Blogging | Telling the Truth

February 26, 2024

What do you see these days?

This morning I picked up my small volume of Emily Dickinson poems. Almost immediately my eyes found a poem I commented on about ten years ago. I was stunned at how much it still speaks to me and to the chaos that seems to have enveloped us.

Here’s the poem, with my comments at the end. It isn’t an easy poem. But it seems nothing is easy these days no matter where we look.

Before I got my eye put out

Before I got my eye put out
I liked as well to see –
As other Creatures, that have Eyes
And know no other way –

But were it told to me – Today –
That I might have the sky
For mine – I tell you that my Heart
Would split, for size of me –

The meadows – mine –
The Mountains – mine –
All Forests – Stintless Stars –
As much of Noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes –

The Motions of the Dipping Birds –
The Morning’s Amber Road –
For mine – to look at when I liked –
The News would strike me dead –

So safer – guess – with just my soul
Upon the Window pane –
Where other Creatures put their eyes –
Incautious – of the Sun –

Emily Dickinson, c. 1862
Published in 1995 by Shambala Pocket Classics in Emily Dickinson POEMS, pp 38-39

These days it’s difficult, if not impossible, to understand what is happening to us and to this world. It doesn’t matter where I turn my eyes. To look deeply into today’s realities is to face a kind of death.

Several weeks ago, I decided it was time to stop blogging. My health issues are multiple. I thought not blogging would help me. It didn’t.

So here I am. Again. I don’t pretend to see things clearly. I just know we’re in this together whether we like it or not, and that writing is good for my body and soul.

Praying this finds you grateful to be alive, with “just your soul upon the Window pane.”

Elouise

11 Comments

December 4, 2023

This old relic

Who am I?

A relic
An old lady
Loaded with memories
A traveler
waiting her turn
to board the next flight out

Slow
Weary
Confined by this and that
Sometimes loving each moment
on the sofa
with D on one side
and soft furry Smudge
on the other

During the past few weeks we’ve had family members here for my 80^th birthday and for Thanksgiving. As wonderful as it was, it was also a reminder that D and I are now in the ‘old age’ department, with most of the exciting stuff happening elsewhere.

Every now and then I wonder why I’m still here, though I love each moment with family members and various pets. What does it mean to be this old? And why do memories of my past keep coming to mind?

When I began blogging, I wanted to work through my past in writing. As a child and then teenager, my perspective was rarely accepted as part of the conversation. Nor did things get easier after I left home for my own life with D and our two children.

Today it seems we’re crash-landing into messes that belittle women, children, and men, and invite us to look the other way as this world falls apart.

What does it mean to be living in times like these? I can’t get this question out of my mind.

Thanks for visiting today.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 December 2023
Photo of our family taken Christmas 1971

13 Comments

September 16, 2023

Where and Who am I?

This morning I looked out our kitchen window just as a beautiful adult Flicker landed on one of our birdbaths. Stunning. Sure of himself. And most of all, grateful for a drink of water.

I sometimes wonder these days why I’m still alive. Not because I wish I were dead, but because it seems there’s nothing left for me in this life. Which, of course, I know is a Great Big Lie.

Weather. Politics. War. Famine. Floods. Typhoons. Hurricanes. Fires. Merciless Killings. Fear.

All of it, or even some of it by itself is More Than Enough. The value of one soul seems to have plunged to the bottom of the heap. And I wonder every day, Why am I still here?

No, I’m not sitting here doing nothing. There are people and programs needing all the help they can get. Still, fatigue comes on quickly. Especially with the hot summer we’ve had. But more than that is going on in me.

Today, if all goes well, I’ll enjoy a walk with D in our neighborhood. If all goes extremely well, I’ll see some birds I recognize, or have a short conversation with a neighbor also out for a walk.

Isn’t this enough? I don’t know. I wonder sometimes how, where and when we’re supposed to learn to be old people. Especially old people at home. By the time we take care of our aging bodies, or finish the bare necessities (laundry, cooking, a teeny tiny bit of cleaning), what have we accomplished?

One thing is clear: I love blogging. I don’t love all the changes WordPress has made. Still, while I have my little corner, I’m happy to be part of the human race with all its agony and ecstasy. Especially now.

Thanks for stopping by and reading. I wonder, what gets you through a tough day or a hard night?

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 September 2023
Photo taken by DAFraser, February 2015; Flicker in our holly tree enjoying free lunch

15 Comments

April 3, 2023

Getting back to ‘normal’

Thanks for visiting! I haven’t posted anything since March 11. Here’s a quick rundown.

On February 22 I had surgery to replace pacemaker I Love Lucy I with I Love Lucy II. The surgery went well, though the anesthesiologist arrived about 3 hours late (not her fault). Post-surgery was a nightmare of pain and itching due to use of a strong saline solution that messed up my skin. It’s still healing.

In the middle of March, two long anticipated events occurred. First, D turned 80 years old! Second, our daughter and her husband visited us for the first time in more than 3 years (thanks, Covid). They live in Oregon. Both are superb musicians. Our son-in-law was part of the recent Unwound coast-to-coast tour, playing two nights in Philadelphia a few weeks ago. No, I didn’t get to hear the concert in person. Too late and too much for an old lady like me. Besides, what I most wanted was to spend time with them–which we did, before they flew back to Oregon.

Finally, about three months ago I began taking a small capsule twice a day for pain caused by peripheral neuropathy in my feet. It isn’t a drug, and it won’t heal anything. Instead, it reduces pain in my feet. If you’re interested in knowing about this kind of nonprescription approach to many inflammation problems, here’s a Harvard University article. Long, and incredibly interesting.

Finally, it seems we are in yet another Trump show, whether we like it or not. In addition, climate change seems here to stay, and we have fallen into world war whether we like it or not. What will come tomorrow? I don’t know. So here’s small poem about what I do know—about myself.

Cast onshore
Of a deserted island
Shaking water
From my eyes
Seeing nothing
And nobody
As unanticipated
I wonder aloud
Who am I
And why am I here
Now and not then
When all seemed well
That ended well

Published in Without a Flight Plan, p. 61
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2021

Thank you for stopping by, especially in the middle of trying times.
Elouise♥

7 Comments

December 19, 2022

winter then and now

Looking back just 1 1/2 years ago, I never would have guessed I would be so housebound, or that this would become my new normal.

Days dwindle down quickly, especially in winter. First light turns into fading light. The list of things I can reasonably accomplish grows shorter by the day. However, the amount of time I think I need to get through each day grows larger. For example: food prep and cooking, exercises, walking, doing my laundry, and endless weeding out of papers and other items I no longer need.

Still, I’m more as ease with my aging body than I was just one month ago. Today it’s way too cold to walk with D in the afternoon. Besides, there’s no way I can keep up with him. Our attic (remember the renovations?) has been my home away from home on most days. It’s quiet, with windows at each end, and plenty of space to get moving, or go through my exercises.

I cry more than I did a year ago. I’ve always been a weeper. However, it hasn’t been easy to weep at will when I feel pain or am discouraged. Yet if I don’t, it won’t help me accept present realities. In addition, though I’m content to post only as I’m able, I’m not thrilled with the constraints I now have.

Here’s an early haiku and poem about ‘frozen grief’. It seems I’m still learning to deal with this. Not just grief from my childhood, but the grief I’ve experienced at the hands, mouths and attitudes of people who wanted to change or take advantage of me.

winter sun
6 February 2014

winter sun pierces
my paralyzed heart waking
frozen grief at will

***

Buried deep, forgotten
Denied, minimized, ignored
Silenced, unexamined

Held at bay
‘It wasn’t that bad’
‘Others had it worse’

Ashamed of my own story
Just another privileged woman
Who doesn’t get it

Afraid to shine a light
On darkness that seems
To have overpowered me

You mean you’re this old and
You still haven’t gotten over it
Beyond it, done already?

Normal
We want normal
How much longer will this take?

Winter sun does its work
In the fullness of God’s time
Not one moment sooner

Thanks for stopping by today. Or tomorrow…
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 December 2022
Photo found at pinterest.com
Attic photos taken by DFraser and me in 2018

10 Comments

November 15, 2022

What I’m FOR today

Here’s my short-version report about my health and wellbeing. I am alive; I am reasonably happy most days; I am unreasonably crabby at night when I can’t sleep so well; I have several unresolved health issues upon which I will not dwell at this time. I am, however, Alive! And coming up on my 79th birthday.

I first posted this piece in August 2018. Just looking at this photo, reminiscent of my childhood home in Georgia, makes me happy, though not equally happy for every day of my life. I pray this finds you reasonably at peace with yourself.

~~~

There’s so much going wrong today that I decided to make a roll call of what I’m FOR on this remarkable day. Remarkable because I lived to witness it! Including, in my past, the Vernon River, and dock-life when I was growing up. Plus at least the following other items for which I’m grateful:

this beautiful world in places increasingly touched by human tragedy
family members more distant in miles than ever, yet close to my heart
churches standing up to tough challenges without capitulating to visions of grandeur, glory or isolation
real places that offered me refuge and peace when I needed solitude and reassurance that my life matters
our son who lives reasonably nearby, and reminds me why I risked everything with my parents on the eve of my 50th birthday
our daughter who lives on the other side of the USA yet is present to me in ways I was never present to my mother
the Carolina Wren, Chickadees and Cardinals singing and chirping, plus the small ground squirrel who sits on our back yard wall surveying his spacious kingdom
courageous women, men and children who speak out and work for a better world for all of us
my neighbors: Roman Catholic, Muslim, Jew, Protestant, or Nothing at All who greet me, invite me into conversation, groan and smile with me, and sometimes offer me tea
my dear husband whom I sometimes thought might be the wrong man for me, yet has become precious beyond words
my local church with its challenging mix of cultures, ethnicity, political persuasions, youth and decrepitude
days of such unexpected delight that I don’t want them to end, yet can let go because I love my water-bed and the partner swimming in it with me
my body and the way it’s leading me deeper into and out of myself in these early days of autumn

And of course, I’m for you, my wonderful readers–an invisible family loosely held together somewhere out there beyond our control.

Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 22 August 2018; lightly edited and reposted 15 November 2022
Photo found at pinterest.com

9 Comments

October 27, 2022

The view from my attic

Two days ago I retreated to my attic. It was a cloudy, windy, cold day, late in the afternoon. Not the kind of weather that invites a lovely outdoor walk. So there I was, making do by walking up and down the attic, wondering why I’m still here.

The last several months have been difficult. Living with peripheral neuropathy is a mystery. Some days I feel normal; other days I feel like a stranger in a body that doesn’t seem to be mine. And I wonder how much longer I have on this earth.

But back to walking in the attic. The curtains at the back of the attic were open. Without warning, the sun came out, and the maple leaves suddenly came to brilliant life. Yes, they were being blown around, falling to the ground. But they were also a gorgeous reminder that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

So what beauty is there in me? In you? Especially those of any age who don’t have the options they used to have. The leaves are going to fall, no matter what. So I’m working on enjoying each day as it comes, laughing and crying as often as needed, bidding goodbye to parts of my life that were wonderful. And being grateful for the bit of wisdom I’ve learned along the way.

All things considered, I’d rather be the woman I am now than the woman I was before I began blogging.

Gratefully,
Elouise♥

17 Comments

September 10, 2022

Letting Go

How hard can it get? Pieces of my life surround me day and night. Always reminding me of something I don’t want to forget, or release just yet.

Tons. That’s how much it seems I’ve already let go—books, do-dads, clothes, cards and letters, kitchen utensils, Tupperware, cookbooks, dishes, and plates. Plus files and records from years of teaching and being a dean, boxes of still usable toys for children, and pictures that decorated the walls of our six homes from the East to the West Coast. Still, some days it seems I haven’t even scratched the surface.

In addition, I’m having to bid farewell to pieces of me. I never dreamed I would be so housebound as I am now. Yes, I get out to walk several times a week (when the weather cooperates). However, I don’t leave the house now without my very nice cane, and the added burden of having to step carefully. No more running up or climbing steep hills. No more wandering through the meadow at Longwood Gardens.

Then there are daily choices I didn’t anticipate. Instead of having a plan for each day, I do what I can and leave the rest. Sometimes it’s a relief; other times it feels like I’m losing part of myself in ways I never anticipated. Especially when I want to read or write or visit my blogging friends.

Letting go. I’ve almost always known that each day is about both life and death. Yet until now, I’ve thought of life as the major component of each day. Now, however, there isn’t a day that passes without reminders that death could come at any moment. Mine, or David’s.

For the last several months, I’ve been uncertain what to write about. Perhaps I was avoiding the obvious? Maybe. Still, I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I do, however, know that the community I’ve discovered on WordPress has given me great joy, a little grief, tons of affirmation, and a place to be myself.

Thank you for being there. I don’t know how things will work out, but I do know that I need to be writing about life as I experience it now. Not because it’s so great, but because it’s unspeakably precious.

Gratefully,
Elouise♥

15 Comments

August 12, 2022

Still without a flight plan

Coming out of a fog
Finding my feet and voice yet again
Feeling my way home

These words, and the poem below capture layers of unknown realities all the way from what was supposed to be a post-Trump era, to living in an aging body still full of surprises. Here’s the poem as first published in March 2020.

Without a Flight Plan

Disoriented
Suspended in space and time
Where are we going?

Calm and mindful
In a holding pattern
Waiting to land

Circling landmarks
Every twenty-four hours
Drones in the sky

Specks of dust
In an ocean of dismay
Looking for home

© Elouise Renich Fraser, March 2020
Published in Without A Flight Plan, 2021, p. 45

I’m just back from a short morning walk. The sun is out, the heat wave has subsided for now. Summer school is over, and the school playground is blissfully quiet. I see only a handful of others out for a walk with their dogs. I’m walking with myself.

Walking or sitting, I feel the weight of what we call ‘old age.’ I now understand that being old means not having a flight plan.

I’m a diehard maker of lists/flight plans. I like checking off my lists. Lately, however, the lists have become weights. The kind I carry around from one day to the next because I didn’t do all those things, thanks to unpredictable turns of event or the weather or how well I did or did not sleep last night.

Old age is not for sissies. Do I have a plan now for each day? No, I do not, with a few exceptions:

I will eat
I will sleep as needed
I will fill the birdseed feeders
I will make sure the birdies and Smudge have fresh, clean water
I will love D

Period, the end.

Well, except for one more thing. Copies of Without a Flight Plan are available at Amazon.com in various countries. I am also giving them away as requested and possible. However, if poetry isn’t your thing, I will not be offended. In fact, I will thank you for reading this far! Forgive me if I wander. I understand it’s allowed at this age.

Elouise♥

7 Comments

July 18, 2022

Vitamin D, Crows, and Daylilies

I’m feeling my way through
our neighborhood one step
at a time though a misstep
could end in heartbreak

Released from four walls
I find strange solace as
nature surrounds me with
glory and the piercing cries
of crows being chased by
tiny sparrows protecting
their nests and their young

An uninvited insect lands
on my ring finger thinking
I might have something to
offer though it’s way past
breakfast time as midday
sunshine streams down on
my naked arms depositing
bits of vitamin D as ordered
by the doctor just yesterday

I find myself at loose ends these days. Doing what I can on my lists, and leaving the rest. All too soon, however, I’m starving for whatever I’ve decided to leave undone. Such as writing poetry.

For the last few weeks I’ve been walking outside in the morning as often as the weather permits. About a week ago I got my new light-weight walking cane, which makes things easier.

Invariably, I end up feeling teary (in a happy way) when I see towering trees, hear scores of birds singing, or pass a friendly walker or two. Yesterday, I even had the opportunity to stomp out a red lantern fly! And never a day passes without daylilies breaking out all over.

Surely some of this deserves to be written down and passed along. Especially in these troubled times.

Thanks for stopping by today.
Elouise♥

2 Comments

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