New Directions Support Group ¦ Letters from Ruth

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Letters from Ruth

Friday, July 4, 2008

We did some really great work at last nite's mtg. In our large group, I congratulated one of our members for checking himself into Abington Hospital to stay safe. We also got Tony Salvatore to talk to us about Suicide Loss since one of us died by her own hand. Tony says he "detests" the word committed suicide (I never use it no more b/c I so respect his ideas) - commit refers to a sin.

Tony spoke without notes. The suicidal individual he said feels empty & feels he or she is a burden. He explained why Veterans today so often kill themselves.

2 facets are required to do the deed:

- Strong desire to die
- The ability to harm yourself

One frustration of the tragedy of suicide is we never had a chance to say goodbye.

I told Dave, Joyce's husband, that after her death, I seemed to see her slender elfin body everywhere, just as when my own father died from cancer, I used to see him waiting for me at the bottom of the escalator.

Tony will do anything to help prevent the suicide that killed his own married son, eleven years ago, with whom he was very close. That's why he came out at a moment's notice to help us deal with Joyce's death. Her husband was also there last night.

When most people decide they are going to die by suicide, they reach a preternatural state of calm, perhaps like one of the stages of dying from a natural death. It's an automatic brain process of intense relief & calm, that they won't have to face pain & suffering anymore.

I'm extremely conscious of suicide in our group, having experienced intense suicidality myself. Someone in our group liked when I said We folks with bipolar have an emotional processing illness.

Why, for example, would we want to kill ourselves just b/c for example A marriage breaks up or We lose a job. Certainly, these things are tremendous losses, but to want to die is an unnatural response. It's almost as if we are children inside who lack the patience & stamina required to wait it out while we go thru all the necessary steps of both grieving & moving on to establish a new life.

So, yes, our old life did in fact die. But we ourselves did not die. Every single life here on earth contains little worlds inside us. Tap your skull anywhere with your finger & you are tapping memories of one of your million starts & stops, while the organism itself moves through the universe.

Did I ever tell you that I never know what I'll blog about. It just sort of pours outa my fingers. And then heads straight into your minds.

I called up my daughter Sarah.

I did one bad thing, I said, when I stayed in your apartment in NY.

What's that, Mom, she said in her musical voice.

I cleared my throat & said, I stole Hooked by Donald Westlake. I couldn't control myself.

Oh, that's not bad, Mom. It's a great book.

Yeah, I said, that's why I stole it.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

No sooner had Scott & I gone to Cape May for 4 luxurious but not uxurious days, than Stephen changed his blog format. Truthfully, Mr. Weinstein, it's a far far prettier blog than ever I've seen before. I love the gentle ocean-blue colors plus your photo in the lower right!

Did you know, Dear Reader, that people such as Stephen inspire one another? Please don't think me preachy, but have you inspired anyone lately? Our Peggela has been particularly helpful to folks in our group, as has Iris. I've gotten to know both of these fine ladies in the past year.

Couldn't figger out how to inspire myself last nite. I had the post-shore return gaga's. My mind refused to go into work mode. I had a report due to the Kind Family Foundation telling what we did with their grant money. No, I did not invest it all in CountyWide Mortgage Company, pay $10 down & buy the house of your dreams.

I typed up 4 pages of accomplishments & even I was impressed. But let me tell you something. Our support group would be nothing without YOU! Without all our great volunteers & folks who attend our meetings. That phone rings every single day at our Willow Grove office. I should also mention that our Montgomery County Office of Mental Health pays our office rent, phone & Internet expenses. Yours truly worked very hard cultivating an excellent relationship with the County.

In 15 minutes I'll go for my swim. I bought a new swim suit for $3 at the Holy Redeemer Thrift Shop on County Line Road. Highly recommended. Esp. for furniture.

Vat else? Today is Joyce's funeral. Ada & Rich will pick me up. I told Dave, Joyce's husband, that I can't wait to meet their daughter, Lindsay.

Ya know what? Sometimes I think everything is connected. Last nite we watched Lars & The Real Girl, a gem of a film. The first time we watched, we both fell asleep. A fellow mechanic at SEPTA gave Scott the film saying Your girlfriend will love this. Scott must've told them I'm a therapist. It's a tender piece about a man who works thru his loneliness & motherless childhood by purchasing a love-doll.

For 2 straight days in a row I ate at my fave diner: Terminal Luncheonette where the Breakfast Special is $2.90 and the waitresses are waitress-goddesses.

When I paid the bill yesterday, I asked the own Christos, What happened to Doug, he's not the same. Chris said Doug was in the hospital & there's something wrong with his mind & he made the universal looping sign by his temple. I sat next to Doug & he kept repeating himself.

Sad. That's why we've gotta appreciate every moment. Live in the present. Taste every delicious sip of Yingling Beer I had at the shore at The Lobster House. It's my blue-eyed son's fave beer. I drink it once or twice a year for the taste alone (yeah right, Ruthie, just like guys buy Penthouse for the articles). Do they still publish it?

I sent a Welcome Home email to Louis (fake name) who will return home from Abington Hospital's psych ward. That smart man admitted himself for his spiraling depression. The doc on duty who is on our Top 10 Worst Shrink List gave Louie Wellbutrin which caused him to go into a horrible mania. Even a child would know not to do this.

I kept in touch with Louie's mom who is always his stalwart advocate.

In my cover letter to Kind, I wrote, 2008 has been a very good year. I ended the note by saying The world is a better place because of the Kind Family Foundation.

Oh, while waiting for my breakfast special (poached eggs, rye toast, grits, grapefruit juice) I wrote a poem called Lunch with Mother. Hopefully I'll print it soon.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Very sad news. One of us has died. Here is the obit of Joyce Champion. When I returned home from Cape May, I received an email from her husband, Dave. Today I called him & we spoke a long while. Everyone loved Joyce. You hear that, Joyce? (She's smiling now wherever she is.) Dave & I were talking that no one could tell a story like Joyce. She positively glowed when she spun tales about her life.

We always thought we would see her again. She had a circle of devoted friends in our group. Everyone banded together to try & help Joyce. Her depression was profound. She & her husband tried everything to help her but time finally ran out. She died exactly a week ago today. She simply could not hold out her agony was so intense. And so she took her own life.

Joyce, is that you giving an impish smile now? And a little wink? Oh, so you're happy at last. Your angst is over.

How do we talk to someone whose loved one has died by their own hand? How does our group comfort itself. By asking Tony Salvatore to come speak to us. Tony has dedicated his life to suicide prevention, due to the death of his son, Paul, by sudden suicide.

Bittersweet when I got home from the shore. The good with the bad. Heaps of work. Looky here at the good: my first paid article in the Trend. The challenge was: How to make a dull subject interesting. Imagine my surprise when Kevin Hoke, Dem committeeman, wrote & told me he liked the article.

Kevin was an early Obama supporter. He is also a cyclist, riding round the hood on his 10-speed. He was surprised when I wrote him about the bike I rode in Cape May. Did I tell you every part of my body aches except my ear lobes?

The bike's a Fuji Saratoga. Look, I never heard of it either until 2 days ago. Pedal pedal close to the ground. Easy to get on & off. Soon as I hopped on, I started wobbling like a drunk. I refused to go on the open road until I practiced on the back streets (will do you no good), sings Springsteen.

Guess who volunteered to buy me a Fuji Saratoga 4.0? That's right. My mustachioed boyfriend.

Feel free to think about your fave bike-riding stories. Here's mine. Well, first I've gotta get a glass of freezing-cold ice water with lemon. BTW, I'm in negotiations with Gene Gerhard of the appliance store to get me a new free icemaker. Mine is defective. Gene admitted that many of his customers have similar problems with these once famously great Maytags which have not lived up to their failsafe reputation.

I'm 18 yrs old. I'm callow. Sheltered. I know nothing of the world out there. My responsibilities are very few. And then I fly to Goddard College in VT. Total culture shock. Small college. 500 students. Plus Frank Dorsky, Paul Desfor, Wendy Davidson, and Erlen Jacobsen. We also had the sons of Pete Seeger & architect Eero Saarinan.

Woke up at dawn. Everyone was asleep. Stepped outside the dorm to witness the dimming of the stars & the coming of morning. A blue bike was leaning against the dorm wall. I tried it on for size & began pedaling fast, as if to greet the dawn. It was a bit of a ride into town - tiny Plainfield, along the Winooski River - but I rode as fast & hard as I could - I was experiencing total ecstasy - and rode around the silent town with the birds keeping me company - and then I heard the rush of the waterfalls in town.

Never had I felt so free. Never never never.

Is it possible to recapture that feeling 44 years later?

Yes! And she said Yes yes yes!!!

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Last blog for a few days. Hopefully I'll make it back from vacation alive. If not, read Let Us Now Praise Famous Men at my funeral. It's from the Book of Sirach in the Apochrypha.

You can fight over whom to give my Obama sign which is on my front lawn.

A small group of serious revelers celebrated the Summer Solstice and the Joy of Being Alive last nite at St. Philip's Church in New Hope, PA.

Ruth Z Deming was at her best. One always hopes they can rise to the occasion & fort'ly I did. I am an outrageous flirt. An old guy was sitting with a cane & 2 bad knees each in an apparatus & I said, "Woody, your knee braces only enhance your sexuality."

Then when we were leaving he paid me an awesome comment, "Ruth, you have a really nice rear end. I was watching it while you were performing."

"Yeah, but how did you get a view (of my big fat ass)?"

"When you turned around," he said. He was wearing a wedding ring but I didn't want to ask about his wife in case she was dead. If nothing, I am thoughtful.

15 minutes before leaving home I wrote a new poem. They all loved it. I'll print it below.

These readings are like a Quaker meeting. We all sit there until someone feels moved to stand up. Liz Bowman is the amazing host whose energy & spirit infuses the group with its loving spirit.

An ample-sized woman, Liz wore a long flowing tie-dyed dress. She introduced banjo-player Sandy Bender & he began to play. There's no sound like the joyful but melancholic banjo. I asked him to share some memories from his trip to China last October with fellow architects.

After half an hour, I got up & said, I have 2 poems to read. One is short & the other is long. I'd like Sandy to accompany me on banjo for the longer poem which was Fathers Day, an American Holiday, published below.

I really got going on the Fathers Day poem. I was singing & strutting & extemporizing. Y'all woulda been prouda me. I'll do it again at our next Coffeeshop Gig in September.

After I read my first poem, Liz said, I was thinking the very same thing today, What would I do if....

A KNOCK ON THE DOOR

I was doing my dishes one day and heard a knock on the front door. I leave my door open in the summer and always have a pitcher of lemonade in the fridge. I love the way the lemon wheels float to the top and the glass gets all frosty.

Imagine my surprise when I turned around and saw a man standing there.

Not just any man, mind you. But one who looked exactly like Jesus from the Bible.

Christ? I called. Is that you? He smiled that gentle smile of his and pushed a stray hair behind his ear.

It’s me! Jesus Christ our Lord.

I was so excited I didn’t know what to do. My mind flashed many thoughts. Was I properly attired to meet Christ our Lord? Did I have spots on my shirt? Walnuts in my teeth? Did my toenails need trimming?

Finally, I ran barefoot to the door. You’ve come, I said. You've come at last. I’ve been waiting for so long.

When he stepped inside, the sun shone on his long auburn hair. Starlight sparkled from his long white robe. Was it my imagination or did a fluorescent halo float around his head.

No matter.

I have had many experiences in my life. It’s been a good life. A very good life. I remember mostly the good things: the birth of my children, the publication of my first newspaper article, walking into my yellow house for the very first time.

But when Jesus walked in, it was the very best feeling I ever did have. It was like seeing my own father risen from the grave.

And now, I have left my sandals behind and have ascended to be with my people.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Check out this link from Tony Salvatore about bipolar being overdiagnosed.

Selected comments from last nite's meeting:

- John was a really great speaker. I really needed to hear his advice on finding a job. Where'd you find him? (It's a long fantastic story that even John doesn't remember.)

- Are you Ruth Deming? (The person was in awe of me so I politely shooed her away... if there's anything I can't stand... )

- I've never seen so many people here! There must be at least 60. (I never count, I just estimate.)

- What? You've raised the price from $3 to $5! Outrageous. (This fool was not kidding either. Nor was he repentent after he admitted it was a great meeting.)

Here's my comment. The hardest part of the meeting is getting everyone in their small group discussions. I run around the room moving people around. Then just when I think everyone's in their small group, in walk 8 people who've been smoking outside.

Then I went around to each table. If I knew someone was in particular trouble, I'd tell the table they needed to work on that. This is a problem-solving group. We wanna use teamwork & resources to help solve your problems.

I'm always satisfied after a meeting. Why? Because I prepare and b/c I know our people. During Creveling's presentation he had us doing exercises with a partner. We told each other a few of our strong points. "Don" said to me, You have thousands of them.

Yeah, I said, but name one.

I can't remember what he said. Possibly that I have lovely toes. But he did remember our first phone call.

I was probly eating, right? I said.

Yeah, he said, plus you were doing a million things while we were talking. We talked more than an hour. I never met anybody who was so willing to talk.

Busy day today. The wash is running now. For the first time I'm doing everything on COLD to save money & energy. I have a giant egg spot on a blouse & can't wait to see if it comes out.

Oh! Finally remembered what I really wanted to talk about. At the Arboretum I was dying to tell someone about the book I'm reading: book two in the Anne Rice series on Jesus Christ our Lord.

Now, when you have something important to say, you've gotta tell the right person or people. Since Marion is a believing Catholic, plus a witty conversationalist, I mentioned the book.

Now, Ruth, since you're Jewish, I wouldn't think you'd be interested in the book.

To the contrary, I said. I'm fascinated by Christ & think he was a great teacher. I actually studied the New Testament in a class at Temple University.

Do you think you could become a Christian?

As you know, Marion, I'm a very openminded person, so anything's possible. However, I sincerely doubt it.

Private note to Christ: Feel free to pop on by. I have plenty of delicious cold water & will be happy to bathe your feet. I am not kidding. Also, I bought this delicious Casaba melon and need someone to share it with.

I highly recommend the book. Rice is an excellent writer and Christ comes alive. It's written in the first person and is entirely believable.

I am what's called a Christ afficionado. My fave Christ movie is The Last Temptation of Christ w/Willem DeFoe. Many Christian people, when they get manic, believe they are Christ or Willem DeFoe (just kidding).

Women believe they're Mary Magdalene or The Virgin Mary.

Because I'm Jewish, I never had the pleasure of becoming, for example, the sainted Bernadette of Lourdes or Mother Katherine Drexel.

However, when my brain was unknowingly healed from bipolar disorder & I was still on Lamictal, wouldn't you know that one day when I was walking around beautiful Lake Galena in Doylestown, PA, I thought I was the Lord Almighty.

What a burden for a then-57-yr-old Jewish girl. However, I did realize I was NOT God. I just couldn't shake the thought. That's the power of medicine.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Of Ada & Rich & the Arboretum - Of Tara & Movie Nite - Of Father's Day Poem in Progress - And This is the Day I'm Having Massive Computer Trouble (my computer is morbidly obese) so this may be my last blog for a while - Am having my first phone Compass interview on Saturday

The 6 of us were standing admiring a beautiful tree at Tyler Aroboretum in Media, PA, when Chris, the groundskeeper, descended from his Gravely mower to chat with us.

An arboretum, he told us, categorizes trees and plants, and labels them for the viewers. Tyler, with its 625 acres of rolling hills, meadows, and small forests, is one of the largest in the Northeast.

We were standing in awe of these amazingly diverse trees, over 1,000 different species. Did you know that an unmown meadow will evolve into a forest? Think of your own lawn & what trees attempt to take root there.

Count me in, Mr. Tarantino. I am a new devotee of his films. True Romance, which we watched at Movie Nite, was a small masterpiece. Every scene was perfect. You could not turn your head away for fear of missing the brilliant acting & impeccable dialog.

Avert your eyes, I used to say to my kids when we were watching violent movies. I said this to our movie group on Tuesday as I averted my eyes. If my friend Marcy still lived here I'd suggest we have a marathon Tarantino film nite.

He loves diners and pie. Let's imagine ourselves, Dear Reader, at a diner of your choice. I'll be at Terminal Luncheonette just down the street on Davisville Road where the waitress knows everyone's name and the coffee is steaming hot & goes down good. Sometimes Doug Kelly with his blue eyes is there with his pack of Salem set on the counter & will tell you he's trying to quit.

Now right here's a poem I been workin on. Am gonna put it right here right now cuz I gotta get rid of it & free my mind.

FATHERS DAY, AN AMERICAN HOLIDAY

Fathers all
we gather in the land
we call America
in the backyard
cold drinks in hand
make mine Running Rock, Sue,
we watch the kids chase each
other and the dog

which kid was it
sparked the incident
oh the longhaired boy
with eyes like his moms
looks like he’s barely out
of diapers and yet

the dog is sleek
chosen at the shelter
ribs poking out
half dead
look at her now
lays panting
after chasing a ball
likes killing
rabbits birds
chipmunks
anything with fur
black feathers lay in a
random pattern
from a blackbird
she shook to death
try not to step on the
feathers

the women were inside talking
the grill was getting hot
the sun set over the
other fence
as Midge came out to
set the table
I shot a glance
at her sagging behind
that caused men’s eyes
to water
and drank a sip
on
fathers day
our kid left the country
we waited for the mail
that never did come
didn’t matter what it said
just the printed envelope
was enough
that handwriting that made
you remember his
trophies and
the girl he knocked up
we'd preached about condoms but

the cat wanted out
from beneath the curtains
another woman
Lil
lifted him up
you saw her behind the glass
and soon Lil was walking the
cat on a leash
across the random feathers
and now the boys jumping
into the pool
look at the little one
Davey with the big wet ears
left his hot dog and relish
so he could swim with the
boys
someone loved him a lot
generations of love
not just two or three
but all the way down the line
to Adam or Christ or
wherever
it all begins

the kid who starred in the incident
took the cat in his arms
buried his face in its fur
thinking, you know,
of the fire he set in the woods
wasn’t supposed to spread
but did
a field burned down in back of
the old man’s house

that’s one way to learn of
the power of a man
one sure way is to burn down a field

on the way home
we drove through a rainstorm
drumbeats on the roof of the truck
the almighty don’t care
what day it is
to show the power
of the Lord over the
inhabitants in his world
before he gathers us
into his Loving Arms

and then too
the boy with the ears
his father is a hunter
I remembered that when
I turned the corner in my hometown
I may never see the boy again
but I’ll remember the deer that was down
on the corner by the pizza shop
lying on his side
as if napping
lying like we do
body still and at peace
waiting
just waiting
for the flies

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Stephen, did you read the article in today's Times about McCain's yrs as a Vietnames pow? I do like when the liberal Times writes allegedly fair stories about candidates it opposes. I think the story will help McCain. I perceive the Times as being critical of McCain for his recalcitrance while a pow, reminiscent of the Paul Newman movie - can't remember the name - where Newman pretends to go along with the jailers only to royally screw them at the end, to the delight of fellow convicts & the audience. It IS a great feeling to screw your enemies, tho the 'forgiving' way is to adopt the Scottish proverb Success is the best revenge.

Enough about politix. Oh! Did you listen to the Times interview with Obama? It was the first time I actually liked Obama. He was talking facts. Facts about our faltering economy & what to do about it. I mean, look, we are in real trouble as a nation. Sure, we all exist on a local level, things are fine here on Cowbell Road - so my icemaker doesn't work, so what? - but

there are veritable 'ghosttowns' in Ohio where people used to work and live. I mean, that's outrageous! Ghosttowns. These people thot factories were forever. I'll just work in here, cough a bit, go home to my wife & send the kids to college so they can become doctors or poets.

Not to be.

On my to-do list is to write a poem called Father's Day. I ain't got no father, tho he was with me for my first 34 yrs - and then poof - it was as if a Giant Crane descended & lifted him from his accustomed place at the dinner table. I'm a lot like him. When he'd call me up, he'd just start talking right away, no hello or nothin. At work, he'd answer the phone Greenwold.

Got a couple 800 phonecalls at dinnertime thother nite. I lunged at the phone all ready to yell, How dare you call me? Who are YOU to invade the sanctity of my home?

True. I function best when no one is around. No one to stop me or say things like, How can you go outside barefoot, you'll step on something & get tapeworm.

Oh dear. I was trying to impress Scott with my speed yesterday. Needed to put some crops in his backseat & I pressed the backseat car opener & jammed my thumb. Luckily I don't have hemophilia. It made a nice black clot under the nail & I didn't have to call in Rasputin to save me. Some nice refreshing sleep also helped it heal.

Gave my Joy of Intimacy Class yesterday at Doylestown Fitness Center. I was 22 minutes early so I could bond & network with my boss, the program director, Bruce. I wanted to look sexy for the class, which is really all about sex, so I tried on 4 outfits before settling on THE ONE, a nice Yves St Lauren I bought on a recent trip to his couterier in Paris. This was shortly before his death so it was de facto our last goodbye. He was always so kind & knew EXACTLY how to fit this aging beauty.

Shall I work on my novel now? A woman from my late novelwriting class, Annie, spurs me on. She lives in Long Island. We title our emails Tick Tick Tick.

Not to be confused with Thich Thich Thich.

We had 5 married couples at the Joy class. It went great. When I gave my first class it was the most challenging thing I'd ever done. Like, how dyou talk about having great sex in front of total strangers. How do you teach them?

It can be done, Dear Reader, it can be done. A comment I received on the Survey Sheet read, "Ruth was very positive & direct."

Direct. Of course, I'm the director of the world's greatest support group!

(Yeah, & maybe someday she'll learn how to direct her own g'dam life.)

(Oh be quiet, inner censor, be quiet.)

Saturday, June 14, 2008

In hot weather, eat cold foods. I made a scrumptious cold shrimp salad with cold broccoli, hardboiled eggs & other salad mixins, while chatting on the phone w/Marcy. Together we decided on a Russian dressing w/plenty of garlic, olive oil & lemon.

I decided that since we only live once it's important to have blueberries every day they're in season. And cantaloupe too. American-grown.

Hey did you watch Bill Moyers last nite? Our free-market economy has been declining since 1980 & wages for the common man are lower than what our grandfathers made (adjusted for inflation). The decline of union power began when Reagan busted the Air Traffic Controllers & outright fired them.

My boyfriend Scott knows all about this & helps keep me informed about the plight of America. I liked when Moyers' guest speaker called corporate CEOs pathologically greedy. To me, the gas-wasting SUVs are the trickle-down symbol of the common man's buying into the greedy American syndrome & not thinking for themselves. Why emulate rich people or movie stars?

Think for yourself! For role models, why not emulate your hardworking ancestors who came to America to better their lives? In the old country, my people were.... fill in the blank.

My former psychiatrists said I would never be cured from manic depression. Had I listened to them I'd still be drugged up. Fortunately, I had the power to think for myself.

Six months before my brain changed with my first manic psychotic episode at age 38, I lost my athletic ability. My eye-hand motor coordination was shot & I had to hang up my tennis racket.

A week ago Scott & I were at Modell's sporting goods. We used tranquilizer darts to flag down a salesperson to help us select tennis rackets. One of the signs of a decline in American pride is finding someone to help you in a store. This guy actually knew what he was talking about.

We emerged with new rackets & a bevy of balls.

Standing at Masons Mill Park, racket in hand, it hardly felt like TWENTY FOUR years had passed by since I stood at attention on the court, senses alert, my entire being poised to receive the ball.

Scott excells at softball. Not tennis. Nonetheless the 2 of us had some strong volleys & my motor coordination is definitely back. Tennis is without a doubt the best exercise there is, for me. Your entire body moves. I could feel the sweat dripping from my hair onto my shoulders.

Last nite we played at a nearby park. I envisioned some of my partners from my life in tennis. O where are you now Susan Diener from Shaker, Frank Dorsky from Goddard, Russell Eisenman from Elkins Park. I am here - Your Little Ruthie - watching the sun rise here on Cowbell Road.

Weds., June 11, 2008

RZ: Dyou take credit cards?

Girl, looking over shoulder at mom sitting in lawn chair: Mom, do we take credit cards?

Mom: No.

RZ, hopping out of car: Okay then I'll pay in cash. How much is a glass of lemonade.

+

Last nite I drive Scott to the train station. Ooh, says I. I love when it's windy. Let's sit out on the bench. The sky is an unearthly gray and it begins thundring & lightning. I get outa the car & raise my arms toward the sky. Can you feel the energy I say?

The wind whips up. Things start flying around - plastic bags, small pebbles, anything loose. We sit on the bench. Suddenly it begins to pour. We're under a roof. It doesn't matter. The rain slants our way. Torrents. We're practically blinded by the downpour. The wind sneaks in & hits us like a slap. We scurry over to the wall to protect our fragile bodies from the mighty downpour.

Hail clatters from the sky. I reach down with my bare hand, lift one up, put it in my mouth & spit it out.

His train is late. He debates whether or not to go to work. The conductor tells him a tree is down at the next station. He gets on the train. You know, I say to the conductor, he's a mechanic on the L.

I know, says the conductor.

Scott is 2 hours late to work.

I sleep at Sister Donna's cuz our power is out. What am I gonna do at 10 pm without a computer & without a lamp? I've got a Ruth Rendell mystery waiting for me. After I read Judgement in Stone, I was haunted the next day by Eunice Parchman the murderess. RENdell tells you on page one that Eunice did it.

We're waiting to find out why. Vicious woman. Loves chocolate. We see all the characters she's gonna shoot pointblank. Aint nothing we can do about it.

Then I read my second Rendell novel. She's British. Fine writer. Fine descriptions of country, of weather. The second book stinks. Unbelievable. My mind wanders. I read 2 chapters hence. Same thing.

The necessity of talking if you're a human being. I sat on the couch eating my curds n whey remembering all the fine conversations I got into today. After the storm we need to talk. We need to tell how frightened we were - across the street they sat in the darkened living room & talked. They heard a snap but didn't know it was a trim limb coming down.

After the storm we need to talk about how The Kiernancs have their own electric generator humming in the garage & lighting up the kids' rooms & the kitchen as if there's no storm at all.

I couldn't take it & just left home. Sat on Donna's bed & we watched the Letterman Show till I couldn't stand it anymore. That guy, I said, seems like he does not enjoy his job. Whatsamatter with him.

He wants to be home with Harry, she said.

Oh.

You know who Harry is, Ruth?

Yeah, I said. I didn't know his name.

I slept on her leather couch in the living room. I moved away a chair so I wouldn't trip when I got up to go to the bathroom 500 times. Her roommate came down to drink his beverage - Hawaiian Punch. He lost his great personality when he sobered up. Now he's a recluse. Has a good job where he doesn't have to talk, just drive.

In the morning I was the last to get outa the house. I had a therapy client I needed to see. I doubted my electric was back on so I hung out at Donna's condo. Walked over to crooked Billet School where I'd take my kids to the great playground. Every single playground, we were there. No Harry tho.

Came back to the creek & decided to stare at the ducks. When you have time, you ought to watch the ducks. The males are incomparably beautiful. Not a wet spot on em except their webbed orange feet.

I was wearing my sandals & stood near the water. I made some ducklike sounds. I was hoping to pet one of em. I pretended to throw a net in to bring him in but decided that was too cruel so I switched my fantasy. Couldn't think of another one to pet the duck. So I just blinked my eyes & imagined petting him. How hard he feels. How firm. How he quivers in my hands. I rub my face in his feathers.

This may be one of the greatest moments in my life, petting a duck. His eyes won't meet mine tho. I keep my quacking to myself. Then I let him slip back into the creek, this mallard, stamp off my sandy feet, & go home.

+

After the therapy session, I drove home thru backroads. Trees were down. Great hunks of beautiful trees lay severed on the road or in driveways. Very sad. Great day for tree service companies. My maples are safe in the bckyard. It's all I need. The money I'm saving for a new Cadillac, gone to Jimmy's Tree Service. I'll cut the damn thing up myself with my Swiss Army Knife.

Decide to stop over Stella & Ernie's house. They were at our Coffeeshop Gig. I wanted to thank em for their generous donation.

They sat me down. Thank you for the beautiful poem, said Stella. It made me cry.

You CRIED?

The poem was right there. Written on the back of one of Scott's SEPTA work orders. I felt guilty I didn't give em a clean copy. Nononono, they said. Don't go to the trouble.

She pointed at the poem. Right here, she said, where you're climbing up the hill for the very last time. It made me cry.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

My life is like the NY Times. It keeps changing every 5 minutes.

I prepared extremely well for the hot summer. Broke down & bot central air. Am sitting in my dining room office now, feet propped up on footstool (to aid circulation) & my feet are nicely freezing, while my eyes are shaded by blinds I just bot at Blinds to Go, they're actually made in the USA (Lakewood NJ) not overseas, no thanks to Mr. Lame Duck Lame Brain President.

Have you read Stephen lately?

Whew! Thankgod I remembered. I have so much on my mind. Slept in 3 beds last nite. Began with my comfy bed upstairs. In the wee hours got up & cleaned the living room till daybreak. Turned up the a/c - click click click (great noises) - & decided to revisit the old days by sleeping on the living room couch.

Sunshine woke me up. Went downstairs to the rec room for my final sleep. I am very sensitive about people calling it a basement. I defend myself by saying, It's got 2 doors that lead to the outside plus I have a great view of an ANT COLONY. Wow! See that mole whizzing by diggin up all my iris rhizomes?

Let's try again with Hizzoner's glasses. I need some mood music. How bout Gun n Roses, November Rain. Axel's obnoxious behavior can be excused by the genius of his music.

HIZZONER'S GLASSES

on the yahrzeit of my father's death

it wouldn't be fair to call you vain
you wore your hair short
so women would not think
of running their fingers through it
but did anyway

a master of disguise
you never showed your
freckled arms
beneath your proud uniform
of suit and tie of the day
o refugee from
a barefoot childhood of
torn pants and never
a bicycle of your own

nor did you think to
remove your eyeglasses
to show your keen eyes -
how they swept across a room
unbeheld
gleaning grains of knowledge
free to the daring observer

eyeglasses
at rest on ears like
succulent apricots
not like now
when they are no longer seen
nor used as cushions as
they were back then
to rest those very same
eyeglasses I hold now
in my hand

who deemed it thus
that eyeglasses
desk chairs with arms
Country Squire station wagons
and Schaeffer fountain pens with
refillable ink bladders
are all that's left
after the man is gone?

Monday, June 9, 2008

There's a shared camaraderie when we're facing a relatively benign threat such as the current heat wave. Of course there will be deaths in the city. There always are. Old people will die.

As I said at Our Coffeeshop Jubilee yesterday, I used to think 60 was old but not no more. Quite a few of us are still playing tennis, jogging, touring the world at that advanced age.

I had a great time, I always do. The owners Yin & Otis had to kick me out as I was the last to leave. I totally forgot about the time & was discussing the importance of having a competent doctor with a talented man who has NEVER been properly medicated.

What I particularly enjoy at these gigs are the storytelling. Rich Fleisher is a great raconteur. I also called on his mother/law Lillian to speak to us about the days when she taught high school business at Germantown High School, I believe. I asked her the difference between Pittman & Gregg shorthand. She demonstrated it on a piece of paper. She looked lovely all in blue. She's 2 yrs shy of 100.

Gregg won out over Pittman. Don't know why tho. Poet performers included "Sharon" who read an amazing poem about her childhood of mental illness & how people made fun of her. We all noted that her strong spirit kept her searching until only recently, after her tyrannical father died, she was able to seek help from a psychiatrist for the first time.

Mitch Davis, orig. from Bklyn, continued to amaze us with his artistic perceptions channeled into spellbinding poetry. He's the food columnist for The Trend.

Every table was filled at all times. Then Loretta entered. I waved her in. She was not part of our group. I needed to wave people in cuz they thot we were having a private party, but it was actually a public party. I love strangers. Turns out Loretta, who is probly my age, had a "nervous breakdown" - psychosis - many yrs ago but has been med-free I'd gander about 15 yrs. Good for you Loretta!

Ray Naylor drove in all the way from Delaware County where he's fixing up his new house. What a voice! I have his album Slow Cooker. He sang a new tune that made you wish the afternoon would never end.

I hastily composed a poem Sunday morning. The title came to me first - Hizzoner. Will print it at blogsend.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Anudder dynamic meeting last nite, right guys? (rhymes with zeitgeist). We create our own zeitgeist. I insist on having fun while we tell our stories.

Lots of newcomers.

Plus a DOZEN people who went with us to IHOP. The place was mobbed when I got there. I got miserably lost & overshot my mark, driving to Niagara Falls & back, all in the span of 20 minutes. When I got there our group were standing in the lobby waiting for a table.

I'd been a good girl for many days so I ordered a HFS. My napkin fell on the floor so I had to wipe my mouth with Linda's when she wasn't looking. I can't stand having food on my mustache.

Mary, our speaker, sat next to me. That woman has as much energy as my fave gospel band, the Dixie Hummingbirds. I was showing Scott how I perform when the Dixies ask me to make a guest appearance & I said their energy makes you believe in Jesus doesn't it?

Absolutely not, he said, cuffing my neck & marching me up to the front door where my Deuteronomy-loaded mezuzzah hangs protecting me from all harm, except stinkbugs who have made of my house a sacred burial ground.

Flush! A watery grave.

You're probly wondering what I'm munching on to conclude my procrastinatory maneuvers before I resume Chapter 8 of my novel. Raw almonds. Thanks, Iris & Murray. They're fresher than at the new Giant.

Also made this delicious water from an idea in the daily email called CHOW.

I filled a tall pitcher with

ice-cold water
cucumber slices from half a cuke
an entire lime, squeezed

into this I put a tray of ice cubes

Mmmm. What a quaff!

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

My online friend Jon Goff of this remarkable website just wrote saying he loved my YouTube video.

On his website is a form to nominate a place for excellent service to breastfeeding mothers. I printed it out so I could nominate Abington Public Library. That director can do no wrong by me. They hosted our Poetry Display Case & of course I teach Breadmaking there.

Barack who? He could of course change his first name to Baruch to get more Jewish votes. Scott said something to me this morning when he came home from work. I was asleep. He came in & sat on the edge of the bed.

Oh, Obama won, I said.

That means McCain will be our next president, he said.

Don't you say that, I said sitting up.

It's true, he said.

I forbid you to say that, I said locking him in a full-nelson & forcefeeding him a Burger King with migrant-labor tomatoes.

Was rooting around thother day for something good to read. Found my daughter's college copy of 2 plays by Edw Albee - Zoo Story & American Dream. Kept looking for her handwriting in the book - you know how kids mark em up - but only found one small notation, darn!

Xtraordinary plays. Brutal! The artist sees what no one else has the guts to report! It takes about half an hour to read each one. For those of you who like bold statements, who are brave enuf to face the truth according to Albee (author of Who's Afraid of Elizabeth Taylor & Richard Burton?) check this outa the libe.

You'll notice my house is unusually clean. I had approx 20 items of clothing in the living room & when I woke up at 4 in the morning - the birds were jabbering in Sarah's windowbox - I said, I've had it. That's it. Either you clean up your g'dam clothes, Ruth, or you move out!

Not much of a choice, eh?

One more quick thing. BTW, this phrase is what you say when you wanna prolong a phone conversation from someone who's gotta go to the bathroom.

One more quick thing. Called my daughter thother day for help on making pear-sauce. Dyou think she could be of help?

The pear-sauce was exquisiite! I just asked myself, What would Sarah put in.

3 Packham pears in an inch of water
1/4 cup coconut oil
2 tsps fresh grated ginger
cinnamon
tiny amt of vanilla extract

SAVOR THE TASTE, either alone or with the candidate of your choice. George McGovern where art thou?

Tuesday eve, June 3, 2008

Thanks, Russell, for this amusing video. Fortunately he warned me it's satire. I was just putting on my shoes to run out & get some of the yummy fast food to eat before bed so I could put 20 more pounds on my belly.

Marce, I did wanna talk to you today but I was on a roll with my novel.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

It's always good to hear from Gianna. You may have to sign in to read her bipolar blog. I thanked her for featuring a YouTube video of Ram Dass & Thich Nhat Hanh.

I remember when Ram Dass had a terribly debilitating stroke. You can see how well he's doing today. What an evolution for that man, b. 1931, the former Richard Alpert, PhD, of Harvard & LSD fame.

He & Thich are believers in mindfulness meditation.

Me, too, along with rolling on the floor to relieve tensions from sitting at the computer, timer ticking, while working on my novel. I've got a thick stack of chapters, all written on backs.

Okay, Ruthie, your 10-minute break is over.

Monday afternoon, June 2, 2008

What're you waiting for Stephen & Ethan! Get outa your chairs & dance!

Now is the time to praise famous men in their lifetime & after they're gone. Ellas Otha Bates of Mississippi died this morning at his home in FL at age 79.

Long live Bo Diddley! Let's dance.

Monday morning, June 2, 2008

This'll be a quickie, mostly about my big toe & the lessons I learned just this morning. Sometimes it boggles the mind that one has lived so long & just learned something so important.

As you know, at age 62, I'm extremely active both mentally & physically. The most debilitating thing I do is spend hours on the computer which takes a toll on every part of my body, even tho I get up & stretch literally every 5 minutes.

I've had every type of chair available - except. probly - the right one - including one I bought at Relax the Back where I sat in a contorted position on my knees.

I specifically bot a laptop so I could compose in lotus-style but the laptop presented too many problems.

Hence I'm stuck here in the universal typing position sitting in my newest chair - an old kitchen chair. American Indians knew how to sit. Their blood flow wasn't stopped or tampered with the way it is when sitting on a chair.

I'm aware of all this. Question is How to fix it?

Yesterday I had a weird Right Toe Pain. The first thot is, Oh, I must've bumped it with all the gardening I've done, painting my outside railing, & even paddleboating at Lake Galena.

People say, Go to your doctor. I have nothing against doctors - except they wanna give you painkillers insteada addressing the source of the problem.

Into Google I entered - Pain in Big Toe. First I read the Mayo-nnaise Clinic Report from Rochester, MN on pseudo-gout. Treatment was taking drugs. Then I went onto something I felt was spurious - until I read it - & tried it out.

Miraculously, my toe pain stopped after I tried what the massage therapist suggested, based on the teachings of Janet Travell, MD & David Simons, MD.

Travell was the personal physician of JFK, who brought her into the White House. She lived to 97. Click here for Triggerpoints website. You'll note that the point where the pain registers on our body is usually not the place where it originates. This is called Referred Pain.

From now on, before spending long hours on my computer, I'll do stretching exercises which include some fabulous yoga-style postures. Gotta make it a habit so I'll be in shape for our next:

Coffeeshop Celebtration next Sunday!

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Happy anniversary, said Scott.

I was sitting at the computer reading Stephen Views the News.

Thanks, I said. It's been a year. Am teaching anudder Joy of Intimacy Class in Doylestown on Sat., June 14. Please E me if you wanna attend. A couple must MAKE TIME to be together in this busy world of ours.

Wanna read Stephen together? I asked Scott. Sure, he said, and now all of YOU can read it.

How bout the tornado watch yesterday? There are natural disasters & then there are man-made disasters as reported by Stephen & millions of others who hold the torch for a better world.

How are YOU contributing to a better world, the Lord spoketh upon receiving us into his large bosom.

Uh, er, ahem, lemme go back & I'll do better next time.

All right, sayest His Majesty. Here are the choices unto you: You may become one of the following, the choice is up to you, I do give you choices, you know,

- a firefly (oy! I'll end up in a little boy's jar with grass at the bottom)

- a Honda Accord (I'll be on the Top Car list but I'll have to mingle with all those on-your-bumper drivers & my beauteous silver exterior will be covered with - coff coff - smog)

- a red peony (not bad, I'll be pollinated by ants, Ruthie will bring me inside & put me on her windowsill as a thing of beauty & fine aroma)

- Lake Galena- this large man-made lake covers over a small enclave of houses outside Doylestown, PA, & became the most visited park in the County. Replacing the old townies who lived below the lake, are new denizens such as the great blue heron, a bald eagle, midnight bats with their otherworldly powers - & human visitors such as you & me.

Lemme tell you something. This is just between me & you, right? Look, I love waking up. I love reading after I wake up. I love answering Stephen's blog. BUT, b/c I'm a writer thru & thru, I'm not truly satisfied as a human being until I write something ORIGINAL, even as seemingly slight as this Blog.

I keep notes around to incorporate into my novel, such as this quote I heard on NPR: "It didn't occur to him to change a thing."

Think upon that, Dear Readers! If you're unhappy you've gotta CHANGE YOUR LIFE as the famous poet wrote in his astonishing conclusion to his poem. Is it not really the most important thing of all? The Great Lord of Peonies & Roses gives us all the opportunitiy. What if you were a migrant worker enslaved & beaten in a trailer in FL? How would he change his life?

We're born a wee helpless thing set upon the howling plains but o the Greatness we're capable of.

Thother nite I betook myself to one of my favorite restaurants: Ming's in Hatboro. I relished my time alone, walking the streets alone, having the freedom to do & think what I wanted, before getting seated.

I was starving! Ming seated me near 2 women who were gabbing about people they knew. Lightning was flashing from their mouths as they spoke so disparagingly about everyone they could think of. I slowly turned my head to see what they looked like.

They looked like you & me.

I picked up my tea-cup & walked into the other room. I'd like to sit here I said to Ming.

While waiting for my order I decided to write a poem, based on what occurred before I left for Ming's. I looked all around for paper. On a table up front, I found a small calendar from Robt J Fattizzi - click http://www.ameriwealthonline.com - thanks, Bobby! - & wrote the following poem.

Please do not E him & tell him I defiled the back of his magnetic calendar.

ODE TO THE POPPY

Think me not unkind as I pass you in the night
I’ll be home by dawn
to stroke your petalled cheek and
kiss the plumes that grow within
to watch the moonlight dance
on the wide plain of your mouth
where bees suck
and birds fly by
wishing they were bees

Then I will let the fire in your blood-red tissue
melt into mine
A proper affair
witnessed
only by the night.
You may call me
poppy man.

O'Thursday, May 29, 2008

Our Outing yesterday to the Stooges Museum was spectacular! I told the owner & curator & wrote in his guest book that I gave it the top award for small museums.

How many have you been to, asked Gary Lessin.

None, I said. Check out this new one. My sister was there. We are all proud hippies. It's part of our make-up since we had a hippie dad. I got him to try smoking pot when he was in his 40s. Nothing happened. I had to smoke it for several weeks - when I lived in Haight-Ashbury in the 60s - before I got high & then - zoOM! Up I went laffing hysterically. Hey, got anything to eat? I said to Iris?

We had about 14 people at the museum. One was a 5-year-old kid named Amanda. She was so pretty & so smart it reminded me of my daughter Sarah. And the great times we had while she was growing up. I forced myself to imagine what it would be like if Sarah were at the museum & restaurant. She was soo curious, she would be talking to everyone & running around as did Amanda. It was amazing. I could actually visualize my darling daughter.

Senility encroaches!

While waiting to get into the museum, "Birgit" & I went for a walk. She's a head taller than me & has b'ful white hair. She's actually a beauty. She has a bum ankle so I had to make sure she wasn't gonna turn it while we were walking across the lawn next to a gorgeous man-made pond.

Birgit & I are an unlikely pair. She's been with the group since the early days - or the "oily" days as one of The Stooges would say. As we were walking I realized what a fun person she is. We could've been friends if we were kids. She would've been my Mary Truby, my favorite friend when I was growing up in Shaker Heights.

Why? Because she was a tomboy. We used to play inside new houses they were building. The basements smelled of mud & new wood.

Enough already! Enough!!!!

I've set the timer for 2 hours to work on my novel. I fear the wrath of Anne from my novelwriting group - we check up one another to keep us motivated - plus my boyfriend Scott who expects to see a thick stack of typewrin pages. I'd like to finish the book by the end of June when he & I go on vacation.

It's a nearly impossible feat which is why I love the challenge! Scott is reading the preface of Grapes of Wrath. Steinbeck locked himself in a small bedroom & wrote his classic in 8 months. He used his formidable discipline to write 3,000 words per day.

We're having a great group tonite. Our speaker Sam checked in with me now. I said I loved his last talk - how he got the whole group talking - & that I looked f/w to this evening.

Then I took phone off hook & am using my formidable discipline to procrastinate. A lil bit is good for the writers' fingers. Dyou think our fingers have minds inside?

Conceivably, in England or somewhere, you can take a finger cell & create the whole human. I'll leave that up to the ethicists & Michael Crichton.

At ND we set goals. Months ago I set a goal to help my mom 2 hours a day once a week to clean out her papers so she can move into an old ladies' home. I finally accomplished my goal.

Altho she's 85, the papers & photos also consist of her previous generation. How we love our families!

I managed to convince Mom to throw out 3 bags of beloved memories she sifted thru one by one for 2 excrucating hours. I just paced around her bedroom with the painting of Monet's poppy field over her bed. She's like me. Piles of reading material in the bed.

She actually allowed me to take 2 pair of my Dad's eyeglasses home with me. I also took her 3 bags so she wouldn't be tempted to go thru em & save things. Maybe they can be buried with her like Nefertiti.

Guesday, May 27, 2008

Made the above typo but thot it looked so neat I decided to keep it.

Bartleby, how come you stopped sending out daily emails to your fans? Now the only way I can read your site is when I proofread my blog.

Whew, I'm glad I got THAT off my chest. Process your emotions, folks! I think on my video you could see I'm an emotional gal. I just flushed some b'ful bug down the kitchen sink, it had been clinging all nite to my soaking potato pot, & I thot maybe he'd go away himself, but no, he was waiting for the final shove.

PLease forgive me, Little Guy, I said. Please forgive me, God. I am serious! We're all in this together. Guesday, May 27, 2008.

Am trying to accustom my brain that in lessen a week, twill be June. It just doesn't register! Is that true with You Too, Dear Reader?

Scott noticed that we have TWO early tomatoes. Then I bent down & saw a Bell Pepper. Wait'll I tell Walter who said his tomatoes growing on his balcony had early flowers!

I have a severe problem with my birds. Your rfeedbak eagerly sought. Sparrow-like birds built a bizarre nest on the outside of my living room air-conditioner. Babies now live there. Every morning one or more - I haven't tagged them yet - flies & bumps into 2 of my windows - ping! ping! - it's awful.

I went outside & taped manila folders on the outside windows so they wouldn't reflect anything. It didn't work. Now, Scott's got a sparrow with a bad wing. We think it's one of the babies. It also isn't afraid of people & let's him come up close.

Neurologically impaired, certainly, but at such a young age! Could it be chemicals in the air?

Monday, Mem'l Day, was a Precious Gift of Time. I saw a therapy client & made nearly $5 for the 90 minutes we spent at the mall (the frozen yogurt & choc sauce was on the client, remind me NEVER AGAIN to order that - the syrup tasts like vitamin-added BOSCO from childhood) -

before that, I painted a b'ful American Flag - all red white & blue - b/c as Carl Yeager says, You have the perfect vehicle & you've gotta make use of it.

Hey! Remind me to bring it to our meeting on Thursday.

The vehicle was a small slab of left-over white-painted wood - Paint on me! Paint on me! it shouted - on which I painted the flag, which looks like a patchwork quilt. You'd be amazed at the variations of each square of Red & White. Each square must be perfect unto itself & different from every other square on there.

Can't wait to show Mailman Bob today!!! He watched the video & was impressed!

When sending nearly every person - dead or alive - my YouTube video - I looked up my former boyfriend Paul & sent him the link. He gave me an update on his family & himself, sharing this excellent website with me that changed his life by following the diet instructions. He now runs 5 miles a day (he's in his early 60s like me) and eats only grass.

By doing this he reversed inherited heart problems. Oh for godssakes I'm only kidding about the grass. He eats lots of chard - no, kale - which I have wilting in my fridge as we speak. Gotta read the website to see what to do with kale. Oh, hell, I'll just chew a bunch while I'm typing.

Scuse me a moment. Listen to this recording while we're waiting. I am!

Raise your hand if you've ever eaten kale & like it. Intense heavy flavor similar to broccoli-rabe. which I gave up for Lent.

Am gonna try & write a poem now. Oy veh. Wish me luck. May the power of the stink bug I flushed down the drain enter me & be received as poetry.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Stephen, you certainly hit a bases-loaded homerun with your Memorial Day blog. When we sexy people over sixty were kids, we also called it Decoration Day, remember?

My girlfriend turned 60 today. Bot her a gift from Kremp Florist with a card I wrote:

She's pretty
she's witty
she's sexy
she's sixty
She's Nancy with the warm green eyes.

When she read it to the assembled guests at her orthodox Jewish sister's home in Bala, I was in the backyard playing swingball with her 8-year-old nephew, Razzi. The score was 10-2, Razzi.

Swingball is like the old tetherball when we were kids, remember Stephen? - except you hit the ball with a racket. It zooms by fast & hard, like life itself.

Be back in 35 minutes. Gotta walk Scott to the train.

Hi I'm back. Someone put a fab wooden bookrack out in the trash. It was too heavy to carry so I'll drive over tomro. I already got black n blue marks from pushing a wheelbarrow home uphill last week from the same curb.

Sharon, if you ever visit - or should I say WHEN - we've gotta keep the faith - I'll give you a tour of all my bargain finds, including a handmade pottery cup on my desk when I visited my daughter at Brown. We crossed the street to RISD where they had a student craft fair & I bought the cup, a wooden bowl & clay bowl I use for storing pushpins, paper clips, pennies & a Susi garlic press.

The joys of the universe are infinite.

38 minutes with the Great Walter. He watched Antiques Roadshow & saw Woody Guthrie DOODLES going for a minimum of $3,000 apiece.

Walter has actual typewritten letters by Guthrie - pages & pages - plus handwritten letters - all legible & in mint condition. That man will make a fortune! I sat at his kitchen table flabbergasted by the wonder of seeing these letters. Him & his girlfriend are taking em tomro to get appraised.

We'll keep you posted!!!

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Great use of the word "bile," Sarah. I don't think I've ever spelled out that word before, tho I believe my bile ducts are hard at work digesting my Memorial Day potato salad, which YOU & everyone else reading this would love. In fact, I used a pinch of powdered ginger Sarah bot me from Penzey's at Grand Central Station - echo! echo! That's an inside joke. Call me to explain it it it it.

I felt Sarah at last met her match when in Grade 4 she got a scholarship to her Quaker private school. She overtook me in brilliance at age 3. (True, sadly.)

Sarah, did you see your brother's foto on his company's website. Scroll down. I refrained from calling him today but I was missing his cats so much I wanted him to put green-eyed Chaz on the phone. Sarah & love those cats! I taught Chaz how to talk.

Scott & I went for one of the best walks ever today. I'd done it numerous times w/o him but it's more fun with the person you love. He picked up some one-cent stamps at the Bryn Athyn post office & then we walked the dead railroad tracks (a head-on collision in 1929) all dates approximate - if this were a newspaper piece they'd be correct - 9 people were killed & the train was closed for good.

Weeds overran the tracks. We walked thru a path with foliage & flowers on either side. It was like walking down the aisle of a wonderland, knowing not what lay ahead. We listened to sounds of songbirds. Each patch of land produced different tweets & twitters. The Pennypack Creek flowed beneath us. We stood & watched a two-foot long snake swim far below & then sun himself on a rock. Scott saw a giant blue heron fly overhead & perch on a faraway rock. We snuck up to him but alas he flew away.

Dyou think, I asked Scott, God pulled out all the stops for us to let us see the wonders of the world? I was staring down at the rushing swirling crick, my elbows on the rusty iron railroad bridge.

Could be, he said, looking at my long red beard.

Ooops, that's my niece Jade's new fabulous boyfriend who teaches at a school similar to my daughter's. He & Jade are 20 & 22. I'm 3 times Jade's age. Even tho I'm 62, I consider myself 60. My mind hasn't started its descent. Am hoping it never will.

I can't stand doing the same thing twice. In my Comcast interview, I actually tried saying things differently than last year. Sorry I couldn't fit in the word bile, maybe next year if I'm still alive.

Sarah, I've read 4 of the books you mentioned on your fab Book List. Why do my kids love reading so much? My dad, the late Harold J Greenwold, was a great reader & guided me in my choice of books, ranging from Catcher in the Rye to Dream Merchants by the writer of great sleaze Harold Robbins to The Egyptian by Mika Waltari.

My kids & I went to the library when each one reached the advanced age of 6 weeks old. Sarah, you will not remember the library in Giddings, TX, where you were born (Brenham, actually) & I proudly carried you in to personally meet the librarian. One book I remember reading in TX was a bio of Chaz Darwin. The man would lie down at nite with a heavy book on his chest to read & tear each page he read outa the book & fling it onto the floor, the book evolving into a smaloer & smaller book like the dino turning into a migrant bird.

In walks Scott. He watered our garden with "delicious rain water" he saved in a cistern. By doing so, we had enuf money to eat at the deli Ben & Irv's. I found a new taste sensation there - sweet potato fries. They looked just like french fries but were sweet, juicy & scrumptious. I think I'll have them on the menu when I get bat mitzvah'd!

Friday, May 23, 2008

Stephen, I haven't had a chance to read your blog yet but just read in the Times what the president condoned in Iowa. That unmentionable misguided idiot had nearly 200 illegal immigrants mostly from Guatemala shackled & handcuffed & in one of the quickest trials ever - probably conducted without due process - incarcerated, & charged as criminals. I'oll let the eloquent if sardonic Stephen write about it in his next blog.

How much more damage can Bush do before he's ousted in November? His legacy is growing day by day.

As is mine. Oh, dear, that's sounds terribly grandiose which I'm not. Dyou think me grandiose, Bartleby? I'm just your average ordinary housewife who loves to do family interventions which I did this afternoon for about 2 hours with a family of 4.

What you wanna do is get the family interacting & exhibiting their very worst behavior, which they did. You want to see them as they are, when they're not on their best behavior.

I love these family interventions cuz I work very hard but it's thoroughly enjoyed & I earn a fair rate for my work. First you must relax the family with idle chitchat, all the while getting to know them & noticing every lil detail so you can size them up quickly & make good helpful interventions while PROTECTING the vulnerable ones.

Can you see me yawning? It's 10:39 pm & I'm so tired I......zzzzz

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Have gotten some interesting comments about my YouTube video. Bob, who runs an excellent support group - we partnered with them last summer in hosting a seminar about Moods, Minds & Meds, wondered if, in our group, I personally promulgate a no-meds approach.

Absolutely not! Last nite I gave one of my hour-long groups at Horsham Psychiatric Clinic - they are a major referral source for our group - I showed them the YouTube video - they actually applauded when it was finished. Two psych aides were sitting in, each with their long necklace of an ID tag. We reviewed our Keys to Recovery & I emphasized as I always do - esp. at our own group - the importance of Key No. One: Find yourself a good psychiatrist & get on the proper medication.

Most docs, but certainly not all, believe the illness is forever. My own personal family physician Bernardo Merizalde, MD, said that a handful of his patients take no meds for their mood disorder. I personally know 4 people who are symptom-free & take no psychotropic (mind-altering) meds. All are over 55.

Was just reviewing some online literature about bipolar by noted shrink Peter Whybrow who in his book A Mood Apart acknowledges that some of his bipolar patients improve later in life. Since I haven't read the book, can't say for sure if he actually said some of his patients take no meds.

I don't care if a million doctors tell me there is no cure & mine will come back - total hogwash! - I know in my bones it's gone for good! However, if I take a steroid I will become manic: angry, irritable, mind racing, & say utterly inappropriate things. If I take the painkiller narcotic Percoset, which I last took for excruciating sciatica, I become psychotic.

Truly, tho, we will never know for sure if I'm really cured until I am dead. "Oh, she was right," they'll say as I float in my ship to meet my beloved Tristan.

Don't forget that people who are cured no longer see their psychiatrist, so they're statistics are not counted. Dr. M. estimates 20 percent make a full recovery!

If my mania should return, I would call my friend Pam the singing psychiatrist & sing to her on the phone as I usually do when I reach her: Pam-a-LAH! and then sing my tale of woe in my fake operative voice - I am getting manic, what should I do, what should I do - I think I'll take a Klonopin!

I have absolutely no fear that this will happen again. I chased Mania away 4 or 5 yrs ago. Did you know I was a rapid cycler? Manic 4 times a year, quickly quelled with an antipsychotic.

Bob, I hope that answers your question.

Now, this one's for Claude. She & I installed a Poetry Display Case at the Elkins Park Library. My mind is now picturing the interior of the library. Ain't minds something? They can travel wherever we wish them to go. Hey! Now I'm swimming at the gym! Hey, now I'm traveling outside to my garden where I transplanted some lovely lacey ferns to my front yard.

Claude had already loaded most of the case & I did the finishing touches. I needed to take a break. Sometimes I need to clear my brain, take a step back, which I did by going outside in the crisp May air. Never noticed but there was a raging waterfall & crick nearby so I went over to hear the wonderful sound of the waterfall. As I neared it, I saw a trash can. Looking inside I noticed an amazing & truly terrible sight.

Someone had dumped 3 bags of books inside. They were waterlogged, just saturated by rain water. Pressing down on them I assessed the damage & began tossing them one by one onto the grass. I was horrified. The library itself was only a few hundred yards away.

I carried the bruised books to the trunk of my car. When I went home I put them in the oven to dry-by-pilot-light, poor darlings. That night I curled up with a trilogy by Samuel Becket: Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnamable. What names! I'd originally began reading the book sev'l yrs ago at B&N, just stood there ala Socrates in a trance in the middle of the agora, dead to all the world except to the World of the Book! Ah, imagination, never leave me or I shall surely die.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

With our new grant money, I splurged! After I dropped my boyfriend off at the train last nite, I went to Dick's Sporting Goods & bot (select the correct item):

1- Swiss Army Knife
2- Two-door gun cabinet
3- Camouflage jacket for deer-hunting
4- Swim cap to protect my $55 hairdo

Stephen, how does your garden grow? My red poppies are budding profusely but haven't popped yet.

Behind the scenes note about my trash article. Part of my assignment was to send in color photos. I'm a disposable camera girl. I have an expensive Kodak digital but can't figger out how to use it.

Tucked the digital into my bakpak when I went to the trash yard to meet Trashman Ed. He invited me to ride around in his walkie-talkie equipped SUV. I was ecstatic. He took the first of a dozen photos & showed me how to work my camera. Send me an E if you'd like me to f/w you the 5 photos I ended up sending to the paper.

My fab son walked me - or should I say Scott - thru the steps to get it to the paper for my one- day- early deadline.

Lemme tell you something. I hadn't written a newspaper article in a year. It's lots different from the Letters to the Ed I write. I labored over that article. It was a labor of rigor.

When I came downstairs this morning after a great nite's sleep (bedtime snak was 4 huge pieces of Peggela's Jewish apple cake) - hey did you know I'm Jewish despite the last name - & preserve my Jewishness by never setting foot in a temple if I can help it - now where was I before I rudely interrupted myself - oh, saw the light slanting across Charley's lawn indicating The beauty of the world is unsurpassed here on Cowbell Road.

At last I can show you a picture of my son. He works for a company that is employee-friendly. Click on their newly designed website. Scroll down & you'll see the young Dan Deming, my blue-eyed cat-lovin son, who will be married in 09.

How does it work? Does the boy's father (me) give him away? Nicole's dad is a former Philly undercover narcotics cop. Whenever she was pulled over for a motor violation, she'd pull out her driver's license & wait for the officer to say, Oy veh! Are you Tom Toohey's kid?

What's on your To-Do list today?

The first thing on my-in, as some Philadelphians pronounce it, is to finish this blab so I can check out my garden. We planted onions which seemed like they were DOA but mother nature, in the form of nutrient-rich soil from our yard, brought them back to life. The backyard squirrels hang by their tails like monkeys from the backyard trees. When I'd get manic I thot they were monkeys.

There's a name for that - illusions. My first shrink wrote down the medical terms for my symptoms including ego-syntonic and anhedonia.

Oh! Spoke to the great Carl Yeager yesterday. He designed 2 Compass covers. He's not bitter or angry over the cards he was dealt. His inherited neurological disease recently caused vision problems so that he could not practice his art for nearly a year.

I'll never forget when he came over & sat on my living room couch. It was as if Jesus Christ himself had paid me a personal visit. I LOVE Carl!

Seeing the NY Times victory picture of Obama, I said to myself, They look like the perfect all-American family. Will Barack load the burgers & hot dogs on the bar-b-Q come Memorial Day weekend? Wonder what games they'll play on the White House lawn? Will Malia & Sasha have pajama parties from Lincoln's bedroom?

Scott will be over any minute. He comes home from work at 8:45 in the morning. I have a big surprise for him. I'm sitting at the computer & just put on my new swim cap to surprise him.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Thanks for the plug, Bartleby! At my Hatboro writers group yesterday at the Coffee Salon, Stephen Swoyer volunteered to put my 5-minute Comcast video on YouTube. As of this morning there were 69 views.

Make the most of every moment. Hype it up, Ruthie, so you can get more people to realize that once diagnosed & on meds, you needn't be on em the rest of your life.

Again, I never knew dat but my own innate intelligence kept clicking away when I was about 55 or 56 (ah youth!)) - until - bingo was his name, O - & I got off all meds oh-so-carefully.

Okay, gotta work on my trash story now. Hopefully readers will never look at a trash can w/o thinking How can I help the planet by recycling. The last item I recycled was, hmmm, lemme think - yesterday's detritus to put in the backyard compost heap. I sucked the juicy pear rind down to the bone & then flipped it into the pit.

Maybe that's why I've got poison ivy blisters on 5 areas of my bod. Here's what you do for dat: Submerge affected areas in as hot water as you can tolerate for as long as you can tolerate. It relieves itching for up to 6 hours, if you're lucky.

Learned this remedy in a column by a pharmacist in the old Evening Bulletin.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Hello to my Saturday Writers' Group. I'll be there in 10 minutes. Sorry to keep you waiting! Stephen, can you help me order the original Sanctuary book by Faulkner that you have. Wanna quote Faulkner's brilliant introduction.

Am outa here dodging the wet leaves from my gutters that Scott's removing with his aluminum ladder. Clank Clank!

Friday, May 16, 2008

The ubiquitous Higher Power - My Annual Five Minutes of Fame (click for last year's) - Great meeting last nite - Incredible intimacy from everyone including newcomers - As Murray said, Once people enter our room at the church, they never wanna leave - The laffter emanating from our room makes you think you're watching Jon Stewart - We drove in separate cars to IHOP where the 8 of us closed the place up

Though blustery today, you know it's spring when at 3:40 in the morning - yes, that early - the birds wake you up and you follow their sweet song to the front porch, step out in your PJs, move your head all around & listen to their melodic symphony. and yes I wish I could lie down on the soft dewy grass to sleep with the grace of the birds. I go inside, pour myself some OJ and go back to bed.

Today was my movie-star day: My annual 5-minute Comcast Newsmakers interview. Last nite's support group meeting wished me well. I asked numerous people what they wanted me to stress, getting the info into my brain, & then I drove to John's house so he could drive me to the studios.

My hair looked great! Edith from HongKong, owner of Elegance Beauty Shop is my fave stylist ever. We watched Animal Planet together on her TV. After I'd fallen asleep under the dryer, Edith woke me up & said, The mother giraffe died. She'd just given birth to a baby girl. We saw the baby dropping out onto the grass.

Hair is the single most important physical component to the appearance. Then I began searching for a jacket to wear. Voila! A fancy jacket from my niece, Melissa, with sleeves so long they covered my fingernails.

Not to worry. Scott pinned them up with straight pins. Jacket looked great. Wore the same pink shirt Mary from our group gave me for last year's appearance. Wore my fancy earrings I keep in the car ashtray that my former client gave me. Hello Darlene where'er you are.

Wore jeans & sneaks cuz they only show you from the waist up. Carried my props in a Xerox box-lid: Compass w/Carl's cover, brochure & deep pink azaleas.

Made Scott & me a hearty b'fast: soft omelette with sauteed onions & mushrooms & grated cheese with slices of juicy pear as the side effects.

I joked my way thru the warm-up at the studio to relieve any tension I might feel.

Okay, David, lead me to the gas chamber.

Carla looked b'ful. That woman interviews thousands of people a year. She actually remembered me. Wait'll you hear what she said to me at the end of the show, recorded on tape.

The show will air for one week in June or July in parts of Southeastern PA at :24 or :54 minutes after the hour.

Quick! Gone in a wink.

After the interview John & I drove past the International regatta competition with long low colorful boats skimming like swans across the Schuylkill to a restaurant of his choice near the Italian Market.

It's like a foreign country, I said. Narrow streets. Produce trucks dropping off their goods. I snapped some fotos. Then we went inside his favorite restaurant. Marro's.

Italians, he said, either eat great meals at home or they find the best cheap Italian food around. John is all red-yellow-green Italian tho his mama is from The Land Down Under!

For $21 plus a $5 tip, we got antipasto with luscious marinated green peppers & brick-oven pizza, while I learned all about his life. He's one amazing man whose next license plate he told me will read Bipolar I.

Good for you, John! He got into some fairly bad scrapes due to his bipolar & believes strongly that God was there to bail him out each & every time.

Where is God, physically, I asked him.

They say he's everywhere, said John.

I do believe that, I said. It's all God's country. The whole wide world, even my library books, are part of the Presence that is God.

When we pulled up in front of his apartment above the DQ, I'd just gotten those words outa my mouth.

Look there, I said. The robin is coming out of his nest to say hello to us. I have a strong relationship with the birds. Perhaps I was a bird in the afterlife.

How about that, said John. He had a cross dangling from the mirror in his car.

Another bipolar friend sent me this email today:

Ruth, Can't believe I read your whole long blog/letter and enjoyed it! I love hearing about your garden and your bread which makes me hungry.

I really agree about having a mood partner sometimes I feel as if I need one but my remedy is having six year old Samantha Rose come over to visit me. She is such a character. She gave me a bubble gum smile when I took her photo and you see impish eyes and a wad of gum in her darling smile.

She laughed a belly laugh when she saw the picture. My friend's Mom died this week at age 91 so I am the only Girl Scout who has a mother living now. My Mom is 88. I guess you and I should relish the time we have left with our Moms. Thanks for E mailing me. I only look at the dam computer about once a week so if there is
anthing urgent call me. Love, Carolyn

When you watch my Comcast interview you'll note that Carla threw me a curveball as she did last year. Your mind is scurrying around trying to think of an answer & correct her at the same time. You're also trying to figger out how to get the most information into the 5 minutes, which is an extremely long amount of time.

My mind was working very well. I covered the Waterfront, thank you, Lord. The show will air for a week in JUNE. My son will load the video on this website after he gets home from a camping trip in Maryland. My boy loves having fun, like his ole mum.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Of too much largeness in our things & in our overfed selves - Every day is Be Nice to Your Mailman Day (Mailman Bob's wife got blisters on her ears from gardening - she was named after a Mouseketeer) - I'll make so much money with my trash article I hired a 3-man team to mow (Patrick has big muscles from lifting, as does my sexy boyfriend) - Join fab local societies altho I just rejoined Fallingwater - Poem: Birds Keep us Honest - I should goggle it to see if the title's already taken- I don't even plagiarize myself!

Just ran down the street in my working attire - shorts, tank top & sox - to hire a landscape crew to cut my knee-high grass and Scott's as well. Can you smell the delicious smell of mown grass plus onion weed? Hate to see the buttercups go in the backyard.

Who loves you, mirrors the buttercup.

After walking my sweatheart to the train last nite, I stopped by Kevin Hoke's to sign us both up for The Friends of Boileau Farmstead, more than 100-strong in our Township.

Support your local causes! Good way to make friends & network & get to see other people's gardens. Like me, Kevin bought some of his veggies at Lowe's. Scott & I planted succulent tomatoes, cukes (rhymes with nukes), eggplant, pumpkin.

We wanna grow tender baby lettuce instead of kids.

While gardening I joined my mother & Sister Lynn by falling on my knee. Both ended up in the hospital. I landed in my backyard among the ferns and hasta who took good c/o me while I bathed the knee & my wounded pride with water from the watering can.

Bartleby, sorry I've been too busy to check your site.

Since I have so (too) many projects going, I organized my office (living room) by putting all my acitivites in Xerox box lids with folders inside.

They read: Classes I Teach - Novel - Compass - ND - Poems for Readings (did you know I'm a MAJOR award-losing poet?) - and Trash.

The latter is an article I'll write for a local paper. Was only gonna write a Letter to the Ed but while talking to my daughter we agreed I should see if any paper would be interested in paying moi. I found one. Hint: It is not the NY Times. The word count is 1000 - 1200.

No idea what that means but I do know how to find it, thanks to Simon.

Have you seen those haunting images of the quake in China? The faces of those who lost family members? And of children? What can we do to help them? Perhaps the deceased Simon can use his energy to help the Quake victims recover. Dams are out. Get to the dams, Simon, quickly, to avoid further tragedy.

Dyou think Obama should go to prove he's capable of doing something?

A Times article which featured the English thinker Malcom Gladwell (darn I can't find it) made a good point about Americans. Acknowledged we are the most generous people on earth, but he said we suffer from an overabundance complex. Everything we do is in excess like our huge but so beautiful automobiles.

I constantly think to myself, What am I doing living in such a big house when my children have flown the coop?

Sure I love my big house where I can make as much noise as I want, play mymusic on High, sleep in the most comfortable bed in the world, look out my windows at the beautiful greenery around me, but is it really fair when people are starving in Africa.

THE BIRDS KEEP US HONEST

He built a raggedy nest
and I
disbelieving
laughed and
thought he'd never win a mate

until early one morning
I heard peeps
peep-peep-peep-peep
waking me up from
the drainpipe on
the side of the house

strings of shiny pearls
to keep the world honest.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Patrick Otis Cox & his wife Yin Liu are good to members of New Directions. They opened their Coffeeshop on a Sunday to our group so we could welcome spring with our latest Coffeeshop Gig. View photos here.

Pam London Barrett (Psychiatrist with a Soul) is up for doing another one. So am I. I just love having fun! The funnest thing I did today was to come in from the bone-chilling rain.

What a fiasco I had trying to be a caller on Dan Gottlieb's radio show Voices in the Family. Didn't know the phone number, it wasn't on their website, so I called my local library. Katie couldn't find it either.

Finally she found the main number & they connected me to the Call Screener.

What is your first name, she said.

Ruth.

What is your question or comment?

I had wasted 10 minutes finding the phone number. There was now 17 minutes left. Enough time, I thought for me to burble out a response should I get on the air.

I'd like to tell Dr. Dan the importance of joining a support group & talking to your peers about depression. And if, I said, I can't get on the air perhaps you could just ask him to read off our website.

For some strange reason, Dan has never promoted support groups. The guest speaker - psychiatrist John O'Reardon of Penn is head of the treatment-resistant depression center. He spoke at our group sev'l years ago. He's excellent, kind, hardworking & has seen many of our members. Two members currently see Jay Amsterdam of Penn, who calls himself The Cadillac of Doctors. Both these men & brilliant & kind.

O'Reardon, when talking of alternate means othan pills referred to self-help groups. He also spoke of ECT & how the new methods target areas of the brain which don't affect memory loss much. A friend of mine had successful ECT at Abington Hospital when all else failed. O'Reardon said people over 60 seem to do esp. well with ECT.

Other avenues to approach for intransigent depression (is that the right word Marcy?) include deep brain stimulation as in Parkinson's disease and - get this! - meditation - and aerobic exercise.

Dang if I wasn't listening to this show on my car radio driving home from the gym. I'd meditated as I allus do in the swirling whirlpool, inhaling chlorine no. 5 perfume, then swam for 25 minutes to make up for the delicious brownies my son made for dessert last nite.

We got a nice grant in the mail to write & publish our next issue of The Compass, which is 4 years past deadline. Can't remember how to do it. Lucky I can still remember how to tie my own shoes at my advanced age.

I had a very unpleasant experience today so I'm processing my emotions by not writing about it. I dealt with a very angry woman today whose anger stings like a hornet. People all have the opprtunity to change. And that means YOU, Uncle Sam!

I'm still changing slowly & hope to evolve into a glass of orange juice with seltzer water. When I was digging my garden I unearthed numerous wiggly worms. Once uprooted, they were carted off to new homes across the yard. I wished them bon voyage & knew they'd make the journey successfully.

One thing I love about my boyfriend is this: When I knock on his door with the big brass knocker & he opens it up, his face lights up with happiness when he sees me. The power of love is so strong it draws the planets to the sun and me to Scott. We're all bodies of energy made of the same stuff as the stars.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Leave it to Mom to wind up in the ER on Mother's Day. I parked in my favorite illegal spot (cars will be towed away - but only if there's a fire - one other lawbreaker beside me was parked in the secret spot) & took the elevator to her new room on the fifth floor clutching my pad with room no. in my hand - 5H18.

Three doors away was a woman from our group.

I said Hi to my mom who was sitting with my sister from New Hope, told her I'd be right back, ran over & said Hi to our group member. I'm always bubbly & in a great mood so I greeted her - she's the same as me, a great joker - & I realized her roommate, attended by her fam, was not jolly at all so I backed outa there & went to see my mom.

She looked good, very witty, mind good. They'd given her Percosets for the pain she was in when she fell over one of her g'dam file cabinets she's been organizing for the past 30 yrs so she can move outa the house where she raised 6 kids.

We joked about a possible new career for her at 85: becoming a Percosett abuser.

When I'd first entered her room I heard a familiar voice in the next curtained-off area & saw him but focused my eyes on mom. This time I looked over at him - elderly, white-haired, not terribly overweight, vest insteada full suit - & my mom saw me looking & said,

"It's him."

I waited till he got off the phone, he was calling something in for his bedside patient & I said, "Larry I could swear I'm getting psychotic & am seeing my former psychiatrist."

Yes it was Larry Schwartz himself. I'm such a cool mellow cat - almost like Lee Child's detective Jack Reacher except I don't beat people up, just blow their minds - that I wasn't even surprised to see Larry nor joyful either. Suddenly he began pushing a chair out the room.

What on earth?

He'd spilled some water, he said, & was getting paper towels to mop it up.

I went into the private bathroom, unrolled 2 feet of paper toweling, went on my hands & knees to mop it up - we don't want anyone slipping on water - he came back to the room & said, Ruth, pleeease!

I'm always making trouble, I said, emerging from under the bed where a quart of water made quite a splash.

I heard him explaining to his patient I was a former patient. He showed no enthusiasm whatsoever in seeing me. Likewise I'm sure.

Am I still trying to gain Larry's approval? Judge for yourself. "I'm still med-free & symptom-free from manic depression," I said.

It's important to know what to expect. Most people do not change even tho developing new interests & habits creates new synapses in our brains.

Larry shrugged his shoulders. I can't even guess what he was thinking inside.

There was nowhere to sit with my mom so I stood the whole time, watching her white hair spilling on the propped-up pillow like a crown. Sister Lynn said Ruthie you look great! Are you wearing make-up?

When they bury me they can make me up like a clown. I probly looked good cuz I was happy. Scott & I planted a vegetable garden beween our 2 houses with full sunlight beaming down. Our fresh herbs were in clay pots awaiting service for our omelettes, spaghetti sauce, fresh steamed fish, & tease.

Mom, I brot you some bread, I said. From my enormous backpack I pulled out a napkin holding 2 slices of homemade pumpernickel slathered w/butter & gave it to her.

I love you, I said kissing her g'bye. Then found my way quickly to my illegally parked car - I'd thought of putting on my flashing lights to give it an aura of authenticity - thought better of it - & there was the little darling waiting for me, with 2 Asian Lilies in the front seat, dirt spilling all over the seat, I am nothing if not messy, & drove over to my son's to spend mother's day with the Deming Clan.

I happily drank a glass of Yingling Beer, tempered by home-made crabcake or-derves. When the choo-choo train roared by in the background I said Scott's on the train going to work - 8 pm - I told him to look at Dan's house from the train - he can see the back - that I'd put up a signal to say Hello.

I put the beaming yellow lily on the backporch railing & will find out the morrow if he saw it between the dogwood & the maple tree.

Got 2 more minutes? Mad Pride is featured in the Times featuring Philly's own Liz Spikol. She's a tough cookie & a great writer.

The later you do your blog, eh, Stephen, the more crowded the airwaves. The Mothers' Day revellers apparently are all on their computers now. I can't wait to go off so I can?.... yeah.... do what? Do what, Ruthie? Get a life, for godssakes, get a life.

Friday, May 9, 2008 - afternoon

Excellent 8-minute NY Times video on Healthcare for Migrant Workers in the largest agricultural center in CA - I turned the volume on LOUD & cleaned my messy living room

Two women at our Mall meeting yesterday said their doctors told them You will never be able to work again fulltime.

This is so wrong. When people who are important in our life give poor advice we are often influenced by them & believe what they say even tho we know differently inside.

Depending upon the severity of your illness PLUS your own determination, chances are overwhelming you can work full-time just like anyone else.

You don't wanna set yourself up for failure so re-enter the workforce slowly & carefully. Talk to your support team if necessary - but only if necessary. Sometimes the more we obsess over something, the worse it gets.

Our credo at ND is to lead meaningful lives even if that means changing our goals & our lifestyles to accommodate our illness.

After my 3 days in hell during my only hospitalization - I was manic & thought Beethoven's Ninth Symphony was revealed to me by the blustery sounds of winter - I went back to work next day as a writer.

I kept my own counsel & did what was best for me & and 2 young uns.

Friday, May 9, 2008 - morning

Of borderline which I often mistype as Borderling - Of Packham Pears found at our new Giant - Newest poem: House with Finished Basement For Sale - Our Top Doc List is NOW capably run by Our Murray who has ABC'd it & includes under Commentary phrases like "overmedicates," - "is very open to patient suggestions" - "mixed reviews" - "do not refer" - "highly recommended" - We love giving important jobs to our members!

It says on today's To-Do List:

- Blog
- Novel
- Giant cafe (I work on my novel there)
- Buy dinner
- David Oliver
- BP Class (this is a gigantic handout I'll provide for my Sept. BP Class in Warrington to which you're all invited)

Never count anyone out as an ally, even the most unlikely!

If you can offer them an excellent product, they will bite & bite big!

Now my local library wants me to do a BP program with David Oliver who I just emailed. His specialty is borderline. Amazingly I'm being besieged by individuals who need help for their borderline family members.

People with borderline cause terrible family problems. These people suffer an inner anguish & the only way they know of to help them feel better is to cause the same anguish to others. They are experts & would make good sadistic prison guards. They do hold their families hostage & few people know what to do.

So this is my blog. The first thing on the list. You're allowed to do the list out of order.

I love this rain except I can't go out to personally say hello to my fabulous garden.

Why not? Are you afraid of mussing up your hair?

Oh, all right. Be right back.

Hi, I'm back. I have so much on my mind that I forgot Scott put stepping-stones between our 2 houses so we won't ruin the grass. They look fab as do my purple lilies of the valley, one of the great aromas of the western world.

For dessert last nite, we had pear sauce, made like apple sauce but with Packham's Triumph pears. Wonder if Sarah has ever heard of em.

Oh, I was novel-writing at Le Coffee Salon & chatting with Stephen. A freelance writer, the coffeeshop serves as his workplace. We were talking about Miles Davis & I casually mentioned my son/law was a jazz musician, little thinking S had ever heard of him.

S: What's the name of their band?

Ruth, speaking slowly: The...Bad...Plus.

S, jumping out of his chair: Are you f**** kidding?

He has all their CDs. I'm hearing Ethan's voice in my ear right now saying in his Minneapolis drawl: Awesome.

While procrasting working on my novel I wrote a poem which I'll list at the end.

Bri, in answer to your qvestion (said in a Jewish accent), How was the mall meeting?

Awesome.

I only arrived 25 minutes late as I knew Marion would hold down the fort. We had about 8 or 9 folks. A problem we worked on was helping "Brittany" balance her checkbook. She bounces checks. The bank's gain, Brittany's loss.

We suggested she carry Real Money around so she can SEE it & know when she's getting low.

I save money by bringing my own food to the mall - My molasses tea & a thick slice of homemade pumpernickel slathered in butter.

And then Iris & I took a 20-minute brisk walk around the outside of the mall on that truly glorious May morning.

HOUSE WITH FINISHED BASEMENT IN ABINGTON, PA

I climbed up the hill
For the very last time
They believe in an afterlife
God is just
I don’t proffer my opinion
As I sit on the couch
For the very last time
I will miss their
Nervousness
The way he wrings his hands
The way she shushes him
As they sit in their accustomed places
Her tired ankles
at rest on the ottoman
he leaning forward
eyes darting out
the window

The for-sale sign
Proclaims sold
In confident letters
Truth is there’s problems
They fret the next phone call
Will determine
Their fate

The sun slants
93 million miles away
a bullet through
the side window
where the lilacs bloom
fragrance
swelling the room

I tend to swoon
Over fragrance
My boyfriend smells
Of sweat
Like a Cuban cigar

Do you think it’s true
Smells attract our mate
Like clouds to the ocean?

The phone rings in the kitchen they
rebuilt for the couple moving in
And installed a shiny black railing out front
So no one will fall again
But I take the hill
With confident thighs
For the very last time

He is not that old
a grandfather of two
a man with horse-black hair
to her silver headdress
and swanlike neck

As he rises from
The couch
I catch the sun
Golden beams
Licking
the hairs on his chest
A small field of daisies
She picked on their honeymoon
one by one.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Of Reality-Checking (get yo'self a Buddy) - Of Tom Murt who I would follow to the ends of the earth as long as it's not a warzone (he served in Iraq at age 43 & did incredible work helping Iraqis) - Of Pilot Programs & the patience needed to pursue em - Hear J. Everett Koop, now with Dartmouth, now in his 91th year, a man who refuses to kow-tow to anyone

It's so great to work from home. Where else can you sit in your office in your short shorts & tank top, no shoes & run outside to check the garden, then run downstairs to do a load of laundry, check the bread in the oven, & deliberate over the possibility of achieving one of your life's goals.

Reached the director of Bucks County Office of Mental Health & finished up our 7-minute phone conversation with these words: Thanks for your openmindedness, Phil!!!

Then I composed a carefully worded email sending it first to myself to make sure I didn't leave anything out. I usually call either Marion or Freda to read it to them but I decided not to waste time & just get it out.

Remind me to discuss my mind-chatter.

First, tho, let's talk about the importance of everyone with a mood disorder finding a "buddy" or two to speak to on a daily basis particularly if you live alone. Many of us do not realize when we're getting manic or hypomanic.

"Adam" from our group called me this morning. He's a smart man but he said something extremely out of character. I said to him, "Adam, I don't wanna hurt your feelings, but I think you may be getting manic."

He did not see it. Many people don't. It's like looking in the mirror. Mania doesn't show. He has one buddy in ND & I suggested he ask "Perry" to see if he can detect any out-of-the-ordinary behavior.

Like the mature adult he is, Adam admitted this would be very helpful.

Mind-chatter. I had an intense weekend, doing not a lick of work (oh, maybe a little bit). Every minute was filled imbibing information including visiting an unknown local park, the Boileau Farmstead c. 1750, where we toured the farmhouse, said Hello to the all-knowing Millie Wintz, who I will follow to the ends of the earth, or at least to the end of Terwood Road, ate hearth-cooked chicken baked in an underground pit by Mercy Ingraham,,,

recognized PA State Representative Tom Murt (R-152) & asked him to speak at our group. That man is EFFECTIVE. He said he's very interested in mental health. I'm awaiting a call from his sec'y.

When I went to bed last nite & all was quiet on the southern front, as I climbed in bed in total silence, I began hearing bits & pieces of conversations I'd had during the day.

My mind was processing all this busy-ness. It apparently needed to record in my memory banks the events of the day. I always reality check with people, just as I asked Adam to do. Once when riding the bus to NY to see Sarah, I ascertained the woman next to me sat there & reviewed her day.

To me, what I wrote above is tres interesting. Nearly everything is interesting to me except spectator sports. I'd rather read about them in the Times than watch em. Had a fascinating detailed conversation while baking bread this morning about a 66-yr-old fellow in our group, "Dave," who triumphed over a cancer which was basically the male equivalent of a hysterectomy.

Dave is doing great! Except that he's too lazy to exercise. So in honor of his poor eating habits I stopped at DQ on my way home. After I finished my incredibly delicious waffle n custard treat, I walked for several minutes around the DQ neighborhood, peeking into Tom Sawyer's Auto Fix-it where I saw all manner of cars up on the operating tables.

Private note to S who doesn't bother with the links: Just do me a favor, man. Click on the DQ link.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Stephen, how come writing a blog is so much easier than working on my novel?

Got an email today saying "Happy Birthday, Harold." That was so sweet of Melvin to remember my Dad's birthday. He worked for my dad 45 yrs ago.

Called my mom so we could remember Harold together, wondering what he would look like at age 87. We used to joke when he was dying of a brain tumor that he was the healthiest man alive except for...

Hold on, I think that's Dad sitting at my kitchen table.

I helped myself to your bread, Ruthie. Delish!

I'll come in there & pour you a cold glass of water.

Oops. He's vanished.

Come back soon, I call. The lights flicker. The stereo stutters. He was a generous man. Very complex. Did I understand him? Mostly. He told my mom after he met her, I have known more sorrow than joy.

Dad, come to me in a dream tonite & tell me what you meant. Oh, I should ask my sister Donna. She's very astute about family politics... about connections that bind.

Just looking at those typed words May 4 is such a beautiful sight. It reminds me of my dad. Let's do it up proper: May 4, 1921.

Try it yo'self, o blog readers! Our brains light up when viewing things we love.

Scott & I went to the movies at the local libe & saw Notes of a Scandal w/Dame Judi Dench & Aussie Cate Blanchett. I brought my pillow which I keep in the car to put on the uncomfy chair & when the lites went out I propped my tootsies up on the empty chair in front.

My legs were aching since Scott & I gardened for 4 hours planting, among other things, fragrant purple lilies of the valley, planted near the front door so I can smell em. My Radio Flyers wagon became a planter in the frontyard, Scott's idea. It's filled w/colorful fleurs.

Found the wagon in the trash up the street at ole man John Leonard's. His kids are keeping him in his home. He's Ninety Five. I just offered yesterday to help him maintain his magnificent backyard garden which is dark and lush and filled with pools for the birds.

Brought a loaf of bread to the Libe for the hungry noshers after the film. And instead of giving an apple to our Discussion Leader, I gave him an entire loaf of whole wheat bread, complete w/freshly grated nutmeg. He looked so dapper today.

I wore earrings so people would think I'm an adult.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

George, the master of the perfect forward, sent me this 2.28 minute sound video. A reward if you know the background music.

Ten people just learned to bake bread at Abington Twp Public Library. Guess who taught it? I wore my Starbucks apron & began preparing for the class at 7:15 this a.m. while listening to Miles Davis Run the Voodoo Down.

You need rousing music to keep up the pace.

Friday, May 2, 2008

Every ND meeting is good but last nite's was A+++. I always think that no one will show up but when I got there people were waiting around for me to unlock the church door. In fact, I just called the church & told Mike S how much we love the church. They're searching for a new pastor & get over 100 applicants. Their growth is slow & steady, liike ours, I told him.

I said that we have a growing membership of black people, perhaps about a dozen now, which makes me really happy. We are an integrated group!

Also told Mike that sitting at tables facilitates discussion. "Especially round tables," he said.

Indeed.

Can you smell my delicious chicken corn chowder cooking? I like to have a million things going on at once. Ah, I've just turned on some music.

Lots of people last nite. Great diversity. People called or emailed with ideas which we then spoke about. Ben (all names are fake) brought up caffeine. Drinking too much made him manic & he nearly had an auto accident b/c his mind was speeding.

So many people commented on this! The whole room - about what, Murray - 8 tables? - were sharing. I told them when I went off coffee a coupla yrs ago I substituted it with Molasses Tea, made from hot water, blackstrap molasses, & cinnamon & ginger. I'm drinkin it iced as we speak.

Suddenly from the corner of my eye I saw someone enter the room. "DeStephano!" I called out. "Jack is back!"

The entire room burst into applause. Ours is a group that applauds people just like AA meetings. I'm so proud of our group! No I'm not a mother hen, please!

Jack of all trades has been working steadily moving seamlessly from one job to another while he searches for the job that's right for him. Will call his dad to see if he got it. Dad, in his early 80s, just had some sort of

New Directions Support Group

Glenside, PA - Suburban Philadelphia Area

Letters from Ruth