
A brief history of the man who brought us the brief history of time. An interesting tale, narration by Stephen Hawking in his well-known computer voice. The movie is straightforward and revealing and the reenactment was not too sappy. (Even Stephen comments on how strange it was to see himself portrayed by an actor.) Hawking wasn't there but Stephen Finnigan, the filmmaker, took some photos and a video of the audience to share with him.

Loves Her Gun
How do we react when our feelings of safety are shattered? Is everyone who might protect us and comfort us merely in it for something for themselves? We end up with an ambiguous yet satisfying ending with none of the questions really answered. John Merriman, Austin's busiest character actor, plays against type and does so excellently. The lead (played by Trieste Kelly Dunn) is very good. The film borders on mumblecore (whatever that is, I've never really figured it out) but maintains too much story drive and character development to fall into that trap. (Although there are plenty of party and bar scenes with that usual vibe.) Great indie effort. We had to see this one because the writers are Laura Modery (who waited on us at Foreign and Domestic and used to write for the local Culture Map) and Geoff Marslett (who may have many credits but is most famous to me for starring in what is possibly the funniest 'bumper' (pre show short short for the fest offerings) of all time.

Twenty Feet from Stardom
I learned that my husband of many decades always wanted to be a backup singer. Really? This great film followed many of them (who are mostly, but not all, women). Darlene Love and Judith Hall performed live afterward. A real treat.

Good Ol' Freda
Some gals are just good ol' girls. They don't use their serendipitous position as the secretary for wildly successful musicians for evil. They do the drudgery and then, when the Beatles split up, they just go on, being a mother and a secretary in less of a limelight. That is the story of Freda Kelly and it seems to be a fantasy. Even to her, now, as she goes through a few boxes in the attic and reminisces. She swears that she won't do it again after this. A wonderful film. We saw the last showing and therefore, I'm told, missed seeing Freda here.  A very unique perspective on the story of the Beatles and their ten years together that we've been told so many times before.

The Short Game
This documentary follows a group of very small golfers (6-to-8-year-old kids) through the paces of preparing for and playing in a world championship. This effort took the filmmakers all over the world and was incredibly involved but it is a stunning film. It won an audience award for documentary films and was thus being shown in a bonus showing when we saw it. I would have definitely given it a high score.

People at the Fest

It seems we were constantly having long discussions with people in line (after all there was almost as much line time as movie time).  These are precious to us when they turn out to be engaging people. This is where we've met some great people who have become life-long friends or just acquaintances that enriched our understanding of life a bit.

We met a gal who makes short documentaries for a Whole Foods sponsored WEB site.

There was a guy and gal from Poland who were couch surfing and attending the film fest. They were translators for a Polish film fest. They had flown to San Francisco then Austin and planned to rent a car and drive back to SF, seeing sights along the way. Someone had said they should to go to Marfa. I didn't encourage it.

A photographer we met on line for the biopic "Senna" last year explained a lot of F1 stuff to us. (Because he's an F1 fan.) We greeted each other like old friends when we saw each other this year. I've been following his exploits on twitter all year. He enjoyed the race, he said, and we told him we watched it on Speed TV which we only discovered we had on our cable that day. He said it's moving to a network, NBC I think.

An older couple (even older than us?) who live in the Monarch three months a year (or was it six?) and were taking their first whack at SXSW.

Many leading citizens such as Tom and Lynn Meredith and Deborah Green. Of course, those film-involved like Turk Pipkin and the many people in his movie like musicians Sarah Hickman and Marcia Ball.

We always visit a bit with Jette Kernion, of Slackerwood fame. She knows were to find us in the Paramount since we always gravitate to the same two seats. (We have now chosen two seats as permanently ours in the Topfer, too, so if we go to SXSW film again and if they use the venue we will become predictable there. The seats bear the names of some friends and are, indeed, their seats for Zach events.)

We saw Ruth Pennebaker a few times, once with her husband James Pennebaker. They are local treasures: authors and doers. We saw Jim Ritts, the ED of the Paramount and State, enjoying a few showings himself and Stephen Janisse who directs the film programming at Paramount and State, fussing about the venue as well. Ruth wrote this brilliant blog entry about her SXSW which makes me wince at my own and wish I could write like that. (Or knew that much trivia!)

We saw our friend and Austin's favorite waiter (although he's been unemployed for a year while Jeffrey's is renovated) Johnny Guffey at the showing of Before You Know It.

Of course, we saw other people involved with movies we saw: John Merriman, Kelly Williams, and Geoff Marslett and Lauren Modery.

We saw a lot of people who thought a lot of themselves, too. People with Platinum badges (access to film, interactive and music) who thought they should go to the front of lines. People who simply jumped the lines. (I'm looking at you fellow from Irving Texas.) We saw lots of interesting people on the street and very fantastical tattoos and fashion especially once music started. One homeless guy sang some songs for $1 donations. (FFP 'bought the movie rights' and made a video of him for $5.) One volunteer took her duties so seriously ("stand on this line" "you must curve around this way") that it must have been exhausting. She handed out queue passes in a line that couldn't have had twenty-five people for a 400 seat venue. Other volunteers were simply clueless. FFP encountered some who would minutes later be trying to set up intricate lines for Paramount and State who didn't know where the theaters were! (He'd gone for coffee for me and had to give directions from a block or less away.) Some volunteers were so busy discussing where to go with the free badges they'd 'earned' that we were answering questions about those intricate lines.

The Trade Show

We walked through once, but somewhat carefully. We didn't understand a lot of the stuff on display. We encountered a gal in the Duracell booth who was a fantastic salesperson. She was peddling power mats and these little gadgets to hold a charge for your phone. (We bought two of the latter.) We asked her if she sold all the time. Nope. She was just a temp they hired and was in nursing school. She has a great future getting patients to take their meds and get out of bed after their operations. We also picked up some tourist info about Montreal. Need to go there.

The Bottom Line

Was it worth our money and time investment? Hard to say. But we did see a number of films we might have otherwise missed forever and we enjoyed walking around ATX in the nice weather.

We took off one evening to see the staged reading of a friend's play. A welcome break and what fun seeing it come to life with a bunch of our friends.

It's entertaining to see these people from all over the world. It is good to force yourself into a different routine without leaving town. I only drove my car and played tennis once during the fest. FFP drove only to get to the play venue, I think. We caught a ride in one of the Chevy rides they give to advertise their cars.

Will we do it again? At the beginning of the fest I would probably have said  'no' but now that it's over and I'm sort of recovered? Probably.

Follow the Rules!

Whoa! I was just looking at Holidailies and wait, wait...am I supposed to post 32 times??

I'm such a rule follower. I feel compelled to post with another 'stolen' shop window reflection image and tell you that I ate like a queen last night. (And drank like one, too.)

For NYE we got dressed up a little after eight, walked a few blocks, and went to a secluded romantic dining room. (Jezebel, tucked away inside the Bar Mirabeau on Sixth Street.) After eating and drinking some great adult beverages, we walked back to the apartment in the rain. Rain! We needed it. We had our umbrellas. Young people stood in lines to get in various venues, most without umbrellas. Safely home, we dosed through midnight and I was rudely awakened by someone setting off (illegally) fireworks nearby later.

Yesterday was a day of feeling closed in by life's circumstances. News of a cousin's husband's death reached me. The phone discussions with other relatives brought other tales of time catching up to all. I worked through some of the end of year and end of quarter and end of month duties including getting two forms with checks ready to mail to the IRS. I worked on other preparation for tax time as did Forrest. There is a feeling with me on New Year's Eve not of a new start the next day but of having run out of time in the year.

Today we stayed abed rather late. Although holidays are not that different than other days for us since we retired we sometimes adopt the attitude of the rest of the world and sleep in a bit and lounge around in our sweats until noon. (OK, we do this on workdays occasionally, too.) I ate so much last night I thought I'd never eat again but I did indeed, consuming a bowl of black-eyed peas and some cheese and crackers.

We watched part of the Rose Bowl Parade. I worked the NY Times puzzles. The crossword was in honor of the Emancipation Proclamation but also managed to include the word 'dementia' which struck me as funny because every time I complete a puzzle I'm doing a little brain dance to prove that I haven't succumbed to it.

We were invited to an open house last night which we didn't make because of some of the above phone calls and the dismal weather and the fact that we'd have to drive there (but could walk to dinner later). We were invited to one today, too, and we made this one, toting a bottle of wine for the party-giver.

It was an Open House and we were on the early end of it. We talked and got a got tour of the guy's place in another downtown condo building. We'd never been in these, and enjoyed another perspective. He had all kinds of food that he was pulling out: shrimp in cocktail sauce, sausage balls, cheese, ham, black-eyed pea salad and cornbread. A few more people came. When we finally left I'd had a tour of the art on the walls, we'd had a lot of linking discussions. I'd eaten too much and had a little wine. We walked to Book People which was crowded with people taking advantage of their big 20% off sale. But we didn't buy anything. Too many books at home that need reading. I'm still reading the one I got for Christmas and I'm still reading a book I bought in Sag Harbor in the summer. (I've been reading it by the bedside, a few pages at a time.) There are piles more I need to read.

So we are home getting ready for an evening in front of the TV. Drinking coffee. Watching DVDs instead of football. I haven't done anything real useful today. But. It's a holiday.

So, now...this is really the end of Holidailies, right? Bye for now.

Out without a Bang

It's over. The year. The 2012 Holidailies.

It should be a time of new beginnings. Of new resolutions and resoluteness.

For me it seems to be more like a rehashing. The papers are full of recaps of 2012. My 'to do' list is a series of 2012 things: this tax return schedule, that quarterly payment. Starting fresh seems impossible faced with these things.

I could resolve to handle such things better in 2013. But, the fact is, given the available information and my advancing age, I did all right. I guess.

In the past I made resolutions about exercise, diet, organization, money, writing, reading, volunteering, friendships, time management as well as strange and obscure ones about riding the bus or learning to play Bridge.

It bores me to think about it.

I don't want to resolve to write here every day. (I'd probably blow that one tomorrow.) I don't want to resolve to keep up my other blog (Austin, TX Daily Photo) that I have faithfully executed for over five years. I might just end that one, too. I certainly don't want to resolve to keep up on facebook, twitter, Pinterest, Google Plus or any other social media.

So I think this will be it.

I resolve to live fully in the moment at hand as best I can and to do things a little differently every day to shake things up. 

Meanwhile there is a long list of those 'to do' things I can't avoid. So I'll just do some of them.

It's been fun with Holidailies, really, with an outside 'force' making me write something. I also took time to read samples from other blogs. That was good. Thanks to Chip and Jette and the reader's panel for the work. Goodbye to all that for at least a year and to 2012.

Where's this Conversation Going?

The photo was taken in July. Shorts weather. Blackmail shop window, I think on South Congress. But that's not where I'm going today.

I had brunch with four girlfriends.

The conversation began while we were waiting for our table. I said to one friend: "Is that a new muffler?" She had a pretty scarf on, but she asserted that she'd had it a long time. She said, "You know you have stuff and sometimes you don't take it out of the box...."

I mentioned that I had a muffler I bought in Germany in 1972. It always amazed me that I'd never lost it. Then I said that I still had a lap blanket I bought on that trip...a souvenir from the already over Olympics in Munich. Another friend said I should find out if it was worth anything. This segued into researching values on eBay and the Internet and how "Antiques Roadshow" folks seemed so naive about what they had.

One friend told the story of a friend's family who found, after the patriarch died, a book by Winston Churchill that was signed. Which transported her to other stories about that family including a show at the Paramount where they had front row seats. Which led me to say I preferred row T there. And caused her to say what her niece, the opera singer, said about the best seats in a hall. Which led another friend to say that she had seen a performance of a choir in Paris that she knew said niece had sometimes performed with. And she was surprised that she was, indeed, there. Which led to a description of poor accommodations on that trip. A room that smelled of smoke. And a discussion of smoking regulation and anecdotes about same.

And we hadn't even sat down. Sitting down we covered more ground. Banks, online banking, driving on ice and snow, finding old letters.

Outside, as we were leaving, we recounted all the houses and apartments one gal has lived in, all in the Austin area. None of us, not even she, could quickly summarize.

And so it goes. A conversational flow.

This is the penultimate day of Holidailies. It's been fun, I suppose but I think I will welcome 2013 with a little more silence online. Or not. At least I met this simple challenge: type something here every day. And the conversation sort of flowed at times....

Hat For Every Head

I've been goofing off, reading in my easy chair and pretending to care about football, and in the back of my mind trying to think what to write in this space for the 29th day of Holidailies.

We got two holiday cards today. One from someone who is the child of college friends of mine who sends pictures of her husband and young child and who lives maybe five miles away. Another from a proud grandfather, mailed from Seattle where he's helping with his daughter's new twins, a continent away from his own home. I hadn't sent either a card. I will now, though, to complete the loop. (Besides I have a box full still unused.)

Earlier I was sifting through social media, thinking about people and their posts of children and snow and their comments about things received and places visited and new babies.

And I decided to say: any kind of communication works for me. Whatever the frequency or form. It's good to reach out.

I've had two Manhattans and I really have nothing else to say except keep writing and talking and blogging and tweeting, snapping pictures and sending missives far and wide. Emails, snail mails, blasts to all your 'friends.' Whatever. Just keep talking.

We have to keep up the chatter.

[Photo taken at a wonderful hat store, a venerable brand but new to Austin.]

Less is More

Now comes that time of the year, that last few days on the calendar, when people start to say "Well, that's over. Next year will be better."

And they start wrapping things up. Lists of best books, movies, moments, achievements, news stories, the departed.

And they start making resolutions.

Oh, I've done it.

But this year I have resolved that, if I resolve for 2013 at all, I'd make one and only one declaration. And one terse enough to tweet.

I've had lots of ideas.

• Try to say no more than is absolutely necessary for communication and conversation.

• Give yourself a break. Every single day.

• Write down what you eat, drink and do so you can figure out what works. But assume most things are coincidence.

• Embrace complexity.

• Learn one thing every day.

I've made long boring lists before. I've even made myself assess progress against them. But I just can't do it. Maybe I'll revisit those old efforts in the waning days of this Holidailies exercise. Just to fill the space and convince myself of past futility. Because, after all, I did resolve to write something for every day of this December. But a brief foray into that old stuff would "bore me terrifically" I'm afraid.

[Note on the picture: One more self-portrait as a vague shadow. There's a theme there somewhere. Taken at one of the household shops on North Lamar.]

Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

It is not that I never accomplish anything. Slowly, slowly I get things done.

When we aren't out of town I make a little progress managing our financial life every day. I'll pay a bill, record stuff on spreadsheets and Quickbooks, balance with the banks, verify credit card bills.

I move stuff around. I almost never leave a room without picking up shoes, a cup, a glass, something that belongs somewhere else.

And I clean. Why just the other day I cleaned off the stove top. We keep our main pots and pans there and we don't cook much. The lids get dusty or spotted with stuff from the one burner we use. I cleaned everything thoroughly including the stove top itself with the special cleaner. For a bonus I scrubbed out the microwave, cleaned the door and washed the gclass turn table. This took longer than it should.

Today I almost cleaned the master bath. I did everything but use glass cleaner on the shower enclosure and rinse out the tub we never use. (Like the stove top it gets dusty!) This took longer than it should.

I move forward but my pace is just slow. Also I have to claim as accomplishments taking a walk or meeting up with friends.

I even seem to read more slowly than ever, not getting through the papers until late in the day and slowly plowing through my books.

Ah, well. Tomorrow I'm going to accomplish one cleaning task while FFP goes for a massage. And I'm going to 'waste' time reading or working puzzles or taking a walk or going to the gym. After all, I'm retired.

Seasons Greetings, Postal Division

I almost never opt out of the mailing of physical missives to people during the holidays. I think I did in 2010, an odd and distressing fall just didn't give me an opening for such things. 

I'm not religious. I've come to think of the New Year coming along as just a more intense month and quarter end for taxes and forms and such.

 But I do think it's a great thing to trot out our list and send something physical to people. See if the thing gets returned by the P.O. and you've lost track of someone. (This happened once this year so far but the address was perfect. Resent and it didn't come back.) Maybe include a little note for people that you infrequently (or never) connect with via email or social media or, whoa, 'in person.' 

This year I took a professional shot I'd purchased from a photographer with us and our building and some of the other skyline behind us, had Snapfish print it with "Season's Greetings from our backyard. Forrest and Linda." I ordered a couple of hundred, with envelopes. As of today (the day after Christmas) I have prepared  89 cards. Some I sent after receiving one from another party. Some I sent one day and, in a sort of mind meld, got one from those folks the next day. I have received, as of Christmas Eve, 57 cards for people and 15 from organizations or businesses. 

I used various 'forever' stamps with patriotic images but a lot of people used Christmas stamps.

Of course, we received cartoon animals (always at least one cat). We got various sort of not really holiday cards with swan or boat or deco design or reference to Mayan Apocalypse.

And we got our share of traditional themes and even some religious ones.

There were plenty of personalized ones with pictures of people with their kids or just pictures of the kids, some with elaborate multi-picture chronicles. Some included pets or obvious future children in baby bumps.

And a couple were just pix of the dog part of the family.

A number included elaborate recounting of 2012, often illustrated. I managed to read most of these to be end.

I'm sure we will receive a few more in the coming week. And I'll mail a few more, too. And then I'll start to wonder if I should do it next year. I've thought of saving the ones I received and making collages on blank cards next year. Or going back to a really mechanized approach with no hand-written notes, pre-printed labels, rubber stamped return addresses. This year I hand-addressed them and hand-wrote the return addresses. I used (and verified and corrected entries in) a database with 626 entries some of whom I'd never send a card to and a few of whom I don't remember who they are. I usually have to delete a few entries (or remove one name) this time of year to acknowledge deaths. Haven't had any break-ups (that I know of) lately but that happens, too.
It seems to be a lot of wasted effort in this era of electronic things, but still I go on and so do many others. For me, it's always a diminishing return in shear numbers (I send more than I receive) but there is a positive psychic return. And in the 'you just never know category' someone I once exchanged cards with but who is now just a facebook acquaintance from the past, found one of our cards from 28 years ago and published it on my timeline. So, I leave you, dear readers with this old sentiment from a time when these dogs were alive and we wore strange glasses: "Have a Warm and Cuddly 2013!"

Christmas Morning, Enjoying the Time

When I was a kid, we'd bound up on Christmas morning and see what Santa left (these gifts were never wrapped) and see if there was anything in our stocking cooler than fruit and nuts. Then we'd play with our toys and maybe go to our grandmother's for the meal and 'the tree' (where you unwrapped gifts that weren't from Santa but from your family but could sometimes, if you were very lucky, include something besides clothes). We often had a lot of time to wait for the 'tree' because we'd wait for Dad to be there and he often took a shift at the V.A. hospital where he was an attendant. Extra pay on holidays. Or he'd be doing some farm chore that didn't respect the holiday. Finally we'd rip into the gifts, sometimes all at once, sometimes having everyone wait patiently while we unwrapped in order, usually youngest to oldest. Sometimes the opposite, though. Often the little kids would pass the packages around making a pile for each person.

When all was said and done, you'd have a bunch of presents. You'd have a trash can full of ripped paper, ribbon and tape. (Or some relative would be trying to preserve it for recycling.) You'd have eaten the traditional meal. My favorites were homemade rolls, homemade dressing and giblet gravy and homemade cinnamon rolls, maybe some cherry pie. Turkey was an after thought to me. I just had a little piece to enable some more gravy. We might be enlisted to set the table, to clear it, to help wash and dry dishes. Finally we'd get some time with our presents. You might start to read a book, enlist someone to play your new game or assemble or play with your new toy. Usually something would break or disappoint in some way by day's end. You might even end up getting out some old favorite thing (Monopoly or a toy you were really too old for) and engaging with it.

There was a not real pleasant denouement until you settled in with your new stuff and then you spent the rest of your vacation just glad not to be in school.

Today we got up at our usual time (some time between 7 and 8 although FFP usually rises early to take some pills and then returns to bed).

We exchanged gifts yesterday morning so there were no gifts. FFP had his usual oatmeal breakfast. I don't do breakfast but had several cups of coffee. We ate out the last couple of days and when I got hungry I reheated leftovers brought home from restaurants and had that. So did FFP.

I worked the NY Times crossword and Ken-Ken. Easy today because it's Tuesday and I always enjoy the ones I can do. A bit of a Christmas present by Christmas being a Tuesday. Crossword theme was 'Secret Santa' with that in circled cells strewn through longer clues.

We watched some episodes from the first season of the "Sopranos." (Not a very merry activity! But enlightening.) We got the disks at a going out of business sale for a music and video store (Cheapo Discs) yesterday.

I read some of the Arts section of my NY Times. I made a call to Colorado, timed to be able to talk to all of the relatives gathering for a second Christmas gift exchange. The chaos on the line reminded me of those Christmases of old as described above.

But I enjoy Christmas this way. Time to read the paper, work puzzles, play a game of Scrabble against myself on the iPhone and to write a blog entry. Maybe before we go out to a late afternoon rendezvous I'll have a nap. This peaceful gift of time is a wonderful thing. I have plenty of toys and books. Just need to take time to enjoy them.

Joy

Sometimes it's the simplest things. I'm giving myself a break from cares for the day.

We exchanged gifts. FFP gave me a book. ("My Bookstore: Writers Celebrate Their Favorite Places to Browse, Read, and Shop."). I gave him a stud and cuff link set. He also got me my favorite bath product earlier and I 'let' him buy a driving cap and fedora.

We shopped a used video and music store that's going out of business. (Cheapo Disks.) Bought some weird movies and old TV for next to nothing.

We ate at a new, fancy oyster bar. Some raw oysters and some delicious chowder.

I could be doing financial stuff or cleaning. But I'm going to read and watch videos or TV and drink coffee.

Later we will meet four friends at Ruth's Chris for Christmas Eve dinner.

Joy.

Presents

This graffiti is in South Austin. On Monroe I think. The streets really are full of presents for me. When I'm not depressed and I walk: every twig and feather, every piece of trash, every person and what they are wearing, every house, every car, every dog, every sign seems interesting. When I am depressed these same things don't seem interesting but they do distract me from my depression.

Today I was not depressed. Life seemed full of possibilities and new things to be conquered. When I'm not depressed, that's how it is. The NY Times Magazine crossword was easy. With help from FFP I finished it. Completely. No cheating. I enjoyed it. I learned a new word. Lanose if you must know. I told FFP that the blogs would rate it easy. They did. I don't care. I finished. I enjoyed.

We ate at a new place. Lucky Robot. Food was fine. You ordered and paid with an electronic gizmo on your table. The waitress was nice.

FFP shopped for hats. I was patient.

We went to Armadillo Christmas which was overcrowded. We heard music from afar. (Carolyn Wonderland.) Our friends wanted to leave and go to Threadgill's. No arguments from us. We had some drinks and food. We talked of many things. Memory and its fickle workings, the old Armadillo piano that's been brought back to Threadgill's, fine dining in NYC, couples' secret languages, books.

We came home to an evening of reading and TV. I tramped around a lot south of the river today. The streets really were full of presents for me in my current mental state. And so it goes.

A Mere Reflection of Cheer

After two Blood Marys and much chatter at the Headliners mid-day Christmas party yesterday I snapped this picture in the foyer mirror while FFP ushered some people into the elevator as we were leaving. Yes I have on a red blazer. It is twenty (or thirty?) years old. I liked the bright red ball display in the foyer. The decoration here at our house is still confined to one little bendable Santa perched among the holiday cards we've received.

We went to another party last night. It didn't make me more cheerful although there were gas log fires, many stockings hung by the chimneys with care, an enormous live tree and Christmas music and people sporting the most outrageous Christmas sweaters.

It's not that I'm not cheerful. I'm just not especially cheerful. The season is not pumping me up.

The highlight of my day yesterday might have been an e-mail I noticed on my iPhone on the way to that second party notifying me that this entry was selected as a"Best of Holidailies "by a distinguished panel of readers" that  "has been reviewing all entries posted to the Holidailies portal."

As you may know, dear reader, I've been posting every day because the Holidailies portal was set up this year to urge participants to do so. My friends Chip and Jette are behind this activity. They are assisted by the panel of readers. There are 97 full-blown participants (registering each post with the portal) and there are more who just registered a link to their journal, er blog. I thought writing in this blog form (know as online journal or diary in the olden days of the Internet) would be good for me. A gift for myself if not for the readers.

But it's not a contest, right? It's not about seeing a number by your name that is close to the number of days of Holidailies. It's not about getting a 'best of.' No. No. It's about writing. Pixels to screen. Words. Sentences. Paragraphs. Leading to the people reading and getting some value perhaps. Or leading to self knowledge. It's about editing a picture for each day and wondering why you like the distance and opacity of reflection pictures so much.

Still... acknowledgement cheers me a little. Someone read about the great gifts my parents (well, Mom mostly) gave me. They thought about it. And said, "Hmmm. Interesting. Good even. Maybe 'Best of'."

And so I add the 22nd entry in this Holidailies. There it is: "Welcome to Day 22 of Holidailies" and by my name as soon as I register it the number 22. One of thousands of this antiquated thing called an online journal entry.

The Weather Outside...

Well it's not that frightful. This is a window at the local Brooks Brothers store, I think, shot back in November. In any case, we did get some cool weather although last night I walked several miles with just a sweater and leather jacket and a muffler. It wasn't windy and didn't feel that cold. And, of course, no snow.

We are going to a 'bad Christmas sweater and karaoke' party tonight. I don't have a bad sweater. I'll wear some funny pins if I can find them. I will not sing. Even if they do mean for the karaoke to be bad as well.

I bought two bottles of champagne and two of Rye whiskey today. They are just 'thank you' gifts for hosts and some other folks. I wouldn't call them Christmas presents. I may try to sneak out for a surprise for FFP tomorrow. Or not.

Some would say I'm not 'in the spirit.' But I've been having the spirits. I had two Bloody Marys at lunch. I had two really nice glasses of wine last night. It's possible I will drink every day right through and including Christmas.

At least I haven't said Bah Humbug. Until now. I just did.

But, no. Really. It's fine. Let's celebrate. And rejoice. And such. Or, you do it and I'll toast you for it.

Booked Solid, Dressed Comfortably

I don't have a little black dress. (The picture is a detail from the Blackmail shop window shown yesterday and that is a reflection of me with a short-sleeved polo less than a week ago, jacket tied around my waist.)

It's colder today, in the mid-forties. I'm played tennis. With old sweats and a Polartec jacket over my shorts and polo. Then I have a late lunch/walk/talk with a friend. (We do it about once a month.) We usually dress casually regardless of the lunch spot because we usually walk a bit, too. So jeans, jacket, hiking boots today.

Later FFP and I will walk over to see the enormous light display at Zilker Park. It's called the "Trail of Lights." We used to call it the "Trial of Lights" for the traffic it caused. But a guy who used to work for us and whom we love dearly worked on it and so we are more benevolent about it. So we will walk over there and see that. And then we'll walk to a restaurant and meet a friend for wine and dinner. I'll probably go with black jeans, a sweater, a blazer and hiking boots. Because we'll walk four miles at least to do all that. The restaurant is nice, but casual. Wink on Lamar.

Tomorrow (which some are touting as EOW) we have a party in the middle of the day at a downtown private club we belong to. That will require a nice pair of slacks and jacket and maybe some jewelry and dress shoes. But the place is less than a mile away and all my shoes are flats or loafers. In the evening we are driving to a bad Christmas sweater and karaoke party. I don't have a bad sweater but I have some silly Christmas pins I'll wear on my decades-old red blazer. I don't sing. FFP might. He will not drink. Because he's driving. The noon party has free Bloody Marys. I usually make an exception to my no drinking before five for this occasion. I don't know, though, I might not drink at the evening party.

But I digress from dress to drinking.

Saturday brings a party. I could walk there but the streets around there are dark and scary (for falling more than anything). FFP will drop me off. I'll wear a read sweater or blazer. Black slacks probably. FFP will do some duty at Ballet Austin's "Nutcracker" and return to the party.

Sunday we will loll around in sweats or take a walk in jeans. In the afternoon we will catch a musical act at the Armadillo and eat at a casual place nearby. Jeans, hiking boots, sweater?

Monday is Christmas Eve. We'll probably walk and then go to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse in the evening for dinner with four friends. I will dress up as in: nice slacks, nice blouse, jacket, dress shoes. Sweater or muffler if it's cold. Less than a mile to Ruth's Chris. We will walk.

Christmas Day will be lazy. Football? Walk. We will meet friends at a 24 hour diner (called 24) at 4PM for a Christmas dinner. Casual, I think. Black jeans, sweater.

Yep...I'm booked solid. But I haven't had a need for a little black dress. Oh we did our version of black tie last Saturday. I wore tuxedo pants, some great Cole Haan tuxedo flats and a top and jacket with a bit of sparkle bough at a Chico's sale.

And so it will go. Another holiday without a little black dress.

Exploring the Neighborhood

The wonderful Gail Chovan, designer and owner of the South Congress shop called Blackmail, does some fabulous windows. This Christmas it has a black tree and across the panes it says 'I see a green tree and I want it painted black...

I love shooting interesting shop windows reflecting the street scene and, of course, us in our walking garb.

One of the joys of walking SoCo are the wonderful shop windows and the variety of people there. You not only get a little validation for your odd feeling about the holiday from Blackmail's window but you can ponder who might like to receive a silver head for Christmas as you check the windows at Tesoros Trading.

And you can go inside Uncommon Objects and imagine who'd rather have a hand or two.

Yep it's definitely weird shopping. You can find some great stuff, though. I love going through the old postcards and photos and seeing toys I had as a kid fetching big prices at Uncommon Objects. (They say not to take pictures, but I do anyway. So sue me.)

I have this idea that I will carefully explore all the places within two miles of our house. That I'll explore the shops and restaurants and hotels and sidewalks and shortcuts and construction. That I'll visit the museums when they have new shows and catch performances at the theaters. And note the interesting houses and yards and yard art. There is too much to really keep up with, of course, within two miles of my house. Within walking distance. That amazes me.

Uncommon Presents

I haven't purchased a single Christmas present. Oh I sent some fairly large checks to Colorado for my sister and brother-in-law and their kids and kids' families to spend on Christmas and December birthdays. And I did buy a bottle of Rosé Champagne for a friend's birthday. But not one present purchased for Christmas and wrapped in red and green or stuck in a Santa gift bag.

I used to buy some small things for some friends, but they've agreed to call a halt to it. When we still had parents alive we'd come up with something for them to unwrap. I usually come up with a wrapped gift (if not a surprise) for Forrest.

This year: nada.

I mean, some years I probably bought scores of gifts. I'd give little goofy presents at work. I bought presents for all my cousins' kids one year, I think. I bought people gadgets and plates and socks and small leather goods and glassware and stationery. I bought people books and journals. I bought calendars for people's special interests. I purchased much gift booze. For several years I sent stocking stuffer gifts to my relatives in Colorado, carefully assembling a load of small surprises for each person.

And now. Nothing.

While not shopping but wandering in a few stores and online sites I've considered things I could have gotten people. A two volume Baedeker's guide to Germany published in the early twentieth century, in German, with lots of amazing tipped in maps for a friend who speaks the language and has spent a lot of time there. Cute Lego toys for my great nephews and great niece. (I didn't even go inside the Lego store in Rockefeller Plaza.) I considered  iPod touches for kids, noting prices and what gift cards were offered with purchase. I considered collapsible water bottles for everyone. (How handy, who couldn't use one?) Tiny lightweight umbrellas from REI like the ones I got myself recently. New varieties of whiskey and various drinks-related accessories at my favorite wine and spirits store.

I bought none of these things.

I'm sorry about the economy. And there is still the chance I'll find something for FFP (maybe I should have gotten those expensive cuff links). Maybe I'll pick up a bottle of something when setting out to be with friends or go to their parties. Or, maybe, I'll have a completely clean slate. A perfect curmudgeonly attitude. Bah. But if it's the thought that counts...I did think about presents.

Images of Myself

Everything revolves around me. Or you. Depending on whether you are me. Or you.

I have theories about things in the world. I concoct those theories them from the perch that is my fairly long, very lucky life. A life with some bumps and curiosities and some pain but, all things considered, very fortunate. I base my world view on things I saw and lessons presented by others that have held up in practice.

When there is big news you measure it against your world. When a gunman took to the UT tower on August 1, 1966 I was, I believe, in Sacramento, California. . My sister had dumped me with the parents of some high school friends and gone (with my car) to see her husband at a temporary USAF assignment. I'd just graduated high school in May. I don't remember much about how the news came or if friends writing me letters  mentioned it. Yes we wrote letters then, on paper, and mailed them.  I know I found out about it, wondered about people I knew in Austin. I know I started college in another Texas city in September without a thought that there would be a sniper on campus.

I do know a few things now about that shooting spree. We didn't have social media and the Internet to follow every development. There was much less detailed news, day after day. My future husband whom I'd not yet met was nearly in the line of fire. SWAT teams were developed all over the country to provide a better intervention than citizens with hunting rifles and a brave but thrown-together team of peace officers and civilians to end the siege. A plaque, no bigger than a foot square commemorates the fallen of 1966, without naming them, near the turtle pond north of the tower. The first on campus victim that day was an unborn child. Very little emotional or financial support was given to the victims and their families.  School was closed for one day. The blood was cleaned off the pavement. The flags flew at half mast on campus for a week while school started again after that one day. I'm pretty sure they didn't fly at half mast anywhere else in the country. President Johnson called for more gun control. Governor Connally did not see a benefit. (I remember the day Connally was shot in 1963, too.)

Whenever I think of guns, I think of the farm where I grew up. We had cows for beef, diary cows, grew cotton and corn. And we had sheep. A wild dog or a coyote could end a lamb's life in a heartbeat. There was no calling 911 to defend our little two bedroom house with the basement where we played and my mom made butter. My dad kept loaded guns on a rack at the back door. A 22 and a shotgun. I remember being allowed to shoot the 22 at a target (well a tin can). Feeling the kick, made to appreciate the power and destructiveness. We were never to touch the guns by ourselves. We were responsible for keeping our friends from touching them. Amazing. I got a BB rifle, too. I had to follow the Daisy Rules of Safety with it. In fact, my dad even corrected us for pointing plastic toy guns at others. I'm betting he wasn't there when the picture to the left was made. I never killed anything. I might have tried for birds with the BB gun. Mostly I shot up cardboard boxes and trees. Ditto with my bow and arrow. Seems crazy now to even have these 'toys.' But I did. And I didn't have a car seat or a seat belt and I rode in the back of pickups. Funny it didn't seem so dangerous as it sounds.

I do understand guns, I think. The message about harm got through. So I don't own one. I'm not a hunter and I don't plan to defend myself with one. When my father died, I thought he'd given away his guns. There was no shotgun but when I found 22 ammunition I knew I'd find a gun. And I did. High out of the reach of children. in his view at least, under a blanket, a loaded 22 rifle. The very one, I suspect, that was racked by the back door fifty years before. My dad was old and sick but I guess he would have tried to get it in a home invasion. Couldn't have come out well, I don't think.

There was a school shooting in Austin not too long after I came here. A teacher died. No one else was shot. Parents had a gun where a child could get it. That classic tale.

I knew a child at Columbine HS on the day of the shooting. He was unharmed.

I find it hard to imagine this world where weapons called assault weapons are used for sport, collected and find their way into the hands of people who somehow believe killing strangers will satisfy a need. My context is so different. Oh, we drew pictures of tanks and machine guns when we doodled as kids and imagined our plastic shoulders rattling off belts of bullets. Growing up post WWII somehow all kids sketched Nazi tanks with swastikas being overrun with US soldiers. The planes had dotted lines of tracers and bullets. The stories were in the air in that decade after the war and had entered our DNA it seemed.

My experience tells me that guns are powerful. That children don't learn to respect them in many families today and that there is too much access to them and that the assault weapons are better confined to the abstract of children's doodles, to video games and to the reality of war. (Unless we could end war. Yeah.) My experience tells me that some always respond to the latest incident of school shooting, theater shooting, mall shooting, P.O. shooting (remember those?) with some resolve to 'never let it happen again.'  We blame a tumor, parents, God, a lack of gods, mental illness, the guns themselves, workplace woes, romantic woes, bullying. We think we can fix everything but experience shows that we can't. Not that we shouldn't try. But some tries will be wildly misguided. And something else tragic will happen.

All I know is this: I will never be the shooter. Or the source of the weapon. I hope that's true. Especially now that I've given away that 22 I found, loaded, under that blanket in that closet.