The Istoriaphile’s Corner

I love rivers. With all respect to ponds, pools, lakes, and oceans, I love being by a river the most.  Landlocked on two sides, it’s still a continuum of water that chuckles as it moves and brings down the heat in summer.  My rivers are peaceful most of the time but the last thing they are is boring, not only because they hold so much life but they seem to be living creatures themselves.  I guess I see life as a river. More than anything, all rivers are made up of water, great googolplexes of H2O molecules, all moving in the same direction. Some of the droplets came up from underground springs, some fell into place with a rainfall, but the source isn’t what’s important here.  What’s important is that once those droplets meet up it’s hard to tell one from another and they impact each other.  It may be on a scale too small for us to see but the molecules of water bump against each other on the way to their common destination.  And each encounter changes the path of each droplet, however minutely. I think all life is like that.  Our lives are continually changed every day by…

This day should be remembered each and every year. For the birth of an author, many of us still hold dear. Though he’s no longer with us, his books hold renown When it comes to kid’s lit, Old Doc Seuss holds the crown But I must add, in a tone of defeat He’s the most famous author I didn’t quite meet When I was small, Dr. Seuss was the Man and I read each of his stories, like a number 1 fan Like the Sneeches, my belly once had a small star I recited his rhymes while we rode in the car. I grew up and learned to love reading aloud I’d choose Seuss to read to the younger kids crowd That’s what my job was one year, long ago At the main library branch in old San Diego That place hosted a party each Winter to cheer Any locals who’d published books in the last year. For the party, my off-day, I agreed to forsake And serve the literati their coffee and cake I don’t want to brag, but I must confess, I looked good that day! I wore my best dress. I buffed up my nails and styled my…

The one question I kept asking myself: How in hell did I get this big? We all live our lives by labels.  Those governed by birth are immovable.  Whether you’re a baby-boom, Gen-X or millennial, you’ll be one for the rest of your life, even if you lie about it.  Some birth labels, like nationality, look permanent but can be changed, and some we have even more say on, at least in theory.  I’ve lived with one label too long. Obese. If there is a word in the language I hate, that’s the one.  Clinically, it means someone whose Body Mass Index is higher than 30; when the extra weight can really starts to compromise someone’s health. But to the many non-medical people, obesity is a character flaw, not evidence of a health problem, a weakness in someone else that can be exploited. 60 lbs. down and I’m still OMG obese And that kind of thinking can be hell to live with when you’re obese. See, part of the pain of being really big is how that kind of treatment undercuts your confidence.  Graduate with honors? Yeah, but you’re still obese.  Complete a 5K? Doesn’t matter if you’re big as…

Madison Avenue thinks it knows what presents women wish for. They tell us through commercials all the time. What love token should you give a lady? Give her diamonds. Give her shoes. Give her a new car.  Well, Madison Avenue never heard of me. I wanted a new front door. Door, the First In all fairness, I’ve wanted one for the past 27 years. Our little house came with a rather standard, wooden door; one that let in the weather, but kept out the light. Can’t say I liked it much. Matter of fact, I hated the thing. But, with one thing and another, the door never got replaced when we were a double-income family.  Now that we’re living on one, what were the chances my front door could change? You’d be surprised. Not that it was easy.  First off entry doors aren’t cheap, at least entry doors that have lots of glass.  Go ahead, google “3/4 lite entry door”. and you’ll see what I’m talking about.  I’ll wait. Scary, isn’t it? Well, I started scouring.  Craig’s List, LetGo, Facebook selling, you name it.  And I finally found this beauty at a price we could afford.  Only one small issue. …

If you listen to painters, they are obsessed with color and light.  Well, if you listen to stories of artists, that’s what they talk about.  Me, being a word instead of a picture person, I didn’t understand what they meant.  Color is color, light is light, right?  You either have it or you don’t.  Then I took a look at Autumn around here and I began to see what all the fuss was about. The qualities of light vary, hues change and the infinite combinations can blow your mind.  Then, I began to think that if we are made in God’s image, then the Supreme Being is also the Supreme Painter and autumn is when all the crayons come out of the box to vary the leaves with the light. The light of Autumn has its own peculiar illumination.  If Winter is a pale, fluorescent bulb, and arc lights imitate summer, then Fall is like Edison’s first bulbs, full of amber, dim, uncertain illumination.  And when that yellow, watery light comes up underneath the clouds and hits the variegated leaves, the foliage seems to….glow. For example, my neighbor has this incredible tree that puts on a show every year. (By the way,…