E-Letter 181
I spy him standing perplexed in front of the chipped, sweat-stained, concrete statue of Jesus the Good Shepherd cradling a sleeping (or injured?) lamb in his arms. “Who is this, Grandma?” he asks as he tenderly strokes the lamb’s nappy head, caressing the frozen-for-all-time curls reverently like the beads of a rosary. “Jesus,” I answer as I do a mental shuffle anticipating his next question. ”Who is he supposed to be,” he wonders out loud, “a farmer or a doctor who takes care of animals?” I clear my throat. “Yes,” I tell him, and he looks at me quizzically. “Well, which one is he?” he...
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My granddaughter stands at the top of a wooden play structure, surveys the work of her hands, and grins. We’ve spent 15 minutes coloring the wooden floor and beams with sidewalk chalk, and now this budding artist is ready for a new adventure so she stretches out her arms, and pleads,“Up, up!” “Go down the slide, Ingrid,” I coax her, but she stubbornly refuses to consider my perfectly reasonable suggestion. “Up, up!” she insists, and I try a new tactic. “Ingrid, let’s see if you can climb down the ladder.” But this toddler has a mind of her own and will not be dissuaded. I step...
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Do different species of birds speak to one another? How do the finches and wrens and sparrows who frequent the feeders in my backyard know when it is safe to share millet? What alarms fill the morning skies clearing the way for the huge grackles to dominate the suet feeders? Why do the female cardinals dangle daintily on my drooping tomato plants waiting for the opportune moment to position themselves on the four posts of the sunflower feeder? How, exactly, do the hummingbirds discern which shift they must take to sip the sugary sweetness solo from the red silo occupying center stage in my...
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Thirty-some years ago I stood in the blistering heat of a mechanic’s garage balancing an infant on one hip and keeping visual tabs on a curious three year old while listening to the young, grease-smeared auto expert deliver the “bad news” about my 1978 ice blue, un-airconditioned, jewel-in-the-night, four-door Chevy Caprice sedan that had accompanied our family on our exodus from the North. “Lady,” the young man said in a deep Southern drawl, “this car needs an ohl change.” I had no idea what an ohl was, nor what was involved in changing it. “An ohl change,” I said in a panicked...
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Just for today, I’m doing the Ted-Dunagan-I’m-fixin’-to thing. I’m fixin’ to open my eyes and be amazed. My morning did not begin well. I carelessly knocked over my blender and some invisible, lipsmacking monster lurking in the shadowy dust bunnies under my oven guzzled down my blueberry-banana-kefir breakfast drink. I emptied my dryer and began folding clothes that were covered with splotches of melted goo. Apparently my all natural, cherry-flavored, SPF 30 lip balm survived the cold water washing cycle only to disappear into the clothes twirled dry in the too-hot permanent press cycle....
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