Doing anything with attention to how you feel is doing yoga.
Jean couch
Prior to the pandemic I spent time each summer attending meditation retreats, waking up daily and writing down every thought that came into my head for 5 minutes as a way to clear my mind and get a jump start on the day. I found from these retreats that there are hundreds of methods to achieve mindfulness. I even completed a course to start my path to becoming a mindfulness teacher.
When talking about meditation among friends, some would tell me they could never sit still for 15 minutes and others saying that while they would love to do yoga their bodies were no longer flexible. I was glad to have these conversations and assure people that meditation is more than just sitting on the ground in a cross-legged lotus position. It is about understanding that our thoughts do not make us who we are, but instead, they are just that – thoughts. We don’t have to hold on to them as fact but can instead admire them as they pass by. It is about working on becoming more aware of our surroundings, our body, and our emotional and physical responses to various stimuli. It is about helping us see things and to experience daily routines as fresh and new. It has been shown to be a great tool to help with panic attacks, racial trauma, maintaining attention, etc. Studies have shown that just 13 minutes a day practicing meditation helps improve one’s attention span and mood. It has also shown to be great for children. It can be done by taking your time when eating to enjoy the flavors and texture of the food we consume, by paying attention to the colors and smells when out for a walk or by simply closing your eyes and slowly breathing in and out.
I was happy to show people videos on YouTube of chair yoga, a simple method of yoga without the complexity of many yoga poses, of Yin yoga with sound bowls where you recline while being soothed by the sounds of the chimes and, if they loved the outdoors and animals, goat yoga is the way to go.
Yes, Goat yoga is a thing. It was started in Arizona in 2015 and despite other countries creating their own take, Arizona Goat Yoga in Gilbert remains #1. They even had Ozzi Ozborn attend a class. It is ranked as one of the top things to do in Arizona. I recommended it, especially now with so much cruelty and uncertainty in the world. It’s good to find something to make us smile and laugh. I enjoyed the setting, an expansive green field, the experience of sharing it with others as we watched the goats interact with each of us and the hilarity of seeing animals dressed up. If you are looking for something different and fun to do while finding some inner peace, then I suggest going to goatyoga.com to sign up for a class. It’s mindful and mind filling.
Moral: 1) Learn patience. 2) Mindfulness comes in many forms, so why not have some fun with it.
Please feel free to leave a comment below or at zsmisadventures@gmail.com and your story may be used for a future blog. Stay whimsical.
You can’t understand a city without using its public transportation system.
Erol Ozan
First – CONGRATULATIONS to Kim, and my brother, Justin. Their daughter, Maeve, took her time entering this world but finally made her presents known just before midnight on 7/15/20. We are super happy you are here to spoil; you can tell by the 6 pairs of shoes, a dozen colors of stretch leggings and tops, coats, hats, jewelry and even a baby couch you have yet to use. Yes, a baby couch. Facetime is nice but we will wait until we can safely fly and get some real face to face time.
I have been asked since working from home if I miss riding the light rail. To be honest, I do not miss the commute, but I do miss the community and spontaneity that each commute brought. I enjoyed knowing that when I got on, there were people who I never spoke to but would share fleeting moments with eye rolls and smiles at the silliness that occurred in front of us. I enjoyed starting my day by wishing other regular riders a good day and vice versa. I enjoyed the fact that when I stepped on board, I never knew what I was in for.
Most days were calm and spent talking to the regulars about their weekend plans or comic books or just relaxing while listening to my favorite music. While riding rather than driving offered time to contemplate and explore the zillion thoughts that crossed your mind, there were several days that were more lively. On those days, I could not wait to get to work and share the tale of my epic morning journey with my best friend, Rachelle. We had many moments of laughter and reflection. I lived for those talks as it added excitement and meaning to my life. I was able to be the storyteller of daily life in a way that no one else in my office could because I was the only one riding the rails. I was able to interact with people that I never would have given more than just a passing nod. By riding the rails with them I was able to hear their life stories, stories about their heroes, usually their mothers, stories about hope as they expressed admiration for those in the community willing to help them fulfill their life dream of being sober, and stories of hardship as they cared for those they loved on a limited income. While some stories were told in a drunken stupor and a failed attempted to win my affection, they were none the less appreciated. It is not every day a stranger, let alone a great friend or family member is candidly open about brushstrokes that make up the painting of their life.
However, the downside of riding the light rail as a female, is certain guys tend to think they can get away with resting their head on your shoulder and in some sleepy gesture claim their inappropriate touch was accidental. Those same guys would then grab or smack a woman’s backside as she walked past and claim they were merely stretching. Guys would offer to walk me to my car claiming that a woman should never be unaccompanied. These awkward situation usually occurred during the afternoon ride home. In the mornings, my station was the second stop, my favorite car near empty and I sat in the same small grouping almost daily. The afternoon ride, however, was a free for all. Some days were standing room only, while most were Whac-a-mole rush to get to an open seat. I would think more about where I sat as well as developing stories lines of a husband and children. I wore a ring that could pass as a wedding ring at first glance. When asked to see my adorable munchkins, I would show a picture of my nephew at his first birthday party. I have called my friend, Roy, and while I am telling him, “I’m 10 minutes out, so you better leave” all I can hear is him laughing. Just declining an advance or saying I had a boyfriend, was often not sufficient for some of the Light-rail Romeos. But the married with kids story worked the best and was the most entertaining.
I did carry mace in case a situation turned sideways. One slight turn was when a passenger across the aisle from me kept pointing at me and saying, “I know what you did, and you won’t get away with it.” As he kept saying it over and over, I did find myself grabbing the mace firmly in my hand. I was prepared for action. My companions around me just kept looking from him to me wondering the same thing as I was: “Where is this going?” Luckily for all of us he just talked about me covering up a murder and stealing his friends camping gear. The more he talked the more outlandish the story became until worn out he passed out slumped in his seat.
Earlier on that day’s ride, a man stood up in his aisle seat and slammed a hamburger to the floor yelling, “This is no church” at a lady who was whispering verses of the bible to herself while she got ready for the day ahead. It was humbling to see others around her kindly remind the man that the world and every place in it can be a place of personal worship if needed. Shortly thereafter, security wrote the man a $200 ticket for not having purchased the mandatory $2 pass and escorted him off the train. Whether it was an intervention from above or just happenstance, I couldn’t help but smile.
Moral: 1) Always buy a pass to ride the light rail. 2) Don’t be afraid to let others know when a boundary has been crossed. 3) Enjoy life’s stories as they are what make us who we are.
Please feel free to comment below or share your life stories at Zsmisadventures@gmail.com and it might be shared in a blog post. Stay Whimsical.
You don’t choose the day you enter the world and you don’t choose the day you leave. It is what you do in between that makes all the difference.
Anita Septimus
Below is a letter written by Carolyn Settle to my Grandmother Eleanor on her 90th birthday.
Back in my hot-air ballooning days in Arizona, I met a woman named Leandra. She came out to help crew and get a balloon ride with one of her co-workers who was a friend of the man who owned the balloon I flew. We liked giving people a chance to help launch and/or pack up the balloon a few times, if possible, because they usually found it fun and exciting, and ultimately appreciated their ride much more because they understood better what it was all about. Leandra reacted pretty much the way I had on my first ballooning occasion; that is, she was crazy about the whole thing, couldn’t wait to go again, and volunteered to crew for me anytime, didn’t even have to get a ride, just let her be involved. We hit it off very well, so I called her to go with me the next weekend and then again the next, and the next, until she was part of my regular crew. We had some wild and wonderful times on those flying weekends, meeting early Saturday morning to launch just as the sun peeked over the horizon, flying for a few hours, landing near other balloonists to hold First Rider ceremonies and celebrate with champagne (always!) and whatever else anyone brought out from fancy breakfast cookouts to beer and pretzels, and all pretty much before 10 or 11 am! Then everyone went home to recuperate and go to bed early, so we could do it all over again Sunday. This went on most weekends from the first cool mornings in October until around the end of May. The Memorial Day Race in Farmington, New Mexico was often the last flight of our season. There were several races throughout the season as well as the “normal” weekend flights. And Leandra and I were generally right in the middle of it all!
I also met her family. Her mother and stepfather were wonderful, and her brothers and their families were fun and interesting. We took most all of them for balloon rides a some point, and I enjoyed their hospitality and friendliness many times. Then things changed a bit. The balloon changed ownership and I could not afford to buy my own. I started working a lot more overtime, often on weekends. Leandra and I slowly drifted apart. Eventually, I met a man, married, moved, and lost touch with Leandra.
Life went on, my husband Terry, and I both worked hard and built our own group of friends and relationships. We had horses instead of balloons. I enjoyed just being around them – both Terry and the horses! Ten or twelve years passed quickly. Then one day I was checking my emails at home, and on some general newsletter about a park where you could horseback ride, I saw a name among the addressees that looked familiar: Leandra L. I wondered if there could possibly be two people with that name. So, I quickly fired off a message asking if she was the same Leandra that used to be crew chief for the Buzzard’s Roost balloon, and immediately got back, “Yes, yes, yes! Where have you been?” She came out to visit us, had dinner and met Terry, and we caught up on things a little. It was wonderful to see her again.
Now I need to explain that when we moved, my mother moved in with us. She was about 78 at the time and seemed in good health. But during the next couple of years, she became more and more housebound, afraid to go out on her own or drive anywhere. She began a slow decline into a state of senile dementia. As it got worse, she wanted to move to where she had more people around her. Since Terry and I were off to work all day, I thought that possibly she was falling more often than she admitted. My sister and I found a nice independent living apartment and moved her there. That lasted about a month, during which we realized that she did not attempt to make friends, and just sat and worried herself into a panic, then called 911 – a lot! We moved her to assisted living, where she continued to get worse. Several times, she was hospitalized and taken off all her medications, which were then restarted one by one to rule them out as the cause of her problems. Those times were terrible; she had no idea what was going on, although she always knew everyone, and could fool someone for 15 or 20 minutes into thinking she was quite normal. We often found ourselves laughing at things she did and said, only because it was better than crying, which was what we really felt like doing. But those are stories for another day.
Eventually they found that she had a subdural hematoma (along with the senile dementia), and she ended up having brain surgery at the age of 80. She was in a nursing home for a month or so, then went into a group home where she stayed until she was taken to hospice when she was 82, and was there for two months before she passed away.
The year or so before she went to hospice was the worst time of all for my sister and me. She eventually regressed to about age 17 and just kind of hung out there. Actually, she seemed to be having a pretty good time for a while, and she still remembered us, although she claimed not to know me for a couple of weeks once when I did or said something she didn’t like! But she was no longer the person we had known all our lives. Whatever our issues and problems with her might have been, she was still our mother until this happened. Then we did not know her at all! We did find out quite a bit more about the family, however. All those old secrets…
As we had no experience with senile dementia, my sister and I were really shocked at what happened to our mother. I started to think that there was very little point to living to a ripe old age if it was going to be like that. We were used to heart attacks and strokes (especially among the men), and the women lived into their 80’s and 90’s on both sides of the family, and usually died in their sleep. But we never lived near her parents, and my father’s family was small, so our experience was limited. I was rapidly becoming depressed and very frightened of having the same experience that she did. I kept talking to Terry about how afraid I was of becoming like my mother, and I hoped he and the kids never had to deal with that for me. And it was at that point that, once again, I heard from Leandra. She called to tell me that her uncle had written a book and published it, and they were going to have a book- signing party at her home. She invited us to attend. Most of her family would be there as well as other friends I knew.
Well, I was excited about that. I liked her mom very much and had heard a lot about her aunts; had met her brothers and their families. Her brother Dennis would be there with his son, Justin, who was about five the last time I saw him, and was now a young man, standing almost six feet, three inches tall! And Leandra always had interesting friends. I talked Terry into going, and we went to the party.
When we got there and walked into the living room, my first reaction was surprise at how much older everyone looked after 15 years. The next thing that occurred to me was that Terry was probably thinking, “Oh, great, who are all these old white-haired people? What kind of party is this going to be?” But Leandra introduced us, and we both got involved in conversation. Terry was enjoying hearing Leandra’s aunt tell about when she left the convent! and how she met her husband. I got to spend some time catching up with her mother, Eleanor, who was as bright, lively, funny, and nearing 90 as I remembered her.
But what impressed me the most throughout the evening, and what I have never forgotten since, was that many of the family present that night were in their 80’s, and not a one of them showed signs of the senility and dementia that had overtaken my mother! And then I realized that in caring for and visiting my mother, I had only been exposed to older people who were in some condition similar to hers, and there were a whole lot of people her age and older who were not like that at all! There were women and men in their 70’s, 80’s, even 90’s and beyond who were quite healthy, mentally fit, and full of life and love! I just never saw them.
I went home that night feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders. I could anticipate having a worthwhile future, of maintaining my independence for the most part, and participating in and enjoying life for many years to come! And even if my body started to deteriorate, it did not mean I would lose my mind. For me, in the long run, having intelligence and the ability to reason and understand is what would make longevity worthwhile.
My point, I would like to thank my good friend Leandra for the privilege of knowing her and her family, and for her kindness in sharing them as well as being a real friend herself. If I can live long enough and stay well enough to be as enduring and inspiring as you, Eleanor, I will consider my life a great success. I believe Leandra will follow in your footsteps. She and your family continue to give me hope for the future and reason to look forward to life.
Moral: 1) Friendship is the greatest gift one can give. 2) There is no age limit to making an impact in someone’s life. 3) Hot Air ballooning is a great way to bring people together.
Thank you for reading my blog this simple act puts the biggest smile on my face every Sunday. Feel free to comment below or email Zsmisadventures@gmail.com for a chance for your story to be used in a future blog. Be well and stay whimsical.
Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never where. But without it we go nowhere.
Carl Sagan
Growing up in Oranjestad, Aruba with 29,999 other friends I was accustomed to small town living. When I moved to Show Low, Arizona to begin my career in social work, I felt right at home being one ten thousandth of the population. Show Low is a Northern Arizona city in Navajo County balancing on the Mogollon rim. As the story goes, the name of the town “Show Low” originated from a game of poker between two gentlemen who were partners on a ranch, Corydon Cooley and Marion Clark. After years of riding and bickering, they decided to part ways. Not known for their astute business acumen, they decided to play a game of cards to see who would take sole possession of the ranch. Poker to be exact. The winner takes all. After countless hours and their stack of chips still nearly the same, Clark suggested they change the game to low ball. The worst hand gets the ranch. Cooley feeling confident took the challenge. After the deal, Clark with a huge smile laid down his with no pairs and a 4 as his low card but Cooley showed low with a deuce. The main street in Show Low is named “Deuce of Clubs” to honor the hand that created the city. My office was on Cooley. On New Year’s Eve a Deuce of Clubs that is located on the Deuce is dropped at midnight.
Show Low has other unique ways to show their spirit and love of silly old fashion competition. Every year during Show Low Days a handful of creative minds get together to show off their talents to not only entertain but to also win prize money. The objective is simple: build either the fastest soap box or the craziest designed race car to traverse the ½ mile down the Deuce hill section of town. The fastest and the craziest-designed box car designer to finish the race takes home $1000.
As a newbie, I had to check it out. Standing on the block planter at the finish line in front of Tractor Supply, I had a good view of the entire course. I could hardly control my excitement as I waited to see 1) what a boxcar was and 2) is it something I could do. I was not disappointed. I saw a man in a cardboard boat flip over when he lost control of his sail steering mechanism (he was fine, just minor cuts and bruises), a man in an actual box, a man wearing a leather jacket and pants around his ankles sitting on a toilet attached to a wheeled platform, and a group of nearby college students driving a well-used couch roll past me at speeds of 15 miles per hour. I was stunned. I never thought I would see a man driving a toilet “carriage” down the street like it was just another day. Later that day I went home and sat down with my dad and constructed on paper our own boxcar that would consist of me sitting in an airplane dressed like Amelia Earhart. Unfortunately, we realized quite quickly just how hard making a boxcar with both steering and braking devices really was and decided it was best to leave it to the “professionals.” I saw one driver carried away on a stretcher who had bounced down the asphalt across the finish line when the wheel of his “magic carpet” hit a pothole and went airborne. He had a better time then his “magic carpet.” Race time, that is.
Moral: 1) Imagination leads to fruition and joy. 2) When making a difficult life-altering decision some take out a coin and flip it or “show low” in a poker hand. 3) Number 2 can lead to a magic carpet ride. Not a good idea.
Please feel free to share your comments and stories below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com and your story may be used in a future blog. Thank you. Be safe, Be well, and Stay whimsical.
Hello world, I hope you got a little patience, You’re such a beautiful arrangement, But I’m not waiting for my turn…
O-town: Hello World Lyrics
Aruba was not a regular stop on the stadium concert scene. Of course, the entire population of Aruba in 2000 would not fill the Horseshoe in Columbus, Ohio. My only real chance to rock out with my favorite group as a pre-teen was during the summer when I visited family in Arizona. I did however spend countless hours watching Making the Band. I would not leave my little pink 8 X 10-inch television with a built-in VCR while it was on. Those were the days before recording all your favorite shows and watching them at your leisure. Thus, I drove my best friend, Yenzully, crazy because Wednesday late afternoon was a ‘I’m not to be interrupted’ time of day. She thought that watching a group of guys trying to earn their spot in a boy band was unappealing (Ok, stupado). She would rather be dancing to any one of her thousand scratchy radio recorded tapes. It was the music that moved her not the story of how it came about. I too have concluded that I just want to dance and not get caught up in backstories. I will admit to watching a few Netflix music documentaries with my parents of how some obscure group like the Mamas and Papas, I’m not making that up, got their start.
For those who have never seen Making of the Band ,it was the first reality television show on ABC later shown on MTV about creating an American Boy Band in 2000 and following their journey from those with a dream to those living the dream of selling out stadiums to thousands of screaming fans. At the end of the first season, O-Town was born. However, after three successful years and despite mass pleas from fans, yes, I was one of them, they disbanded in 2003. They spoke of legal reasons and wishes to pursue solo careers being the major reasons. I was heartbroken and moped around the house for weeks mourning the loss of the music that would never be created. I like countess others felt I knew Erik-Michael Estrada, Trevor Penick, Jacob Underwood, Dan Miller, and Ashley Parker Angel. I was proud of their success because I had dedicatedly watch on my little pink 8 x 10 tv how much effort and love they put into making their band. I was saddened that they would not create new songs that would set my heart aflutter, such as “All or Nothing.”
But to my surprise, while scrolling thru Ticketmaster in 2016 I found the band did indeed get back together and, OMG, would be coming to Phoenix. They would not be performing in one of the larger venues where a hundred dollar ticket will get you within a thousand feet of the band, but in an intimate setting where 50 bucks will get you bumping the stage. I got there early enough to bump the stage front and center. When they sang about love and wanting no one else but the girl in front of them, they were singing directly to me. It was magical. I was transported to my 12-year-old self and the moments I spent sitting in front of my television wishing I could see them perform.
As you may know, dear reader, I like morals to stories. I remember thinking on my way home that night, patience is indeed a virtue. It may have taken 16 years to see them, but I also got to meet them. That would not have happened had I seen them at the Horseshoe in 2000. I would have just been another dot, not even a face, in the crowd. This time, however, I got to be front and center. I danced, laughed, smiled, sang and shared with them the joy they brought to me. It is a moment in time that will forever be etched in my mind. If I am ever in a town or an island that is not on the regular concert tour schedule, I can put on my favorite CD and dance around my room knowing that some musical dreams really do come true.
Moral: 1) Always go for what you want. 2) Never let go of the child within. 3) When all else fails let the music take the reins.
Please feel free to comment and share your stories in the comments below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com.
It was my father who taught me to value myself. He told me I was uncommonly beautiful and that I was the most precious thing in his life.
Dawn French
Happy Father’s Day to all the father’s out there and father’s to be. Thanks for all the love and comfort you share. I am fortunate to have a wonderful father of my own that I have been able to learn from throughout the years. He has taught me how to write, how to create, and to know that I am worth loving. He is one of a kind. Below is a piece he wrote for college when he was going to ASU. Enjoy.
It was the first snow of winter. A beautiful, young housewife sat at her kitchen nook sipping dark ebony, Kona blend coffee. She was drawn into the shimmering black pool of her morning drink and the reflections of the ivory-white rim. Reaching across the table for her scissors, she pricked the end of her ring finger. She jerked her hand back. A small droplet of deep red blood appeared. She hesitated and admired the vibrant color before wiping her hand on a napkin. As she watched the snowflakes float like feathers across her view of Mount Bachelor, she daydreamed of a daughter with ebony hair, ivory-white skin, and lips as vibrant red as the blood in her veins.
Several years later, the young housewife had the daughter of her dreams. She survived long enough to touch the beautiful white skin and ebony hair, to kiss the deep red lips, and to name her beauty, Ebony White.
Ebony White’s father, after several years of mourning, married a former Oregon beauty queen who secretly practiced witch craft. She spent hours in front of her magic mirror challenging with makeup any sign of the aging process. She would often pose in front of the mirror and ask, “Tell me mirror, tell me true, whose beauty makes men say, Eeeew?”
“You da Eeeew,” the mirror would reply.
Satisfied, the queen would blow the mirror a kiss as she headed off to the mall.
As the years passed, Ebony grew more and more beautiful each year. By the time she was a teenager, she was strikingly more beautiful than the queen or anyone else in Central Oregon. One day when the queen asked, “Tell me mirror, tell me true, whose beauty makes men say, Eeeew?”
The mirror replied, “You da Eeeew in view, but Ebony White’s the Eeeew Delight.”
The queen was fit to be tied. She stormed from the room and ordered her appointment secretary, Bruce, to take Ebony out on the Deschutes River and drown her. “Make it look like an accident,” she said sharply. “I’m off to the spa.”
Bruce coaxed Ebony to join him on an afternoon canoe trip. They floated and paddled for about an hour downstream before Bruce finally told Ebony of her stepmother’s command. “Take this canoe and paddle to Portland,” he instructed.
Ebony White headed down river. After two days of fighting the rapids and rocks, she waded ashore and fell asleep under an ancient redwood. Benny, one of the seven Burpinstock brothers, wandered down to the river and discovered the sleeping beauty. “Are you alright, young lady?” he asked as she jolted awake.
Ebony told him of her plight. Benny led her back to the shoe factory boardroom where he talked with his brothers while Ebony ate a sprout, spinach and tofu sandwich. It was agreed that Ebony could stay at one of the cabins in the Burpinstock compound and help out with internet and walk in orders.
After weeks of receiving condolences from just about everyone in Bend, the queen was relaxing in front of her mirror. “Tell me mirror, tell me true, whose beauty makes men say, Eeeew?”
“You da Eeeew in view, but Ebony White’s still the Eeeew Delight,” the mirror replied.
The queen was furious. “The Eeeew Delight must be banished from sight,” she yelled. After firing Bruce for insubordination, she gathered her books on potions. Blowing off the dust from the leather-bound covers, she spent hours both sneezing, she had dust allergies, and thumbing through the ancient pages for a poisonous concoction that would finally put Snow White to rest. The Red Delicious was ultimately her poison of choice. A beautiful red apple admired and consumed by Northwest vegetarians would be injected with the poison. A delight for the Eeeew Delight she thought gleefully.
With further help from the mirror, the queen was able to see Ebony White happily sending a test message to Billy Burpinstock, the company’s internet guru.
The queen set off at once on a shopping spree. Apples were bought at Whole Foods. She stopped at the Goodwill Thrift Store for an outfit more befitting the Burpinstock image. Her gathering of a ruffled petticoat skirt, gold-embroidered swing tunic, boho beret and tire tread sandals cost a little more than seven dollars. She stopped at the neighborhood Quick Cut and had her hair done up in a seven braid cage. Her last stop was at Todd’s Toyota dealership where she left her prize Mercedes to test drive an eco-friendly Prius.
It took a little more than five hours for the queen to reach the Burpinstock complex. Set deep into the forest at the edge of the Deschutes Old Redwood Preserve, it was a tree huggers’ dream. Without makeup and dressed in the drab fashion of yesteryear, Ebony did not recognize the queen when she entered the shoe room. The queen, a lady of the perfumed world, gagged at the faint smell of dirty feet. Ebony helped the queen pick out a pair of blue Super Burpy Clogs. After paying for her purchase, the queen handed Ebony the poisonous apple. “A red delicious delight for your help, my dear. Extra sweet, extra special,” she said and walked out the door.
Ebony White set the shiny apple on the corner of her polished ebony desk. It’s too beautiful to eat she thought. But the temptation like that of Adam millions of years ago was too strong to resist. She bit into the lethal concoction and immediately slumped to the floor. Her breathing and heart beat slowed to an imperceptible rate. When Bernie Burpinstock found Ebony sprawled across the floor, he deemed her dead. He summoned the other brothers to the office. “I deem her dead,” he said.
They moved her body to the conference room table and debated on what to do. “Let’s bury her by the ancient redwood where I found her,” Benny suggested.
“No. No.” replied Bobby. “We should build a monument at the center of the compound and place here there.”
The brothers Burpinstock debated day after day, week after week, and month after month but were unable to reach a unanimous decision. So Ebony White’s body remained prostrate on the conference room table.
One decision the brothers did make several years after Ebony’s assumed demise was to build a factory in Thailand to take advantage of that country’s cheap labor pool. “Why pay our people a living wage when we can get the work done for peanuts and a bowl of white rice,” they said. On their way to the factory’s grand opening their private jet developed engine trouble and plunged into the North Pacific subtropical gyre, a floating garbage patch of plastic the size of Texas. The world mourned the loss of Bernie, Bobby, Billy, Benny, Barry, Buddy, and Buckley Burpinstock.
There lived in the outskirts of Spokane, the nerdy young son of a wealthy philanthropist, Gabriel “Gabby” Gates. While his father thought computers could save the world, Gabby believed, “If every person had a good pair of clogs, the world would be at peace.” It’s hard to fight, he reasoned, when each step is a shuffle. When he saw the headlines, ‘Burpinstock Brothers Drown in a Sea of Plastic’ he saw the future of the world flash before his eyes.
“I will buy the company and shoe the world,” he told his dog, Gimpy. “We will have peace at last.”
After a fortnight of financial wrangling, Gabby took over the Burpinstock empire which included the prostrate body of Ebony White. On his first visit to the redwood factory, the general manager asked what he should do with the delicate sculpture that adorned the conference room table. Gabby inspected his new purchase and thought it a beautiful work of art. “Bring it along, Bruce.” he told his assistant. “I shall hang it over the fireplace at home.”
His assistant not used to wearing clogs and distracted by his ‘this face seems familiar’ thoughts, stumbled through the doorway and dropped Ebony White to the floor. The impact dislodged the poisonous wedge of apple caught in Ebony’s throat and she began to cough. Bruce, looking up from his prone position on the display room floor, passed out. Gabby grabbed Ebony White’s hand and helped her up. Dizzy from her years of horizontal life, Ebony grabbed onto Gabby’s arm for stability and they shuffled off together into the midsummer Oregon sunlight.
Mistaking the wobbly clutch of Ebony White for affection, Gabby eagerly proposed marriage to her in the back of his Volvo limousine.
Five hours away, before her favorite mirror, the queen exploded in anger. Her tears washed away the makeup that hid the wrinkles and blotches of an aged face. An image of wretched ugliness was imprinted on her brain. “Da Eeeew is through,” were her last words.
After the last snow flurries of March and as the countryside turned to a blanket of green, Ebony White and Gabby Gates held the outdoor wedding of the century. With the world watching on their smart phones and wearing free, commemorative, white Super Burpy clogs distributed worldwide by the Gates Foundation, the couple exchanged their vows of love. They and the world shuffled around happily and peacefully thereafter.
Moral: 1) A New Pair of Shoes can indeed change a life. 2) Don’t compare yourself to others it will only cause you distress, accept your wonder as is.
Thank you for reading and have a Happy Father’s Day. Feel free to share your comments and stories in the comments below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com.
Children are happy because they don’t have a file in their minds called “All The Things That Could Go Wrong.
Marianne Williamson
Children may not only say the darndest things but also do ‘em. My nephews in Virginia pictured above are no exception. While they are about to enter the brilliantly uninformed, inexperienced, lazy, and loveable teenage years now, they find new ways to make me smile. Rather than facing the musical practice lockdown in their room all alone, they Facetime me and request an audience while they mis-blow every other note on a clarinet and find it most entertaining to clear out the spit. When tucking them in at bedtime, I have had the honor of their sad eyed pleading look followed by the soft imploring request to scratch their backs to help them fall asleep. I have clear memories of sitting between them during a family misadventure to Crater Lake. They entertained themselves and me by drawing their future living compound. Among other must haves, they agreed that it must have an ice cream shop for their kids off the movie theater. They are the sunshine that lights up my life.
I am very much looking forward to sitting at the counter in their ice cream shop telling their kids when this much needed space was designed. With chocolate ice cream dripping down our chins, I will relish telling the story of when their 5 and 7-year-old parents decided to hit the road on a thinly planned misadventure. Shortly after being tucked in, they noisily opened the bedroom window and crawled out with a backpack full of goodies. Their necessities for a lifetime of travel included their favorite comic books, toothbrushes, two pair of undewear, one pair of socks and, of course, the most important thing when seeking a new life of adventure…. a bag of money.
Their journey to explore the world made it to the front of the house where my brother sat on the front porch steps. When he asked what they were doing and where they were planning on going, their response was simple; go to Circle K; get large Pepsi’s, some beef jerky, and gummy worms before heading to the bus stop at the corner. They would have the bus take them to Myrtle Beach where they would wait for the next boat to sail off and see the world. The why? They didn’t have to stay home and pick up their toys when they could afford to get toys from all the new places they would see. “Nonie made us rich”, they said smiling and holding out their little bag of riches. All my brother could do was laugh. While visiting Arizona and the tourist shops in Sedona, Nonie bought them each a bag of gold nuggets. While it does say Fools Gold, who reads the fine print.
When they told me their side of the story, all I could do was laugh and tell them how delighted I was of their desire to explore the world together. Proud too, because they remembered to bring more than I did. When I was 7 years old, I too packed a bag. My backpack, however, was jammed with as many stuffed animals as I could fit. Forget socks and underwear, I wanted Big Bear and my other bedroom mates to see what the world outside my room was all about. I made it past the three neighboring houses all the way to the corner when I realized I was thirsty; had no money and didn’t know which way to go at the corner. I also had to pee, so I went back home. A few years later with experience as my guide I left with the two dollars and seventeen cents I saved up, some clothes, and of course Big Bear and my pillow. I figured if I ventured to my friend’s house across the alley, I would have a bed to sleep in, a bathroom, water to drink, a pool, and a ride to school. I did not count on her mother calling my mother. Nor did I consider her mother’s request that I pay my share for room and board which was way North of two dollars and seventeen cents. What followed was my first sleep over and my last adolescent thoughts of the hobo life.
My nephews’ travel misfortune reminded me that they are growing up, becoming independent and carry my family’s whimsical gene for misadventure. I have seen pictures of their Great Aunt, Leandra back in the 40s, lugging an oversized suitcase down the street. She only made it half a block because she packed way too much and couldn’t carry it another step.
Moral: 1) My nephews and nieces brighten my life. 2) Relish your time with children, they do the darndest things. 3) Read the fine print.
Feel free to share your stories in the comments below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com and the stories may appear in a future blog.
You don’t fight racism with racism, the best way to fight racism is with solidarity.
Bobby Seale
I would like to take a moment to remember all those beautiful souls that were taken horrifically by the hands of those who have taken the oath to defend and protect us: George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Eric Gardner, John Crawford II, India Kager, Eric Reason, and so many more that it would take a lifetime of minutes to fill the ledger. This is not a problem that needs to change, it is a system that promotes racism around the world that needs to change. It is unacceptable that a majority of people have to live with the knowledge that just because of the color of their skin they could have their life and the lives of those they love taken from them just for walking down a street or sleeping in their bed. It is unacceptable that it can be done so casually and without any consequence. It is unacceptable. I know that I cannot possibly understand the pain, the hurt, the anguish that one might feel living every day under this never-ending tension, but none the less, I am here to listen. Black Lives Matter. I want you to know I love you, I care for you, I see you, and I fight alongside you.
Moral: Speaking out about and listening to stories about injustice are not always easy things to do, but they are the first steps for change to occur.
If you are a reader and would like some book recommendations to understand how we got to today please read: Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin, The Color Purple by Alice Walker, The Bluest Eyes by Toni Morrison, and How to be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi.
Notes of a Native Son by James Balwin: This is available as an audiobook that you can listen to free on YouTube. Mr. Baldwin wrote it during the 1940s and early 1950s when he was in his twenties to capture the view of black life and black thought during the civil rights movement through a series of essays.
The Color Purple by Alice Walker: This book can also be listened to for free on YouTube audiobooks. Ms. Walker captures the lives of African American women growing up in Georgia in the 1930s. It is a story that depicts the violence in which these women and African American men were treated due to class structures.
The Bluest Eyes by Toni Morrison: Ms. Morrison documents the struggle of a young black girl who is not satisfied or proud of the body she was given and wishes to be white with blonde hair and blue eyes to help her fit in. It is a story that captures the harsh reality of who we are and what we are told we should be.
How to be an AntiRacist by Ibram X. Kendi: This book can be listed for free on YouTube audiobooks. Mr. Kendi discussed the language used and not used when discussing racism. He also states that it takes more than showing anti-racist emotion to make a change, it also takes pursuing anti-racist actions to make genuine progress.
If you are not a reader or audiophile but would still like to learn more about racism some movies to watch would be Just Mercy, The Color Purple, Do the Right Thing, When They See Us, and Watchmen.
Just Mercy: This movie can be watched free on YouTube, Amazon Prime, and Google Play. Katie Couric spoke with the human rights attorney Bryan Stevenson who the movie is based on her podcast, Next Question with Katie Couric in December of 2019. The movie is about when Mr. Stevenson graduated from Harvard Law School and heads to Alabama to defend those wrongly condemned. One of his first cases is that of Walter McMillian, who is sentenced to die in 1987 for the murder of an 18-year-old girl, despite evidence proving his innocence. In the years that follow, Stevenson encounters racism and legal and political maneuverings as he tirelessly fights for McMillian’s life.
The Color Purple: This movie can be watched on Netflix. Ms. Walker captures the lives of African American women growing up in Georgia in the 1930s. It is a story that depicts the violence in which these women and African American men were treated due to class structures.
Do The Right Thing: This movie is available on Netflix. It is a movie about police brutality in New York. On the hottest day of the year on a street in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn hate and bigotry smolders and builds until it explodes into violence.
When They See Us: A Netflix mini-series. tells the story of the wrongful conviction of five black and Latino teenagers (dubbed the Central Park Five) for the 1989 assault on a female jogger in Central Park. All five were exonerated in 2002 when serial rapist Matias Reyes confessed that he was the sole attacker.
WatchMen: Offered on Amazon Prime, YouTube TV, and HBO. The superhero comics series was adapted into a politically relevant drama about race and the criminal justice system.
Below are some advocacy organizations that are doing important work in the fight to stop racial and social injustice. Feel free to check them out and see how you can get involved.
The Loveland Foundation: https://thelovelandfoundation.org Loveland Foundation is committed to showing up for communities of color in unique and powerful ways, with a particular focus on black women and girls. Their resources and initiatives are collaborative and they prioritize opportunity, access, validation, and healing. Their efforts strive to becoming the ones we’ve been waiting for.
Black Lives Matter: https://blacklivesmatter.com Black Lives Matter began as a call to action in response to state-sanctioned violence and anti-black racism. Their intention from the very beginning was to connect Black people from all over the world who have a shared desire for justice to act together in their communities. The impetus for that commitment was, and still is, the rampant and deliberate violence inflicted by the state.
Campaign Zero: https://www.joincampaignzero.org Campaign ZERO was developed with contributions from activists, protesters and researchers across the nation. This data-informed platform presents comprehensive solutions to end police violence in America. It integrates community demands and policy recommendations from research organizations and President Obama’s Task Force on 21st Century Policing.
The Marsha P. Johnson Institute: https://marshap.org/about-mpji/ We were created to elevate, support, and nourish the voices of Black trans people. Our community is made up of Black trans people and those committed to undoing white supremacy in all of its forms. Our space is intended for the sole purpose of bettering the Black trans community across the diaspora.
Color Of Change: https://colorofchange.org Color Of Change helps you do something real about injustice. We design campaigns powerful enough to end practices that unfairly hold Black people back, and champion solutions that move us all forward. Until justice is real. Color Of Change is here to make decision makers nervous when they think about neglecting and exploiting our communities. By holding them accountable, and championing solutions for social change, we are making society less hostile and more human for Black people in America. Help us do it.
NAACP Legal Defense Fund: https://www.naacpldf.org/ The NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund, Inc. is America’s premier legal organization fighting for racial justice. Through litigation, advocacy, and public education, LDF seeks structural changes to expand democracy, eliminate disparities, and achieve racial justice in a society that fulfills the promise of equality for all Americans. LDF also defends the gains and protections won over the past 75 years of civil rights struggle and works to improve the quality and diversity of judicial and executive appointments.
National Lawyers Guild: https://www.nlg.org/ The NLG is dedicated to the need for basic change in the structure of our political and economic system. The NLG is anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist, and anti-racist and we strive to bring in anti-oppressive practices to all aspects of our organization. Each year, NLG members vote on organizational resolutions, which shape our priorities and areas of intervention. Through the national office, local and law school chapters, national committees, independent projects, and individual members, the Guild helps to support social justice movements on the ground as well as provide solidarity to international struggles.
Community Justice Action Fund: https://www.cjactionfund.org/ The Community Justice Action Fund is a nonprofit organization building power for and with communities of color to end gun violence. CJAF is changing the conversation on gun violence prevention by leading with the people closest to the pain of everyday gun violence. Ending gun violence takes all of us.
Black Futures Lab: https://blackfutureslab.org/ Black Futures Lab works with Black people to transform our communities, building Black political power and changing the way that power operates—locally, statewide, and nationally. There are three ways that Black Futures Lab is a different kind of project for change: our mission to engage Black voters year-round; our commitment to use our political strength to stop corporate influences from creeping into progressive policies; and our plan to combine technology and traditional organizing methods to reach Black people anywhere and everywhere we are.
Fair Fight Action: https://fairfight.com/ Promote fair elections in Georgia and around the country, encourage voter participation in elections, and educate voters about elections and their voting rights. Fair Fight brings awareness to the public on election reform, advocates for election reform at all levels, and engages in other voter education programs and communications.
Please feel free to share your stories and comments below or at zsmisadventures@gmail.com.
From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere.
Dr. Seuss
Like my cat, Cutie, I have a knack for creating whimsical moments. Hearing my father tell stories about his daily life, I cannot help but think I come by it naturally. Just the other day my dad who is up and out of the house at 5 came home and told this story when asked about his day.
“You know’” he began, “I keep my head up wherever I go. I want to see the beauty of the day and what lays ahead. Your mother, on the other hand, walks around with her head down. Oh, she finds money on the ground that I just walked past and often remarks, ‘I love your shoes,’ to a stranger walking by. So, this morning, in my usual high headed manner, I jumped in the shower. It was not until I had thoroughly lathered up the shampoo and lowered my head to rinse out the extra thick and long Covid-19 hair that I opened my eyes. I could not believe what I saw…. I still had one sock on.” I can laugh at the absurdity of my dad’s ‘I look at the brighter side’ excuse. On the other hand, I don’t know anyone else who has done that without being intoxicated.
Like most young women who have a story about falling while running in heels to catch a ride, I was able to add to my story later when my co-workers were driving by and saw nothing but heels and the big red heart on the bottom of my Valentine’s Day undies. I have had two dozen cupcakes launch like a string of mortar rockets when the doors to the light rail pinned my leg and stopped me but not the cupcakes in my tracks. Six months later a lady I never spoke to before told me she was sorry about my cupcake launch. Some instances will live on in a variety of perspectives. While our assessment may be embarrassing others may see humor, sorrow and/or dismay. Thus, I have learned to embrace the whimsical moments as they are a big part of my life. The more ridiculous the better.
One such moment was when my co-workers were evacuated from our office and after gathering with the fire department in the parking lot, were sent home. This was happening while I was singing quietly along with the music blasting from my headphones and auditing files behind the closed doors of my office. I did not notice that the power had gone out as I had a large window in front of me that provided not only light but entertainment. I was able to look out and see the squirrels scurrying up trees and pigeons using my coworkers’ cars as bombing targets. It was not until I walked out of my office and headed to the file room that I noticed four firemen in gas masks rummaging through the main storage closet. When I asked what happened I was told that they were looking into a complaint of a power outage and possible gas vapors leaking through the air conditioning vents. I asked if I needed to worry. We suggest, he said in a way that was not a suggestion, that you join your co-workers and go home immediately. I walked out to an empty parking lot and into the Safety Monitor position in every office since.
I have donned the cape of a safety monitor in my home too. I have plans of escape routes from each room and big red dots for the places around the house where Cutie likes to sleep. Before you jump out your window, the instructions advise that you should check the few spots in your room and in the adjacent areas where she might be napping. She would appreciate escaping too.
Moral: 1) When a building is being evacuated make sure all rooms have been evacuated, please. 2) Enjoy the whimsical moments they are what help bring us together.
Please feel free to leave your comments and whimsical stories in the comments below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com.
If you can’t impress yourself, then no one else really matters.
Laurell K. Hamilton
Tomorrow, we will be taking time to honor the men and women who have died defending our country with a national holiday known as Memorial Day or Decoration Day. This time-honored tradition became a federal holiday in 1967 but was celebrated long before by decorating the graves of fallen soldiers with flowers, flags, or coins and in many communities grave side ceremonies by the local veteran’s organizations. Did you know that the coins left on grave stones have different meanings to those visiting the graves? A penny symbolizes that someone paid their solider friend a visit, a nickel means that the person trained at boot camp or other military training course with the fallen solider, a dime stands for a someone who had the honor to serve along the deceased solider, and a quarter signifies that person was at their side when they died. This practice continues across our country.
Other countries have similar practices for remembering their fallen soldiers along with a designated time for a moment of silence, which I suggest we do now.
Thank you.
Australia celebrates Anzac Day, on April 25 to honor those who fought in World War I. Netherlands’s Dodenherdenking “Remembrance of the Dead” on May 4th celebrates the souls lost since World War II. England’s Remembrance Day and Belgium’s Armistice Day on November 11th marks the end of World War I. Losing a loved one is hard enough but losing them in battle is unimaginable. Thus, it is important to remember why these days exist.
It has often been said that after World War II Memorial Day became more about the beginning of summer and time with family than about a day for tears and remembrance. It has become synonymous with hot dogs and picnics. When looking up things to do for Memorial Day in Arizona conquering the Flagstaff Extreme Obstacle Course is among the top of the list.
I went back to Flagstaff Extreme on Memorial Day a few years ago to conquer the largest obstacle course in the United States. The course is installed the Ponderosa Pines Forest 15 to 80 feet above the ground with over 80 obstacles suspended between the trees. I would say that my Grandpa Ed, who fought in World War II would have been proud that I rose to this personal test and conquered the physical and mental challenges the course presents, even if it took two tries. I felt that I honored those who lost their lives by not only thinking about them and their loved ones, but also by spending the day with my siblings doing something that took strength, courage, and forced us to lean on each other. Grandpa understood the importance of teamwork and often said it was the central unifying element for the allied forces in winning the war.
Flagstaff Extreme’s obstacles are separated into 5 courses allowing for breaks to be taken between each course. However, it is not for the faint of heart. The obstacles consist of rope bridges, ladders, tight rope walking, zip lines and everything in between on cables suspended high up in the trees. My favorite was the zip line skateboard. How many people have skateboarded 50 feet above ground on a board attached to a swaying, bouncing cable?
After an hour and a half to two hours of struggling and hanging on for dear life, you reach the last obstacle. Despite how in shape you thought you were, you are dripping with sweat, heavily breathing and your arm and leg muscles feel like Jello. The last test is only a 100-foot crossing that requires arm and leg strength. While the end is so close, ‘Can I make it?’ will cross your mind.
The first time I tried the course, about 2/3 of the way through, my arms were jelly and I could not hold my hands over my head. Once you climb down in the middle of the course, you must start over. As I was only on the second obstacle of the fourth course with several more difficult challenges to go that involved holding myself up, I climbed down in tears and vowed to get my redemption. On Memorial Day, a year later and a little wiser, I did get my redemption and finish the course. I wear the black achievement tee shirt proudly. It reminds me that with patience and hard work anything can be achieved.
My brother Todd is a great example of the family ‘I’ll die trying’ attitude. He too finished the course and had the bruises on his chest and under his arms to show it. When he reached the last obstacle, the horizontal rope ladder. He could barely move. He decided to hang his arms over the ropes and step across little by little holding himself up by the crook of his arms. The guide that keeps track of how everyone is doing, was on the ground yelling up to Todd, “Use your hands and lean back, it’s easier.” Todd quickly assured him, “I don’t need tips. I need new arms and legs.” With his legs shaking to hold himself up and his arms showing bruise marks from carrying most of the load, he inched his way across. It probably took 10 minutes to go 100 feet, but Todd had enough energy to let out a scream when he reached the platform. It took another 15 minutes before he had the strength to climb down.
Moral: 1) Never underestimate one’s abilities. 2) Remember the act of trying is the first step to completing your goal. 3) Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for those we lost, but it does not have to be a day of tears, it can be a day of laughter as one tells stories of those loves ones.
My deepest gratitude goes to those who served and were not able to return and to their loved ones. If you have stories you would like to share feel free to leave a comment below or email zsmisadventures.com and your story may be future in a future blog.
Lady Z's MisAdventures 