Debra Darvick

Three hints: Not a bird, not a plane, not Superman.

Being offered one recently it got me thinking. Who uses these any more? Why are they still given out at no charge? Can they even be purchased retail? And by whom?

Another hint: hotel freebie

How much waste does this add to the trash? I feel guilty leaving them behind. I feel guilty taking one with me thinking it will come in handy. For what? To cover a bowl of food before putting it in the fridge? Secure spillable items? I come up empty handed every time.

Another hint: predates the hand-held hair dryer

(Are you warm?)

And yet, I have fond memories of this item. Not that I used one, I was too young and didn’t much care if that part of me got wet. That was half the fun. But oh, my grandmother used one. Every time. She wasn’t vain; she took pride in looking good. No way she, or thousands of women like her, would risk getting her hair wet after a visit to the beauty parlor. I can’t say for sure but I’d wager she brought one with her every time she traveled. 

Last hint: these weren’t distributed until the 1970’s (or so AI tells me) when hotels began offering them along with a sewing kit, a bar of soap, and sometimes a wooden cuticle pusher or shoe polish cloth. 

Good job! And why are they still being given away? Do you ever use the hotel shower caps for something? Share your ingenuity. 

                                                                                                                            . 

Martin shared with me the breaking news.

I was Shocked, Shocked! that this is what it will take to break the recent cold gripping half the nation!

M BREAKING: The cold weather is set to last until it gets warmer. Follow me…

Long-time visitors to the curio cabinet might be familiar with the deep conversations I’ve had with complete strangers. There was the widower we met on a trail in Sedona who broke down in grief and received a hug I offered.  There was the mom in Costco worried over her adolescent son’s obstinance and refusal to attend church with her. She and I were waiting for our tires to be repaired.  We spoke mom to mom. It felt good to connect and offer the understanding of having been in her shoes. Left unsaid was the reality that she and her son were black. Her worries were limned with a deep and not unfounded fear I never had to consider.

Two years ago Martin and I were in Granada when a smartly-dressed man walked past us and began making his way down this staircase.  I assumed his cane was the finishing touch to his suit and tie. Then I realized he was blind.  I watched him navigate to the bottom of the steps, then stop and shift his weight first in one direction and then in the other. Something moved me to direct him. Either he’d ignore me beccause this was a familiar route or I’d be a voice of guidance. Still at the top of the stairs, I could see what he could only discover by trial and error: the way to the left was a cul de sac of stone walls.

“Derecha,” I called out gently. “To the right.” I held my breath. The man paused and cocked his head. Turning to the right he moved forward.  Then an intersection. I reasoned that having taken the steps, he was headed downward away from the warren of homes white-plattered homes and shops. “Isquierda,” to the left. He turned left. It was electrifying to realize we were as if one being: my voice and his body. An elderly blind, Spanish man and an American tourist concerned for his safety. At the next corner there was only one way to go. “Todo derecho,” I called out. Straight ahead. He moved forward and disappeared from sight.

I love these moments the Fates send me. I haven’t thought of him since then. But something brought him back to me. And now to you.

My last offering invited readers to share their reasons why they love America. Their answers are below followed by links to the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.  And for all you Hamilton fans out there, there’s a little ditty by King George III.

Why I Love America

citizens have the right to vote
highest individual charitable donations as a percentage of the national GDP
NYT’s Wordle and Metropolitan Diary
innovation upon innovation upon innovation
our national parks

wide open spaces of nature where nothing is built upon.
bobcats, javelinas and roadrunners in the wild
many big national parks
popcorn in movie houses
modern dance troupes

The U.S. Constitution
wonderful cities to explore
beautiful beaches
capitalism
friendliness of Americans

Freedom of the press.
Freedom for women to publish in sections beyond cooking and domestic arts

I’m free to speak my mind and practice my religion, free from the
government inhibiting or arresting me.
I may write/email my elected officials with my concerns or appreciation.
I am free to live where I choose.

The respect for our flag, where in a crowd (most) all stand in respect to our country and words [of the Star-Spangled Banner] being sung.

Gave my grandparents a new life and a future for their descendants.
Educational opportunities
Relative safety
Options to live in varying terrains and climates
Powerful military for defense
Amazon for convenience
Availability of the word y’all

separation of church and state
a generally peaceful transition of power
freedom of the press
right turns on red!
sustainable democracy
overall beauty

Please feel free to add your reasons in the comments section.

Declaration of Independence

United States Constitution

You’ll Be Back

OK after listening to You’ll Be Back, I gotta add to the list:

Broadway, Broadway, Broadway

photo courtesy of Debra Darvick

The Hebrew word for patience is סבלנות, pronounced sav•la•noot.  I learned the word when my brother was in nursery school; it seemed the teacher used the word with him in those days.  I had occasion to use it with three-year-old Leah recently when she got into the loop of asking when we were going to the park. “Soon,” “When Grandpa gets back,” “After your nap,” did nothing to short circuit the loop. When three-year olds want something they want it NOW!  (So do 67-year-olds but we’ve learned to curb the agitation. Outwardly, anyway.)

Thinking back to my brother  I said, “Savlanut, Leah.  Have a little savlanut.” I could have been offering her a plate of spanikopita for all she knew. “Do you know what savlanut is, Leah?”  She looked up and me and replied, “God?” Out of the mouths of babes.

Leah sensed I was using a Hebrew word, and she knew that Hebrew had to do with synagogue and synagogue had to do with God. It was a perfectly logical guess. I love it when my children’s and grandchildren’s innate leaps of wisdom stop me in my tracks. They cut away all the clutter and get right to the essence. Jewish tradition holds that there are seventy names for God among them: Shepherd, Healer of the Sick, Master of the Universe. Why not Patience?

I imagine if I were the Divine I would often look down and think, “Again? Again you haven’t learned to get along? Still bickering, stil polluting? Still taking lives? How many more millennia is it going to take? OK, so I’ll wait some more.”  Maybe there are days the One Who Sees leans micro. Divine patience is offered in silent compassion to a couple struggling with infertility or a patient aching to be well.

I went over to Leah and told her that savlanut meant patience and that she was right it is a Hebrew word. “And,” I continued, “I think Patience is a great name for God, too.” With that, I got her sneakers and we headed out to the park. On the way, we called Grandpa to meet us there.