comments

Re: poems on Daffodils

From Pamela Timme    Thank you so much, Marti. I am going to the Arboretum to see the daffodils on Saturday, so especially enjoyed reading Tom’s piece. They’re all lovely!

*****
Thank you so much Marti, I read your poem – such an eloquent description of that traumatic time – and Tom’s writing – I felt “with him” again, after so long. I had no idea he wrote that much after his stroke. And the Wordsworth poem is an old favorite of mine – I had it memorized at one point!
Love,
Marilyn Myles
******

Thank you for sharing those wonderful poems. I just finished from doing our taxes all day and reading the poems helped me return to a more peaceful, present state of being,

Sweet dreams, Vanessa
********

Marti,

I’ve always liked that Wordsworth poem, too. Ecstasy that seeps into our souls….such a lovely way of putting how beauty enters us. And your tender poem, marking that difficult, beautiful winter….then love claims the body…..that line washed over me. Thanks for sending these splashes of brightness into my morning.
Carol Tyx

Comments on Early Spring Poems

Hi Lynn,
Only you could create joy from the stinkiness of a skunk cabbage! I tried to put this comment right onto your website but I had to choose to be things that I wasn’t and failed. Hope your spaces between snows get longer. I’m at work on the last big section of my Zimbabwe memoir. Then I have to organize and add in some vignettes, but it basically feels finished.
Love, Natalie

******
Marti,

What I need to live, life will offer…..such a line to hang on to. Love the simplicity and at the same time, the depth of these poems.

Your essay on dancing reminded me of a day last summer when I went to a downtown Iowa City outdoor music event. In the back of the crowd a young man in a wheelchair was waving his arms around. Feeling more outgoing than I am at other times, I went back and danced a number with him. Such enthusiasm for dancing!

Thanks for sending the reminders of life’s beauty…..as well as its complications.

Carol Tyx

*****
Dear Sis~

Hi there, and happy spring! I loved your poems in the recent posting – are you the author of all of them? I’d especially like to refer/reprint the Frog one – so cheery and sweet –

All the Best~ Terry
Terry Matthews-Lombardo, CMP TML SERVICES

******
Great concept, Marti! Where do you get these ideas? sounds like, by sitting in quiet. They just drop by! Bonni McKeown

PRAY FOR PEACE
WORK FOR JUSTICE
BOOGIE FOR SURVIVAL
www.barrelhousebonni.com
Reconnecting generations through blues education: www.chicagoschoolofblues.com

*******

Hi Marti,I enjoyed the poems. They are very cute and inspiring regarding the lovely sights of spring. Now, I can not wait for spring to come and show all of its beauty. How are you doing? Its looks like all of well. Love, Dottie

********

Mar 26 Re: Early Spring Poems

Good evening, Lynn! You are so creative! I just read your poems and can imagine the sights and smells!!! Even tho we still have a foot of snow on the ground and 28inches of us on the lake!!! Thank you for making my day!

Love, Jamie

******

FROM Ethel Potts TO You

Marti – In Michigan we still have about half of our snow left on the ground. However, I see green shoots of a few confused snow drops in the back yard. Will they survive the still-with-us temperatures in the teens and twenties? They must be responding to the sun. Eppie

*****

 

Thanks!
Love the poems and the handicap dance story.
Nancy Paul, Lyric Healing

 

Comments on Dancing with the handicapped

Comments on “Handicapped”
Dear Marti,
What a beautiful story! You must come dancing with me some Saturday night! Have taken up country dancing. Most of our dance partners are over 80 and just enjoy the music and exercise! Love and miss you.
Dorene

Dr. Dorene P. Wiese
President
American Indian Association of Illinois
6554 N. Rockwell
Chicago,IL 60645
773.550.9600
Chicago-American-Indian-Edu.Org
********

Marti,

I loved your story-telling. Thanks for sharing your experience.

Love, Jill Mollenkamp

*********

From: Diane Willis To: Marti Matthews <martim1234@sbcglobal.net> Sent: Sunday, February 23, 2014 11:03 PMSubject: Re: “Dancing with the Handicapped”

Lovely story, Marti…..thanks for sharing it.

Diane, IANDS

(Intn’l. Asso. of Near Death Experiences)

*******

From:PATRICIA R MCMILLEN To:Marti Matthews <martim1234@sbcglobal.net> Sent:Wednesday, March 12, 2014 2:42 PMSubject:Re: “Dancing with the Handicapped”marti,

loved the piece – tried to comment but apparently i don’t have an “open ID” on wordpress. <sigh> anyway it sounds like you had a good evening and I’m delighted to have read about it.

best

          patty
Dear Marti,
It wasn’t until I read this blog that I realized I could post it on Facebook and I did, introducing it as “Another great blog by my dear friend, Marti Matthews”
Your picture is there and a profile. Wish you could see it!
                  Love, Marian
Marian Tompson
Passionate Journey: My Unexpected Life (Hale, 2011)
******
from: Ethel Potts To: Marti Matthews <martim1234@sbcglobal.net> Sent: Monday, February 24, 2014 9:30 AMSubject: Re: “Dancing with the Handicapped”

Dear Marti – Thank you for sharing such delightful parts of your life. You have a real talent for enjoying the heart-warming aspects of every situation. I am learning from you to try to do the same.

I may have some of your viewpoint. In my all-absorbing political work, I lose more often then win on issues and elections, but somehow I happily continue on. [ I’ve wondered if it’s not a personality defect, that I don’t know when to quit, which so many of my colleagues have done over these years.] I think that you and I find meaning and joy wherever we can, right? With my love, Eppie
            ********
 
I felt like I was there too, Lynn. Thanks!
Love,
Natalie Kreutzer

*********

from: June Ryushin Tanoue          what a beautiful well written piece- thank you for sharing it with me!

I’d like to use it for my hula newsletter sometime ok? I may have to edit it some and shorten it to a page and a half?

but you should edit in what you said in the paragraph below or people will think that i’m an uncaring teacher ;0)

Aloha,

June Halau I Ka Pono, Hawaiian Hula School of Chicago

Sankta Lucia comments

RE: Sankta Lucia

Marti,
I really enjoyed your recollection of your first Sankta Lucia Fest and how you got in-touch with your “inner Swede”. Would you mind If I copy/pasted your story into an email to my friend Rich Lindberg?
Merry Christmas!
Mike [ Rich is author of the book “Whiskey Breakfast, my Swedish Family, my American Life”, Univ. of Minn. Press, 2011]

St Lucia

I absolutely enjoyed your story, I smiled remembering my own Hungarian heritage and the night of St Lucia. Although I don’t quite recall, I have vague memories….will have to google it!
Have a wonderful evening celebration! Enjoy the festivities!
Many warm hugs!
Annika

Re: Sankta Lucia
Thanks for a wonderful note! We just had our Christmas party with the 3rd grade of Goudy school who sang for us. 51 nationalities and I did not see a Swede!!!
Wil

Re: Sankta Lucia

Marti, this is beautiful. You are always discovering something about yourself and the universe. I could practically feel the cold, the snow and the reserved Swedes feeling that despite everything, all’s right with the world.
PRAY FOR PEACE
WORK FOR JUSTICE
BOOGIE FOR SURVIVAL
www.barrelhousebonni.com
Reconnecting generations through blues education: www.chicagoschoolofblues.com
The Story of a Chicago Blues Musician, co-authored with Larry Hill Taylor: www.stepsonoftheblues.com
Dear Marti,
Good to hear from you and love your message. I too remember the Sankta Lucia festivals. I was always in awe of the beautiful candle lit crowns,the beautiful songs, and of course the hearty smell of hot Swedish coffee brewing in the church kitchens and cardamom rolls baking. Happy holidays to you as well. See you soon.
Dorene
Dr. Dorene P. Wiese
President
American Indian Association of Illinois
6554 N. Rockwell
Chicago,IL 60645
773.550.9600
Chicago-American-Indian-Edu.Org

Lucia Fest

                                          Lucia Fest

I time-travel to before I was born

Split personalities – that was our family: part French Canadian, part Swede, with the hidden German perhaps holding the two together inside us. My dad the spontaneous flamboyant French Canadian, my mom the thoughtful reserved Swede. As Dad ran the family, the values of the Swede inside me often felt overshadowed. It used to feel like the “dull” part of me. But as an adult I sense solidness in this Swede inside and I search to know and affirm this quiet thoughtful part of myself.
I also seek elucidation on some mysterious parts of myself. Somewhere inside I’ve always felt a prohibition against bragging, and this has cost me a lot. And it’s so strong! It feels as if the worst sin I could commit would be to stand out and show off. Along with this is a natural concern for the well-being of others, a group-mindedness. My second sister (out of three), eight years younger than I, looks Swedish as I do and lives by the very same altruistic modest values. My sisters two and ten years younger than me look French Canadian and live by what I would call French values. The central drive seems to be to enjoy as much of the world as possible (the famous ‘joi de vivre’), to take good care of themselves and to make their own lives as wonderful as possible, all beautiful values but kind of opposite the Swedes.
I’ve puzzled mightily over my inability to show myself and my accomplishments and my natural putting others first. A friend told me of someone she knows who lives in a Scandinavian community in Massachusetts. He told her this is a basic Scandinavian law: An individual is not to take credit for doing well! With Swedes, every person should naturally do their best, but pride we take as a group.  One should not stand out or call attention to one’s self or one’s individual achievements. This is actively frowned upon, disapproved of. I was amazed to think I may have inherited this taboo in my very genes!
Living in Chicago I have opportunities to get to know the Swede inside me. One fun Swedish experience happens each December 13th, the Lucia Fest at Ebenezer Lutheran Church in Andersonville, the only remnant left of many Swedish settlements in the Chicago area. Though I was raised in a Swedish town in Michigan and we kept various food customs at Christmas, for reasons I don’t know, none in our town did the Lucia Fest.
But here in Chicago all is possible. So tonight, my first experience of the Lucia Fest, I arrive early at the church because I feel a serious hunger to experience this. I choose a seat on the inside aisle so I can see well whatever’s going to happen. I expect “beauty” to be a part of tonight, and some kind of celebration of light in darkness, with the help of “young maidens,” who always stand for beauty.
An older couple climb over me and sit down. The woman tells me she comes from far down the genealogical line of “being Swedish”, but she still thinks of herself this way.
The celebration begins. We have programs with all the information. The pastor gives an introduction, then we rise and sing a Christmas song in Swedish with the translation alongside. I hear everyone sing out fairly loudly. We know how to pronounce this language from hearing it in childhood and feel happy to be making these familiar sounds that bring back memories. Perhaps we’ve been to Sweden once and listened to the lilt of people speaking “our tongue.” Quickly I see it: we are “WannaBe Swedes.”
We listen to the young girls’ choir sing a song in Swedish; they are obviously, like us, trying to pronounce and remember words that are mostly meaningless. Then we hear a heart-warming sharing by Mr. R. Johnson, Chairperson of the Board of the Swedish American Museum in Chicago. He remembers for us when he visited Sweden in the heart of winter back when he was in high school or college; how thrilled his heart was when he arrived at a train station in the night and saw the snow glistening everywhere, just as he had imagined Sweden would be in winter – dark and snowy and beautiful. I can feel something respond in my own heart – yes, we love to picture this winter scene with Mr. R. Johnson. This is our homeland, though we’ve never been there.
We happily stand and sing another long song in Swedish; I don’t even know the melody but it’s still fun to try. The Swedish Consulate greets us and we feel honored that she’s come to acknowledge us in our serious attempt to stay part of the homeland. She tells us how beautiful the Swedish Embassy is in Washington DC and that “it’s a stone’s throw from the Kennedy Center and you must all go visit it.” “Yes!” this little foreigner inside me responds. “Yes, of course I will go and see our embassy!”
I look around at the faces of the people. I know I have some particular look, a face like my Swedish grandfather, and these people look like me! And I feel their character too. What is it? If we were all Hispanic or Italian I suppose the children would be running happily around and even the adults would be boisterous, – they’d sing and chatter and move with energy. We are ‘reserved.’ We have quick, genuine smiles, but also a modesty and gentleness. I’ve often wondered how on earth we changed from the ferocious Vikings into the self-controlled Scandinavians of today. I only know that this character is in my very bones. I do not feel like a puzzle to myself here; I feel completely normal.
Finally we get to the Lucia part of this experience. After the men’s choir tries to sing a couple Swedish songs (pretty badly) then a young lady explains the legend of Sankta Lucia. St. Lucy was a young Christian woman in third century Italy. She wished to dedicate her life to Jesus, called the Christ, but her father had other ideas for her and betrothed her to a young local lad. Lucy then gave away all her dowry to the poor. Neither her father nor her fiance appreciated her attitude and together they had her tortured to death. So she’s been proclaimed a saint, and particularly a saint of the poor.
One winter in Sweden there was terrible famine and suffering; someone saw Sankta Lucia walking across a frozen lake bringing bread; she was wearing a white robe like an angel and had candles around her head. And so began this custom of the eldest daughter waking the family on this dark day each year with bread and coffee for breakfast. This is a special bread, a sweet bread shaped like an “S”.
Now, finally, Lucia and her court are coming! Each Lucia wins this honor on her merits, though it probably helps if the young lady has blond hair (not all Swedes do). The lights in the room darken and we hush and look back and center, just as if we awaited a bride. Then Lucia comes walking slowly down the aisle in the darkness and we all stand and smile with joy at this beautiful sight: she with five heavy candles secured around her head on a strong crown, and the other girls also in white robes, carrying candles in the darkness, and all sing a beautiful song (memorized in Swedish, of course). It truly is as I always expected – just lovely.
Lastly we all (try to) sing Silent Night in Swedish and are invited to the parish hall to be served sweet bread and drink non-alcoholic (non-genuine) glug by Lucia and her court. My heart is content: I’ve felt like a real Swede for one night, like I was in Sweden in another century, some time when life was difficult and religion held us up and it was the long winter. And out of the place of hardship and hunger, Sankta Lucia felt our need, heard us praying, and brought us bread across the quiet and gentle snow-covered landscape. I remember and am comfortable with this serious and gentle and generous part of myself and am glad to be who I am.

Comments on Nudist Halloween

Interesting comments on “Nudist Halloween”

Dear Marti,

I thoroughly enjoyed your piece. Believe it or not, I also went to a nudist camp with 2 other girl friends in my early days. It is Sky Farm in NJ and it’s the first nudist camp in the country.. Still operating. At the time, it was a family camp and we three women were the first singles they allowed in. It was an experiment for them and apparently we passed and they opened it up to others like ourselves. Like you, it felt so natural, lots of interesting talks, bright people. Loved swimming without clothes. The camp was open in winter for sledding and other winter sports. Clothing essential then.
Each family had their own cabin, large, medium or small. We stayed with friends who had extra room. We all loved it. It was wonderful to feel the air on our bodies
Haven’t had an opportunity to do it again. But would not hesitate to go back
(anonymous)

                                              ***
Marti, thank you for the blog. I read a little of it and found it to be enabling. In my case it is not a back curvature but a urostomy bag on my abdomen that I call my “ectopic breast”. It has taken me a long time to feel at ease in public despite living in a community where lots of persons have stooped posture, paralyzed sides, vocal distortions, canes, walkers,fat bellies, tremors etc…and lots of smiles, friendly faces, very smart brains, etc. We are so fortunate to have a community where we accentuate the positive and LIVE! The other day a person paralyzed on the right was helped by a person paralyzed on the left!
have a good Halloween
Wil
          Wilmer Rutt

From:Bonni McKeown <barrelhbonni@yahoo.com>To:Marti Matthews <martim1234@sbcglobal.net> Sent:Sunday, October 27, 2013 5:27 PMSubject:Re: My Halloween Blog
  
I havent figured out how to access my google to comment on your blog… so I’ll just say your Halloween post reminds me of playing piano at a nudist resort in eastern W.Va., Avalon. Everyone was friendly, polite and unpretentious, as you say… and you’re right, when we die our earthly appearance becomes a moot point.

PRAY FOR PEACE
WORK FOR JUSTICE
BOOGIE FOR SURVIVAL
http://www.barrelhousebonni.com/
Reconnecting generations through blues education: www.chicagoschoolofblues.com
The Story of a Chicago Blues Musician, co-authored with Larry Hill Taylor: http://www.stepsonoftheblues.com/

 
Dear Marti,
I read yr blog top to bottom and found it very moving. Thank you for sharing your life so freely with us…quite a life, too! I love yr poems and share a recent one of mine:
With love,
Patty
Patty de Llosa (author of The Practice of Presence and Taming Your Inner Tyrant)
 
Nut, Stone, Feather

I went out to the Park feeling moody

and ill at ease.

So what am I supposed to be doing?” I asked the roses

and kicked at a fallen acorn on the path.

Hey, wait a minute!

Acorns grow into oak trees.

Let’s have a little respect here!

I picked up the acorn and saw a stone just near it,

Dirty white.

But I bet a little polishing would show its worth,

Prepare it

To lie like a jewel

At the center of a necklace.

I walked on a little farther.

There in the path lay a bird’s feather,

Thrown away by a winged life.

Where’s the bird that needs no feather?

Could feathers ever do for me

What they do for birds?

Nut, stone, feather.

What are they telling me?

Let’s make a guess:

Living stone is the foundation of the earth.

Touch it and you touch the earth, your Mother.

The nut is a seed of enormous possibility,

A tiny life with a powerful future.

And the feather?

It comes from a being that can fly.

www.tamingyourinnertyrant.com