Shrine on a String

  We put Corina on a plane this morning to fly out as support for her sister as we wait for little girl #2. She was supposed to fly last week, but a flu and 102 degree temperature caused a delay.  We thank Southwest airlines for understanding.  Mike and I feel related to Southwest as both the airline and our marriage occurred in 1971.  We are both celebrating our 45th.

  I don't know why I am not in Pittsburgh now, I really don't.  I think to keep my worry energy contained and 2,000 miles away. Hope has always read me and I'm contagious.  Last week Hope and Leland had a baby blessing, inviting their Pittsburgh friends to their Pittsburgh house to each bring a bead. My niece, Lisa Slesinger, and my childhood friend, Nancy Tapper Smith, were there.They read some of my poems, and I sent eight pink rose quartz beads from my mother's necklace.  Rose quartz carries love and heart.

   Here is the necklace, so beautiful and carrying meaning, prayer, and our New Mexico ways into this new place, my old love and home.  There was the woman, Eileen, we met at Squirrel Hill farmer's Market with its two strong quartets and juice bar.  There were friends from La Leche League and Hope's Crunchy Moms group. One woman said it was one of the top ten hippiest things she had done in her life. My dear ones called with a good report. Hope and Leland are magnets for gathering interesting folks.

  I am in prayerful times, pilgrims Friday and Easter morning today. Hope herself was born in this house on a spring morning, Mother's Day in 1985.  I sit and stare at this one photo of a wedding my cousin Amy Friendman Doran sent me.  Beti is the glam blonde and Harry the tallest.  These are my peeps, not so crunchy but definitely glittering and glad to be alive.  I am living every day as my first/last.   The necklace is a shrine, each bead has a wish and an intention. 
Time to make my house shrine to welcome the baby,  New Mexico style.

  My Father's side, I recognize nine.  Beti and Aunt Clara, the last two of the trio above.

Hi Ho Silver Ghazal

Hi Ho Silver Ghazal with photos

What I keep forgetting is I  keep forgetting
Every time I stand up, it takes a day to sit down

The first blue bird is bathing in between robins
We're waiting for the tanagers to flit down

All year the word cancer keeps whispering
to some it is shouting, screams till she bit down

The old poets I love don't live in China, they long

ago left Japan, to visit me, stroll Forward Ave. a bit down

He said "I never heard of Nepal

now people go there like downtown" 

My mother is persistent from beyond this life.

Just now I order a matchbook with her name written down.

"Can you imagine silver in her house?" my bro asked, meaning my abode.
"Yes," my stepdad said. "Hi Ho Silver." That old clown.

We are awaiting the next baby. It is a long road

all have taken, between the heart and the crown.

Today we will visit a farm, a library, some new
folks who braved the elements to land in this town.

Last week we helped clean road for the pilgrims to walk down.
Easter Sunday, plum blossoms, the water in the ditch pours down

Life is indeed full, you old fool Joan Logghe.
There are three of us, just Google us, now sit town.