“My dear Beatrice …” Mum read aloud from the letter in her hand. Postman has just delivered the mail … Sister and I dared not meet each other’s eye. Bit our lips to keep from… More
Love Those Bhangra Boys!
Life is full of appointments – to be kept or missed as one chooses – delicate deviations from the daily script. Sometimes showing up in the form of inner impelling, an inaudible whisper, they urge one to reach for the moment and grab it by the horns, before it dissolves and vanishes un-met, unrecognized.
Gotta grab that camera before the light moves on …
Rainbows on the ceiling won’t linger long , nor shadows on the carpet …
So one halts to act. Because such moments will not be put on hold. Because the tide of micro-events ebbs and swells, leaving behind the joy of happy happen-stance embraced or the tragedy of serendipity unrealized.
The timing of such things is fragile, precise and never a coincidence.
NEVER a coincidence …
……………………………………………………………………………..
I had a nagging urge one busy afternoon, to check my Facebook page.
I’m not one of those Feverish Frenzied Facebook Fiends … honest!
The screen on my phone opened up at a video clip on Cousin Preman’s page.
Click …
Jaunty young men with beards and bright turbans leap and prance, holding hands with a delighted woman.
A birthday Bhangra serenade!
The woman in the motorized wheelchair beside herself with glee, claps her hands and beams.
Her eager, electrifying enthusiasm smacked me in the face.
Check out the birthday Bhangra dance. Click here …
I hit like, stabbed the comments section with a forefinger and tap-tapped:
An amazing lady, God bless her. This resonates with my heartbeat. I’ve lost two close friends to ALS .
Later that evening my phone went ping.
Email alert …
A message via this blog’s address from Next Week on Thursday (Sneak Peak) (on the header menu) –
You have made such a difference in my life this afternoon (I read). Your reply to Preman started it all. I SO want to connect with you. I SO want to find out about the next Thursday. Having gone through cancer yourself, you know the deep JOY of living .
Curious, I leapt into her Facebook page.
The intro read –
I am a joyous person LIVING with ALS with my loving husband, Cameron, always at my side.
I got punched in the guts. I’ve lost two good friends to this brute, a cruel, merciless, relentless ogre that steals and destroys –
– and I’m passionate about raising awareness.
Who IS this woman?
The name is Judy Starritt –
Codeword: JOY!
A person like you and me who’s –
(a) A once-upon-a-time high school math teacher
(b) Some mother’s beloved daughter
(c) Her boys’ mom
(d) Doting Grandmama and
(e) Adored wife of –
Drum roll … Ladeez a..a..nd gentlemen, presenting the one, the only …
– Cameron Amos Starritt
Ya …ay!
Many hats Judy wears. She sparkles, she shines. She’s extraordinary.
A wheelchair won’t vanquish her spirit –
Disease daren’t define her.
Judy: “I have discovered I haven’t changed, just my body has changed. I am more intensely aware of both the changes in my body and the JOY that surrounds me …”
Shortly after her diagnosis in 2014, ALS awareness (literally) deluged public awareness in the form of the Ice Bucket Challenge.
Judy: “It was as if ALS suddenly came out of the closet!”
Her firefighter son took on the challenge with gusto –
Click here to watch Judy at Andrew’s side in the Hot Firefighter Ice Bucket Challenge …
– as his mother prepared herself to face the inevitable new normal.
Judy: “I made up a motto for myself and shared it with others … ‘I have faith and hope, I am optimistic and I will find joy every day.’”
I so identify with Judy’s resolve. When late-diagnosis breast cancer crashed-landed on me in the summer of 2008, I determined to live each day with joy. However many – or few – of them remained.
Me to self: “I won’t waste a single moment of my cancer!”
Judy won’t waste her ALS.
Kindred spirits or what?
Judy: “I looked for joy – unexpected happiness – and began to find it in the most unexpected places.”
Judy: “At first I would recite this over and over in my head. Now I just accept it because I HAVE found JOY and mentioned it is nearer than you think.”
Some snippets from e-mail newsletters to family and friends –
“If you are wondering, I did find JOY every day! I don’t want to sound superhuman … I DO have dark moments about the future at times, but by keeping myself busy and surrounding myself with positive people that love me and knowing I have so many people out there, caring and praying for me, this journey is SO much easier.”
“Every day became a special one. I have so many reasons to smile.”
Like them wild chicken stockin’s and a brand new volunteer-constructed ramp …
“As I started out my journey with ALS, I made up a motto that I wanted to represent what I have, what I am and what I want. As many of you know, I composed the following –
I have hope and faith
I am optimistic
I will find JOY every day.
“Just had to look out the back windows to find my joy. I told you once that JOY is nearer than you think!!”
“I will participate in the ALS walkathon.”
Since she made that last statement above, Judy has inspired three ALS Walk Strong teams to join Halifax and Virtual Walks!
Judy Starritt is probably the unofficial poster girl of the ALS Society of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia (www.alsnbns.ca).
Her story is on their blog.
Click here to read about Judy’s journey: ALS In The Words Of Judy Starrit …
I contacted Kimberly Carter at the the ALS Society for permission to use information from their website
Me to Kimberly: Any friend of Judy is a friend of mine.
Kim’s reply: I’m the same way, any friend of Judy’s is a friend of mine. I just love her half to pieces.
Yes, there’s certainly something about Judy …
…………………………………………………
It’s ALS Walkathon time of year again on June 10, 2017.
You’d find posted on Judy’s Facebook Page:
MAY the 4TH be with you and me and the ALS Walkathons across Canada. Today is my official starting date to promote my own team. It is called “Judy’s Joys” and Cameron and I and many more family and friends are going to walk beside me.
It is on June 10th at DeWolfe Park in Bedford. Registration is at 11 o’clock and the walk is at 12 o’clock.
To join my team, go to
www.alswalkstrong.ca
I made a donation (of course) and wrote on my page –
Wish I could walk alongside you, Judy Starritt. Brave, beautiful, joyful, you inspire me … Rooting for you in memory of two close friends I’ve lost. Keep sparkling, keep being you. You go, girl … GO!
Join me in supporting ALS WalkStrong 2017. Click here to donate/ support Judy’s team. She calls them Judy’s Joys …
………………………………………………………..
Mum often said when I was a girl, “Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep and you weep alone.”
Phrased more simply: “Who wants to be around a miserable grouch?”
Or in Judy’s words (quoting from a newletter update to her circle) –
Find YOUR joy!
You’ll find this picture in her Facebook photo gallery –
So her home is her haven, not a jail. She made that choice.
Life is her adventure. It’s not unfair. She made that choice too.
It helps immensely, of course, to have a wonderful man at your side.
Judy: Thank God for big men!
……………………………………..
Judy: Eggs come in different shapes and sizes, but they’re all the same inside. Just like people.
Some eggs, like some people, have stronger shells strengthened not because of, but despite the circumstances …
Judy wrote on her Facebook page some months back –
Since my video went viral, many new and exciting things have happened to me. I tried to read every comment and some just stood out. Selina’s was one of of the them. I replied and a special friendship has developed. Is it serendipity??? Who knows? Who cares?? I delight in her words and she has opened my mind and heart to newer things.
As she has opened my heart …
Words are powerful. Weapons of destruction or tools of hope. It all depends on how one chooses to wield them.
To bless or to curse …
Judy: “I will pray that in my lifetime, ALS will become treatable, not terminal …”
Oh, me too! Me too …
Believers in dreams, you and I, Judy. With faith, we’ll make them all come true.
1 Corinthians 13:12 For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood …
Through the looking glass in my garden nooks …
Judy Starrit has found her Promised Land — that place within the heart, nestled deep inside the human spirit.
A believing heart, a humbly yielded spirit …
Codeword: JOY …
Always!
So thankful for Judy’s joy. Infectious, unforgettable lady.
To help increase ALS awareness and support Judy’s Joys at the Walkathon, please share this post. (Scroll down and click on one of the share buttons below). Let’s see how far Judy and her cause can travel. Thank you.
Until next time,
PS: Three cheers for Judy’s beloved Maritime Bhangra Group.
Judy: “Love those boys!”
Click here and give her Bhangra Boys a thumbs up on their Facebook page.
Oh, and if you enjoy gorgeously groan-worthy puns like these –
— you must take a leisurely stroll through Judy’s Facebook page !
Her Old Piano
We’ve just driven into town, there’s a piano on the kerb outside our hotel. A note scrawled on yellow paper, propped against the open lid –
Piano won’t stay tuned for long, squatting outside in the elements …
Intrigued, curious.
Who’s the lady? What’s her plan?
We check into Europa Inn, Husband and I. Two nights. Delightful auberge in sleepy, small town seaside setting, old fashioned European charm.
Old-world nostalgia and a plethora of prewar/war-time memorabilia …
On summer road trip with husband.
Spectacular paintings jostle for elbow room on walls. Struck by joie de vivre, bright light and vibrant energy in them.
Signed: Simone Ritter.
Simone Ritter, Artist
Simone Ritter, Artist
Breakfast- a mouthwatering masterpiece. Friendly host, proud hubby, Chef Markus Ritter, gives glowing account of talented wife’s hobby-turned-profession.
Leave two days later. Weather’s changed, sporadic showers. Piano clothed in plastic protection.
Never encountered Simone in person. Forgot to ask about the piano. Wish I had. Kept wondering …
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
My mind is an interesting place I’ve been told.
“It’s about perspective,” I reply,
– “being able to see where there’s nothing to see.”
When waters swirl sixty feet deep, who’d imagine the possibility of a stroll on the ocean floor?
A parable? Sort of.
Waters did recede, in spite of what we saw when we first arrived …
Which is the definition of faith. Sort of.
Hebrews 11: 11 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see …
………………………………………………………………….
Which brings me back to when eye sees what doesn’t yet exist –
Like knowing when garbage is more than garbage …
For example –
(1) Old washbasin – just an unusual lily pond-in-waiting –
2) An ordinary bottle … a prospective tree ornament, of course!
(3) The old kitchen sink – a perfect container for growing swamp plants
(4) That tired saucepan – an eccentric hanging container for a flowering summer plant
(5) Ancient pots and pans make whimsical garden ornaments
Daughters issue dire edict when ensuite toilet is replaced: “No planting flowers in it, Mom. Not going in our garden.”
I give my word!
See a bath tub tossed out on sidewalk recently, imagination bubbles over. So tempted. Wish I could carry it home.
Which brings me all the way back to Simone’s piano.
A year and a half’s gone by. Often wondered about it. Have to know …
Find Simone Ritter on Facebook and shoot off private message. She sends picture of finished work with a note –
Simone writes: It was popular with the passers by during the summer months, even in the unfinished stages. Unfortunately a storm came through and ripped the plastic off the piano. The heavy rains made the wood swell and then it could not be played anymore …
Absolutely breathtaking …
………………………………………………………………………………………………………
It’s all about knowing how to look –
Living in the possibility of the moment –
And honing the inner vision –
So how do you see what you see?
……………………………………………………………………………….
And that’s Life According To Me, a deliriously expectant resident of La La Land!
Love living there …
Because, ultimately, it’s about the final, impossibly possible picture –
Life’s glorious gifts, hidden in plain sight –
Unimagined sweetness –
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Finally a thaw in the air. Milder days ahead.
So thankful. 
Until next time,
PS: Meet the Ritters of Europa Inn –
And Puppy has the last word –
I do!
Faith We Follow
“There was a crash. The knife came down, barely missed my eye. Blood everywhere…”
I can almost hear Mum’s voice. Wish I’d paid more attention to details.
Her tales often commenced with all six of us. 
Pearl, Ruby, Peter, Dan, Beatrice, Elizabeth …
Mum: So all six of us climbed into Babby’s cot with the cake Alice baked. We found it on the kitchen table. Just as Petes lifted the bread knife and said, ‘Let’s have a piece’, the cot collapsed. The knife came down on my forehead. It narrowly missed my eye.”
Alice, the family retainer who helped cook and keep house, the hapless victim of boyish pranks.
Peter and Dan – Petes and Danma to us nieces and nephews – youthful villains.
Baby Elizabeth was Baba. Babby to the next generation.
Me: (doing mental calculation) But Mum, if Babby was say … five, and you … eight, the others would have ranged in age from eighteen and under. How could all six of you have squeezed into a baby’s bed – with a cake and knife?
Mum’s a storyteller, not a mathematician. It’s how she remembers …
Mum: On Sunday evenings we had family prayers. On our knees. They went on forever.
Her eyes are brimming with memories …
Mum: We quietly slipped away into the kitchen to have a feast.
Me: All six of you …
Mum: Poor Alice. No one listened to her protests. The patties were for the visitors. She made lovely patties. We ate everything we could find and crept back to the living room, knelt down and folded our hands.
Me: And No one noticed?
Mum: No. And E.T.S Aunty was so impressed by our piety, we all got toffees. She said we were good children!
E.T.S Granny (always known by her initials), Grandpa’s widowed sister, frequent visitor, devout, determined lady, given to eloquent, lengthy prayers.
Mum: One Sunday evening, Geo Uncle came to visit.
Me: At prayer time?
She’s chuckling …
Mum: Petes used a coat hanger to start Uncle’s car. We all climbed in.
Me: All six of you …
Mum: He drove to Geo Uncle and Malar Aunty’s house. We ate all the goodies Malar Aunty fed us and drove back home again.
Me: And their eyes were closed, they were still praying?
I’m laughing with her …
Mum: He never knew!
Me: And Malar Aunty?
Mum: I don’t think she ever told him.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Shadrach Samuel Esquire, aspiring businessman aged 32, won the hand of Miss. Mercy Newton of Chundikuli, Jaffna. As legend has it, the friends of the sixteen-year-old bride called out over the fence as she walked past the schoolyard of the local girls’ school, on her way to church to be married.
Shadrach and Mercy set up home in Colombo, sleepy metropolis of colonial Ceylon.
He founded the iconic engineering firm, Samuel Sons.
The union produced six children.
A seventh, Mum remembers as Bertie, succumbs to an untimely demise as an infant …
Grandma Mercy died in her sleep at age 33. Cause of death unknown.
Mum recalls asthma and a family history of heart disease …
Rajes Aunty, seventeen-year-old bride, moved in with new husband, Thurai Perinpanayagam (Grandma Mercy’s cousin) to help take care of a brood of children, some of them almost her age.
To this day, Rajes Aunty occupies a special place in all our hearts.
The siblings grew closer to one another. 
All six of us …
Grandpa Shadrack never recovered from his loss. Well meaning aunties and clucking grannies suggested umpteen prospective brides to grace his hearth and mother the children.
Mum: He always said, “There was only one woman for me. God who took her away from me will take care of my children.”
Me: Do you remember her, Mum?
Mum: Of course! She was slim and pretty, darling, gentle, soft-spoken, a lady through and though. Always simply and tastefully attired. She was an artist, she painted beautifully. I remember whenever she baked a cake, she let me stir the batter and lick the spoon. I got a new dress every year, for my birthday. She cut it out herself and made me turn the wheel of the sewing machine for her. She used to call me Pambaram.
Me: Pambaram?
Mum: Because I was a tomboy. I could never sit still. It means spinning top in Tamil. She played the piano. On Sundays, all six of us would stand ‘round and sing hymns.
Me: It must have been awful after she died.
Mum: We had Daddy. We loved him. He was strict, of course, but such a kind, generous man. He helped everyone. Babby and I secretly called him Dixie Daddy from a song on the radio hit parade. We giggled every time we said it.
Me: Did you miss having a mother, Mum?
Mum: Of course, darling. On the day she died, I asked God why he took my mummy away. I was six. Babby was only three. I made up my mind to eat all my vegetables and grow strong, so I would be fit and well and never die and leave my children all alone. But we had each other, it was a happy home.
All six of us …
Church was an important part of family life.
And faith.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
As cousins, we have childhood memories of our mothers and aunts talking for ages on the phone. Cousin Dileeni and I often recreated these conversations – to loud applause and gales of laughter – at family-gathering kid-concerts,
“How are you, dear?” ” Did Alice come today?” “Can you believe the price of sugar these days?”
They couldn’t do without each other.
Time marched on.
Pearl and Ruby married their doctors.
Peter and Dan sailed off to the United Kingdom to pursue engineering degrees.
Mum kept house for Grandpa and played doting aunty to a growing circle of adoring nieces and nephews.
They called her Bety …
Tragedy struck again. Grandpa Shadrach died unexpectedly, after routine surgery. He was only 63. Mum was 19 years old, Babby just 16.
Shadrach and Mercy united in death, buried side by side ….
Mum and Babby clung to each other –
Peter took over the headship of the firm.
Elizabeth attended medical school.
Mum ran the family home for Uncle Peter, wrote wonderfully imaginative short stories that were published in the newspapers, taught Sunday School and created exquisite cakes for nieces and nephews, an abundance of relatives and friends.
The artistic, thespian, writing/storytelling genes run strong in this family line …
…………………………………………………………
Grandpa was a man of faith, a praying man.
His example rubbed off. Mum was a staunch believer in the power of prayer.
I remember Sunday evenings with Mum at the old piano of her girlhood (now situated in her own home), singing the same beloved hymns she sang as a child.
I remember us as little girls – Sister and I – kneeling by our beds as Mum taught us to pray. I remember Mum reading from a book of devotionals, holding hands with Dad, Sister and Me (in our tiny school uniforms) and sending us off for the day with a prayer.
Sister and I often made fun, called her Saint Beatrice.
Mum learned from Grandpa Shadrach.
They prayed, things happened …
I learned from Mum.
Much older now, I’m an ardent believer in the mountain-moving power of prayer.
Faith we follow …
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Just dialed long distance to talk to Babby – godmother, second mum — in Bethesda, Maryland.
The pain of missing Mum is less when she and I talk …
Babby is the only one left. She feels it badly.
Asked about the size of the cot. Says she slept in it till she was around eight years old.
All six of us?
It must have been a humongous piece of baby furniture!
Called Rajes Aunty some months back, posed questions about the family tree. She snail-mailed handwritten details from New York –
Excited, more curious than ever!
Saw a picture of an ancestor on Facebook recently.
The Perinpanayagam connection, circa 1834 …
Fascinated. Impelled to dig deeper into the family tree.
Mum’s second cousin, Thavo (Geo Uncle’s nephew), e-mailed more puzzle pieces from New Zealand –
Cousin Thavo remembers the Noddy cake Mum made: ” For my sixth birthday in 1959. It had Noddy’s car and house and even had 2 milk bottles outside the house” …
Discovered that Grandpa Shadrach and Grandma Mercy were distant relatives.
An exhilarating peep into the past.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
It was misty this morning in Toronto.
Much brighter/warmer in the land of our birth.
Alas for ugly politics, economics: the clans are scattered worldwide.
Appetite whetted. Must know more.
These roots go deep.
Stay tuned. More stories to come as more dots are joined.
Until then,
PS: If you happen to be a branch/ twig/clipping of the Samuel/ Newton/ Perinpanayagam family trees and have old pictures/information, I’d love to hear from you.
And I’d be delighted to share what I’ve gathered, with you.
Thank you!
All pictures in this post are clicks on Ipad and phone.
Gimme, Gimmee, Gimmeee!
Puppy adores presents. Assumes every gift-wrapped package is for him –
Got caught red-handed on Christmas Eve, snooping around tree.
Guilty …
Puppy lives in state of constant joyous expectation.
Fabulous way to live …
Living life in Puppy Mode …
Sunshine and shadow – embrace it all.
Life’s treasures – darkness, light; good, the bad, lovely and ugly.
Rich fodder for this writer’s pen, if nothing else …
Life often presents real live parables. Puppy is mine.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
I have dreams.
A secret path leads to dreams. Winds through dusty roads, up dim stairways and rugged steps, along endless corridors.
Along the way –
- Jeers, sceptics, wet blankets –
- Dead ends, slammed doors –
- Grim warnings –
- Unforseen restrictions –
- Disappointments, endless waits –
And yet –
Impelling urges on, blazing inferno that won’t be quenched. Lurks just beneath surface of immediate consciousness, hangs like mist, a veil through which real world is viewed.
Still …
Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see …
Fueled by burning urge to write –
So, no matter how I feel –
Must keep going –
Okay, all done, and good luck with shoveling up that poop when the snow thaws …
Never mind what they say.
One piggy, second pig, third pig …
and …
Ha!
Nope! Long before that …
And now –
Don’t know.
Won’t find out till I try …
Finally, one sweet day –
Aren’t you glad you made the climb?
Every day is Christmas for Puppy, any moment might bring gifts.
Thankful for Puppy, a parable of joy and daily expectation.
Gimme, gimmee … gimmeee!
Until next time,
PS: The pictures in this post are all random clicks on Ipad and phone.
Toilet Paper Brides
New Year rolls in.
Brings gifts –
– three hundred and sixty five days untrodden, all gift-wrapped.
Reams of resolutions. High hopes in spite of/ because of …
Then comes …
Evening news. Burning building collapses.
Shades of 9/11 …
Pick up phone to text Neighbour–
Me: (tap, tappity-tap) Hope your family wasn’t near the building that came down in Tehran.
Neighbour (texts): Thank God, none of my family members was in that area. I knew this building very well since my father used to have an office there when I was little. My mother was working, so he would take me to his office after school. It’s all so sad.
Me: (Tap, tap): Thank God. Sad, yes.
Avalanche in Italy buries ski resort. More earthquakes. Tsunami warning. Shooting in Texas mall.
Never ends. So what’s changed?
Nothing, it seems, but …
- Must keep looking upward, focus outward, embrace light.
– Must speak LIFE.
Proverbs 18: 21 Death and life are in the power of the tongue …
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Daughters’ Christmas present hangs by writing desk. Speaks loud and clear to Heart. Heart leaps for joy –
– Must
believe.
Yes! Just getting started …
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Inspired by Puppy’s determination to keep dreaming, believing –
When all else fails …
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Box of Dreams sits by bedroom door. Weighs a ton.
Now making entries in journal number thirty six.
Been scribbling my heart out for years.
A dream catalyses the evolution of Something out of Nothing, sometimes through Unlikely Source.
Like toilet paper wedding gowns …
Plan for the rest of 2017:
(1) Quit skulking in life’s undergrowth –
… strive for the stars.
(2) Look at the bigger picture –
(3) Build more bridges (not fences) –
(4) Think outside the box –
(5) Break out of the iron bars –
So what keeps holding you back?
(6) Wear the weight of passing years like a million dollar diamond tiara –
With grace and elegance …
(6) Resurrect dead dreams –
(7) Pray more –
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Dear Me,
The dream finally came true ….
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Philippians 3: 13 But one thing I do, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead …
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Ahoy there! All aboard …
Oh baby …
Some day soon.
Thankful for dreams. A reason to leap out of bed each morning.
Until next time,
Aloha Sweet Things!
Meet Sharyn Stone, my friend. She and husband, Jeff, live the enviably idyllic barefoot life at Huelo Point Lookout Bed And Breakfast (www.maui-vacationrentals.com), in Maui.
The English Duke/Earl of Somewhere-Or-Other had just honeymooned at Huelo Point with his fourth (fifth?) bride when Husband and I visited just before Christmas 2013.
Picture breathtaking, heart-stopping paradise.
First met Sharyn on the internet (gasp!) on a writer’s website, Fanstory.com
We each discovered our Writing Twin. (Never thought to meet one in this lifetime.)
Sharyn is everything I’m not, the very opposite, possibly, as regards general outlook and life philosophy and yet …
We call each other Twinnie!
This bio in her blog says it all –
ABOUT: SHARYN STONE
IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO LIVE YOUR DREAMS. YOU KNOW THE OLD SAYING … ‘IF NOT NOW … WHEN?’
I guess I’m all about following one’s dreams—even though, sometimes, those dreams change into others and we have to make that adaptation—but I have no intention of dying with my “music unsung”!
See what I mean?
I’m half her height (mildly exaggerating), and NOT a blonde bombshell– but I’ve no intention of dying with my “music unsung” either!
Sharyn posted on her Facebook page shortly after the dawn of 2017
Old Girls Looking … What??
That’s Sharyn all right!
Her dream’s coming true.
Tickets, anyone (click here)?
One-woman musical. A bittersweet, poignant, sometimes irreverent look into life as she’s lived it. Script, lyrics and acting by Sharyn Stone, storyteller par excellence, poet, playwright.
She sang and played for me from the show’s musical score, over the phone last month, just before Christmas.
Almost picked up my feet and danced.
Had the privilege of reading an early draft.
Sparks of brilliance. Definitely going places.
Felt it in my bones …
This is Sharyn with her adorable sidekick, Joyce Romero (82 years young) and the comment accompanying the email she sent along with the picture –
and you thought leaf blowers were for the GARDEN??? Think AGAIN TWINNIE!
Aloha, Sweet Things!
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
A peep into the final scene of Old Girls (with permission, copyright Sharyn Stone):
STORYTELLER/SHARYN: What’s that old guy looking at? (Speaking to “old guy”) Yes? Do you need the machine
MIME/MALE GYM MEMBER, OLD: No, no thank you. It’s just that … well … I’ve been watching you for months now. You’re beautiful. And I just want to say how great it is to see Old Girls like you … Oops – that didn’t come out right
STORYTELLER/ SHARYN: Oh, ya think?
MIME/MALE GYM MEMBER, OLD: Old girls … like you … looking … Hot! And I don’t mean … sweaty. You are seriously … HOT. On the INSIDE. I mean …
The message?
YOUTH IS A STATE OF MIND.
I agree. One hundred percent.
Congratulations, Twinnie!
Thrilled for you.
Your name in lights …
So here’s to all the dreamers who DARE to dream –
Thankful for the ability to keep dreaming in spite of naysayers, sneering sceptics. Despite what life’s flung my way –
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
My friend Joan Adams wrote on New Year’s day –
Dream Again
… To each one who’s forgotten to dream.
Do you remember that old suitcase
Where dreams were hidden and no longer seen?
I believe.
Happy New Year!
Until next time,
PS: All the pictures in this post are clicks on Ipad and phone.
If You Could Read My Mind, Love …
Such fond memories of Asterix comic books.
Action-packed illustrations on each page. (Much) Younger Me spends ages poring over each micro-interaction in every frame.
Have a look at this one below –
Take time, observe …
Asterix, the Gaul. Assorted mirco-moments playing out at banquet table
This picture –
– has that effect. Urges me back. Over and over again. Examine every face, every expression. Gordon Lightfoot echoes in head (background music and all!) –
If you could read my mind love, what a tale my thoughts would tell …
Looking again. Intently. Face by face. Expression by expression.
So what’s going on in the singing heads ?
Ever wondered what it would be like to pitch a tent and spend a day in someone’s mind?
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What I see when eyes open each morning –
Light.
Husband’s up. Light brightens, knifes through shadowed gloom.
Lurking dark recedes.
Heard someone say this recently: “When night grows darker, light gets brighter. It has to .”
Sets me thinking.
Light needs darkness to shine.
Darkness overthrown, must flee.
Power and effect of light …
Notice how light plays with cloud, makes gloom slide away?
Spectacular …
- No night shadows without light –
- Ditto for daytime shadows –
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Dazzling puddles of sunshine all over house –
Delighted by indoor rainbows. Heart-stopping joy-moments in millisecond doses.
Grab I pad. Tap, click …
White light passes through clear glass prism, separates into colours.
Grade 10 physics …
There’s a process to create glorious dispersion of white light into rainbow colours –
Parable? Sort of …
Realize something –
LIGHT is only a prayer away.
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If you could read my mind, if I could read yours ….
