shelf life

note

this Easter, a young man we are very fond of snapped a

photo of the bookcase in our front hall; later, he sent

it (and others)- a thoughtful note. what a lovely

way to thank someone. what a delightful gift it is

to see the funny little set of shelves through his eyes.

photo: k. chaves

that said: joy

Although I don't spend too much time talking about this online, anyone who knows me knows that my family is my life. When I saw that Emily Dickinson had written "Home -- is the definition of God" it resonated beyond any explanation I could supply here.

That said (and it says it all for me), home is of utmost importance. As much joy as it brings to find things -- a chair, a house, a painting, a photograph, the work of an artist who sees things in such a way that it brings immeasurable happiness and beauty into other's lives -- the greatest joy I find is always, ever, looking into the faces (or just being near) those I love. Second to that is the joy of being near things (or finding things) that remind me of treasured times. And all of the (treasured times) things are humble. And will remain humble. In the long haul, that's what matters. I find that looking into those faces, reading the best words, spending time with those we love, being surrounded by humble things that bring joy, and perhaps -- if I am lucky -- being able to create some of that joy for someone else: that is the measure of life, it is home. And home, as Emily noted, is where we really need to be.

(This blog was started, as mentioned before, as a lark; an exercise in learning how to work blogger so that i could post about children's books. It took on a little life of it's own, and somehow changed mine. Only now mentioning all this because I suppose I will try to include more family...if they don't mind. For me, they are true home. And that definition.)

Here's hoping you have a magnificent weekend.

meanwhile (again)

on the compensation of autumn

Given the fact that I've never actually lived in the city, I cannot figure out what makes me miss New York so much. Perhaps it is something I caught on the Hudson, a cool breeze that crept in through a window slightly ajar one happy winter in West Point. Perhaps it's more deeply rooted, genetic strands woven into a sharp young man who saved, near the turn of another century, his school lunch money for a far more delicious meal from the hot dog vendor (and kept a few important pennies in the doing). Anyhow. The longing is there.

Looking at these pictures, I realize it can be oddly gray. But that just makes the missing it, somehow, more intense. The city is beautiful even in grayness.

Winter there may not be easy.

But doesn't Autumn compensate?

Another thought on Turtles Winning Races: Presence, Honey Girl and Kuhina

We had the great good fortune of being able to spend quite a bit of time with Honey Girl (pictured above), the gorgeous denizen of Lanikea Beach, just hours before poachers decided to end her life.

This touched us all greatly: my parents have taken our whole family (my sister's & mine, 13 of us, total) to Hawaii quite often in the past ten years, and Lanikea is one of our favorite destinations and fondest memories.

Our wonderful trips to Oahu have been a magnificent exercise in continuing to build family (something my parents have, for 50 years, been very good at), and there are not enough words in the OED for me to tell you how much this means to all of us, how much effort and planning and love (and extreme funding) have gone into this on my parents part, how much the cousins have maintained good contact and great friendships because of it...

It's impossible, basically, to explain the gift my parents have given their children and grandchildren. But I can say this: as the Hawaiians collectively mourned Honey Girl...just days after our family saw her, and her pack, and marveled at their beauty and presence...I understood Kuhina, and what happened next, completely. As the media reported in Hawaii, Kuhina--a turtle from Honey Girl's pack--"emerged from the North Shore surf and settled in front of Honey Girl's memorial," as if to say "goodbye."

Kuhina knew from family, as they say. Kuhina knew Honey Girl was gone, and he knew that his presence honored her.

How better can we honor family than to be present, whether with or without them?

Mom and Dad, thanks for the presence. Love, loyalty and faith are not speedy accoutrements: they find their provenance in hearts with wisdom and fortitude, like yours. The turtle wins the race every time. Just like you always told us. Aloha nui loa.