Heather's blog

Sunday's Thought

It's Mother's Day, the day my mother always dismissed as a scam by Hallmark in order to sell cards. She must be rolling her eyes at me for thinking of her today. Her grave is at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, but my hunch, my faith, is that she's no more there than Duke Ellington is. He left music, she left me, and my sisters, and now my daughters and son and grand daughters and grandson, and if I may, I will include the dogs, since my mother always had a dog, or two. And books, and church, and a garden.

Heart Healthy Weekend

I know, I missed the health fair, and so have to hope that my daily tablespoon of cod liver oil is working, and the Hospice of Haines rummage sale did just fine without me too. ( 10,000! Wow! Thank you volunteers!) But I was able to babysit for James and Molly Friday, see JJ run her first marathon (and feel like a coach again, even though she needed none to finish in 3:14) and then spend a whole day with the little kiddos on the way home.

First Friday of the Rest of Your Life, and Mine

If this morning were any better I'd think I'd died and went to heaven-- the sun, the wind, the birds, thousands of gulls like noisy confetti on the flats at Lutak when we pedaled by before most humans were stirring-- and the eagles dozens of them -- one swooped so close to Chip's head I thought- well that's another good reason to wear a helmet.

Happy Tuesday

Happy Tuesday is what Marnie used to say at the end of the every Morning Muscles Class (or Thursday, as that was the other early morning fitness session.) We don't meet for class anymore, for all kinds of good reasons it wasn't sustainable. I miss it, but have tried to adapt some, and I do include many of the lessons, both physical (planks) and emotional ( find your breath, clear your mind)--  I may have learned more about caring for my head and heart space in Morning Muscles than caring for my abs and quads. Plus, I liked that the group of women were a good mix from all over town. 

A Hymn & Postcard of Gratitude

Gratitude is the first verse of my hymn. I'm insisting on that, no matter what comes next.

The news of a young friend's death coincides with moving a forty year-old father of three into a hospice room. 

His mother tells me she still believes in God, more than ever, but she and He will have a "good talk" when they meet face to face. 

It is Spring again.

There’s a new baby. 

Old friends celebrate big birthdays. 

(Mercy, always Mercy is the refrain) 

Busy Week

We have a lot of meetings this week, and they are crucial, as the result will be a new manager. Both Brad Ryan, the current facilities director and interim manager, and Debra Schnabel, a former assembly member and current Chamber of Commerce head are the finalists. The good news is either way, they are both local, and both very much care about our town.  This morning from 9-12 at the library the staff will be asking the candidates questions, and this evening from 5:30-8:30 at the library as well, the community can hear what each have to say and ask questions.

Sunday's Thought

“To be hopeful in bad times is not to be foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is not just a history of cruelty. It is also one of compassion, sacrifice, courage, and kindness. And if we do act, in whatever small way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. If we live now as we think humans should live, in defiance of what is around us, this in itself is a marvelous victory.”- Howard Zinn 

Good Tidings in the Mail

Look what came in the mail today. Two heart rocks in a cool box, with a delightful poem from my old friend Marie. How perfect is this?!

Look at this beautiful 

heart shaped rock

I found it this morning 

on my morning walk.


I've been looking for one

since I read your first book

I thought it wouldn't hurt 

to take a look.


This is my Song

I just love this place.

We had such a nice Easter, full of friends, family and good news -- my daughter JJ is the new principal of the Unalaska Dutch Harbor elementary school-- and our surfing son is heading home from Australia to fish this summer-- the four local grandchildren tumbled about in Easter dresses in church on Sunday, and our little Episcopal mission church was even crowded and I'm still singing alleluias.  



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