For a couple of years now I've just been here, letting things move around me.  I don't feel as though I've participated in my life much.  Things have happened and all I've done is move out of the way before something ran over me.  Sometimes I think I didn't move fast enough.

 

I've been sitting here tonight wondering where the time has gone.  I'm at that stage in my life where I should have something to show for everything I've been through.  What I see though is a worn out body and a lot of discontent with my life.  I'm not sure where I should be, but I'm sure it's not here.

 

How does one change where they're headed?  Especially when you've been headed this way for so long.  For a couple of years I was so content just writing and going to school but that ended when I moved and finished college.  I took a job I probably shouldn't have but yet, made so many friends that I couldn't leave.  I know, no one should base whether they stay somewhere on having made friends.  It was the dream job...except for the boss.  Never stay where the boss is not happy in her life because soon you will be too.

 

I have to find my joy again.  After almost 5 years of the job, I've somehow lost my joy.  I haven't written anything worth while in so long.  I miss the countryside, the creatures that entertained me, and the open skies that relaxed me.  I miss just listening to the world around me and having the time to think about what I'm hearing.  I miss the excitement of putting words to paper and never knowing what it's goning to be until I'm done.  I have to find my creativity again.  But how do I do that?

 

I am going to try to write something every night.  Sometimes the best way to get back into the habit of writing is just doing it.  Kind of like eating that elephant, one bite at a time.  You only choke if you bite off too big a bite at once, right?

 

Stay tuned, I may be back!

 

 

 

I have been watching and listening the last several days as the stories and pictures come flooding out of the devastation that was Hurricane Katrina.  I’ve seen the numbness and horror in their faces and heard their words long after they were spoken and we are only a week post-storm.  We are just in the infancy of the aftermath and we are already seeing broken lives, some of which will never be recovered or healed.

 

I have heard their anger and felt their rage as they waited and waited for help.  I felt their horror as they watched people drown right before their eyes, just inches from their fingertips, or even in their grasp.  Death is a terrible reality to face in the best of circumstances, much less in all out chaos.  They had no control, no control over what was happening to their loved ones or to themselves and the fear that invokes is staggering.  Where were their rescuers?  Where was the cavalry that was supposed to come rescue them at the last minute?

 

Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, they waited.  They believed someone was coming because they knew that if they were out there they would try to help if they were close by.  Many did help and many died trying to help others.  When help did not come in time, a part of them died and as time trudged by, great chunks of their soul died with it and floated downstream with the dead and dying.

 

Their reality was the dead muddy water and devastation that once were the cool, calm waters that invigorated their souls and provided them shelter and solace.  In just a few short hours, days, they saw everything they knew and believed in ripped from their lives and returned to them in shambles.  Who could fault them their anger and disbelief, their feelings of betrayal that the world did not come to their rescue fast enough?

 

My heart went out to the children most of all in this.  They had no base of experience to with which to gauge their reactions except the reactions of their parents, family, or the rescuers who’d gathered them up.  As they watched those around them fall apart and scream they lost control as well, crying in great gasping wails of despair.  Those clinging to their caregivers who were numb and shell-shocked, wandering with no particular sense of what to do were themselves withdrawn, fearful, and looking at the world with eyes that see but do not comprehend what has transpired or how to deal with it.

 

I understand the need to let out this larger than life urge to scream to the world, “Where were you when I needed you?”  I want to scream where are you FEMA, National Guard, and President Bush?  I want to release all this fear, this knot of apprehension that but for the wobble of the next system, this could be me I’m looking at.

 

I want to see the cavalry come around the corner and make the rescue.  I want to believe I will make it.  I want everyone to know I expect that.  But can I get that 2.5 minutes after the eye of the storm?  Can I get those reassurances by killing the rescuers with criticism and blame for the work and efforts they put through this storm?  Many of these people are victims too and many are woefully ill-trained and over-utilized this time around.  How do you train for what you have never experienced?  I’m sure that the people in charge used their best judgment in the decisions they made.  Why wouldn’t they as the world is watching them? 

 

What I would like to see is more calm and reason and less yelling and blame casting.  The more one yells, the more the other party yells.  Before long, neither party can hear and all communication just stops.  If one party would just stop yelling and start speaking in a quiet normal tone, the other party would have to get quieter and really pay attention to the speaker and what is being said, and isn’t that what each party really wants anyway, to be heard and listened to?  Isn’t there enough fear and grief, anxiety and mistrust without adding more?  Come together people, show our children we are one and when we are one, we are the strongest entity ever and can overcome anything we come up against.  After all, are we all survivors of the worst storm our country has ever seen?  Haven’t we already won the major battle?

 

If we couldn’t do it for those we lost, can’t we do it for all the children looking to us for answers and rescue now?

 

©2005  LuAnn Gould

 

 

Dandelions and clover. I never could understand why so many adults were in so much of a hurry to get rid of dandelions and clover. Why every kid knew there was a four-leaf clover out there just waiting to be discovered! And those purple flowers had just a touch of sweetness to them. You could tell who liked butter by holding a dandelion under your chin…

I remember many hot, sticky days laying under one of the big maple trees in our front yard just looking for four-leaf clovers. I think the most I ever found in one patch was seven. I would carefully take my bounty into the house and upon finding an old book, place them gently between the pages to press them. I probably had dozens stashed in the bookshelves in my bedroom. One never knew when one would need a little help from a lucky four-leaf clover, did one?

I also remember the honeybees that frequented the clover patches. No matter how many times someone told me to just stand still, I just couldn’t! When the flowers were out, I would carefully avoid the patches that were attracting the bees and would pick nice long stems that would lend themselves to making necklaces and wreaths for our hair. Sometimes we would get inventive and mix other flowers (weeds) in, such as Queen Ann’s Lace, carrot weed, milkweed, or what ever else we could find. That is until some one reminded us that we were making ourselves walking restaurants for the bees. Somehow the lure of clover necklaces just faded after that.

Queen Anne’s Lace became parasols for our dolls during the summer. For our smaller dolls, a dandelion was just the right accessory. Later in the summer milkweed pods burst forth with their white downy seed and the pods became little boats after rainstorms. We had a great time sending a summer flurry of ‘snow’ by gently puffing on milkweed pods and the round globes of dandelions, much to the dismay of our parents and neighbors!

I remember going out to my cousin’s farm one summer and bringing back five little clumps of wild violets, which I planted in the back yard. I loved the little blue flowers, so small and delicate. Little did I know that within the next few years they would spread like wildfire and soon spread out across the yard! I can’t look at violets today without thinking about them.

When I was a several years older, my mother and I were driving down the interstate and passed by some cattails growing wild along the road. Being crafters, we thought why not bring some home? I jumped out of the car and into the ditch, cutting one here and one there. About the time I had a dozen or so, a little field mouse made himself known by running across my shoe. I decided that a dozen was enough and that field mice belonged in the ditch and I belonged in the car! Anyway, I placed the cattails in the back of the car and Mom and I continued our trip. I was home several days when Mom called. It seemed that we had forgotten about the cattails in the back of the car. Now Illinois has some very hot summers… those cattails exploded, sending seed all through her car! Never carry cattails in your car in the summer…

No, I just can’t understand why adults are so wont to eliminate weeds. Some of my best memories are tied up in those flowers.

© 2001 LuAnn Gould