I got to Gate 148 in the LAX International Terminal very early. The lounge was almost empty, thank goodness, for I wanted to sit close to the staffing desk. When the flight check-in people arrived, I hoped to be first in line to ask for an aisle seat. I had a ten-hour flight ahead and I’m an up-and-down-every-hour type of passenger. I sat two chairs away from the only other person in that lounge, a nicely dressed Indian woman, who was doing hand-stitch work on a white fabric.

July 27, 2017 in Oregon Today I did something that shocked me. My behavior was reprehensible and, I hope, out of character. I’m only telling it now because it brought something long-buried in me to the surface; I have a new awareness and I’ll do my darnedest to learn from it. Here’s what happened to the best of my memory—and I’ve changed the names: At 9am I drove to the Toyota dealership where I had a service appointment. A young black woman came out to the drive-in area and

For years, I shied away from traveling in France: I don’t speak French, the people are reputed to be snooty….and even though I loved my time last year in Paris, I’ve been cautious about that country. Then for a couple weeks recently, Beebe Bahrami’s Café Oc: A Nomad’s Tales of Magic, Mystery and Finding Home in the Dordogne of Southwestern France was my just-before-sleep book choice, and—I don’t know whether to say ‘regretfully’ or not—it kept me awake far more often than I a

Have you had the experience, upon finally closing a book, of being speechless? Or being deeply grateful (and perhaps envious) because someone had both the capacity to think so clearly about a fundamental topic and the good fortune to have the support needed to make a book flawlessly engaging and imperative? I recently finished Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End. I know it has won accolades and been on the NYT best seller list for months; I know

I’ve been housesitting in Boulder less than a week, and happily I’ve found a walking trail that fits my three-mile round-trip requirement. Goose Creek Greenway, a stream with a winding path beside it, is well-used by a mix of ducks, geese, pigeons, bicyclists, joggers, mothers with prams, fast walkers, slow walkers, and the occasional homeless person with cart. But… A great deal of care was taken originally when planning this trail. The signage is beautiful. … for the three d

“Do you need someone to be the corpse?” I asked the Care-of-the-Body team instructor. “Because if you do, I’ll volunteer. I’d like to doze a bit.” That was hardly an exalted motive, I admit, but it was honest—early afternoon is my usual nap time. “And may I remain clothed?” I pleaded. Yes, was the answer to both questions. I was at an extraordinary training session. I mean, how many people do you know who’ve been trained in how to support a family in creating a sacred space t

Strolling along the Thames near the Tate Modern last evening, near the Blackfriars Bridge Ticket Office I chanced upon the first d-pod in England. It’s been in existence for less than a week. What fun to discover this retail idea! I shot this from outside the window glass, so there’s a confusing reflection of people buying tickets opposite the d-pod, but still you can see the dimensions of the space from the two walls. It’s quite a narrow space. In its windows were open white

Note: I’m just now, in Spring 2017, sorting materials I collected on my trip to Europe in August & September 2016; I’ll occasionally post reflections and photos of that trip, dating my posts as if they were written last year. “I’m puzzled,” I said to the man who sold tickets to Rydal House, the place in England’s Lake District where poet William Wordsworth lived out the last three decades of his life. “I’ve noticed many Asians tourists here in the Lake District,” I said. “Wh

Finally, I’ve made it on to the last of the sequence of trains I need to take to get from central Madrid to Barajas airport. I’ve asked five people how to navigate the metro-cum-Renfe train system and still managed to make one bad turn—exiting the system prematurely and having to get aid to get back through the turnstile without buying another ticket. Now I’m waiting at the Chamartín station. Suddenly, they change the posted track from Via 11 to Via 14 (Platform 11 to 14). I

At the Democratic Convention in July, Bill Clinton gave a loving, personal, and illuminating speech about Hillary that included the story of his multiple proposals of marriage to her. I enjoyed listening to it. But what a surprise to have it referenced by a British boatman on gorgeous Lake Windermere in England’s Lake District. Let me explain. As I handed my ticket to a crew member to board a tidy wooden boat to cross the lake from Bowness to the landing site for Hill Top, th

An Occasional Post on Art that Thrills Me I saw an exhibit that made me oogle and cheer in Santa Fe in August 2016. It was “MAIL ART! Priority Mail” at the Axle Contemporary, a irreverent mobile gallery that feeds those starved for unusual art. The Axle Contemporary truck appears at street corners and farmers’ markets, feeding art to the curious and open-minded. I must take photos for Sherry! I said to myself. For thirty years, my friend Sherry has been the lone practitioner

Ever wonder why New Mexico is called Land of Enchantment? It’s because if you take the back roads in the state, you can be transported back several centuries and into almost-foreign lands: it’s time-traveling magic at its easiest. So if you want a day-adventure from Santa Fe, take the High Road to Taos. It’s slower, of course, than the usual US285/84 and NM68 highways that pass through Española, wind through the gorgeous Rio Grande valley, and get you to Taos in about an hour

It was inspired choice—spending July 4, 2016, morning walking the canals of Venice CA with an old friend (as I’m housesitting in LA for a bit). Residents were out, spreading red-white-blue picnic tablecloths in preparation for parties. They responded warmly to “Happy Fourth!” And this year, because of Hillary, I felt unusually proud to be an American. It’s been years since I visited the Marina/Venice neck of the Los Angeles woods. The area, a few blocks from the ocean, now ab

Yesterday was a first for me: I experienced an equine-facilitated therapeutic session led by my friends Erin and Wes. I came away from the session in love with two horses: Phoenix, a dark-brown thoroughbred racehorse who was deserted by unknown owners in the desert and survived by eating gravel until my friends rescued him; and Mystery, a black horse who just showed up in Erin’s life, lost and alone. Phoenix, the beautiful former race-horse I came away from the session smelli

“So,” I said to a Crestone local, opening the French doors and stepping out to the porch where she stood, hose in hand, watering the flowers around the house where I’m house-sitting, “how long have you been here?” “I’ve been here 27 years,” she said. We exchanged names. She was polite, but she didn’t take my question as the bait I intended it to be, that is, an invitation into friendly conversation. I sensed that she had no interest in me, or probably more accurately, that sh

This 1998 book is reviewed by Rowan, age 14 33 Things Every Girl Should Know About Women’s History is a book written by many authors, all women, and compiled by Tonya Bolden. It details the history of feminism, from Abigail Adams, to Rosie the Riveter, to the Go-Go’s. 33 Things Every Girl Should Know about Women’s History: Stories, Songs, Poems, and Smart Talk by 33 Extraordinary Women edited by Tonya Bolden. 33 Things contains everything from mini-biographies of women like E

Last night, I got a sad phone call from Kris. My beloved car, Alice, was about to be towed to a salvage yard in the Pasadena CA area, he said. I stayed on the phone a long time with him, talking about Alice. He was as bereaved as I. He too loved her deeply, though he’s only owned her for four years. We discussed Alice’s virtues: her lean, polished body; her never-repaired transmission; her amazing 445,000 miles of service; her willingness to go above and beyond; her responsiv

Recently I was chatting with an 85-year-old cousin, a medical doctor. He’s a widower now. He was very interested in how I worked out the logistics of my nomadic lifestyle—for example, how I manage things like snail mail and medical checkups when I house-sit for people in places far from my previous home. I explained I use my daughter’s address as my permanent address; she generously, periodically, forwards my mail–bless her heart! I explained that I had a doctor in California

Date: Late February 2016 Lv Boulder, CO—through Denver to I-70E until I-135S for Wichita, KS (visit friends); Hillsboro and Hesston, Ks (visit family). I forgot to record my mileage. Lv Hillsboro, Ks at 104,586 mi—via country roads, I-135N, and I-70W. Ar Boulder at 105,125 mi. Round trip: approximately 1078 mi. Our NATIONAL INTERSTATE HIGHWAY SYSTEM is fabulous! Really. President Dwight Eisenhower promoted building it in 1956 and it took 35 years to complete. Now it has 47,8

I kissed my mother’s forehead, told her I loved her, and said goodbye at her nursing home in Hesston, Kansas, on Wednesday, Feb 24. Emphatically she ordered, “Come back and visit me!” Mom rarely speaks a coherent sentence any more. I was impressed that she got out those five words. She doesn’t call me by name, but I think she knows who I am. I’m quite certain she enjoyed my two-day visit. She’s 97 now. Then I drove to Newton, KS—down Old Highway 81, recently renamed Hesston R