I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Author: Sheila Morris

  • ’tis the season – too harsh?

    ’tis the season – too harsh?


    Thanksgiving is still my favorite holiday because it is the most resistant to crass commercialism.  Halloween and Christmas have become impostors that pave the path to New Year’s Eve, but Thanksgiving remains the holiday for celebrating family and friends.  It is the lull between two storms that blow powerful winds of spending, of buying more of what we don’t need in larger quantities.

    Ouch. Someone just stomped on Halloween and Christmas with both feet – who could that negative naysayer be, and what did she say next?

    The march is on, and good cheer has a price.  Merry gentlemen, God doesn’t rest ye.  O Holy Night, you’re not really silent.  As a matter of fact, you’re all about the noise of cars, planes and people in a hurry to get somewhere.  It’s time to travel; the highways and airports are hubbubs of activity.  We are rocking around the Christmas tree.  Every creature is stirring on the night before, during, and after Christmas.  Hallelujah.  Let’s make it a chorus.

    Oh my goodness. Someone swallowed a Bah Humbug pill that turned her into an old “Eleanor-eezer” Scrooge type with too many tunes swirling through the memory banks in her brain. What kind of person would write this, and when did she write it?

    To no one’s surprise I am the guilty writer, and I published this piece on November 10, 2011 – exactly twelve years ago today. This is neither a retraction nor an aha moment with a total change in my annual holiday philosophies, but hopefully I can admit when softer, less judgmental tones are more appropriate.  

    Sandwiched between Halloween and Christmas is the poor relation, Thanksgiving.  On this lesser holiday, I am thankful for the memories of my family and our life before cell phones interrupted us while we feasted at the tables of my grandmothers.  I am thankful for a grandmother who got up in the wee hours of Thursday mornings to put a turkey in a large cooker that was used only twice a year.  I can still smell the aroma that permeated our whole house by the time we got up on Thanksgiving morning.  The turkey was on its way to perfection.  I am grateful to that grandmother for working ten hours a day, six days a week so that we would have a roof over our heads and food to eat.  I feel her love today as I felt it then, but now I know how fortunate I was to have her in my life—and I also know that not everyone is so lucky.

    Yes, this was also in the post twelve years ago today, and I am thankful for the softer tones, warmer images, more understanding of the challenges families face during holiday seasons when not everyone shares the abundance of love I remember or even the luxury to ponder the memories. Not all those who ponder are lost, but we need one holiday to call our own. I choose Thanksgiving. 

  • Roe, Roe, Roe Your Vote

    Roe, Roe, Roe Your Vote


    Thanks for showing up!

    We won’t forget who took our rights

    Repubs are out of luck

    **********************

    (shirt by 4winnersSports)

    New lyrics to row, row, row your boat are totally mine, but I hope you’ll sing along with me all the way to the ballot box in 2024. Onward.

  • Lessons from a Butterfly Concerning Casualties

    Lessons from a Butterfly Concerning Casualties


    Five years ago in August of 2018 I published this article I found when I determined to look for inspiration among more than 900 past posts over a dozen years of blogging. More specifically I looked for anything I’d written about “casualties” because it’s a common term the media glibly tosses around in reports about loss of human life in war, natural disasters, mass shootings, epidemics – which seem to multiply with each news cycle. This morning the focus was on the Israel – Hamas War that has already resulted in staggering numbers of death with estimates of more than 1,400 Israelis and more than 10,000 Gaza citizens. What I found when I listened today was how easy it is to be swept up in the totals and to forget that each casualty also represents one person: one man or one woman or one child. A butterfly reminded me on a hot summer day that the cost of individual grief is immeasurable.

    One week ago today I was doing my pool exercises when I saw something so very extraordinary I took a calculated risk to retrieve my cell phone from the buggy it rests in without disturbing the amazing sight.

    butterfly on caterpillar body – gently folding and unfolding wings

    as it moved its legs across the still corpse

    The carcasses of two recently deceased caterpillars lay next to the steps where I entered the pool every day. I scarcely paid any attention to them when I moved down the steps and into the water. After all, the bodies of caterpillars that were casualties of the chlorine were common and a dime a dozen, weren’t they.

    I also paid very little attention to the small dark colored butterfly that flew around me in wide circles for about 15 minutes until it came to rest on one of the caterpillar bodies lying on the cement next to the pool steps.

    I was so startled at the sight that I stopped my pacing to watch as the butterfly established a kind of rhythm – opening and closing its wings while it moved its legs back and forth across the dead caterpillar. I felt like I was an intruder in a private ritual of grief reserved for these tiny creatures that made our human tears a poor substitute. And then I began to think the butterfly didn’t fly away from me because it sensed my shared sorrow.

    Today, exactly one week later, I was on the last leg of my routine early morning walk around the pool when I saw this remarkable sight.

    a beautiful large blue black butterfly landed right in front of me

    This gorgeous creature flew next to the pool steps, landed, and began to open and close its wings just as the one had last week. I sat down in my buggy seat to better observe what I believe was…what?…the same butterfly from last week…another butterfly…what does that matter really…

    What I learned was a powerful lesson about the importance of all creatures great and small, the individuality of grief, the exquisite beauty in hope embraced by a spirit willing to take flight following great loss.

    ********************

    For all children everywhere. 

     

     

  • the legacy of Carport Kitty grows

    the legacy of Carport Kitty grows


    October 22nd. was the one-year anniversary of our final tearful goodbye to the calico cat Pretty and I called Carport Kitty, the urban neighborhood legend whose physical heart could no longer support her brave spiritual one. We were desolate with grief for months whenever we drove up our driveway toward the carport that seemed bare without her.

    Carport Kitty dined with dignity

    in January, 2023 this Dynamic Duo dropped by occasionally

    I recognized the pair as Carport Kitty’s friends but told Pretty we couldn’t encourage them.

    that ship had sailed

    Sigh. So to honor the memory of Carport Kitty we fed her two friends.

    then along came a mysterious stranger in the spring of 2023

    Sigh. Sigh again. So to honor the memory of Carport Kitty we fed a young neutered male who had never laid eyes on her. In order to avoid becoming attached to this young whippersnapper, Pretty and I decided to call him Cat.

    our friend Nekki fussed at us about a cat named Cat

    and suggested we name him Moses

    Moses is my new assistant in the laundry room adjacent to the carport.

    winter carport cat cribs

    Lest anyone forgets Carport Kitty’s “Frenemy” the OG Bully Cat, I can report he also returns regularly to patrol her former kingdom and snack on leftovers.

    OG Bully Cat in his collar looking fat and sassy on carport patrol earlier today

    (Bully Cat’s home is in a garage one block down the street – his peeps call him Romeo)

    Bully Cat never met a meal he didn’t like

    This evening when Pretty gets home from her antique empire duties she will see not one, but three cats who reside in our carport in one fashion or another – all sharing the legacy of the little calico cat who chose to call us her family for a time we will never forget.

  • Mr. Speaker

    Mr. Speaker


    Samuel T. Rayburn (D-TX), the longest serving Speaker of the House of Representatives at 17 years, 53 days (cumulative) said “Any jackass can kick a barn down, but it takes a carpenter to build one.”

    Since the first American Congress convened on March 4, 1789 the House of Representatives has elected a Speaker 128 times, 118 at the beginning of each of the two-year congressional sessions and ten other times when a vacancy arose due to death, resignation or more recently a motion to vacate the position when Speaker Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) was “vacated” on October 3, 2023 – the first House Speaker to be removed in the nation’s history. The “vacation” lasted for 22 days of spectacle worthy of Shark Tank episodes as the Republicans searched for a candidate to satisfy their splintered majority caucus, to enable them to reach a consensus that promoted America’s national security as war intensified in the Middle East and Ukraine, domestic terrorism threats by conspiracists on both the left and right multiplied at alarming rates. On October 25th. Mike Johnson (R-LA) received a total of 220 Republican votes to become Speaker of the House, a position critical to national security, a man who is now second in line to the presidency following the vice-president, a man who does not believe Joe Biden was duly elected President.

    Mr. Sam, as Speaker Rayburn was known, refused to allow television cameras in the House: “When a man has to run for re-election every two years, the temptation to make headlines is strong enough without giving him a chance to become an actor on television. The normal processes toward good law are not even dramatic, let alone sensational enough to be aired across the land.” I wonder what Mr. Sam would have thought about the images being broadcast not only in the United States but also around the world as the public display of a dysfunctional government dominated the daily news from October 3rd. to the 25th. with three Speaker nominations voted down.

    Mike Johnson was relatively unknown on the national stage until he became Speaker of the House where his position as a staunch social conservative with a long history of anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric and support for stricter abortion laws became more transparent.

    “Johnson on Monday unveiled legislation from House Republicans that would provide $14 billion in U.S. military assistance for Israel as it fights its war against Hamas. But the bill is a non-starter for both the Democratic-controlled Senate and President Joe Biden’s administration because it doesn’t include provisions for other U.S. allies, such as Ukraine.” USA Today, November 2, 2023 

    Maya Angelou said “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

    I’m concerned Mike Johnson is not the carpenter Speaker Rayburn had in mind to rebuild the barn.

    ****************

    For the children of Ukraine, Israel, Gaza, immigrants along the Texas border – all the children everywhere. Guard, save and protect.