I'll Call It Like I See It (with humorous tendencies)

by sheila morris

For any who want more, complete list of all posts by month since 2011
  • is a thing of beauty really a joy forever? not necessarily

    is a thing of beauty really a joy forever? not necessarily


    In 1818 the poet John Keats wrote “A thing of beauty is a joy forever…” from his first published book length poem Endymion, the name of a young shepherd boy in love with a moon goddess according to Greek legend.

    In 1954 Nat King Cole sang the title song for the movie Autumn Leaves which was also about a love affair but with a much more sinister plot twist involving mental illness. Think an older Joan Crawford in love with a much younger man played by Cliff Robertson. If she had been a teacher obsessed with a student, she might have been arrested. A love song that began in France (where else?) as a poem in 1945, crossed the pond as a song in America in the late 1940s by pop singer Jo Stafford whose claim to fame was “the wistful singing voice of the American home front during WWII and the Korean War” per an article in the New York Times in July, 2008; however, it was a piano solo by Roger Williams in 1955 that placed the song on the charts for six months.

    The falling leaves drift by the window
    The autumn leaves of red and gold
    I see your lips, the summer kisses
    The sun-burned hands I used to hold

    Since you went away the days grow long
    And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
    But I miss you most of all my darling
    When autumn leaves start to fall.

    Lah-de-lah-de-dah. Okay, I get it. I’m all about the beautiful leaves of red and gold, drifting by my window or just outside my back door or front door or on the carport or in the yard or most importantly…in my pool. So romantic except for the ongoing war with the endless leaves in the fall.

    Carl checking out leaf situation with me this morning

    the last reminders of summer covered with autumn leaves

    I fought the leaves, and the leaves won.

    but Pride flag keeps watch over us through every season

    The Thanksgiving season is a time of reflection for yesterday’s summer kisses, today’s beautiful leaves of red and gold that will bring old winter’s song with their brown colors signaling a thing of beauty may not quite be a joy forever. So I’ll miss you most of all, my darling, when autumn leaves start to fall.

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

  • ’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. 

  • 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. 

     

     

  • little miss, big sis

    little miss, big sis


    come on, Molly – let’s have some fun!

    Nana, I’m not so sure about this idea

    Molly, you can always trust a Mermaid

    oh, so THIS is how it’s done!

    Sadie says, why don’t you take a break, Molly?

    but the Mermaid says we can’t stop when we’re having so much fun!

    Molly, Molly – come away with me to my Kingdom in the Sea

    is she serious?

    who knew being a Princess could be so tiring?

    honestly, Nana – I think I’d be happier in a swing

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

    Yesterday afternoon Nana and Naynay had the great pleasure/treasure of watching 21-month-old Little Sis Molly playing with her four year old Big Sis Ella. The imagination of Ella the Mermaid combined with Molly’s adoration of her big sister bring great joy to their Nanas. In these perilous times at home and abroad, I hope they give you a tiny break with a smile on your face.

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

    For all the children everywhere.

  • a later life revelation: am I a Quaker??

    a later life revelation: am I a Quaker??


    “While there are no set beliefs in Quakerism, you will often see a common group of goals, called testimonies: simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality, and stewardship (SPICES).” When I read this on my Google search for information on Quakers, I said to myself Wow, this is what you’ve believed all your life, these are your core values, turns out you’re a Quaker. Oh, gosh. I was a Quaker for almost a hot minute before I looked at the division within the Friends on the issues of homosexuality and abortion. Sigh. Personal deal breakers for me. So much for community and equality, but count me in for simplicity and peace.

    And while I’m thinking of peace, I must say I hesitate to write about people, places, or events that have the potential to (1) display my ignorance of the world outside my life with Pretty or (2) unintentionally do more harm than good to the universe or (3) some combination of these. However, the events in Israel over the past two weeks have evoked feelings of outrage eerily similar to the feelings of anger I experience daily with the updates on the continuing suffering of the people of Ukraine for the past twenty months. Whether for two weeks or two years, the clarion call for peace is difficult to ignore.

    President Biden addressed the nation this week to reaffirm America’s commitments in Israel and Ukraine, but our assistance is now delayed by our own House divided in the legislative body that is responsible for appropriations – stymied in a quagmire of political posturing for power by people with no moral conscience while a world desperate for responsible leadership waits and hopes.

    During the hot minute I thought I was a Quaker I read a famous quote by an even more famous Quaker named William Penn. Last night Pretty reminded me to refrain from my focus on situations beyond my control, and the Penn quote today hammered home Pretty’s philosophy of living in the moment.

    “I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good therefore that I can do, or any kindness or abilities that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”

    It seems to me the issue is not about labels, but the questions remain timely for the ages. Can we be kind, will we do good to our fellow human beings? If not today, when? If not us, who? Live in the moment for sure, leave the past failures with their guilt behind – focus on the present with its opporunities for outrageous acts of kindness, everyday rebellions for building communities where equality and inclusion are the foundations of peace.

    Onward.