Just recently this Nine Cent Girl was feeling down on her luck… You know the why me? why 
now? kind of stuff… Murky, sticky, and just plain yucky stay in your pj’s kind of mood. Luckily I have one person in my life who never lets me wallow for too long; as I lamented my unfortunate state she listened through the tears, the eternal why me? why now? loop, and then reminded me of one indisputable truth, “Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall…” Hard to deny that ancient idiom, still, I struggled over how to stand under what felt insurmountable. Thankfully, by the weekend’s end, I had a plan: a three step plan (clearly I’m still on a numbers kick). Nothing miraculous, but a plan that made a shift.
Category Archives: Life
Lingering in the Hood
My neighborhood is not unusual across the state of Vermont, but then again, there is little that is usual about Vermont. Prospering family farms, plenty of open sky, clean running water and sweet crisp air… idyllic. Here most people get out and about, take advantage of all that Vermont offers, every month of the year and March is no exception. There is still snow around to ski or ride or play in. Ice covers our lakes and ponds allowing ice fishing. And, on a lucky days, there is the brilliant blue that pauses you to look up and smile, content that you are exactly where you are…
An Entire Nation Listened
An entire nation listened as our 44th President, Barack Obama, swore the oath signifying his position for four more years as commander and chief of 
the United States of America. Along with the historic pageantry, we were treated to a superb choir, the marine band, three celebrity singers and a young poet. This last position, that of Inaugural Poet, was first created for Robert Frost by President Kennedy. More than three decades later Bill Clinton too called on a poet to recite, that poet being Maya Angelou. Both Frost and Angelou were already acclaimed poets with followers that branched far beyond the modest recognition most literary writers attain, yet Obama sought out the relatively obscure Richard Blanco.
As Blanco came to the podium I could not help but think how unused to poetry we Americans have become. How rarely we listen as images and ideas filtered through emotions are recited to us. What a challenge this presents poets who face our world and try to reach all of us…
