That smile

Today I was invited by a friend to go to a Memorial Day BBQ. I'm typically good with this sort of thing. I can mix and mingle, make conversation with just about anyone. It was a mixture of a crowd and I enjoyed it immensely. When the 40 plus crowd dwindled to about 15 I found myself in the back yard enjoying some cocktails and conversation. As the topic of conversation to the right of me turned to what was obviously a re-enactment of some comedian's rendition of a "retarded" person I stood quietly. 

Those that know me, know this is a huge feat! With  most  issues that I feel strongly about its hard for me to contain myself, especially if alcohol is involved, but this time I stood quietly. I took a few deep breaths and when the topic died down I took out my phone and showed those involved in the conversation this: 

And said, " this is my son Walker".

That's all I really needed to say. The men started apologizing and I shook my head and said, "no need, just remember that smile" and walked away.

I wasn't angry, I wasn't sad. It's life. It's what people are afraid of or have no experience with that they make light of. 

I hope that with my gentle nature and understanding that they learned something today. When your language and actions are based in hurtfulness, it is always someone's child you are talking about. 

Whether it be race, religion, class, sexuality, gender identity or able ness, it's someone's child. He/she/they are loved, cared for and worried about. 

Remember that smile! 

Simply simple

It's been a year of transition. What I sometimes forget is to get out of my own head and remember that it's been a Year of transition for my children too.

Two different houses and my oldest moving out has left our sanctuary feeling a little off. 

I've been putting serious thought into it. Meditating on it and wondering what the universe wanted me to learn. There has to be some lesson here. 

And there it was. 

Something simple. 

Something perfect. 

9 months later

Last August I finished my last graduate class at SUNY New Paltz. The class was a perfect ending to my educational program, it was Expressive Art. It was an amazing mix of theory and social justice practices combined with a safe classroom atmosphere In which art could be ceated. For me, art is a vulnerability, an insecurity of mine that was only fostered in higher learning. So to end my graduate work in this way felt fitting to the degree I was getting. 

It was bitter sweet. I was happy to be done but sad that I was not given the opportunity to wear a cap and gown and walk onto stage to shake hands and get recognition for my degree. My university only does commencement ceremonies once a year. The next opportunity to partake would be 9 months later. It just felt anti-climatic. 

To my surprise I received this picture today 

I have to admit, I felt a ping of accomplishment and pride! Although I didn't walk on stage it did make me take a moment and acknowledge to myself that I did it! I worked hard and completed my goal. No party, no cards, no cap or gown is needed to prove to myself that I did it! All in my iown! 

I am from

I am from log cabin walls and cathedral ceilings,

I am from worn out slippers and baskets hanging from railroad ties,

I am from 33 records spinning the story of Fiddler on the roof and Paul Simon lyrics.

I am from horse shoe pits and firewood.

I am from oils stains and gravel driveways shoveled in the snow.

I am from corn fields and Holsteins and black dirt tornadoes.

I am from unpaves roads and the turn around tree.

I am from Dottie and Clara Bell

Chocolate chip cookies and meatloaf

I am from family portraits hanging on a stair case.

I am from cedar trunks and shoe boxes filled with photos and memories.

I am from "foof it" and "dunk the baby"

Dancing in the rain and catching fireflies.

I am from riding motorcycles and collecting river rocks.

I am from the black cherry tree bending in the wind and the spring peepers singing ther song.

I am from everything that was, that is and that could be.