Bejeweled Barbie

Post-war German ruins (photo credit Morguefile) This morning I was having that first glorious cup of coffee in my porch swing on the deck. Looking out over the view in the neighborhood, for a split moment, it felt like any normal day in any normal time until reality of where we are barged into my sunny morning. Does anyone really know what time it is? Of course, this begs the question, "Where are we?"  And, probably more importantly, where will we be afterward? At the end of the quarantine, as now projected as April 30, where will we be? And, as a carrot dangled for a racehorse, our President has assured us that the world will be great again on June 1, if we will just stay the course.  I sure hope that Covid-19 is less threatening on April 30 and long-gone from conversation by June 1. However, I am wondering this morning about what the ruins of this "Covid19-War" will look like in America. Post 9/11 America After the events of 9/11 in America, everything ...

Charcoal Portrait by the Late Becky Perkins I am at that stage in life where most of my anecdotes, stories, and thoughts begin like the lyrics to "American Pie!"  "A long, long time ago; I can still remember...." It was the 1980's, the decade of frizzy-big hair, neon colors and very bad music.  I was young and my life seemed to stretch ahead of me with sparkles and butterflies. I was a stay-at-home, breastfeeding mother, neither of which were really mainstream or even desirable at the time. "When are you going back to work? How long are you going to nurse that baby?" Breastfeeding was basically considered a poor, lower-class choice. Not working was almost a guarantee you would be just that! Ken and I were oblivious to the criticism, often from those we loved. I was practicing social distancing before it was a concept. We only had one car, and my husband worked a lot of overtime at a soft drink manufacturer. In charge of the m...