It rained on our parade

January 21, 2017 The Women’s March on Washington

 

It's amazing what you can do with an art degree and a roll of duct tape.

At first I was a bit disappointed that I couldn’t find affordable transportation to attend the Women’s March on Washington in D.C. When I saw that a local march was planned here in Charleston, S.C. I thought, “Well, there will probably be a couple hundred people milling around Marion Square. I will drive down there and join them. Try to get their numbers up.”

So, I followed the WMOW Charleston facebook event page and my attitude changed. The shift occurred when I felt I might better serve my community by staying in town. Yes, it would feel amazing to be in D.C., and I surely wanted to swell the ranks with the high hopes of creating a greater turnout than the one for Trump’s inauguration.  By staying here, I could possibly encourage more attendance, and at the very least be visible to the younger women I know. Women who may not have heard of Gloria Steinem. Women who think “feminist’ is a dirty word. As the days drew closer to the event, the excitement became palpable, the anticipated attendance grew. It also became evident that it was going to rain on Saturday. Rain is so common here, that rain boots are a fashion statement. Would the weather reduce our numbers, though?

 

Ready to start

Peace sign made, raincoat packed, I was ready to pick up my friend, Kelly, and head downtown. For the first time ever, we were excited to see heavy traffic. What a good sign. And it did start to rain, as soon as we got out of the car. Yet, more and more people kept showing up. Walking, on bicycles; one tourist hopped out of a hotel shuttle and told us she didn’t know there was a march here until 2 hours earlier, when she saw it on the news. There were men alone and men with their families. There were babies in strollers and grandmothers in wheel chairs.

Proud Papa

And they came. More and more joined our ranks. Cars drove by with people beeping and hanging out the window, cheering us on. Saturday workers came out on their steps and cheered us. Kelly led us in chants and cheers. People joined in, and wave after wave of voices rose along the march route. The atmosphere was filled with love, and excitement, and mostly hope. Everyone asking, Where are you from?” “Why are you marching?”

 

Sums it up perfectly

By the time we arrived at our destination, Brittlebank Park, we numbered close to 3,000. Being the social media junkie I am, I started checking feeds and was shocked to read that nearly 600 marches were taking place across the country. Every time I checked, there were videos from other countries. And then I cried. It’s not just the old hippies, and the hard-core feminists, and the hipsters. People of every race, gender, age, socio-economic station is coming out, being seen, being heard, being counted. I was high and so was everyone else. There were speakers and poets on stage and everyone listed with interest and respect. And the signs! Good Lord the signs reflected the diversity and creativity of our nation.

 

People were exchanging ideas and ways to stay connected, not just to each other but with causes we believe in and support strongly. That night we were each left with something we have not felt about our country and our politics and our future for a long time: hope.

A break in the rain by the time we reached Brittlebank Park

And the next morning, when we rose in our emotional high, it rained again. This time it rained all over the world, all over social media. Those not in attendance, started raining on our parade. From private citizens to a Mississippi Congressman. Marginalizing us. Belittling us. Making our high come crashing down. The most shocking and painful slams came from other women.

It is a conscious and challenging choice to respond only with love and patience. We must remember when people strike out; it is out of fear, misunderstanding, and not being informed.

To the young woman who posted “The Women’s March does not represent all women.” I say, “Ultimately it will. Because when you don't stand up for yourself or for others, we will still stand up for you. Even when you disagree with us. Because that is what love and compassion is about.”

To the woman who posted the photograph of female soldiers with the caption, Here are the REAL women who march for our rights, I respond, “Glad the Women's March inspired you to post this photo of heroines who deserve our respect and gratitude. Let's all remember, we cannot lift each other up, if we put one another down.”

And that is what I want to leave you with today:

Completely Devoid of Any Discernible Order

Because Life is One Beautiful Trip

Want to be a tiny bit happier? Add a little more spring to your step? Try reading something inspirational every day. Just a few pages is all you need. I don't mean something good for you. I call those books, the Broccoli of Literature. Those are the books people feel like they should read because others are talking about them, they are classics, or on the best seller list. I have no doubt they are well-written, researched, or informative, but let's face it, they can be real downers. 

I'm not saying keep your head in the sand and completely avoid the reality of the world. I'm recommending that you add some beauty, fun, and inspiration to your life. Read something that will lift you up, give you hope, encourage you to try something new and daring. Read something positive. 

Read uplifting words as early in the day as possible. Make it part of your morning routine and it will truly give you a better, happier start to the day. Just for fun, I threw together a stream-of-consciousness list, which is to say, it is completely devoid of any discernible order.

Creative Visualization – Shakti Gawain

The Power of Positive Thinking – Dr. Norman Vincent Peale

You Can If You Think You Can – Dr. Norman Vincent Peale

Awaken the Giant Within – Tony Robbins

You Can Heal Your Life – Louise Hay

Daily Readings from You Can You Will – Joel Osteen

Seth Speaks – Jane Roberts

The Law of Attraction – Esther Hicks

The Secret – Rhonda Byrne

The Blooming of a Lotus – Thich Nhat Hanh

The Power of Myth – Joseph Campbell

Awakening the Buddha Within – Lama Surya Das

A Policy of Kindness – The Dalai Lama

Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain – Betty Edwards

Mary Kay: The Success Story of America’s Most Dynamic Business Woman – Mary Kay Ash

Farm City: The Education of an Urban Farmer – Novella Carpenter

The Dirt Life: A Memoir of  Farming, Food, and Love – Kristin Kimball

Summers with the Bears: Six Season in the North Woods – Jack Becklund

The Legacy of Luna – Julia Butterfly Hill

If books really aren't your cup of tea, search for blogs by people who are doing something you have always wanted to try. Traveling, cooking, painting, converting a camper. There is a blog for every topic imaginable and the content is served up in easily consumable chunks with pictures to illustrate the tales. You know, blogs like this one. 

Have a happy day!

The House of 7 Trees

Life is One Beautiful Trip

Our family tradition has always been to put up a live tree. Over the years, we've bought trees on street corners or cut them down ourselves. Going to get the tree is a pilgrimage and brings back some of the happiest memories of my life. 

Precious memories of Darryl, Strathmeyer Farms, York, Pennysylvania.

He brought me along for the muscle.

When I was 14, it was so bitter cold in December, that my parents gave me my Christmas present early. A pair of Acme Dingo boots to keep my feet warm while we were hunting for our Christmas tree. We weren't traipsing through the woods, looking for the perfect tree to cut down. We lived in Baltimore City, so "hunting" meant driving around town, slowing down to see what the parking lot entrepreneurs had to offer. We found the perfect tree at the busy intersection of Joppa Road and Satyr Hill – a cedar tree. We bought it from a fella from North Carolina, who had stuffed as many trees as he could fit into the back of his pick up, and driven north to Maryland. I still have those boots.

This year, I must be feeling a little sentimental, because I've decorated the house with 7 trees, starting with the live blue spruce in the living room.

My parents' and grandparents' ornaments adorn this tree and date back to 1927.

This year, the Carolinas were hard hit with hurricanes and the tree farmers are having a tough time of it, so it was particularly important to me to support them. No big box store tree for me. Driving into town last week I saw just the sign I was looking for. A family farm, selling trees in the parking lot of the barbecue joint. 

It was an atypical cold day here in Charleston (I had to wear actual shoes instead of flip flops), so it made the Christmas tree hunting feel appropriately seasonal. There were some storm-stunted, Charlie Brown trees on that lot for sure. I felt almost like I should rescue them. Then I spotted this short, chubby little beauty. A blue spruce. My mother loved blue spruce. And the price was embarrassingly low. Should I tell the farmer she really needs to charge more?

She looks lovely in the picture above, doesn't she? She's a needle dropper though, and positively the ouchiest tree I have ever decorated in my life. By the time I finished decorating her, I felt like I'd stuck my arm in a crate full of feral cats. Now I know why she was such a bargain.

It always makes me sad to take down the Christmas tree, so 4 years ago,
I bought this skinny fella to keep up after Christmas.

It's not a Christmas tree, but a winter tree with
an outdoor-theme, including birds & pheasant feathers.

Might as well have a tree in the kitchen, too,

decorated with antique canape cutters.

Santa Gnome is seated in a vintage box.

The hall tree is decorated with sea shells and rests in an old, copper bucket.

Isle of Palms treasures

Mementos from Rosemary Beach

This vintage aluminum tree belonged to Darryl's mother. Now it sparkles in my bedroom.

This primitive tree sits out on the back porch
and reminds me of a sweet day in Lancaster County with Darryl.

Our tiniest tree sprouts from an antique bobbin.

It's two weeks until Christmas. 

Will I make it without putting up another tree? 

Merry Christmas y'all!