The Fine Art of Knowing Yourself and Leaning on Others

Lyndhurst’s concentric Rose Garden, maintained by the Garden Club of Irvington-on-Hudson  

Just looking at the picture of the garden above makes my knees quiver when, in the day, I ran hundreds of times around it as my almost private fiefdom, chair or vice-chair for 12 years, possibly more. Most of us know we are changing to less active, less powerful but recognizing that our attitudes, interests, views AND abilities have also evolved or otherwise changed is not always so easily recognized.

Had I known how nit-picky I have grown in the past ten years about comma placement and the exact right word (le mot juste), I would not have been so ambitious in beginning with four blogs a week for two weeks. Things to write about are in ample stock for this – I have a long and excellent memory and opinions and ruminations galore! – but patience and time to produce a thoroughly edited and proof read piece are in shorter supply. After this week when this is all you get, I will aim at two and promise at least one blog if life is fairly serene. When things go to hell as happened last week, all bets are off.

When my sister first heard about this venture, she was startled that I would have the know how and hutzpah to handle the mechanic of producing a blog. I don’t. The good looks of this blog, its connection with WordPress, everything after I push send on an email are the work of a dear, generous, encouraging, multi-talented friend Barbara Stroud whose own blog, ArtFoodHome appears daily. I said if she’d get me going, I could take over that part after that. (Rash remarks are imbedded in my DNA. It’s the 19% Irish in me.) She can do figure eights backwards around me in this area and may be stuck with me forever. So I am devoting next week to not pestering Barbara and hopefully locating a few of the presently unfindable things in my life, like my back up car key. Wish me luck, please!

Meanwhile, I feel a surge of patriotism coming on! To make your fourth more glorious, find a copy of the early cast recording of the Broadway musical 1776.  Listen to it the whole way to the end and see if it doesn’t sort of get you in your gut. My generation was taught America’s (as we called it then) history over and over and every year in every way possible then until it became part of our own history. We knew how unique and how special the USA is and took personal pride in being Americans. I’ll hop off my soap box now and leave you to revel in the beauties of June and 1776. See you June 27!    p

Clifford Pickett Photography  |  Image is not for reproduction, it is property of the photographer.