Category Archives: Community

Between the dash, Chapters, Community, Lifetime

Between the Dash

Pie & Persistence, the house concert series in Seattle organized by an accomplished musician friend raised over $5,000 for The Voter Movement Project in a beautiful backyard a few weeks ago. Between songs Sheryl Wiser — musician, songbird, activist — who I have watched grow into her persistent heart for forty-seven years, mentioned a phrase that has haunted me.

“What are you going to do between the dash?”

So far:

Alexandra Dane, born September 27 — daughter, granddaughter, grade/college/graduate student, horseback rider, singer, teacher, volunteer, care giver, wife, mother, hospice volunteer, gardener, knitter, writer, cancer patient, traveler, grandmother-to-be — died…

What strikes me about this list is how much I did without thinking too hard about it. Younger energy that multitasked effortlessly, took care of three generations, ran organizations, slept eight hours a night. This list also makes me think about the things I SHOULD think harder about: my continuing health (I am having a hard time getting on the protein wagon) my writing goals, (meeting them) my friendships.

Because as I get older I see my friends less, a casualty of covid habits, writing more, doing less in more time. I have firm goals to walk the Cotswalds and the Wales Coast Path before 70 and need to plot this out. I have taken advice for this next page of my story seriously, see Swedish Death Cleaning — the closets are getting close to empty/cleaned out as I set the stage for being more nimble and leaving less for others to deal with (sorry, maybe not my workspace yet!). I ‘love out loud’ to my children and friends at every opportunity. I sit and stare and listen to the birds for a living affirmation every morning. I have found my places of peace.

Between that dash is just part of my lifetime and frankly, just the beginning of it. I am sorry if I have not called or seen you or driven over for a dinner. Call me on it. I am busy filling that space, making it as worthy and valuable and interesting as possible. Why not?

Make a list. Check it twice. Say “yes” to whatever comes your way.

Call me for an espresso. Remind me to add protein. I am still here, between, despite.

Super Moon before sunrise at Oregon’s Cannon Beach, October 2024, on a retreat with besties.

Standard
Authority, Community, Connect, strangers

Moments in time

A few days ago in downtown Seattle I approached a crosswalk under construction, looked both ways (not at the walk sign) and put one foot out to jaywalk when I spied a police officer on the other side of the street watching me. I pulled my foot back in a comedy of slow-motion guilt. She burst out laughing, her teeth flashing, her braids spinning as she put her hand to her face and turned away. “I don’t see anything” she said. I was laughing too hard to cross the street.

I love moments of unexpected connection. So much was conveyed in that ten seconds: my hurry for the dental appointment (well, sort of), a police officer really clear what was important and not important, two women locking eyes and laughing on a stunning blue morning in a traffic-locked city.

When the “walk” sign flashed white I crossed and still smiling I apologized for letting the Boston in me take over at the curb. “It’s a mess down here” she answered.

I walked on around the block to the medical building feeling like the world was good, even though the next two hours were daunting.

Sometime during the last five years, and of course Covid, I discovered that I liked strangers; that instead of them being humans I did not need to know they were actually essential to know; their politics, choices, needs or even troubles. My world is more informed when I make myself open to their newness. In that short moment on the street I experienced an approachable policewoman, an amazing smile, a distraction from the two crowns and one filling awaiting me.

I went on to have good news at the dentist (only one crown and two fillings) and returning to my car waved merrily at my uniformed friend.

Connecting even briefly felt good. Stay open for it. Begin each day looking for it.

I am a better person for you, after all.

Standard
Community, Friendship

Moving on.

The dog threw up at five this morning. Then again at seven. She won’t have a name until the three loads of laundry are finished. And I swear she can’t reach the Halloween candy.

My Seattle pied-à-terre entrance is in back of a house and up thirty five steps. I have had all of three trick-or-treater’s in the last three years. But for 364 days of the year I store a purple plastic pumpkin, bloody hand decal and illuminated spider web for just this one night.

Why? I continue to claim this is my least favorite holiday. But consider the one or two faces that struggle up the steps clutching wands, gowns, masks, bags of candy, oversized pants, dogs. Then the rifling hands. Then the “Thank you!” and thundering feet descending back down the stairs, dashing off to the next house, fast, as my back yard might be a little bit SCARY.

All Hallow’s Eve is heartwarming. And brings back memories of Disney princesses, Robin Hoods and Ninja Turtles of days gone past, of borrowing bits of costume from across the street, contriving swords out of boxes, spraying glitter on a line-up of star wands, of trailing the neighborhood pack of kids with other parents, keeping a respectable distance sometimes with warming libations tucked in our pockets. It’s good memory of friendship, taking care of one another, of October leaves and the harvest moon.

This afternoon in the pouring rain I will carve a pumpkin, light it with a Glassybaby (of course) and wait. Even for one smiling princess. And remember Robin Hood in his green tights filched from his sister’s dresser. Of Princess Jasmine. And remember community is the backbone of who we are, regardless of political party or race or sexual identification. We are the people who will make tomorrow happen, together, raucously, maybe with a wand, hopefully with a ballot. We will move on and make it work. We always have.

Then Olive and I will turn off all the lights, the universal signal that this eve is over and go to bed at eight due to our early day, full of good thoughts and hopefully a memory of that knock, knock, knock at the door and a chance to meet a new neighbor.

olivehalloween2015

Olive, Halloween 2015. She wants to be Newt Gingrich this year. I suggested we reuse the same costume.

 

Standard