Defeat Despair

The cure for anything

Julia ♦ May 28, 2020 ♦ 6 Comments

A beach in Barbados, one of my favorite islands, March 2010.

“The cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears, or the sea.” —Isak Dinesen

The more I think about Dinesen’s quote, the more true it seems. Not that I’m fond of sweat or tears, but I have lived long enough to know that both are usually beneficial, no matter how unwelcome. But the sea? Now that’s my kind of cure.

There’s no place on earth where I more easily forget what time it is, where I slip so quickly into some alternate reality in which nothing that seemed important before can interest me more than wondering what might wash up with the very next wave. Heedless of the ticking clock, of gradual sunburn or the endless to-do list waiting for me at home, I usually have to be dragged away by some practical companion (and we all know who he is) who realizes when not enough is too much.

I don’t even swim well, and rarely go more than ankle-deep into the waves, but I could walk along the shoreline for hours and never tire of it, or lie basking in the sun’s glow, with a soft breeze keeping me cool enough to want to stay just one more hour.

Once when I was very young, my sister showed me how you could hold a large shell up to your ear and hear the sound of the ocean. I don’t even need the shell to do that anymore. I can just close my eyes for a few seconds and be there in my imagination. Try it — and take the cure!

A special thanks:

Today is my 200th daily post. Over six months ago I wondered how I would survive all the bad news we were getting, but this blog has been crucial to my ability to keep coping with everything we have dealt with and will be dealing with in the months to come. I am so grateful for our shared awareness of how many reasons we have to be thankful.

Thanks so much to all readers for your kinds words, prayers, comments, and visits here. You are a blessing to us!

This post was originally published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.

A walk will do more good

Julia ♦ May 27, 2020 ♦ 12 Comments

My friend Kathy and I enjoyed an afternoon walk around the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, April 2008.

My friend Kathy and I enjoyed an afternoon walk at the Arch in St. Louis, April 2008.

“A vigorous five-mile walk will do more good for an unhappy but otherwise healthy adult than all the medicine and psychology in the world.” — Paul Dudley White

My own experience bears out the truth of Dr. White’s observation. I can’t say enough about how much walking helps me. It clears my over-stimulated brain, lifts my spirits and puts me in contact with my neighbors and my neighborhood. When I’m traveling, it shows me more about the place I am visiting than any tour ever could. It gives me time to enjoy music or books in audio format, and I’ve listened to unabridged versions of literally hundreds of books on my walks.

Besides all this, walking has helped keep my weight down, my cholesterol and blood sugar levels lower (I was diagnosed with diabetes a few years ago) and has helped to remedy my lifelong problems with insomnia. And it actually ends up saving me a good bit of gas money when I regularly choose to walk to close destinations such as shops, the post office or the grocery store.

I didn’t start with five miles, of course. I started with one to two miles and worked up as I felt the immense benefits. Now it’s an important part of every day for me. Time rarely allows me more than two or three miles anymore, but I hope to work back up to five daily someday.

If you are among those of us who dislike weightlifting, gyms and exercise machines, try walking. For me, it’s been easier to stick to than any other form of exercise. It’s one of those rare opportunities to have great fun while improving my physical, mental and financial health. Spring is a great time get started!

This post was originally published seven years and two days ago today. The date was adjusted this year to allow the 2013 Memorial Day post to be re-published on that holiday.

I’m just now getting back to walking regularly, having lost that habit along with much else in the aftermath of Jeff’s death. On the plus side, I also lost the diabetes diagnosis. After three years of my A1C blood levels consistently staying in the normal range, my doctors confirmed I no longer have diabetes, and I’ve stayed free of it (with continued dietary changes) ever since. I think walking had a lot to do with that. My blood sugar levels are still on the high side of normal, so I need to get back to walking longer distances.

The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.

More than logical

Julia ♦ May 26, 2020 ♦ 2 Comments

Drew and Matt at the FDR Memorial in Washington DC, December 2004

“If we were logical, the future would be bleak, indeed. But we are more than logical. We are human beings, and we have faith, and we have hope…” — Jacques Yves Cousteau

I’m a great fan of logic. My highest scores on the GRE and other standardized tests were always in the “analytical thinking” category. Nevertheless, I agree with Cousteau that life would be bleak indeed if we were bound by the limits of our own reasoning, which is often flawed or incomplete.

This is not to imply that faith and hope are exclusive of reason; it simply means that logic will only take us so far. In times of sorrow or despair, I’ve found that logic often reinforces my grief, especially when there are overwhelming and unavoidable circumstances playing havoc with my soul. At such times, faith and hope become essential to survival.

Beyond mere survival, however, faith and hope provide the energy and incentive to keep moving forward through an uncertain future. As Cousteau suggests, these qualities have enabled progress throughout human history, and will continue to be indispensable.

If you are facing difficulties or sorrows today, I wish you the faith and hope to look beyond the bleak realities that trouble you, and to believe that better days lie ahead. Reach out for the prayers and encouragement of others, here or elsewhere, and offer your support to people you know who may be struggling. Together, we can overcome.

Their courage

Julia ♦ May 25, 2020 ♦ 6 Comments

In memory of Earl Glenn Cobeil, my April 2012 visit to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

“The brave die never, though they sleep in dust:
Their courage nerves a thousand living men.” — Minot J. Savage

In April 2012, I planned to take some visiting relatives to Washington DC, where they would spend the day sightseeing. I decided that, after dropping them off in town, I would stop by Arlington National Cemetery, where a good friend of ours was interred in 2011. I also wanted to visit the grave of Earl Glenn Cobeil, whose POW bracelet I had worn while I was in high school.

In the decades since I first wept over the news that Colonel Cobeil had died in captivity, I had often sought information about him but still knew very little. On one of my visits to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial (known as “The Wall”) I had learned a few facts, including the notation that he was buried at Arlington, so I wanted to find out where his grave would be. Before leaving home that day, I made what I thought would be a brief search online to find his grave’s location.

In searching for this information, I came across the devastating truth about the savage and unrelenting torture that had led to his death. A long-buried grief stabbed at my heart again as I realized that my worst fears for this man had been less horrible than what actually happened to him. The one bright spot amid this sorrow was the discovery of contact information for his family. I resolved to write to them, and after visiting Arlington that day, walked across the bridge and into DC to The Wall.

Before taking a photo of his name there, I pulled out a tissue and polished the surface surrounding the engraved letters. A photographer with an SLR and a tripod approached me, telling me he had made “some really good photos” of me, apparently for a newspaper. I asked him if he would take a photo with my camera, and he agreed. “Touch the wall again,” he said, and I reached up and put my fingers under the name.

After taking the photo, he asked me why I was there; whether this was a family member or friend who was lost in the war. I explained to him about the POW bracelet I had worn, as had so many others in the late 60’s and early 70’s, and briefly described what I had just learned that day about how Colonel Cobeil died. I thanked him for his interest and for the photo. Later, I left this tribute at the Virtual Wall, one among many others for a man I never knew, but will never forget.

I did contact his wife Patricia, now remarried, and she called me. We had a wonderful conversation, as well as further written correspondence. In talking with her I mused that, during the years I wore the bracelet, I could never have imagined that I myself would someday be married to an Air Force Colonel. What I also never imagined was the heartbreaking news Jeff and I would soon receive about his stage IV cancer. During the very difficult early days of coming to terms with his grim prognosis and the hard battle that lay ahead for him, the courage of Colonel and Mrs. Cobeil was an inspiration and source of strength to me.

Today, I hope we all will take time to remember the brave sacrifices of countless people whose names and faces we will never know, as well as those we have loved who are no longer here with us on earth. May their legacy live on in those of us who have been blessed by their example.

This post was originally published on Memorial Day, seven years ago. My husband Jeff now is buried a short stroll away from Colonel Cobeil’s grave at Arlington National Cemetery. It was on our visit to Colonel Cobeil’s grave in July 2012 that Jeff, admiring the peaceful, well-kept grounds and hallowed atmosphere, told me that he wanted us to be buried there someday, never dreaming that “someday” would come all too soon. Less than three months later, we received the grim news that metastatic tumors were found on his liver, and weeks later, he was given a terminal diagnosis.

The promise of the city

Julia ♦ May 24, 2020 ♦ 10 Comments

Here I am in the heart of Manhattan, loving every minute. May 2007

“…in New York I am always wondering, ‘Who are you?’ and it is the promise of the city with its many stories that keeps me coming back like an avid reader dazzled by the library shelves.” — Julia Cameron

I have always loved New York, even back in the 70’s when it wasn’t doing so well. The first few times I went there, part of the fun was seeing so many of the things I’d read about for years. But mostly, the sheer density of it amazed me. People, businesses, buildings were packed together so tightly that the same bookstores and coffee shop chains would have establishments only blocks apart. Everything was moving, alive. The diversity of sights and sounds was stimulating, and the discoveries engaging and delightful.

Cities seem to be growing more and more like each other now, with large chains swallowing up the local businesses and obliterating their unique personalities. But there are still things that can be seen and experienced only in New York. It may have been bumped down the list somewhat on my roster of favorite destinations, but every time I go there, I fall in love with it again.

If you’re living in a city or visiting there today, I hope you have a fabulous day full of the sort of energy generated by urban rhythms. If you are far from the city, try channeling at least a bit of its wonderful intensity to jump-start your imagination and productivity. Thanks to technology, we can bring at least some of the excitement to wherever we happen to be.

This post was originally published seven years ago today, and I still love NYC as much as I ever did. My most recent visit to Manhattan was in November 2019, not long before COVID-19 slammed it so unmercifully. I hope and pray that it will not be too much longer before I will feel safe enough to take another trip to the city that fascinated me long before I ever saw it with my own eyes.

But then you read

Julia ♦ May 23, 2020 ♦ 6 Comments

When we sailed on the Celebrity Summit in March 2011, our cabin was two doors down from this lovely little library.

Aboard the Celebrity Summit in March 2011, our cabin was near this lovely little library.

“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who had ever been alive.” — James Baldwin

Although it took me quite awhile to realize it, I connect with people primarily through reading and writing. Even as a child I wrote long letters to friends, and had pen pals who lived close enough that we could have talked on the phone for free (back in the days when long distance was EXPENSIVE). But talking on the phone was not the same as reading or writing a letter. And there was nothing in the world like reading a book.

No matter how strange or different I felt, when I read books I knew I was not alone. That’s why I identified so deeply with this quote from Baldwin. Books for me were and are a safe place, where I can encounter a new idea and ponder it without being immediately questioned or asked to respond. It is also wonderful to feel as if I know people who lived decades and even centuries ago, just by reading their heartfelt words. There are many authors, living or dead, who seem more familiar to me than some of the people I see on a weekly basis.

Written correspondence (online or via good old-fashioned snail mail) has something magical about it. There are no distracting facial expressions or vocal tones to color the meaning of the words, and this is a tricky thing that can work for or against us. For that reason, I think we tend to take a bit more care with what we write than we do with what we say. That’s not to say that written words cannot be vicious or defamatory, but when they are written, we can more easily destroy them or ignore them, and keep them at a distance. Likewise, when we read words that are wonderfully encouraging or inspiring, we can keep them and go back to them again and again, not relying on memory or video as we must with the spoken word.

I hope you will carve out some time, today and every day, to engage in at least some communication through reading or writing. May you find it as rewarding as I do!

An honor to live

Julia ♦ May 22, 2020 ♦ Leave a comment

To those who live and work nearby, Washington DC is ordinary and familiar. March 2013

“I am grateful for my daily life; it is an honor to live it. My day-to-day routine holds many mysteries, even though it has become ordinary and comfortable to me.”
— Steve Deger

No matter where we travel, Jeff and I always try to get off the tourist path for at least a few hours, and go where the locals go: the grocery stores and libraries and pubic transportation. It’s a source of unending fascination to me that people in contrasting locations and circumstances live lives that are strikingly familiar in many ways. How fun to imagine that people go about “normal” lives in places such as Paris, Bermuda, Alaska or the Caribbean. Yet many might find my life, dividing my time between two very different sorts of homes, to be somewhat exotic as well.

I know I might get an argument here, but I think each of us lives an interesting life. Even if there is nothing glamorous about one’s daily routine, it is completely unique, and that’s enough to make it interesting to me. The masters of art and literature evidently agree with me, because most of the greatest works, though set in different eras and locations, illuminate the lives of everyday people.

The author Jan Karon has said that she writes “to celebrate the extraordinary beauty of ordinary lives.” I love that thought. I find that same beauty in the countless blogs I have seen, each with something unique to offer. Today, I hope you will be able to recognize the poetry of your own existence, and treasure the honor of being able to live it.

The sense of the beautiful

Julia ♦ May 21, 2020 ♦ 4 Comments

I enjoyed the stunning portraiture of Annie Leibovitz at a show in San Francisco, November 2003

I enjoyed the stunning portraiture of Annie Leibovitz in San Francisco, November 2003

“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

In the centuries since Goethe penned this sound advice, it has become infinitely easier to do the things he suggests. In fact, one can do all of them in a short session at the computer. The problem we face today is sorting through all the wholesome and unwholesome distractions that threaten to derail our attention to the beautiful. Besides which, though the computer is definitely the most convenient way to enjoy great works, it can never replace the joy of physically strolling through a gallery, sitting in the audience at an orchestra or theater performance, or relaxing with a book of poetry in bed or in an outdoor setting.

In an age where people are given to neglecting the health of the body, it’s not surprising that nourishment of the mind and soul also languish. Just as our stomach sends us unmistakable messages that tell us when it’s time to eat, so the agitation and conflict we often feel tell us that we need to take time to feed our minds and our souls. I hope you will make time, today and every day, to heed your sense of the beautiful calling you to a higher awareness.

Expect nothing

Julia ♦ May 20, 2020 ♦ 12 Comments

These snapdragons weren’t supposed to come back, but they reappear every year. May 2013

“Expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.” — Alice Walker

It may seem contradictory for a self-proclaimed optimist to quote Walker’s counsel to expect nothing, but there is very real difference between expectation and optimism. Admittedly, optimism involves some expectation, but it is mostly of a general sort. We expect that joy lies ahead if we are willing to cooperate by actively seeking for good. We expect that our faith will eventually be proven as well-founded. Beyond that, though, it’s a bit fuzzy.

If we expect a new car, a palatial home or always a little bit more than we currently have, optimism is crowded out by a feeling of entitlement. If we give our love with expectation of commensurate return, that’s a risky proposition at best. If we serve with the expectation of gratitude, our service will be more likely to taint our relationships with selfishness.

I’ve found that the most delightful gifts are those that are wholly unexpected. The snapdragons pictured above have become one of my favorite plants, primarily because they have come back again every year without my expecting it. When I bought that particular plant years ago, I was told it was an annual. I planted one or two six packs of tiny seedlings and figured I would enjoy them for a year at most.

The next year, two of them came back, a yellow one and this pink one. The yellow plant has barely hung on, flowering sparsely in recent years, but the pink one gets bigger, blooms earlier and lasts longer each year. Every year they come back, I count it an unexpected gift. There’s no more frugal surprise than a volunteer plant that returns to decorate our lives without added expense or effort.

Living frugally is its own reward, and as Walker affirms in her lovely poem linked above, the frugal life is full of charming surprises.

This post was originally published seven years ago today. The lovely snapdragons pictured above succumbed to an early frost less than a year after this was published, and have never appeared again. I’m glad I photographed them while they were still alive.

The message of Walker’s poem, linked above at her name, is perhaps the best advice I could have given myself for the past seven years, and seems even more wise as the attitude I must adopt for the future.

Mind and soul

Julia ♦ May 19, 2020 ♦ 2 Comments

A December 2004 photo of Washington National Cathedral, built in knowledge inspired by faith

A December 2004 photo of our National Cathedral, built in knowledge and reverence

“Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,
But vaster.” — Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Several miles from the palaces of knowledge found at the Smithsonian Institution, the Washington National Cathedral stands in a quiet residential area seldom congested with the throngs that crowd the monuments and museums. Its lovely architecture, stained glass and surrounding gardens offer a setting conducive to quiet contemplation, set apart from the hectic schedules and political battles of our nation’s capital.

Reverence is a quality that often seems in short supply. In contemporary movies and on television, God’s name is spoken primarily as a conversational byword, an exclamation of surprise or emphasis. But this disregard of spiritual sanctity does not bode well for our world. While it’s true that many evils have been perpetrated under the banner of false or misguided religion, human progress throughout history has been inextricably and undeniably bound up with deeds of courage and compassion enacted by people who lived by faith in a God of wisdom, justice and love.

I believe it’s a mistake to see faith and reason as mutually exclusive. Indeed, many of the greatest minds in history have described how their knowledge served only to deepen their faith. I am grateful today for the knowledge and reverence of those whose sacrificial devotion has made the world a better place for all of us. May we have the wisdom to rejoice that truth lives, despite all efforts to silence or destroy it.

This post was originally published seven years ago today. Whatever changes are wrought by the COVID-19 pandemic and its aftermath, I pray we all will live more reverently, deliberately and humbly. May we be more aware of our own limitations, and how very much could go wrong all the time, every day, yet does not.

The ultimate sophistication

Julia ♦ May 18, 2020 ♦ Leave a comment

The Gateway Arch, St. Louis, Missouri, April 2008

“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” — Leonardo Da Vinci

Though I’ve confessed to my love of ornamentation, I also admire artists who can produce memorable works with clean lines and few details. Often this type of art has to grow on me over time, as with the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, commonly known as “The Wall.” But sometimes, the simplicity of a design is so perfect as to command instant admiration. The Gateway Arch in St. Louis is high on my list of such works. It looks beautiful from any angle, striking from a distance and remarkable up close.

Simplicity of design or function is all around us, but is inherently easy to miss. When I pay enough attention to notice it, I am usually inspired to work a little harder on my continual battle to de-clutter my life. Whether it’s a building, a room, a functional object or someone’s outfit, simplicity can turn down the noise in my mind and increase my productivity by helping me focus. I hope you will be able to enjoy and appreciate at least a few such designs today.

Here to change the world

Julia ♦ May 17, 2020 ♦ 4 Comments

Mom had just had eye surgery, but with Jeff’s help, she was able to enjoy
a lovely day at the Atlanta Botanical Garden in March 2012

“We are here to change the world with small acts of thoughtfulness done daily rather than with one great dramatic leap in results.” — Rabbi Harold Kushner

Everyone loves to see results. There’s nothing more satisfying than completing a major project or putting the final touches on something we’ve labored over for weeks. But in reality, our most important jobs will never be done. Living daily with faith, reverence and humility will always be a challenge, and treating others as we want to be treated will often require patience and stamina.

We aren’t likely to get much honor or applause for the details involved in being thoughtful to others. We all want to change the world for the better, but we probably won’t see dramatic improvement when we make time to care, up close and personally, about one individual at a time.

The good news is that small acts of kindness create synergy that comes back to us, making joyful occasions even happier, and easing the tension in frustrating situations. Thoughtfulness becomes its own reward as we travel through life surrounded with our own portable atmosphere of good will.

We may never see the effect of our actions on the world at large, but that’s not where we live anyway; we’re needed elsewhere. Fortunately, our power to make a difference is located right where we happen to be today; in our families, our neighborhoods, our communities. Whose paths will cross yours today? Whose world can you change?

Security or opportunity?

Julia ♦ May 16, 2020 ♦ 4 Comments

Out of the walls and through the gate:
Amy goes exploring with me in Ypres (Ieper) Belgium, one March evening in 2007

“There is no security on this earth. Only opportunity.” — General Douglas MacArthur

“Too many people are thinking of security instead of opportunity; they seem more afraid of life than of death.” — James F. Byrnes

There’s nothing like watching or reading the news to create feelings of insecurity. Violence erupts all over the globe, and some stories will be endlessly repeated, as if to milk every bit of air time possible out of the chapters and verses of the unfolding tales of evil. But there is really no place to go that is completely secure, and even if you’re locked up tight in the self-imposed prison of your home, illness and injury can strike you there as well.

I’m one of those people who gets defiant when threatened. The more dangerous the outside world sounds, the more determined I am not to shrink from it in fear. The interesting thing is, I think this attitude makes me safer than if I was always running from my own shadow. And even if boldness does not make my life safer, at least it’s way more interesting to be out there exploring than hiding in a closet someplace. I take plenty of common-sense precautions, but I don’t cancel trips or avoid going downtown because of scary things I hear on the news.

Whether your worst fears are of physical danger or psychological intimidation, I wish for you the boldness to face squarely whatever it is that terrifies you. You may need courage to make travel plans, make a speech or make a new friend, but the rewards of overcoming the paralysis of anxiety are many and self-sustaining. And you’ll be bolstered by the discovery that there are plenty more friendly people than unfriendly ones. We’re out here, waiting to meet you!

This post was originally published seven years ago today, yet it seems strangely appropriate during a scenario I could never have imagined when I wrote it. This post may find you venturing gradually back into the wider world, or trying to summon the courage to go someplace besides the grocery store. Just as I did seven years ago today, “I wish for you the boldness to face squarely whatever it is that terrifies you.”

Nature’s way

Julia ♦ May 15, 2020 ♦ 14 Comments

The party at Keukenhof (in the Netherlands) was well underway in this photo taken in late March 2007

The party at Keukenhof (in the Netherlands) was underway in this photo from March 2007

“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!'” — Robin Williams

Surely by now, warm spring weather has started to arrive in even the chilliest parts of the northern hemisphere. Better late than never! What can we do to celebrate springtime this week? Take a walk, plan a picnic, visit a park. Make some lemonade, bake some cookies (before it gets too hot to turn on the oven), call friends and invite them for a cookout. Or just sit outside and bask in the return of warmer weather. Whatever you do, I wish you joy. May the springtime weather lift our spirits and bring hope to our hearts!

This post was originally published seven years ago today. By now, you may or may not be allowed to do any of the social activities mentioned above. Of all the things I take for granted, I never imagined being restricted– by law, of all things– from seeing friends in person. How strange the world has become! But we can still find ways to party, as some of the things mentioned above can be done in social isolation.

The unexpected

Julia ♦ May 14, 2020 ♦ Leave a comment

This freight train obviously had the right of way! Santa Cruz, California, 2003

“Look how often the unexpected happens – and yet we still never expect it!”
— Ashleigh Brilliant

There’s never a shortage of surprises in California, and that’s part of why it was so much fun to live there. One sunny day in Santa Cruz, we were waiting in line at a four-way intersection, assuming the traffic backup was just the normal beach crowds. But then we saw something we’d never seen before, and haven’t seen since: a freight train coming right down the center of the city street, which trains apparently share with cars whenever they pass through.

Nobody around us seemed fazed by it, so it was obviously business as usual around there. But we got a real kick out of having a long freight train pass by our car windows so closely that we could have almost reached out and touched it. I image that the fun of it wears off pretty quickly for those who live there, but for us, it was a delightful surprise.

Today, I wish you something fun, friendly or at least interesting– and unexpected!

A vast early warning

Julia ♦ May 13, 2020 ♦ 5 Comments

Jeff and Matt at Jamestown, Virginia, August 2005

“A nation that forgets its past can function no better than an individual with amnesia.”
— David McCullough

“History is a vast early warning system.” — Norman Cousins

Living in the “historic triangle” of Jamestown, Williamsburg and Yorktown has only sharpened my already considerable interest in history. I’ve never understood how anyone could find history boring. Its stories, so full of drama in the condensed versions we are able to piece together, answer some questions and raise others. With the benefit of centuries of hindsight, it’s pretty easy to see a lot of mistakes that led to tragedy, and we can always hope that at least some of them won’t be unnecessarily repeated. At the same time, it’s hard not to be grateful that our ancestors were tough, strong and courageous enough to blaze many trails that made things easier for us today.

Few stories from history are more fraught with warnings than the settlement of Jamestown. Without going into the details, let’s just say that it was far from an unqualified success, and the failures, suffering and death are well documented. Yet 13 years ago, on the 400th anniversary of the founding of Jamestown, contemporary Virginians and visiting dignitaries (including Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of England) attended many commemorative events in a year-long schedule of celebration.

Perhaps the mere presence of descendants who are around to honor such dubious and painful beginnings is a tribute to the determination that humanity still displays when faced with opportunity and peril. What will future generations remember about us? Let’s do what we can to leave a legacy befitting people who learned some of history’s hardest lessons, and created happier examples for our great-great-great grandchildren’s benefit.

When you finally see

Julia ♦ May 12, 2020 ♦ Leave a comment

Jeff and the boys at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, December 27, 2002

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying looking at the surface of the ocean itself, except that when you finally see what goes on underwater, you realize that you’ve been missing the whole point of the ocean. Staying on the surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent.” — Dave Barry

I’ve always found it interesting that some of the most marvelous sights in our universe were unknown to humans for many centuries. I’m not talking primarily about outer space. I’m talking about the undersea world, which is every bit as fascinating and terrifying to me. Because I have a healthy fear of spending much time underwater depending on SCUBA gear to breathe, probably the closest I’ll get to seeing the wonders of ocean life is visiting a good aquarium.

There are many wonderful museums that feature marine biology, but the best one we’ve visited is the Monterey Bay Aquarium, located on the stunning Pacific coast just north of Big Sur in California. I could easily spend an entire day just admiring the views of the water’s surface there, but as Dave Barry says, the real show is underneath. Large, clear and well-lit tanks will give you views of all the dolphins, sharks, jellyfish, rays, fish and turtles you could ask for, and if you get tired of deep sea life, you can always enjoy the delightful antics of the scene-stealing sea otters.

The undersea creatures are so unique in their many colors, forms, and patterns of movement that watching them never fails to underscore my belief that our planet is the work of an amazing Creator of unfathomable (no pun intended) power, love, enthusiasm and passion for life. I hope you can make some time to visit an aquarium near you, and enjoy getting to know a small part of the vast drama that unfolds daily, largely unobserved and unexplored, over 71% of the Earth’s surface.

This post was originally published on May 10, 2013. Since that date fell on Mother’s Day this year, I have swapped the two post dates to fit the theme. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.

You should ramble

Julia ♦ May 11, 2020 ♦ 4 Comments

The Missouri Botanical Garden, a lovely place to ramble! April 2008

“To enjoy scenery you should ramble amidst it; let the feelings to which it gives rise mingle with other thoughts; look round upon it in intervals of reading; and not go to it as one goes to see the lions fed at a fair. The beautiful is not to be stared at, but to be lived with.” — Thomas Babington Macaulay

What little I have read about Macaulay does not particularly impress me, but I think he’s given us an appealing description. It sounds like a fine way to enjoy a beautiful Saturday in May. I wish you lovely weather today, and at least a little time to ramble amidst the beauty of your particular part of the world. If you see something you want to share, feel free to post links to a blog post or share a description in the comments below. If you have a photo you’d like to share, send it to me at defeatdespair@verizon.net and I’ll post it here. Maybe beauty is not to be stared at, but I think it’s always appropriate to capture and share it with paintings and photos! Happy rambling!

This post was originally published seven years ago today. How little any of us dreamed that, when this was re-posted in 2020, the entire world would recently have been shut down to one degree or another, with the freedom to ramble sharply curtailed in fear of disease and contagion. Here’s hoping that our global confinement ends soon– and that, whenever it ends, we will fully appreciate and enjoy the blessings we too often take for granted, never dreaming how easily they can be taken away. If the shutdown has ended in your part of the world– or even if it has not, and you are free to take walks outdoors– I encourage you to get outside for awhile today, with eyes sharpened and hearts opened in gratitude to all we could easily miss.

The world would kick the beam

Julia ♦ May 10, 2020 ♦ 8 Comments

As far as I know, this is the only photo of Mama with me as a baby, taken early 1957.

“If the whole world were put into one scale, and my mother in the other, the whole world would kick the beam.” — Henry Bickersteth, Lord Langdale

Even after I became a mother, I have never liked Mother’s Day. It seems to me an artificially contrived and ultimately inadequate invention designed primarily to sell cards and flowers, and in some cases, to assuage an adult child’s guilty conscience. Nonetheless, I do find myself thinking of my own mother each year on this day, and feeling at a loss for words to describe what her presence has meant in my life.

Perhaps I dislike Mother’s Day mostly because none of the sentimental, flowery tributes commonly sold at this time of year ever seemed an appropriate homage to my mother, who was and is a formidable woman. Her blunt practicality and unfailing generosity are equal to her iron will and undaunted courage in the face of adversity. She has never been the longsuffering, quiet, kind and gentle saint portrayed by so many of the maudlin descriptions of motherhood. More than anyone I know, she embodies the truth that tough love is, in many cases, the most beneficial sort.

Yet just when she seems most intimidating, a whimsical humor will break through and leave us laughing. She is still the one I run to when hit with unexpected sorrow or hardship. Somehow, nothing seems quite as impossible after I’ve talked to Mom about it. She’s been through more than most of us can imagine, but always managed to outpace almost anyone I knew.

She survived poverty and polio as a very young child, and has lived almost her entire life with only one “good” leg, but she never allowed that to slow her down. She had four children in four different states within a period of ten years, my father’s career having demanded frequent moves. When she was nearly killed by a drunk driver going 70 mph who rammed into the driver’s door of her car, no one knew if she could ever fully recover, but she soon was back to her unrelentingly busy schedule, caring for her children and working on various church and community efforts.

Years later, when she faced brain surgery for a hemorrhaging aneurysm shortly before our wedding in 1980, she stayed true to form, stoic in the knowledge that she might not survive. Showing no fear and little emotion of any kind, she reminded us that no matter what happened, we all should feel grateful that she had lived through the car crash and was able to care for us until we were all grown. For as long as I can remember, she has given us a nearly flawless example of what it means to live in faith and trust that God will do what is best. I know that example will be with me always.

So, with all due respect to those who celebrate this day, to the preachers who will preach their yearly sermon about mothers, and the restaurants that will be filled to overflowing, and the many fitting tributes of love and appreciation that will be shown today, let’s all admit that no day could ever be long enough, no tribute strong enough, to capture the gratitude so many of us feel for the amazing gifts our mothers have given us. Happy Mother’s Day to all!

This post was originally published seven years ago, on Mother’s Day 2013 ( by the USA calendar – although many countries celebrate the holiday on a different day). The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.

Read them fairy tales

Julia ♦ May 9, 2020 ♦ 12 Comments

Once upon a time, a mad king built a fabulous castle overlooking the one where he grew up.
Hohenschwangau as seen from Neuschwanstein, Germany, August 2005

“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.” — attributed to Albert Einstein

I could not verify that the quote above actually came from Einstein, but countless sources verify his more famous statement that “imagination is more important than knowledge.” Although it’s often a difficult line to walk, with some of us leaning too far toward creativity and fantasy, and some too far toward empirical data and scientific methodology, we all need to recognize the value of both.

Since we can’t learn anything without paying attention, stories that engage and delight can painlessly teach vital lessons. It’s tempting to see fun reading as an optional activity that is too easily put on the back burner. Today, I hope you will think about allocating some time for imaginative reading, even if there are no children in your home to entertain with fun stories. Reading for fun can be serious business.

Twilight and dawn

Julia ♦ May 8, 2020 ♦ 11 Comments

The “dreaming spires” of Oxford, as seen at dusk in September 2005

“…day and night meet fleetingly at twilight and dawn…their merging sometimes affords the beholder the most enchanted moments of all the twenty-four hours.” — Mary Balogh

I have always thought there’s something enchanting about dusk, when the light is waning and paints everything in muted but clearly visible colors. Dawn is just as magical, although I don’t watch it nearly as often. I always welcome the time of year when the days lengthen, and I shift my walks to the evening hours, savoring the calm that seems to settle over everything. Even the sounds I often hear as I walk the familiar streets of my neighborhood– the birds, crickets, a lawn mower running somewhere– seem to announce that all will soon be at rest.

As the porch lights begin to come on and windows are lit from within, the heat of the day subsides and the warmth radiating from the asphalt is a pleasant sensation, not punishing as it would be in the afternoon sun. Neighbors come out to walk their dogs, water their flowers or just sit on decks and patios, taking in the peace. We greet each other in passing, and the sharing of the day’s end creates a sense of community; we all belong here. The prospect of a quiet hour or two of reading, a warm bath and a night of slumber draws me home as I end my walk, but often I will stop and pull a weed or two in my flower bed before going inside, reluctant to leave the enchantment until night pulls the shade completely down.

Such evenings communicate the meaning of the word “respite” in sensory details that a verbal definition could never capture. I wish you many days that end with serenity and gratitude!

Turrets and dormers

Julia ♦ May 7, 2020 ♦ 4 Comments

Jeff relaxes at the Petite Auberge in San Francisco, January 2004

“I hereby proclaim that I love turrets and dormers, and massive wooden staircases and fireplace mantels, and curvy old antiques and Oriental carpets and crystal chandeliers and even velvet curtains. And yes, I love tchotchkes. I have a house full of them.” — Zofia Smardz

One of the things I most enjoy about the blogosphere, or the online site Pinterest, is finding out how many others share my enthusiasm for many things that aren’t favorites of my all-male-but-me household. I’ve written a good bit here about simplicity, and the calming effects of quiet, uncluttered environments. But I have to come clean about my love for romantic French country, “shabby chic” or Victorian decorating, especially when I’m not the one who has to do the housekeeping.

That’s why I love bed and breakfast inns. My husband, who would much prefer a good large-screen television with ESPN to an antique four poster bed, is nonetheless occasionally willing to indulge my love of discovering quaint lodgings when we travel. He usually enjoys the breakfasts enough to make it an agreeable option for him, provided I don’t overdo it.

But thanks to the wonders of the internet, I don’t have to wait for a vacation to get my frilly fix. Hundreds (maybe thousands) of talented ladies who visit Pinterest have compiled an abundance of engaging and delightful visual treats for anyone who admires art applied to everyday life. Fair warning: visiting Pinterest is like following Alice down the rabbit hole or through the looking glass. It’s a wonderland out there, and you might not get back to reality as quickly as you think you will!

Feel free to post links to, or photos of, your favorite B & B, fun online shop or Pinterest site in the comments below. Even for those of us who keep decidedly plainer homes, it’s always fun to make a virtual visit to more florid abodes. Today I invite everyone to savor a cup of tea or coffee while making a quick imaginary trip to a lovely, equally imaginary online parlor where we can chat about our next craft project. In moderation, daydreams are sometimes almost as good as reality, and infinitely more practical as a quick getaway.

Govern the clock

Julia ♦ May 6, 2020 ♦ 8 Comments

A clock adorns the medieval Lakenhalle (Cloth Hall) in Ypres, Belgium, as seen in March 2007

A clock adorns the medieval Lakenhalle (Cloth Hall) in Ypres, Belgium, March 2007.

“I must govern the clock, not be governed by it.” — Golda Meir

As strange as it seems, much of what we think of as “time management” is just one more way of being governed by the clock. While some principles of time management are useful, such as setting goals and priorities, other advice may end up being counterproductive. For example, this whole idea of multitasking is taken too far when we get so greedy about packing so much into our lives that we give nothing our full attention. Rather than having a few very enjoyable projects and hobbies, we take on too much and end up with a vague feeling of stress, pressure, and lack of fulfillment when things go undone. Rather than enjoying time with one special friend or family member, we feel an illogical urgency to make ourselves available every waking hour to anyone with our cell or text number.

Whether we are managing money or time, if we lose sight of them as means to an end, we wind up with the tail wagging the dog. Zealously plotting to squeeze 25 hours into every day often means that we push too hard to relax or enjoy anything, defeating the whole purpose of planning our time. I plead guilty to being one of the worst offenders when it comes to wanting to do too much. It goes with the territory of loving many things. But age does confer certain benefits, one of which is the absolute necessity of slowing down; achieving less but savoring more.

“Time for Living” is a favorite old song from the 60’s by a group called The Association. I’ve sung this song to myself often over the many years since I used to play it on my record player with my brother’s LP. One of my favorite lines from the song says “I took off my watch, and found I had all the time in the world.” Though no one would ever accuse me of being a workaholic, I do get stressed about time far more than I should.

Today, I hope we can all use the clock as a tool to help us enjoy life more, rather than allowing it to be a tyrant poking us in the backside with a stick, telling us to HURRY UP and keeping us from paying attention as our life ticks away. Whatever you are doing today, take five! or ten! or maybe even an hour or two — and just enjoy something. Feel free to tell us about it in the comments below.

Just stand there shining

Julia ♦ May 5, 2020 ♦ 10 Comments

The Gay Head Lighthouse, Aquinnah, Martha’s Vineyard Massachusetts, September 2012

“Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.” — Anne Lamott

I don’t want to sound paranoid, but people are watching us. They watch us in grocery store checkout lines, in doctors’ waiting rooms, or sitting at the wheel at a stoplight in gridlock. They overhear our cell phone conversations on the subway and at ball games. And they see how we act and react, in big and small dramas, every day of our lives.

Some of these people are strangers, and some are our children, spouses or friends. Some of them are doing okay, but many of them are caught in heartaches and crises of their own. It’s sobering to realize that we have countless tiny chances every day to make life a bit brighter for almost everyone we meet. A smile, a kind word, patience with someone who’s obviously struggling, even if that person is our waitress or cashier or obnoxious co-worker.

One recent morning I went down to the hospital cafeteria to have breakfast. It was the day after Jeff’s portal vein embolization, and the doctors were pleased with how things went. We had begun to feel hopeful again. The woman who served my eggs greeted me with a beaming smile and asked how I was doing. “Better than I was yesterday,” I replied with obvious happiness. You would have thought I was her best friend as she broke into an even bigger smile and said, “I’m so glad you are feeling better! Praise God that you are better today!” I’m not sure exactly why, but that woman’s kindness and sincerity supercharged my already happy mood. And if my mood had been low, I feel certain she would have had something equally encouraging to say.

The troubles of the world can be overwhelming. Sometimes we get confused into thinking that fixing global problems requires the authority of the President or the Pope or a greedy CEO somewhere. We may feel that we are insignificant and powerless, unable to make anything better. When we feel that way, we are normal and typical, but incorrect. The positive changes we make may never be featured on the evening news, or even in somebody’s yearly holiday letter. But that makes them no less real. I know this is so because of all the times when people who had no idea they were changing my mood, my thinking or my life have given me encouragement, compassion or simple courtesy just when I needed it most, when I was on some undefined edge, about to snap or lose heart.

Today, I hope you will celebrate the opportunity to spread cheer and good will on an ordinary day. You don’t have to go out searching for ways to make the world better. Just stand where you are, shining.

See also

Live faithfully a hidden life

A playful utopia

Julia ♦ May 4, 2020 ♦ 8 Comments

A perfect California evening at Edison Field, Anaheim, April 2003

“Baseball is a harbor, a seclusion from failure that really matters, a playful utopia in which virtuosity can be savored to the third decimal place of a batting average.”
— Mark Kramer

“Baseball is reassuring. It makes me feel as if the world is not going to blow up.”
— Sharon Olds

To borrow the phrasing of Tolstoy’s famous quote about families, it’s my impression that football fans are all alike, but each baseball fan loves baseball in his or her own way. Some, such as my older son, have an encyclopedic knowledge of the game, its history, and its endless statistics, coupled with cherished memories of years spent playing the game. Some, such as my husband, also have fond memories of years of playing, but are more focused on baseball in the present moment, watching when possible, checking scores daily when other priorities prevail.

Others such as my mother and I love the game for reasons we can’t quite define. We don’t completely understand it, or even know all that much about it, compared to the die-hard fans, and we don’t follow many teams. But loyalty to our home team (the Atlanta Braves) and the many human stories behind the amazing plays draw us in, and the cracking of the bats in springtime is music in our ears.

I divide my time between far too many interests and obligations, so most of my fascinations wax and wane, going dormant for long stretches of time, obscured by distractions that are more important or urgent. Baseball is no exception. But for me, there’s nothing quite like walking into a baseball stadium and seeing the field stretched out beneath me, promising an evening when the clock is strangely suspended in a contest that could theoretically go on forever. No matter how long I’ve been away from the game, the magic is always there.

Though I mostly forsake baseball nowadays for things that rightly take precedence in my life, my deep love for it never quite leaves me. As Olds so perfectly describes, baseball banishes my larger anxieties by taking me briefly to a parallel universe that feels as reliable as the sunset, as old as America and as young as every springtime.

This post was first published seven years ago today. How strange that this year, for the first time in my lifetime, there is no baseball season underway. A game that seemed inextricable from American springtime has been sidelined, along with almost everything else, by an unprecedented turn of world events. Among all the shutdowns that are breaking hearts, cancelling hopeful plans and destroying carefully built businesses and retirement accounts, the absence of baseball seems an almost otherworldly omen. Here’s hoping that the game resumes with as much vigor as if it had simply been a prolonged rain delay.