XMAS POST-MORTEM

 Hmmmm.... My relationship with the holiday season remains ambivalent.  Generally I start out strong -- in late November I start to feel the "spirit" a bit, but I tamp it down, knowing I'm peaking way too early.  I actually refuse to put up a tree or decorate at all until the calendar at least turns to December.  But this year, I felt no rush of Christmas spirit at any point preceding Christmas.  I did all the holiday things I still do, which is many fewer than in the past, but it felt more like going through the Christmas motions than really being consumed by a joyful fervor of anticipation.  

Hallmark Movies:  I try to get in the spirit by diving into the Christmas fantasies and lighthearted, mindless entertainments that are these cookie cutter movies with the same plot and often the same actors.  I rate them based on-over-the top decorations, plot originality (hard to come by) and at least somewhat decent scripting and acting (also a crapshoot).  We saw a couple good ones, a few OK ones, some duds.  My winner this year was Hot Frosty.  It hit all the marks, especially original plot - silly but fun.

Decorating:  Yes, Hub hung outdoor garlands, I hauled down my two bins of decorations from the attic (I've donated about 3 more bins of stuff I used to haul out) to place around the house, we put up our tree and Hub hung all his old ornaments, I added a few newer sparkly ones, but none of the old ones we used to collect to reflect something "meaningful" from that year -- they just look tired and no longer hold much magic for me.  The best decorations weren't even ours.  We spent the Solstice going to local light festivals -- a lantern lined river walk in a nearby town, the local arboretum decorated with lights, and an extravaganza of lighting around the ponds at the big casino north of us where over 7 million lights glowed as we walked along the paths covered with light (and crowds).

Sending Cards: Every year the number of cards I've received has dwindled to a handful, and two of the six this year were from our dentist and a realtor.  This year I finally stopped sending cards at all, well, mostly.  I sent two -- to an out of town old friend who I miss and to my cousin who I have not seen since I was a child, but his wife dutifully sends a card every year and I dutifully respond in kind.  I also send e-cards to a group of friends and texts with a family photo to family far away.  I guess those count, but in my mind the old school Christmas card exchange (and letter!)  is one I am sad to see fall away in this digital age.  

Baking:  I don't bake anymore.  I've never been a big baker, but I used to do Christmas cookies.  Now I don't.  We don't need the sugar or the calories.  

Entertaining and Socializing:  We didn't entertain this year.  We were invited to one party, but didn't go.  We went to one performance that was super fun -- Michael Cavanaugh and his band playing Christmas songs.  He tours nationally.  See him sometime if you can; very entertaining.  (We've also seen him do an entire show of Elton John and Billy Joel covers and he's great!  What a fun singalong it was!)  I also loved celebrating with my BFF since we both have December birthdays and we can turn any day (even the worst) into a laugh-fest.  We don't exchange gifts anymore; we are in agreement that we don't need more "stuff", but just keeping this nearly 40 year friendship alive and precious is gift enough.

Gifts:  Speaking of gifts, our family has scaled back gift giving to mostly buying for our "girls" -- the grandkids/nieces.  They get the "big stuff".  Adults bring 'stocking stuffers' for all that are a step above a candy cane or a pair of socks, but still not super extravagant.  We also do a "white elephant" exchange with inexpensive items for all ages that generally end up being games to play or food to eat.  Hub and I have never really given each other that many Christmas gifts -- we generally have made some big joint purchase that "counts" as a Christmas present, as we did this year (details in another post!)  I did feel the spirit briefly as I loaded up and delivered a box of new and very gently used items to donate to our local elementary school for their "Holiday Shop".  Each year, just before the holiday break, all the gifts are displayed and the kids get to "shop" for up to four items to give to their family members.  Volunteers are on hand to wrap them.  We also delivered our homemade jam to neighbors -- an annual ritual that people are polite enough to lead us to believe they appreciate.  LOL

My birthday:  Being a December baby means a childhood of birthdays being "combined" with Christmas.  As an adult, I decided I'm having none of that.  I insist on a separate celebration and any gifts must be wrapped in BD paper, not Santa themed.  And every year Hub and I usually take a pre-Christmas trip during my BD week, which I always look forward to.  This year we went back to one of our fave waterside towns a ferry ride away and stayed two nights, taking long walks on the beach, in the woods, along the town waterfront, shopping, and eating in restaurants, which we don't do often anymore.  I guess I do like that my BD comes at a time when the world is decorated so beautifully.  And I like the Christmas backdrop adding to the birthday fun.  It was hard to believe I'm now 74 years old.  But ho, ho, ho -- it's true.

Family:  We don't cut a tree anymore but we all go the tree farm together and "help" find the perfect tree for others.  We take a group photo and drink hot chocolate by the bonfire.  We usually gather in December for Son 2's BD early in the month, but not this year since he was out of town.  So we did his and mine together at a surprise BD brunch the kids planned for me after our little trip.  That was fun!  We gather at our house on Christmas Eve for our annual buffet of delicious foods and I am so grateful that everyone brings things so it no longer falls on Hub and me to do all the planning, shopping, and prepping.  On Christmas day everyone comes back for leftovers from the buffet, gift opening, puzzles, games, and turkey sandwiches in the evening. We light the last of the Advent Season candles on the mantel in darkness before everyone departs and we call it a wrap on another Christmas.  It's a relaxed, happy time to have everyone here in high spirits, with good cheer, and loving appreciation of each other.  

Having now typed all of this out, I realize that my lack of "spirit" did not translate into actually hating the season, in spite of feeling grumpy at times.  It's just different now.  And after 74 Christmases, things are sure to feel different.  At different ages and stages in life we live each day, including holidays, according to the likes, dislikes, urges, and necessities of each stage.  Now I am in a stage of "downsizing" my holidays.  While it might feel less festive, it also feels less frantic.  And for that I'm grateful.  The expectation that 4-6 weeks of "high spirits" is sustainable is a bit of con job foisted upon us by merchants, mostly.  For me, there were meaningful moments scattered throughout those long weeks and I am grateful I was present and open enough to see and feel them.  

The trick is to keep that opening, that feeling of connection, joy, and celebration going throughout the year, not when it is "dictated" that we "must".  My intention for 2025 is to make peace with Christmas so I can find the promised Christmas Peace all year long.

At least, that's the view from here...©

IT'S DIFFERENT THIS TIME...

OK, fine.  I do have a holiday post in mind, but I have to purge myself of these thoughts first.  Back to politics, but not really politics in the "dirty, smoke-filled back room" way; politics in the way that is a reality of daily life. 

People get all huffy and don't want to "talk politics" and I think that means they don't want an argument or someone trying to convince them of anything or berate them for their political preferences.  Yeah, that gets old fast.  And all those ads.  Nope.  I get it.

But that's really only during election seasons when candidates and issues are trying to get the attention of the electorate.  That is intense.  But politics is actually always, all the time.  Politics is the way we make decisions, the way we negotiate, the way we progress and are heard.  Politics happens at work, at church, in the family.  And most of all in a democracy.  If you want an end to politics, then you are asking for an end to our way of organizing our government.  

It's always been a rough and tumble game and there have always been those who have are in it for their own self-aggrandizement, with little understanding or care for the consequences of their actions; those who have no problem telling outright lies, making misleading statements, doing deals, and forging questionable alliances.  (I won't name names, but I have villians in mind.)  Some people who are in office relish this power game and imagine themselves great leaders.   

But others are in it for more altruistic reasons.  They actually want to work hard, understand the issues, come up with plans, and put up with the compromises they are reluctant but willing to make, to advance the good for the greatest number of people.  They try to be smart, do their homework, understand what is needed and how to get to that goal and try to be honest and fair and in the process.  They are happy when they've won victories for others and may also be proud of themselves in the process.  (I won't name names here either, but I have heroes in mind).

What I'm hearing lately is that many, many people are disappointed in the recent election and are weary, shocked, terrified, cynical, and turning a blind eye to "politics" right now.  OK.  I get it.  It's been a very hard pill to swallow.  It's December.  Let's enjoy the holidays.

But COME BACK soon!  All is not lost.  What I'm also hearing -- and these are the voices I'm listening to -- we are not defeated!  An election we wanted to win was lost.  We don't like it.  We can wish it wasn't this way, but it is.  Radical acceptance of that fact means just facing it and moving forward.   

Last time (2016) we were in shock, in mourning, walking around like zombies with no plan; reacting instead of responding.  Eventually we gathered and marched and learned to organize effectively.  We couldn't stop everything that was happening, but we were able to throw some roadblocks at some of it.  We learned.  We got stronger and more experienced.

This time, I'm seeing, reading, and participating with people and groups who are ready for what's next. What I see and feel is a quiet resolve.  We have the skills honed by trial and error and won't have to spin our wheels to organize.  Incredible national organizations are fully formed. There are many.  I recommend Indivisible, Common Power, and Third Act, all of which I have worked with and/or support.  No one there is ceding anything.  We are not helpless and there is no reason to feel hopeless.  Democracy is not lost; it is damaged and threatened right now, but not lost.  Not yet. 

The incoming president won less than 50% of the popular vote.  In four of the swing states he won,  a Democrat won a Senate seat in those states also.  The margin in the House is one of the slimmest in history.  This was a "soft" win.  Not a mandate nor a landslide as they would want you to believe.  He eked out a win.   

It was a vote against inflation and economic woes more than a vote for him (although overlooking his illegal conduct, cruel policy intentions, and just horrible character for the hope of getting consumer prices to drop was a puzzle to many of us).  This economic concern was reflected the world over where the incumbents facing a post-Covid financial crisis were booted from office.  Once we put our masks away it seems we forgot the immense downstream impacts Covid had on everyone everywhere.  The U.S. economy and jobs growth are the strongest in the world right now, but this didn't show up in cheaper gas and eggs -- for reasons often outside the president's control, by the way -- so out with the old and in with the older.  We'll see: maybe tariffs (which the consumer will pay for) and tax cuts for crony billionaires and corporations really will magically trickle down this time. 

And yes, there is always racism and sexism to factor in his win.  We have work to do.  They are masters of getting people to see a boogey-man where there is none.  They have a right wing media empire to amplify their fear-mongering and finger-pointing and name-calling.  Tragically, people will be hurt by this administration's policies. They have even fewer guardrails this time; the checks and balances the Founding Fathers assumed would reign in a monarch/dictator have been weakened to the point of nearly disappearing.  But nearly is not completely. 

We still have a democracy; we can fight back.  We can slow them down, minimize their "wins",  continue to advocate for all, and demonstrate for everyone what a compassionate, intelligent, and determined opposition looks like.  We become community.  We support each other.  We don't burn out; we take turns.  We don't quit; neither do we lose the joyful spirit of doing the good work of what is right, for continuing to bolster the democracy we cherish.  The real world consequences of their governance will be evident by the 2026 mid-terms.  We aim for that.

One would think I am some Pollyanna type.  I am decidedly not.  I'm generally an anxious worrywart, clutching my half-full cup with the expectation that I'll spill it.  But I absolutely will not allow myself to become despondent (like last time).  There will be hard work, many setbacks, and lots of grief over what's to come.  But there will be no quit.  Just visioning my grandkids' futures is enough to thwart that idea.

Surround yourself with smart, capable, committed activists.  Monitor the click-bait media (yes even MSNBC 😉) for stories that keep you afraid and discouraged and just turn it all off once in a while.  Tap into the strength, experience, and long-game determination of others who have historically been fighting for their freedoms against all odds.  They will show us more privileged people how to do it.  Find your peeps and keep going.  The new year is coming.  My Project 2025 is to stop theirs.  Let's do it!

At least that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

WHEN YA GOTTA GO...

🎶 It's the end of the world as we know it... 🎶

No, I'm not talking about politics this time, although the same could be said.  

I'm talking about public restrooms.

There is a newish thing happening in the world.  It is the all-gender restroom.  My first experience was at SeaTac airport.  I saw the sign and noticed men and women entering and exiting a very large restroom together.  I walked in and sure enough, men and women were lined up at the sinks dutifully washing up after using a stall in a long line of stalls with floor to ceiling doors -- a nod to a bit more privacy than those 3/4 walls and doors around traditional stalls.  I stood up straight, shoulders back, and strutted right in as if this was no big deal.  

And truly it isn't, is it?  We are all human beings fully aware of the bodily functions of our sister/brother humans.  Using these "everyone welcome" restrooms is a bit like using a traffic circle -- everyone keeps moving, no long lines for anyone (it was always the women waiting in those lines since we could not just walk up to a peeing trough together.)  Plus, the whole male/female divide is much more fluid than we've ever chosen to recognize.  I love the diversity/inclusion vibe.

Until...

Let's just say, big public restrooms are one thing.  Smaller, old school stalls in a two-stall very cozy restroom are another.  How to be delicate here?  I found myself in rather urgent need of a restroom in a local restaurant (maybe it was the spicy sauce?) so I was relieved to find the "all gender" restroom empty.  But just as I pushed the stall door open, a rather handsome young man came through the door and entered the stall next to me.  What to do?  I had a debate with myself that went on way too long.  Do I just let it rip?  Or do I sit and squeeze until he left.  I am a 73 year old grandma which grants me some license in the "who gives a shit?" (LOL) department, but I'm still sensitive enough to my own ego and right to privacy to not want the guy to smirk as he recognized my shoes as I walked past his table on my way back to my own seat.  I waited, uncomfortably, assuming he was wondering what silent shenanigans was happening in the stall next door. Whatever.  Choose your embarrassment.  

Would it have mattered if this was a "Women's Room"?  Yes and no.  One still doesn't want to share personal smells and sounds that are better experienced in private, but the Sisterhood seems more understanding of these things somehow.  We know what our bodies do and that they are not always well-behaved.  I've heard the urgent cry of "Anybody out there got a tampon?" more than once.  We get it.  I'm here for you, sister!

Another (age-old) dilemma of shared restrooms is the toilet seat problem.  In single space restrooms it just galls me to find the seat up.  I am immediately pissed off and judgmental about the entitled, selfish prig who couldn't be bothered to put the seat down like a considerate person naturally would.  I have to rip off a bit of TP to protect my fingers from touching the (gross) seat to put it down so I can use the toilet.  Sheesh. 

Recently after a restroom stop at our fave coffee shop, I re-joined Hub at our table with my complaint and he pointed out how sexist my rant was.  "Well, what about men?  We have to touch the seat to put it up after women use it to sit.  Unless you want us to pee all over it."  Grrr..logic!  Fine!  So what is the seat etiquette?  

Can we take a vote?  Pass a law?  No...that doesn't seem to work.  I know!  I'll be the Dictator in charge of the Department of Toilet Seat Usage in the new administration and we will just do it the way I like it!  Men will raise the seat to pee, and lower it again before leaving the room.  The norm will be seat down.  Just like it should be.

Also, no matter who uses the toilet, the whole TP issue needs to be addressed.  It seems I'm in the minority when it comes to leaving a "tail" of TP hanging below the metal holder in order for the next person to have an easy time grabbing it.  No one enjoys sitting there spinning and spinning the roll feeling for the end of the the TP which seems to stick to itself in there not unwinding until one has nearly given up and left to drip dry.   What's so hard about leaving a little tail of paper hanging down?  

Or if possible, leave a little art.  My housecleaners are so creative about folding of blankets, doing Kleenex box art, and TP roses.  So now when I'm out in the world, and when it's possible depending upon the type of TP holder,  I've taken to creating TP roses too.  It's the little acts of kindness that will see us through.

At least that's the view from here...©

LYRICS: It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine: R.E.M.

ELECTION 2024: TAKE A MOMENT

Let's all just take a moment.  

Let's just take a moment to think about what we've done.

Let's just sit in the time-out chair and contemplate bad decisions and horrific consequences. 

Let's just contemplate what the punishment will be for such an act of irresponsibility.

Because what our country did on Tuesday was indeed a very bad, irresponsible, consequential thing.

My thoughts are a cacophony in my head.

My emotions are such that if I let them all out I might be scooped up off the street and taken somewhere for my own protection, and yours. 

So I sit here.  Breathing.  Feeling my body on the chair.  My fingers on the keys.  My eyes on the screen.  Just breathing.

When the outrage, confusion, sadness, disappointment, dread, and despair rise to the surface, I breathe.

When I question how could this have happened,  I breathe.  

When I wonder how just over one-half the voters in our country could choose such a vulgar, racist, misogynist, ignorant, fascist-leaning, convicted felon and all around despicable human being to be the leader of the United States of America, I breathe.

When I type those words, and realize that once again a strong, experienced, intelligent, articulate, caring woman lost to the very worst man, I can barely breathe. 

When I wonder about the future, especially for this country in which my granddaughters will live their formative years, I wonder how their lives will be impacted by a citizenry that elects the very worst man and continues to relegate, by any measure, more superior women to the sidelines of true power, I breathe and mourn.

When I stop and wonder all of this, I realize that my position of age, whiteness, and privilege will shield me from the immediate and most terrifying actions promised by this President-elect.  As a woman I know something of being marginalized, something of discrimination, but I don't personally know the horrors of racial, or ethnic, or gender diverse, or sexual orientation, or  poverty-based dehumanization.

What I do know is that marginalized people have always had to sit and breathe; feeling the rage, sadness, fear, and dread.  We have always been pushed aside, our skills and gifts ignored. We have always watched as the unqualified and unforgiving have risen to power. We have always been blamed for anything the powerful didn't like.  We have always breathed through it; sung through it, danced through it; wailed through it; and sometimes found some deep well of strength to rise up against it, maybe gaining small victories and some large.  It is the story of power and privilege and this country in many ways exemplifies that ethic.  So why am I surprised now?

When I think about hope, I remember that some time ago I gave up on hope.  It is just an empty exercise in wishing for an outcome that may never materialize.  I still have aspirations, desires for things to be different, and I might try to take some action toward that end.  But hope?  I allowed myself hope in this election.  I am reminded that hope is folly and I try to breathe through my tears.  

We have often heard the inspiring words, "We are better than this."  No, we are not.  This is exactly who we are.  All across the country, across many demographics the majority of the voters in this country voted against democracy and decency.  We are now not unique in the world, no longer that "shining beacon".  We are just like any other country that has flirted with and committed to a right wing populist autocracy. I can't breathe.

The breath alerts us to our inner state.  Under threat, the breath is fast and shallow readying for action: fight or flight.  Or we hold our breath in shock and overwhelm: freeze.  We recognize safety by noticing a deep, slow, steady breath, allowing us to rest and renew.

So, here is what I will do for awhile, after all the work of the campaign season ending in disappointment.  I will breathe deeply and slowly.  I will find safety.  I will rest and renew.  I will spend my days being cared for by Hub and him by me.  I will gather with family and friends, go for walks, read a mystery novel, binge some mindless TV, create something lovely to give away, take care of my body and my heart in nourishing and nurturing ways.  

Is there enough breath in this nearly 74-year-old body to keep going for as long as it takes to get to work again: to save democracy, to see a woman I can support become president, to live in a land that is truly compassionate and allows freedom and opportunity for all?  I don't know.  But today there is.  Today I breathe.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  Internet...it's going around and I don't know the originator.

THE DUMP AND OTHER RANDOM THOUGHTS

Happy Halloween! I am up early with random thoughts and roiling emotions, so it's a PERFECT time to squeeze in a blog post for this month.  Yes, my "content creation" has been lax for a good long while.  It's not that I have nothing to say -- just ask Hub who knows the urgent thoughts in my brain are often topics du jour for several hours on a regular basis. It's just that unless you are married to me, and obligated to listen, I have started to wonder "Who cares?"  A crisis of confidence in my ability to entertain and inform I guess. 

But I am also doggedly persistent and have an OCD need to never skip a whole month without a blog post, so here we are at 6:00 a.m. getting this assignment in under the wire.

TRANSFER TO ELSEWHERE: 

I cried at "the dump" recently.  The "dump" is now called a "transfer station" where trash goes on its way to somewhere else, as if on a road trip.  I had never been to the one in our county even though it's only about 15 minutes away, near the local airport.  Going to the dump has been Hub's job.  But I was curious, given my newfound devotion to trying to eliminate waste that contributes to the landfill -- whatever that is; have never seen one of those either.  

OK, not a true statement.  I've never seen a modern transfer facility or landfill.  When I was a kid, my dad would load up the trunk of the car with the detritus of our modest suburban life to dispose of it at the dump, a large open pit on the edge of town, where people just threw their castoff washing machines, refrigerators, bikes, planks of wood, paint cans, dolls, beds, really any manner of "trash", on the pile.  A scruffy ill-kept man (how could he look otherwise?) worked there separating and sorting to the best of his ability, but really, that was a thankless job.  Seems I also recall a lot of birds circling and pecking through the trash.  The whole thing was both fascinating and frightening to me.  Very Halloween, actually.   

Highly responsive people feel things deeply.  So, I've come to accept that my emotions will overwhelm me at surprising times.  My recent trip to the transfer station was such a time.  Trucks, vans, cars pulled into a huge  building, backing up to a wall separating the car lane from the cement "pit" where, not unlike my childhood memories, people began throwing their old stuff over the wall and into the cement catchment.  A front loader moved back and forth, shoving the growing pile of debris to the sides to make room for more.  I saw perfectly good beds and dressers crash to the cement floor; flower pots, kitchen items, bags and bags of clothing and bedding, construction debris, wood, tile, strollers, toys, and a heartbreaking stuffed animal that appeared to be a bull with fuzzy horns.  That's when the tears flowed.  So much waste, so many memories.  

Every single thing in the pile had at one time been a thoughtful and seemingly needed or wanted purchase.  Why did that fluffy "stuffy" end up face down in the mess?  Did the child outgrow it?  Never want it?  Die?  Had the toy been loved or neglected?  Did the family lose their home and flee with only their clothing and things they needed to survive, leaving the nearly new looking guy behind?  I can get dramatic.  

But my tears were real for our disposable culture contributing to the massive quantities of "junk" that we discard and expect Mother Earth to devour.  Out of sight, out of mind for us, but that landfill exists somewhere inside the earth; the incinerator releases toxins into the air; the plastics industry churns out more and more micro-plastic for our air and water and us to eventually consume; and advertisers sell, sell, sell us more stuff to use and disuse on a whim.  And yes, we contributed to the pile that day.  Things that needed to be rid of that were neither reusable nor recyclable.  But my determination to be extremely planful about what I buy and how I will eventually rid myself of it was strengthened.   Who knew a curiosity ride-along to the dump would end in tears?

(Here's an eye-opening story: 

https://environmentamerica.org/washington/articles/a-day-at-the-landfill/)

ALSO ON MY MIND:  

UPDATE:  Update on Hub: he's doing great.  No dreaded "side effects" of his treatment and we are hopeful his tests next month will bring good news.   Thanks to all who checked in and sent good wishes.

THERAPY:  After a summer of cancer-focus, I started at the end of August with a new therapist specializing in trauma-based therapy.  So that's been fun.  (Not related to the cancer, but to other ongoing things that I seemed to have trouble processing. Why? I wondered.)  Peeling the onion to reveal issues and ways of coping that have been there since childhood, learning about attachment bonding, identifying core emotional wounds and how they inform the whole damn rest of your life -- intellectually fascinating and emotionally challenging.  But worth it.  I feel the shift from where I've been to where I am heading.  I am finding myself and repairing.  Why doesn't everyone do therapy?  It's great!  (But it did take me decades to find the right therapist and modality.  I am determined and persistent!  Plus, when the student is ready, the teacher appears.)

ELECTION:  Seems there is an election coming up.  Since I don't live in a swing state, I feel ignored.  That's not to say, uninformed or uninvolved.  I finally made a committment to do more than send money to my county Indivisible chapter and started going to meetings.  Next thing I knew I was on the Admin Team, helping the leadership plan and set agendas and organize actions.  I've been contributing money to candidates and causes, writing postcards and letters, waving signs, going to rallies.  I read, I discuss, I worry, I rest, I return.  There is a lot at stake.  I'm sure there will be more to say on this topic.  

GRANDMA BRAG: My oldest granddaughter made the Freshman volleyball team at her high school.  Then she was chosen captain of the team.  We have been going to the home games and I sit there filled with excitement and pride and disbelief that my "little girl" who used to sit with me for hours coloring and crafting and talking and giggling, now is so grown up, capable, responsible (straight A's so far) and completely devoted to her friends and teen experiences.  I don't see her often anymore.  I'm no longer her best friend.  But sitting there on the bleachers cheering her on is a great joy.  As is seeing her dad at his alma mater dressed in blue and gold school colors.  Time passes, generations turn, circle of life.

ROAD TRIP: Hub and I took a trip over the mountains a couple of weeks ago to see fall colors.  We had the absolute BEST time.  We stayed in little tourist towns that are a bit hokey, but in the off season quiet and rather charming.  The colors were as promised and the air was crisp and clear.  After our stressful summer it was just what we needed. 

And tonight, darkness will come early as it does here in the Pacific Northwest at this time of year.  Kids will ring our bell hoping for candy but receiving granola bars.  (My younger granddaughter was appalled and giggled a reprimand:  "Remind me not to trick or treat at your house!")  Soon Thanksgiving, then Christmas, and then we will turn the page to 2025 and wonder where the time goes.  The Wheel of the Year turns, things change, what was new becomes old, but there are possessions and memories and people in my life that I will never discard.  The landfill will take ME one day, but what I will leave behind is gratitude for it all. 🙏🏽

At least, that's the view from here...©

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL: UNDECIDED, RIGHT-LEANING, LOW-INFORMATION VOTERS

 🎶  "Please allow me to introduce myself..."  🎶

I think I confessed this before in this blog at some point, but now I can't find it because I never kept the blog index updated. 🙄 Plus, out of embarrassment, I likely buried the lead.  

Today I lead with lead:  In 1972 I voted for Richard Nixon.  (I've just lost 95% of my friends...)

It's campaign season again.  Haven't I been remarkably quiet?!?  Yes.  Because exhaustion and overwhelm and hopeless confusion and despondency can take a toll.  And then....everything changes overnight.

A BRIEF BUT NOT-BRIEF-ENOUGH-FOR-A-BLOG-POST HISTORY:

Joe Biden was elected president in 2020.  Kamala Harris was elected with him as Vice President.  They've done lots of good stuff, relatively quietly.  This "old school" way of governing doesn't have a chance in this digital, online age where the most clicks and loudest outrages steal the spotlight.  But they decided to run again in 2024. 

In the former president we have a master narcissist whose reason for being is to be in the spotlight -- no matter how outrageous the attention-seeking behavior is.  For example, refusing to concede his losing election in 2020 and then fomenting an insurrection against the government on January 6, 2021, when Congress was tasked with verifying the election prior to Inauguration.  Even out of office (where ex-presidents usually disappear into Presidential Libraries and old news clips) he has dominated the media with legal proceedings against him: court cases, lawsuits, convictions, conspiracy theories, racist and sexist proclamations, and more and always more crazy crap spewing forth from his mouth and Twitter account (now X, and/or his own ironically entitled Truth Social media platform.)   Oh and he's also running for president again this year because the current Republican Party seems to have lost its mind and soul to the far-right demagogue of the day.  But I digress...

By June the Biden campaign was fighting the public perception that Joe Biden, at 80 years old, was perhaps not entirely up to the job anymore.  There had been an obvious decline in physical stamina and at times even evidence of confusion and slowness in speech.  So they decided to call for an early debate on June 27 between him and his opponent to put all of that ageist poppycock to rest.  Oops.  Biden had an "off night". Early in the debate, the lunatic one came across as fairly coherent and on-topic while Joe looked and sounded just this side of catatonic.  As the debate went on, Joe got better and the other guy more outrageous, but the die was cast.  Almost immediately there were calls for President Biden to step down.  He refused.  He dithered.  Then a month later, on July 21, he announced he was discontinuing his campaign and endorsing Vice President Harris to carry on.

What?!?  It is unheard of for a politician to give up power and he clearly didn't want to.  But he became convinced that he might lose to the other guy, a disaster for democracy.  He put democracy first.  One hopes his example will inspire others.  One is doubtful.  Anyway...

Harris stepped into the campaign for president like a rocket taking off for outer space.  All the Dems got behind her (no in-fighting for a change) and it's been off to the races ever since.  She's raised massive amounts of money in no time, fills stadiums at her rallies, has a plethora of special interest groups organically Zooming together to support her (starting with Black Women for Harris, Answer the Call/White Women for Harris, White Dudes for Harris, Comedians for Harris, Republicans for Harris, and on and on...).  Voter registration spiked after mega-star Taylor Swift endorsed her and urged her Swifties to register.  The Dem convention was a love-fest of progressive supporters -- including the other guy's former staffers who loudly declare him unfit for office after having worked with him.   I mean, this is great for our side, right?  Not so much. 

As of today, the race is a statistical dead heat.  Which is demoralizing to say the least.  And so...

BACK TO 1972:

As a woman who has grown over the decades into a what I think of as a Pragmatic Progressive Democrat, I confessed at the outset of this post that wasn't always the case.  I grew up in a blue collar, midwestern, manufacturing small city where I knew exactly one Democrat who was super excited when John F. Kennedy visited our town during the 1960 campaign.  Most people I knew were afraid that the Pope would tell him what to do if he was president (our first Catholic president), so they said they 'wouldn't walk across town' to see him.  I was nearly 10 years old in November 1960 when JFK eeked out a win. I didn't really understand politics at all.  I was old enough to know more and better in 1972, but I didn't.  

In 1972 I was 21, newly married, and had been working in the office of a steel fabrication plant in my hometown since I was 18.  I was focused on playing house in my tiny newlywed apartment, making chicken fried streak in my new olive green Sunbeam electric frying pan, and bowling every Wednesday night on the "Ladies League" of my workplace.  I was aware of, and peripherally flirted with, the whole "hippie" thing for a minute in 1970ish.  But I had not gone to college out of high school, so that was not really part of my blue collar world.  My world was my office where men were the bosses, women sat in a "typing pool", pantsuits for women were a new thing and slightly scandalous, and grown men flirting and oogling me was a daily occurrence.  I smiled and felt complimented one day when one guy approached me and asked me to stand up and turn around slowly for him so he could 'check out my dress' as something he might want to buy for his wife.  Sure.

All I really knew of the 1972 election was that I could finally vote.  That seemed cool.  I was an adult!  And I was a Republican.  Whatever that meant.  Mostly for me it just meant that my parents said they were Republican and had voted for all the Republican presidents, as did every other adult I knew.  So I did too. Yay!  Talk about low-information voter.  

I know now that Watergate was already a scandal in the making, that Nixon was already suspect in nefarious goings on.  I know now that with a bit more education, exposure to the wider world, and any curiosity at all beyond my own self-centered life I could have clued in to the error of casting my vote for the "crook".  I did not know any of that.  I didn't pay attention.  I didn't care.

A year later we moved from our conservative home town and into Chicago.  I worked in a university-affiliated teaching hospital, started college at 22 years old, and met people from all over the world. My political sensibilities matured considerably, almost over night.  I finally started to know what I hadn't known about the world -- and myself (hello, feminism.)

CURRENT EVENTS:

It seems impossible in today's world to be so sheltered, disinterested, and uninformed.  Those, like me, who follow politics daily and in great detail, who are passionate activists and champions of progressive values like compassion, inclusion, fairness, equity, etc etc have a hard time believing there could be anyone without a strong conviction about this election.  The choice is so incredibly stark.  

But, the undecideds and "independents" will determine the outcome of this horserace.  The true blue Dems will vote; the MAGA devotees will vote.  Others, who have tuned out the noise, have no interest or understanding of how their everyday lives are dramatically impacted by who wins, may or may not vote.  If they do, maybe it will be an impulsive vote, a vote based on some vague affiliation with one party or the other with no real commitment to that party's values and visions.  Maybe as a lark they will write in their own name, or Taylor Swift's.  That vote will "count" too -- as a vote stolen from a viable candidate, possibly skewing the outcome.

I could get on my soapbox here about the sacrament of voting, of how our country has fought wars to ensure our democracy, about how securing voting rights for women and black folks was a battle with many victims.  To ignore, to throw that way, to denigrate those sacrifices with indifference is a sin.  And yet....didn't I do the same?

I have been doing all I can this campaign season to Get Out the Vote.  Yes, I've sent money to my preferred candidates and have done some local candidate support activities like sign waving and leafletting.  I've talked to everyone about my support of Harris and why.  But mostly my efforts (voter registration, Get Out the Vote postcards and letters to swing states) have been non-partisan.  I love democracy.  I love encouraging an informed electorate to just please VOTE!

When I explained this to my 9 y/o granddaughter she astutely observed, "But what if they vote for that other guy?"  And I had to say, in all honesty,  "Yes, they might.  But if they really and truly think he is the absolute best person to lead and represent our country, well, I have to still urge them to vote."  I want a free and fair democracy.  I will work for it.  Now that I know better.

And I will proudly wear my "Read, Think, Vote" baseball cap along with my "Harris for President" t-shirt.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Song reference in title and first line:  One of my fave Rolling Stones songs, "Sympathy for the Devil" (which no doubt most of you were cool enough to recognize).   Not that I think low information voters are the devil exactly, but uninformed voters (like me in 1972) can elect a devil.  Beware.  Be informed.  Be for democracy.

Photo Credit:  From the internet; not sure who to credit, but thanks.

(P.S. I don't know how history will unfold.  If we retain a democracy with freedom of the press at all, my dear grandchildren, you may read about all of this in your history books.  If not, well, history may not be even close to the truth at all.  Autocracy and repression are dangerous foes. I hope we defeat them.  If not, hide this book under your mattress and know that I tried my best for your future.  💙)

I BLAME HUB

Whew!  I have written at least one blog post a month since I started this enterprise in 2012.  I very nearly blew it this month.  Here I am on August 31st at 5:00 p.m. PDT. I'm getting this in under the wire.  No, it's not midnight, but my energy for anything wanes quickly past 6:00.

I blame Hub.  He has come down with a touch of the cancer and it has totally wrecked havoc with my schedule.  And my weight.  I'm sorry, for sure, that he got a dreaded diagnosis. What followed was multiple specialist visits, tests and scans and more tests.  And many, many commutes (during RUSH HOUR!) 30 miles south to the big city hospitals and clinics down I-5.  The traffic is legendarily awful.  This has all been very stressful for me and I might have packed on a few pounds.

Here is why:  First, of course, cancer is a pretty terrible word.  There is shock, when everything gets sort of blurry for awhile.  The news feels surprising, unfair, and unbelievable.  Standard response.  Second comes fear, which creates a wee bit of anxiety that can cause multiple long and sleepless nights, leaving one with the "hit by a truck" feeling for days.  Then the stress and the logistics, which can really only be dealt with effectively by consuming sugar.  Lots of sugar.  Ice cream, candy, cookies, pastries, and daily Starbucks mochas.  Medical facilities understand this, so the treatment center Hub went to considerately incorporated a full-sized Starbucks store into their lobby.  "Welcome, Donna!"  I pulled up a chair and indulged at each visit.

Notice the past tense in that last sentence?  I had no energy to write about this until now.  Hub didn't want it broadcast at first, needing to do his own acceptance process and research of docs and treatments so he could settle on a plan without advice from all quarters.  Then we just had to get through the multiple appointments, pre-procedure procedures, and then the treatments themselves, completed last week -- exactly 5 months from diagnosis to completion of the rigamarole of it all.

And what cancer bug bit him you ask?  Prostate.  The "old guy" cancer.  It really doesn't get much respect in general conversation because it is so common and every guy seems to get it if they live long enough.  The saying is "You don't die from it; you die with it."  It's so slow growing (in most cases) that death comes from other causes before the cancer kills you, especially if you are on the upper, upper end of the age spectrum. 

OK.  Fine.  It's still a serious thing and we didn't take it as lightly as some do.  There was the option to do nothing -- to take what they call the "active surveillance" approach.  Just keep monitoring and see how it goes.  Nope, not for us.  Hub is not "old, old" and is in otherwise good health.  We felt it worth treating now instead of waiting for things to get more dire.

Hub considered surgery -- just cut the damn prostate out.  We met with a top surgeon who said, "Sure, I can do that!"  And proceeded to spin a horror story of a multiple hour surgery, waking with a catheter, then Depends, then short-term, or maybe long-term, very unpleasant and life-altering side effects.  But the cancer would be gone along with the prostate.  Done and dusted. (Unless it recurred somewhere else in the body.)

"OK.  What else ya got?", we wondered.  Another approach would be a high tech, highly targeted radiation regimen which studies showed had really good outcomes (on par with surgery), far fewer side effects, and was non-invasive (no scalpels).  It's called Cyber Knife radiation surgery.  I liked the ring of that.  Sort like an army of Ninjas swooping in to save the day.  The doc who pioneered this procedure a couple decades ago saw Hub and said he'd be a great candidate.  Hub was sold.  We started down that path and ended the therapy last week.  

We got to know the office staff, the techs, and the robot which moved around Hub's body for 30 minutes during each of 5 sessions and aimed radiation at his prostate in the exact right locations based on "markers" that had been inserted pre-treatment.  Some really smart and tech-y person in another room monitored the whole thing on a computer to be sure the robot was getting it right.  Hub said he was comfortable, listened to some blues music, and a couple of times fell asleep (no sedative needed).  I was not allowed to be a witness to any of this, nor did I have time since I was expected at Starbucks.  My barista would worry if I didn't show up.

We are a week out from the last treatment and so far Hub has had a few mild side effects that are getting better.  We are delighted.  And still cautious.  He has a one month re-check, a three month re-check, a six month re-check, and then re-checks every six months for five years.  Cancer can be pesky.  We hope it's all gone away.  

Here is Hub's PSA for PSA (Public Service Announcement for Prostate Specific Antigen):

Hub gave me permission to write about his private health journey because he wants every man to know how important it is to get a PSA test.  It's a simple blood test at the doctor's office to test for an elevation in the PSA level of the prostate.  If the value is only a little above normal, there may be a "wait and see" time.  If the next time you test it goes up again, that's suspicious and you might want to investigate further.  If it goes up a lot, get to a specialist (urologist) right away and then see if a biopsy is indicated and go from there. 

This may be a common, slow growing cancer, but it does kill 1 out of 44 men annually.  And no one knows if they have the slow-growing kind.  Some are much more aggressive.  Getting that early diagnosis can save you.  

Just know that your partner may tip the scale on the heavier side along the way.  Be kind.

At least, that's the view from here...©

*************

P.S.  Seriously, this has been a journey and we are very aware of how fortunate we are to live in an area with top-notch cancer specialists.  Every single doctor we saw in every single medical facility was excellent.  The support staff were skilled and caring.  Hub felt well-cared for; I felt included.  As for technology -- we can grouse about the dangers and frustrations of "tech", but it is also rather miraculous that smart people do smart things with computers and robots.  We are grateful. 🙏🏽

Photo Credit:  Me.  My perch on the "green" (just outside Starbucks) at the drop off for the hospital/clinic.  

ROCKETS RED GLARE, BOMBS BURSTING IN AIR

I went to bed last night to the sounds of simulated war and it will only be 1000 times worse tonight.

Big firework displays can be exciting and beautiful. At-home fireworks are merely loud and potentially dangerous. All fireworks can be terrifying for some humans and non-humans. And think of what they represent -- rockets red glare; bombs bursting in air -- war.

The American Revolutionary War and the War of 1812 were horrific, as all wars are. We won our freedom twice, the second time getting a National Anthem out of it; yet we were also warned by those framers of the Constitution that this freedom is fragile and not guaranteed. Forces from within could just as well bring it down as could those from outside.

From the National Constitution Center:

    There is a story, often told, that upon exiting the Constitutional Convention, Benjamin Franklin was approached by a group of citizens asking what sort of government the delegates had created.  His answer was: "A republic, if you can keep it."  The brevity of that response should not cause us to under-value its essential meaning: democratic republics are not merely founded upon the consent of the people, they are also absolutely dependent upon the active and informed involvement  of the people for their continued good heatlh.

I want to keep our republic. Shockingly, some don't. It's a difficult 4th of July. I want to join in with the "Happy 4th!" festivities, but it rings a false note for me this year. So, I'm not really participating in the holiday with the usual parades, picnics, and flag waving. If I hang it at all, I may hang my flag with solemnity, with determination, with the promise to do what I can do this year to ensure we still have a working democracy next year.

Our political reality is a mess. The country is deeply and angrily divided. There is a chasm between those who believe in the values of inclusion, diversity, and equality; those who care for our dying planet; those who vision a future where there is a way forward where an extractive economy gives way to one that regenerative; those who believe that decent people can run for office and are applauded for their efforts, respected for having perhaps different ideas on how to achieve the best for all, but who still can work together to achieve it; those who believe leaders should follow the rules and norms of civil society, with a caring, generous heart -- and those on the other side, who have an entirely different idea of America.

The Republican Party has become a party walking the edge of Fascism. Its leader is a man devoid of human decency, now a convicted felon and serial sexual abuser, who blusters, bullies, and lies constantly, has no real vision for our country except to make it in his own image, where selfishness and tribalism exclude and denigrate and punish any who deviate from his proscribed wishes and who just disagree with him. He has repeated his lies so often in such a loud and forceful voice, preying upon fears and frustrations and grudges among many Americans, that they have come to believe his view of America and his sole power to fix it as he says they should want it to be -- divided and angry, but with a "strong" (bullying/violence prone) leader to give them what they think they want -- punishment to any who feel they've wronged them, "membership" in a club that bullies and bellows but gets nothing substantive done, and a nation so damaged that generations will pass before it rights itself, if ever.

If he wins, what they will get is the demise of democracy, a rapidly depleted planet upon which to live, the end of the rule of law, an economy that gives to the rich and even more so than now, robs the middle class and poor.

It makes me beyond sad that so many Americans support him. I cannot fathom that. I believe that differences in policy are good for us, to debate, compromise, decide a way forward. But moral character and good intentions, respect and humility are important too. When all of that is lacking, the way forward takes on a very different tenor, a very different vision, resulting in a very different world in which my grandchildren will grow up.

I am taking time this 4th of July to seriously consider and commit to a very specific list of things I can do to work toward keeping our republic. For this election could very well signal the end of it. Already our three co-equal branches of government have been corrupted by an ideology that places the President above the law, stalls any movement on legislation, and ensures the continuing gulf between Americans that may not be healed for decades.

I'm just one person; it feels overwhelming. No one can do everything but everyone can do something. I'll find the somethings I can do. How about you?

At least, that's the view from here..©

Photo Credit: www. pixabay.com

LET GO, AND GO, AND GO, AND GO, AND...ACCEPT

We've been back for a couple of weeks now from our annual Kauai vacation and our garden is finally planted with seeds sprouting.  We are likely to have the latest first harvest ever, but that's OK. We have great Farmer's Markets around us so we won't starve for fresh, locally grown produce while we wait.  I'm still trying to solve the mystery of why the sunniest part of my flower garden struggles.  We lost some plants to a weird hot, cold, hot, wet spring and others just seem to be slow to take off.  But I plod forward in spite of generally feeling incompetent and frustrated.  The words "I don't know" fall from my lips with great regularity when it comes to gardening.  I was a novice when we started all this 10 or so years ago, but by now one would think I'd know what I'm doing.  I don't.  And some days I don't even care.

Which brings me to my current state of mind (which is always the topic of this blog, isn't it?).  I've had to "let go" (as all the therapists advise) of so many hopes, assumptions, and expectations in recent years.  It's likely been a good thing to finally realize I have no real power to make the world and the people in it align with "Donna's Vision".  But now I just feel like I'm actively letting go all the time.

Things that used to seem so important are not so much anymore, or at least my obsessive involvement in them is no longer so important to me: Politics and activism, for example, or watching the news and reading every newspaper and news magazine (although I aced last week's NYT News Quiz!); organizing people; taking leadership; and working on 'causes'; keeping up with pop culture; traveling domestically for the most part (we just cancelled a fall trip to the Southwest); fretting that I don't hear from my adult kids often enough; trying to change people who do things that I don't like; buying things for the house and garden -- buying things in general.  I don't want any more stuff!!!!

I still live in a (too) big house with a (too) big yard, but I'm downsizing nonetheless.  When I clean out the attic now, it's easier to say goodbye to more and more that I've hung on to.  I'm no longer sentimental about "things" that I used to imbue with great significance.  And I can begin to picture myself not living here forever, although that still makes me weep. I so love the home we've created and the memories of 42 years, and counting, created inside its walls and on this property.  I'm slowly letting go of a collection of inanimate objects that represent the past.

I'm more accepting of things as they are and not as I want them to be.  Letting go of grasping for something now or in the future (that is not real) or clinging to the past (also not real), is the essence of my yoga practice, which is very important to me.  I'm finally understanding that the world does what the world does.  The people in it are doing what they do.  I accept all of it.  

My therapist would be so proud, since I fought this tooth and nail when she explained "radical acceptance" to me when I struggled mightily to accept something I found unacceptable. I finally learned, through my yoga studies, that accepting doesn't mean condoning; that was my initial stumbling block in therapy. I confused accept with condone.

Yes, I have to accept what is, but I can take action on my own behalf to change my involvement with it.  I can create boundaries. I can step back. I can stay or I can go.  I can even take some sort of action, if I feel like it, but also I accept that my work might very well be futile and obsessively doing one more thing won't change that.  I can't really change anyone/anything that is already there, already happening.  

I'm still involved, engaged, active in ways that feel right to me.  But I'm slower now, more discerning, more deliberate in deciding how to spend my precious time/energy/spirit.  My family, my friends, yoga, meditation, physical and emotional health, democracy, the planet, doing nice things for others.  That is really all I care about now, when it comes right down to it.  I've ditched hope and regret in the process of letting go of "things", now only holding close that which sustains my heart and spirit. And it's all still a work in progress for sure.

Lest you think I live on some cloud of blissed out contemplation and occasional do-gooderism, I admit there are some days when the most important thing to me is reading a cozy mystery, binging Bridgerton on Netflix, crocheting one of my blankets for donation, going for a walk.  And I can do all of that too, more and more often without feeling like a slacker for not being engaged in something "more important".  Every day, every hour, every breath we spend engaged, alive, and being awake to life is ultimately the only thing, right?  That present moment will usher us to the next and the next and the next, as life unfolds.

As my yoga teacher says about each new moment, "Oh...So this is what happens next."  I love the  exuberant acknowledgement of the present moment and that kind of radical acceptance, come what may.

At least, that's the view from here...©

UNPACKING THE TRIP, Part 3.

 OK!  OK!  But where did you actually go?!?

Fine.  I'll answer here.  I hope this isn't like watching one of those interminable slide shows back in the day that your parents insisted on narrating about their trip to Omaha.  But here goes...

We went here:

THE NETHERLANDS

AMSTERDAM: Pre-cruise, we arranged a two-day pre-cruise extension to spend more time acclimating to the time change and exploring a city we'd heard so much about.  It lived up to its reputation as a below-sea-level, very wet city.  Lots of canals.  We advise NOT arriving on the morning of the national holiday (King's Day) celebrating the Netherlands king's birthday.  It was crazy!  Everyone was wearing orange regalia, the whole city's neighborhoods were teeming with citizens selling flea market type "treasures" in front of their homes and businesses.  You could barely walk down the sidewalk, but taking one tiny little step off the curb put one's life at risk from extremely aggressive bicycle riders who do not give one f*&k about pedestrians.  Many tend to be an angry sort (both women and men) who think nothing of scowling, yelling, or flipping you off.  Also no one wears a helmet, so there may one day be a bit of payback for their aggression.  (I do worry about the little tykes riding in baby-seats who are similarly un-helmeted as if Dutch heads really are invincible, or just thick.)  We took a canal cruise with one super nice guide who says he wanted no part of the previous day's King's Day revelry in the Old Town area, and closed his business as the frat boy-type drunken bacchanalia unfolded, leaving broken glass, trash, and zillions of Heineken cans in its wake both on land and in water.  We didn't go to any museums since we wanted to be outside (and we know we will be back next year for another visit.)  We did find two great places for coffee -- real coffee.  I don't do drugs, so the other so-called "coffee houses" were not of interest to me (where pot is bought and smoked).  Nor do I think public exhibitionism and prostitution an amusement, so the Red Light District held no interest either, and wasn't on my tour agenda.  The Anne Frank house, however,  was a must-see; very moving and surprisingly inspiring.  Other than that, I guess Amsterdam was not my thing, at least this time around.  Inauspicious start.

KINDERDIJK:  

Windmills.  Option to go to tulip fields for an extra fee.  Skipped it.  We have tulip fields in Washington that frankly looked the same as those in photos we saw of the fields outside Amsterdam.

GERMANY

COLOGNE:

Known for its big cathedral.  Very impressive.  Learned that 95% of the city had been bombed by the Allies in WWII and most of the city has been rebuilt. (The cathedral sustained relatively little damage.)  Also we had a knowledgable and passionate guide who warned of the dangers of Fascism. He cautioned that as one person amasses power, putting his own people into positions of authority and allowing others to assume powers not legally granted, when laws are ignored or undermined, when norms are eroded, and the unthinkable becomes commonplace, BEWARE.  Right-wing populists are on the rise against democracies.  He said, "Do not turn away; do NOT turn away."  Many in the group thanked him for his message and heard it loud and clear.

KOBLENZ: 

All we got to see, really, was Marksburg castle, which was kinda cool.  It was "restored" for tourists, so a bit, well, touristy.  We climbed narrow stone stairways and looked out over the country side from the castle walls.  Then had to hurry back to the ship.

MILTENBERG:                                                                      

Half-timbered homes -- mostly built post-1945 to look like the originals.  Allied bombing destroyed most the of town.  Another too quick stop.  We had river miles to go.

WURZBURG: 

This is our terrific guide at the Prince Bishop Residence.  An elaborate monument to the guy in charge of the region back in the day.  Not really a bishop; nominally a prince.  But totally a narcissist.  Wurzburg was also mostly destroyed in WWII.  Now it hosts untold "Hen Parties" -- destination bachelorette parties of brides-to-be and their entourages.  Lots of street drinking.  College town.  Lively and fun, actually. And beautiful.

 

BAMBURG: 

NOT destroyed by Allied bombs; deemed too unimportant to waste ammo on, for which the populace is now grateful.  So, what we saw really was old and authentic.  Our guide here was a middle school history teacher; I'd love to have him in class. He made history come alive.

NUREMBERG:  

Infamous, of course, for the Nazi war trials post WWII.  We drove past the courthouse, Nazi headquarters, the parade grounds, the Congress Hall.  It was eery.  But today the grounds are an event center for concerts, the Congress Hall abandoned.  The public square in Town Center is vehicle-free and pedestrians, farmer's markets, and sidewalk cafes abound.  We had coffee and a famous Nuremberg gingerbread cookie within steps of the underground bunkers where the Nazi's stashed priceless art, knowing war was coming.  Afterward the art was threatened by looters and those trying to use the treasure to fund their escape once the Allies marched in.  We visited these bunkers.  Interesting.

In almost every "burg" in Germany we found "stumbling stones", brass plates inlaid with the cobblestones, marking the location of people killed by the Nazis, the vast majority of whom were Jewish, but Hitler had a whole list of people not to his liking and they were rounded up too.  This is a project throughout Europe, but requires the city's permission.  Munich has declined, not wanting the names of those killed to be stepped on as part of the walking surface of the sidewalk.  But the guides we spoke to thought them a great tribute to be able to see how many were taken and where they had lived.

REGENSBERG:

For some reason, this was a favorite stop for me.  Again, not bombed, so original and the twisty streets, a mix of Urban Modern and Old Country, the vitality of a young (college town) population, and lots to see and do made for a fun day here.  I'm trying to avoid posting pix of us on the blog, but I'll post this one.  Cuckoo!

PASSAU:  

Pretty town.  Another cathedral.  Baroque instead of Gothic.  Light and bright!  Interesting story told by our guide here. Relatively recently a group of Neo-Nazis decided to gather in the cathedral square and make some noise.  They weren't a big group, but were loud and obnoxious.  Inside the priests got together and decided to ring the steeple bells, rarely rung except on high holidays a few times a year.  If you are close the bells are so loud as to be painful.  They rang out on that particular day, sending the Neo-Nazis scrambling away!

MELK:

Melk Abbey is home to an order of Benedictine Monks -- it's an active community which runs a high school associated with it.  We got to tour, but were not allowed to take any indoor photos.  I tell ya, it was so ornate!  How much gold does the Catholic church actually own?  Because we saw so much gold; so many jewels in all these churches.

AUSTRIA

VIENNA:

Iconic Vienna.  Hmmm...  I get that we could basically only see the most touristy part of the city, but dang!  So crowded!!!  We did find a sidewalk cafe to enjoy sharing a Sacher Torte and Appelstrudel, but mostly we fought crowds, tried to avoid souvenir stores, toured yet another cathedral, and stumbled upon a rose garden that afforded us a bit of respite from the hordes.  This statue of Mozart was pretty cool.  We had a second full day in Vienna and didn't even go back into town.  Hub plotted a nature walk for us along the river on an island in the Danube that was just lovely.  This late in the trip, we were craving a break from cities and people.

HUNGARY

BUDAPEST:

Ahhh...  Who knew?  Budapest seemed so "exotic" to me before we arrived. Eastern Europe is an area I'd not really known much about.  We spent our last tour stop there, with an added two night post-cruise extension.  We LOVED it!  Truly a favorite place on my travel list.  It's beautiful and interesting.  The people were friendly, the streets clean and safe, even the touristy stuff was fun.  We learned the tram and subway, walked a huge city park, went on a night cruise that was breathtaking.  This photo is the iconic Parliament Building at night.

So...more than you wanted?  In creating this post, I have re-lived the trip and am reminded how fortunate I am to have been able to see all these places.  I was in Budapest on Mother's Day and thought of my mom, a farm girl from Illinois, and of my own childhood, a kid from a small working class city growing up on the decidedly 'blue collar' side of the river that split our town.  Never in one million years was it in my mother's, nor my, dreams that one day I'd be cruising around Europe and spending Mother's Day sailing into Budapest.  I am so grateful.  This is why, in spite of all my travel angst, I am already looking forward to our next European Adventure next year.  We will be hopping on the Rick Steves bus again, traveling back to Amsterdam, then Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and France.  It should be sorta great, right?

At least, that's the view from here...©

UNPACKING THE TRIP, Part 2.

Amsterdam to Budapest.  Fourteen days.  Twelve hundred miles.  Sixty-six locks.  Five countries (Netherlands, Germany, Austria, a slice of Slovakia, Hungary). Three rivers (Rhine, Main, Danube).  

This is the Viking Grand European River Cruise.  

And we added to it by also electing to purchase a "pre-cruise extension" of 2 extra nights in Amsterdam and a "post-cruise extension" of 2 extra nights in Budapest.  And as if that were not enough, we personally planned a pre-pre-cruise extension of 3 nights in New York City just for fun and to get us a bit acclimated to the time change ahead.  So we were away for three weeks.  

I barely remember New York.  Or Amsterdam.  Or at this point, much of anything before Budapest.  Memories were made, but must be prompted with reminders and photos.  There was so much crammed into a relatively short amount of time.

Well, first of all, I credit/blame PBS for all those Viking commercials leading in to our favorite Masterpiece programs.  We finally decided to just do it.  We are Rick Steves Europe tour veterans and wondered what it would feel like to be pampered the Viking way.  Pretty darn good, as it turns out.  

Our Longship was lovely, very comfortable, well-appointed.  The management staff was capable, attentive, and super friendly and kept everyone and everything working like clock-work.  The staff/crew can't possibly be paid enough for how great they were -- from Management to room stewards (housekeeping) to wait staff and technical staff (somebody has to steer the ship and dock it and get it through all those locks).  Everyone was busy, efficient, and smiling!  I questioned many of the staff/crew and they all seemed to genuinely be happy to work there and loved the "family" they formed together. All 53 were from elsewhere -- mostly Eastern Europe and the Philippines.  They were grateful for the work and reapply to come back to Viking year after year.  Viking seems to treat their crews well, with plenty of time off and even paid them during the Covid shutdown.  So that was a good thing. (Photo is , left, our Hotel Manager, Ole, from Norway who was in charge of all the staff and smooth running of the amenities; and right, Marco, from Serbia, who was the Tour Director and handled all the complicated logistics for excursions, on-board festivities, port talks, etc.  They are dressed here for our German heritage/dinner night, going table to table pouring shots of Schnapps.)

We opted for a veranda stateroom, a bit larger than the others that had no veranda.  Ours opened with  a slider door to a small deck that gave us fresh air and a nice sitting space as we watched the shoreline pass by.  That said, we really didn't spend much time there and what isn't shown on the commercials is that some docking locations are so crowded that ships literally tie up to each other, meaning there were times in port that our veranda was 6 inches from the adjacent ship, affording no view and no privacy!  Curtains closed!  (See photo -- yes that's how close we were.) Still, I'd opt for it again because of the air and the view and also just to get a few extra feet of space over the rooms without a veranda.  I certainly would not be happy with the lower deck, below-waterline rooms with only one small window high up on the wall looking out at water level.

Food was great.  Three meals a day.  Big breakfast buffet and some made to order items.  Lunch and dinner were limited option menu-driven with some choices always available, and some changing daily to feature local fare depending upon where we were on the rivers.  It was all white tablecloth, lots of silverware, fine dining presentation.  The food looked pretty and mostly was delicious.  We had only a few "duds", but that's subjective.  (Always a meat, fish, or vegetarian option, but heavy on the meat.) Desserts at each meal were heavenly (and deadly for the waistline).  Portions were reasonable, not enormous, but satisfactory.  I don't drink alcohol but for those who do there was unlimited "house" wine and beer at lunch and dinner.  Or you could buy a "Silver Spirits" package add-on for a fee that allowed premium wines, beers, and cocktails at any time during the cruise.  It did start to feel like we were constantly eating and with dinner not served until 7:00, ending between 8-8:30, I went to bed too full most nights.  I generally like to eat earlier.

Every day we had a shore excursion that was included in the price of the tour.  We disembarked, usually had to bus to the city center, met up in groups with a local guide, and explored the central city historic areas of whatever port we were in.  The local guides were mostly great; a couple were not.  One could also buy for an extra fee a variety of "optional excursions".  These would be what you see on the commercial of people making cheese, or sampling wine in the vineyard, or going to an art gallery.  We only bought two optional excursions.  They are pricey ($100-$200 per person) and we didn't want to over-schedule ourselves nor did we want to shell out the dough for an unknown entity.  

One we bought was a "hike" in the Wurzberg, Germany hills that ended up being mostly in the city with a stop in a chapel, a stroll through a big city park with some elevation, and ending at a fortress with some views, but definitely not "out in the hills" as expected.  The other was in Nuremberg to see the "Monuments Men" (movie) underground bunkers where the Nazi-threatened art was stowed. That was pretty cool.  In some cities we had a bit of free time to explore (one whole day in Vienna), but often we had to be back on the ship to head for our next destination.

There was a sun deck on the upper level that afforded terrific views, including that iconic one of castles on the hillsides that is featured in all the commercials.  It looks just like that.  We had great weather, so that helps.  What they don't show in the commercials, however, is that the sun deck was closed for several days due to low bridges on a part of the river.  The clearance above the ship was about 18 inches at times!  If the water level rises too much the ship cannot even get under the bridges and all the passengers need to disembark and be transported around the series of low bridges by bus and re-installed on a different identical ship waiting on the other side.  We were glad not to have that hassle. (This can also happen when the water is too low for sailing.)

There is little nightlife on the ship.  Fine by us; we went to our stateroom after dinner most of the time. We had a couple of local entertainers come aboard and had a few "game nights" led by the Tour Director that were actually fun, but mostly it's one lounge singer type guy at the piano.  This is not the razzle-dazzle of a big ocean liner.  No casino, no stage shows, no pools, no karaoke, etc.  It is a quiet and early-to-bed crowd.  We estimated the average age hovering around the mid-70's, all of varying abilities, mostly physically able-enough; also, one wheelchair, one walker, many canes.  

There were 187 passengers.  Those we met were mostly from the U.S., a couple Canadians,  and a few Aussies and New Zealanders. All were interesting in their way, friendly enough; no one brought up politics, but we had our suspicions.  We are not the most outgoing people, so we didn't really make fast friends with anyone that would last beyond friendly conversation on the trip.  In fact, we got very savvy about claiming one of only two 2-top tables for ourselves at dinner.  Most tables seated 6, 8, or 10 people.  Forced socializing is exhausting for us.

All in all it was a positive experience and many we talked with thought it perfect.  We made our pro and con list.  

Pro:  We were well pampered, well fed, well looked-after.  The crew was amazing.  Only had to unpack once.  Had a home base. Someone else handled all the logistics and did it flawlessly; we stopped in interesting, sometimes iconic places; saw and learned some new things.

Con:  Little to no sense of where we were other than on the rivers.  No chance to see the countryside around us or get beyond the city-center tourist areas.  It was boat to city, back to boat, on to the next stop.   Also we did not like added expenses for optional excursions.  We also were not thrilled with the (optional but every one did it) tips for local guides and bus drivers (they deserved it, but it was awkward at times); as well as mandatory tips for crew/staff.  (You pay a set tip fee ahead of the trip or if you didn't, it's added to your bill at the end, with the encouragement to give extra in cash for those who you thought did an exceptionally good job for you personally) .  We like that Rick Steves tours have a NO TIPPING policy and all sites/experiences are included; his company pays everyone well and doesn't want/expect his travelers to do it.  

At the end, we decided we were very happy to have gone on a Viking cruise and I would recommend it highly to anyone interested in that type of travel.  That said, and I'm aware of "anchor bias" in that we did Rick Steves tours first and measured our experience against that but I still think I'd come to the same conclusion: we are still more Rick Steves tour types.  We just like his philosophy of travel and his insistence on getting a breadth of local experience, not a "travel in luxury, drop in and leave at the tourist-y spots" experience.  Not that a little luxury is a bad thing.  I did enjoy that too, for sure.  But, at times Viking felt like a very expensive and posh Uber ride -- a lovely way to drop in at a series of ports.

We were so fortunate to have been able to do this and to have Hub's 4,000 photos to remind us of where we were.  Next post will be about sights/sites seen.  Miles to go before we sleep...

At least, that's the view from here...©