Cherry Bomb? Saving Mare/Mary? Tagged? CALL FOR TITLES!

A couple of weeks ago, in my post on "A Good Blog is Hard to Find," I sent out a CALL FOR NAMES for one of the characters in my novel-in-progress. It was both fun and helpful receiving all the comments on the blog, on Facebook, on Twitter, and even a phone call I received from one enthusiastic supporter! As a result, I settled on "Mare" for the lead character (full name is Mary Katherine Henry at this point, but that's subject to change.) I had settled on "Emily" as the name for the abstract expressionist painter/professor, but I'm going to work "Mary" into her name somehow. (I actually have a plan for that, but it's part of the plot.) And the third character is historical: the fifth century prostitute-turned-desert hermit, St. Mary of Egypt.

And so here I am wrapping up chapter one and a page or two into chapter two, and I'm still feeling a little sluggish in my writing. I think it's because I don't have a TITLE for the book yet. I know the title could change during the course of writing the book, or in working with an agent or publisher, but somehow naming it will help the creative process, I think.

To that end, I just spent the morning looking over what I've written so far, and researching a few books and articles (including two of my own published essays) that deal with some of the subject matter explored in the novel, like:

iconography

spirituality

childhood sexual abuse

abstract expressionism

graffiti art

psychological, emotional, and spiritual healing


And so I've come up with a few ideas and would love your feedback, on these ideas and any new ones you might come up with! Of course I Googled all of these to be sure there aren't already published books with the same names, and I did find three that had already been taken:-(



The Girl With No Shadow by Joanne Harris (author of Chocolat)

Colors of the Soul by June McLeod (on color therapy and healing)

And the title I most wanted to use is "Cherry Bomb," which is a Jack Daniels thriller, so I wonder if I could use it anyway? Especially if I named it, "Cherry Bomb: A Novel," and it's in a different genre? (The reason I want to use it is because the graffiti artist in the book, one of the three main characters, uses "Cherry Bomb" to sign her graffiti tags, because the term "bomb" is often used to describe a graffiti piece, as in "the wall was bombed" with graffiti....)

So, here are the other names I came up with this morning. I know you don't know the whole plot (and I won't tell you) but I'd still love your input. DO keep in mind the three main characters all have "Mary" in their names. So, if you walked into a book store and saw a book with one of these titles, which one would you pick up, and why? Here goes: (in no particular order)

Broken Palettes
Splattered Images
The Hidden Palette
Tagged: A Novel (when walls and trains, etc., are painted with graffiti, they are "tagged")
Painted Stories
Painted Windows (icons are often called "Windows to Heaven")
Mary's Shadow (icons don't have shadows; and think shadows in a Jungian sense)
Saving Mare/Mary ("Saving Grace" is my favorite TV show)
Finding Mare/Mary (as in finding her authentic self)
Painting Mary (as in painting St. Mary of Egypt's image, her icon)


Please leave a comment! Thanks! Now, I've got the afternoon to clean up my writing sample for the 2010 Yoknapatawpha Summer Writers Workshop (June 18-20) where the first 12 pages of the book will be critiqued by faculty and participants, so bye for now. I'll check back later to see what you brilliant readers have come up with!

P.S. The bottom three images in this post are by contemporary graffiti artist, Shepard Fairey.

Godparenting

This past Sunday there was an article in the New York Times’ “Family Matters” column by Bruice Feiler titled, “The Godparent Trap.” Mr. Feiler gave a bit of history about the tradition of Godparenting in “the early centuries of the church,” but then focused the rest of his article on what happened not only after the Great Schism (1054) but mainly what happened after the Protestant Reformation (1500s):

“As Christianity splintered through the Reformation, each denomination handled the custom slightly differently—arguing over the number, the official duties, even the sexual rules governing godparents. … Over time, the role became less about church doctrine and more about friendship…. Godparenting, it seems, has always been more talk than action.”

The quantum leaps Mr. Feiler makes in three short paragraphs exclude completely what continued (and continues to this day) to be the sacred role of Godparents in the Orthodox (Christian) Church. And while his intentions are good—at one point he calls for “a new generation of godparents”—he goes on to make up three new “ground rules” for godparents: (1) Have many godparents for each child, to build a community. The old “it takes a village” concept; (2) Assign each godparent a specific task; and (3) Continue to add more godparents throughout the child’s life “as needed.” While these ideas might have some merit, from a sociological point of view, they are one man’s suggestions and not the tradition of the historic church. I think each of his rules are possibly answers to the various ways that society as a whole, and individual churches in particular, have failed to maintain healthy communities for their families. So, what is the Orthodox Christian’s answer to these problems?

To begin with, the Orthodox Christian Church has standing “rules” or guidelines that go back centuries. (Some of those guidelines are discussed in this web article, “Godparenting 101.” And while they vary a bit from one ethnic group to another (the Greeks might do some things different from the Arabs or the Russians, and the convert parishes may end up adopted a variety of expressions of these traditions) the intent, I believe, is common to all Orthodox jurisdictions: the Godparent takes spiritual responsibility for the child, promising to raise him in the faith, and to interact with him throughout his life in a way similar to a family member. It’s a high calling, and one not to be entered into lightly.

That said, it’s a bit scary for me to admit that I have 13 Godchildren. Two are no longer living, and those living range in age from 7 to 62. (When adults convert to the Orthodox Church, they have adult “sponsors,” who serve a similar role as a Godparent.) I’m sure I’ve failed many of them terribly over the years… sometimes forgetting a special day (Name days, birthdays, anniversaries, baptismal dates, etc.) and often just letting too much time go by without calling them to go grab a cup of coffee (the adults) or come over for dinner, or to accompany a child to a soccer game or ballet performance. But I do try to pray for each of them every day. (And yes, I fail at that, too, but when I do say my morning or evening prayers, I include them.)

But as we all get older and some of us make different choices about our church homes—some marrying into other faith traditions, others moving away or choosing not to participate to the same degree they once did in church events—I realize how important the family aspect of the relationship is. Just as I love all three of my own children no matter what church they choose, whom they choose to marry, where they choose to live, I also love my Godchildren in this same way. Do I wish they would all remain active in the Orthodox Church? There was a time when I would have said yes, unreservedly. But recently I’ve come to realize that what I want most for them—and what I ask God for in my prayers for them—is that they know that they are loved, by me, by their spouses, their friends, their pastors, their other Godparents, everyone who is significant in their lives. And that they know they are loved by God. Unconditionally.

I agree with Mr. Feiler when he says: “Before your godchild has to friend you on Facebook, be a friend-model of an old fashioned sort. Make a call. Make a date. Make a memory.”

And so I say to Mickey, Sarah, Damon, Madeleine, Damon, Hannah, Patrick, Katherine, Julie, Stacy, Sophie and Sue: please forgive me, and I’ll try to do better! And to Rose and Mary Allison (who are in Heaven): please pray for me. I love you all.

Call for Names

Hippie-love-child?

Orphan?

This little graffiti artist needs a name!

You can help!

Read my post over at A Good Blog is Hard to Find, and leave a comment there, please.

Yoknapatawpha Summer Writers Workshop: June 18-20

Readers, forgive me, it's been almost a week since my last post! (a record, I think) It was awesome being at the beach with my family in a beach house with no wi-fi, actually. So, I'll post a few photos at the end of this post and you'll see why I wasn't tempted to head into Seaside to the coffee shop to get on my computer more than once last week!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm gearing up for the Yoknapatawpha Summer Writers Workshop in Oxford, Mississippi, June 18-20. There are still a few spots left, so if you're a beginner or even an emerging writer, join us for a weekend of manuscript critiques, craft talks, catfish, beer, wine and fun! Info and registration forms are here.

For posts about the past two summer workshops check these out:

"The Writer's Cross: Transcending the Existential Shorthand," from 2009.


"Learning to See and Write Sunsets," from 2008.

What's so great that I'm going for my 4th workshop? (I didn't have a blog in June of 2007, so there's no post about the first one I attended.) The faculty is awesome, including our workshop director, Neal Walsh, (right) who teaches in the MFA program at LSU; Scott Morris, formerly in the MFA program at Ole Miss and now living in California, both published authors) and this year, Neil White is added to the faculty!

It's a small group (usually 10-16 participants) so everyone gets lots of personal attention. And friendships are formed that last for years.

So, I'm going to close for now and post some beach photos... and watch a new episode of "Saving Grace," which starts in 25 minutes, so here I go!

Three Degrees in One Decade!

We're at Seagrove Beach this week, with no internet at our beach house (a blessing, really) so this will be quick. Just wanted to celebrate our daughter, Beth's, graduation from the University of Tennessee's Master of Architecture program last Friday. We're so proud of her. Her dad and I, and her fiance, Kevin, attended the hooding ceremony, which was for the graduate and undergraduate schools of architecture, and the interior design students.

Lovely building (Alumni Memorial) with this awesome organ and pipes high up on one of the side walls. (Organ played during the processional and recessional.) really good speeches by students and faculty. Never a dull moment, really.









We're also celebrating Beth and Kevin's engagement! We love Kevin, and are thrilled to have him join the clan!







Brought to mind Beth's two previous graduations... in December of 2005, when she received her Bachelor of Science degree in Biomedical Engineering at UT...








And back in 2001, when she graduated from Central High School.










Yep, we're proud parents, and having a great time celebrating with her this week at Seagrove Beach, Florida, with her fiance, Kevin (a great cook, by the way! we're grilling out here....)






... and her two best friends from UT, Katie and Kiel.




Tomorrow our son, Jason, and his wife, See and our granddaughter, Grace, arrive for a few days.
I'm pretty much in heaven here:-) Watch for a more serious blog post next week.

Meanwhile, I've got my toes in the water, my .....

Faith, Energized by Love

When my mind isn’t completely absorbed with menial tasks or secular creative pursuits, when I stop, not often enough, to think about spiritual things, when I find the courage to be alone with my thoughts, to be honest about my doubts and fears, this nagging voice from somewhere deep inside often whispers and sometimes shouts: do you really love God?

Which pre-supposes that I really believe in God, as I say that I do. But does my life reflect this belief? It certainly doesn’t affirm a love for God, and only rarely a fear. St. Anthony the Great said, “I no longer fear God; I love Him.” I’m no saint. But I knew someone who loved God, and today she is on my heart.

This morning I was reading the Psalms with my morning prayers, nearing the end of the 40 days of prayer following the death of Esther Elliott Longa. Reading the Psalms always helps me with my doubts about God. In the back of my copy of The Psalter According to the Seventy, I have written the names and dates of loved ones who have died, and I often read back over those names and remember each of them when I’m reading the Psalter and praying for a newly departed friend. I also have a few copies of memorial brochures from funerals, including one for my dear friend and “unofficial yia-yia, Urania Alissandratos, I remember writing the text for that brochure, and including the following quote:

“He who loves God both believes truly and performs the works of faith reverently. But he who only believes and does not love lacks even the faith he thinks he has; for he believes merely with a certain superficiality of intellect and is not energized by the full force of love’s glory. The chief part of virtue, then, is faith, energized by love.”—Saint Diadochos of Photiki

And then I wrote the words, “Urania loved God.”

How do we know she loved God? Everyone who knew her saw His love in her life, in her vitality, even as she lived with cancer into her 80s. And not only in her faithfulness to the Church and its services, to the Orthodox aesthetic traditions of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, but also in her everyday actions. She would say the Jesus Prayer as she went in for a medical procedure. She spoke of God as though He were right there with her at all times, which He was, which He is.

This reminded me of Father John Troy’s homily on May 8, the patronal feast day of our parish, and his name saint, John the Theologian and Evangelist. Father John talked about a trip he took to Russia a number of years ago, and especially to the monastery where Saint Seraphim of Sarov had lived. He said the nuns there spoke of “Father Seraphim” in the present tense—as though he was still there with them—and he was. He is. Shortage of food? Just ask Father Seraphim. Personal problems? Just talk with Father Seraphim.

And then Father John made the comparison to our own patron, the Holy Apostle John, and what our relationship with him should be like. Do we live our lives as though he were here with us? In times of suffering, of need, of crises, do we turn—as naturally as the nuns at Diveyevo Convent did with Saint Seraphim—to Saint John for help? To the one who leaned on Jesus’ breast? The one known as “the beloved”? The one whose best advice was always, “Little children, love one another”?

If we believe the truths of the Church about eternal life (and really, why are we going through the motions if we don’t?) and the communion of the saints, why don’t we have a vibrant relationship with the saints for whom we name our churches, our children, ourselves. How often during the day, the week, the year, our entire life, do we actually talk with our patron saints? Our guardian angels? Oh, there are set prayers to each of these that pious Christians might pray with their daily prayers (and I do this very haphazardly, I confess) but in the midst of a battle with depression, a temptation to eat or drink too much, a sadness over a friend or family member’s misfortune, physical pain or illness, how often do I say, “Holy Mother Mary (of Egypt, my patron), help me” or “help my friend” or “help my marriage” or “Holy Saint John help our Church” or “give wisdom to our pastor, your spiritual son and namesake”? And in times of relative peace and happiness, how often do we say, “thank you for being with us, for this beautiful day, for my safe travels (which I actually thought to say yesterday, returning from a road trip), for my children’s good health, for the repair of the broken computer, for the recovery of the lost item”?

All this to say that if we are going to take our religion seriously (and if not, why bother?) it seems we must pursue these relationships with the most important people in our spiritual world—the saints. And of course the natural “next step” would be to have that ongoing conversation and relationship with the Mother of God. And with God, Himself.

As I enter into the writing of a novel—and one which includes much about the life of my patron saint—I hope I will not attempt this work without continually asking for her help. And I hope that in the process I will get to know her better, so that some day, when I meet her in Heaven, she will not seem like a stranger to me, but a friend and companion from my everyday life on earth. And also so that my writing will be true, and possibly even beautiful.

Holy Mother Mary, help me to love God as you do. Help me in my work, in my writing, in my marriage, in my family relationships, in my friendships, in my struggle with food and drink and all things earthly that weigh me down. You know I do not have faith. I do not love God. Sometimes I don’t even believe in Him. Help my unbelief, and beseech God to give me faith, energized by love.

Guilt-Free Mother's Day?

Southern women are born with it. We feel responsible for everyone. For everything. Maybe all women feel this way to an extent, especially mothers, daughters, wives.


Mother’s Day is this Sunday. My 82-year-old mother has Alzheimer’s and is confined to a wheelchair in a nursing home 200 miles away. The home is having a Mother’s Day Tea Sunday afternoon. But I was planning on visiting Mom on Tuesday. It just fits better with my schedule. And she won’t really know what Mother’s Day is anyway. And there will be refreshments and lots of children at the nursing home on Sunday to brighten her day, so really it’s better than I’m going on Tuesday when things are quieter and she’ll appreciate my visit more. I’ve mailed her a card and bought her a new blouse, which I’ll take to her on Tuesday, along with some cookies from McAllister’s Deli. So why do I still feel guilty for not visiting her ON Mother’s Day? Why have I felt, my entire life, that nothing I do is enough?

And now the city of Nashville is flooded (as well as parts of Memphis) and people are suffering immeasurably and what am I doing about it? Okay, we’ve contributed some money, but I’m not out there volunteering my time to help. Instead, I’m here, comfortable in my dry, air-conditioned home, writing, cooking steaks out (last night) and even going for a massage this afternoon. But what, really, are arthritis and fibromyalgia compared to the loss of homes, cars, and even lives? (By the way, this tragedy has been unjustly ignored by the media. Here’s a good video that shows more of the story.)

Next Friday we’re going to Knoxville for our daughter’s graduation (Master’s of Architecture) at UT, and then we’re taking family and friends to Seagrove Beach, Florida, to celebrate for a week. My mind is concerned with the safety of the interstate at we travel around Nashville en route to Knoxville, and about the quality of the water at the beach following the oil spill. Will there still be an abundance of fresh seafood? And again, I feel guilty for even having these concerns in light of the tragic impact of the flooding and the oil spill on the lives of so many. We’re looking forward to having our son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter fly over from Denver to join us, as well as our future son-in-law and our daughter’s two best friends from college. It will be a special, important time for our family. And yet, I keep thinking about how the money could have been spent to help the flood victims. I remind myself that Jesus said, “the poor you always have with you, but me you do not always have.” A difficult passage.

I remember back in September of 1998, when my 20-year-old Goddaughter, Mary Allison, was killed by a drunk driver, one week before one of her dear friends was to be married. Mindy, the bride-to-be, (and a sweet Southern woman) talked about how guilty she felt, celebrating her wedding day while everyone was grieving Mary Allison’s death. But isn’t life like that? Won’t there always be tragedy and joy, juxtaposed against each other throughout our lives?

How are you spending Mother’s Day weekend? Are you volunteering your time to help the flood victims, like these friends of Kathy Rhodes, my writer-friend in Franklin? Are you sacrificing money you’d like to have spent on pleasure, or choosing to celebrate your children’s graduations, weddings, births, and other joyous milestones of life this weekend?

Are you visiting your mother, or sending her a card or taking time to call her on the phone? May we all find peace in knowing that we are doing what we can, and no, it’s never “enough,” but it is what it is. And life goes on. So, Happy (Guilt-Free?) Mother's Day to all mothers, and congratulations to the graduates and brides and grooms, like Caitlyn and Brandon Maas (in the photo) who are honeymooning in Savannah! Many Years!

Triple Threat: Times Square, Memphis, Gulf Coast

Rarely is my family impacted so directly by diverse world events the way it is today:

Flooding in Tennessee: We left Memphis on Friday, and Saturday tornadoes, winds and rain threatened the state and our city, with resulting flooding, loss of life and homes. Thankfully our home in midtown is safe, as are most of our friends' homes. I almost felt guilty arriving in New York City to beautiful, sunny weather. Safe and sound here, right? And then...


CAR BOMB IN TIME SQUARE: Last night as we were walking to dinner with another couple, we walked just a couple of blocks past the spot where the car bomb had just been discovered on Times Square. We didn't know what was happening as we enjoyed dinner at Nougatine in one of Donald Trump's buildings, on Central Park. We assumed the crowds we saw, and even the flashing blue lights, were just business (and entertainment) as usual. Back in our hotel room around 10:30 we saw the news and drew breaths of relief and said prayers of thanksgiving that the bomb didn't completely detonate and we were safe. We were also thankful that we weren't staying in a hotel on Times Square this year, since the guests were evacuated for 10 hours while we slept comfortably in our room a few blocks away. But I wonder how far-reaching the damage from that bomb would have reached? In the meanwhile, I had been looking forward to our beach vacation (in 13 days) when the next event happened:


OIL LEAK ON GULF COAST: Yes, we've had a beach house rented for months at Seagrove Beach, where we plan to celebrate our daughter's graduation (Master's) from the UT College of Architecture. We've been excited to have our son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter fly down from Denver for the event, as well as our future son-in-law, and Beth's two best friends from college. And now we wonder how the oil leak will impact our vacation. Will the water be icky? Will there still be fresh seafood available? And then I feel almost selfish even having these thoughts, since the tragedy will impact the lives of fishermen, shrimpers, and the hospitality industry (and beyond) all over the coast. We don't plan to cancel our plans, not only because the refund is non-refundable, but because we want to support the hospitality industry there. We're just hoping for some clear water and fresh fish, and mainly a great time together with our family.

So, today, I've spent the morning in my hotel room, reading, watching the news, and posting on Facebook... slower to get back "out there" after these events. I had a great afternoon Friday... riding a rental bike through Central Park for two hours (yes!)... and yesterday, I took the subway to Washington Square and enjoyed walking, brunching, and shopping in the Village and Soho before catching the subway back to our hotel around 5 p.m. Today I'm wanting to stay closer to the hotel, where my husband is speaking at the 25th Annual Scientific Meetings of the American Society of Hypertension. But it's hard to be here and not get "out there." Hmmm... maybe I'll go for a walk up Madison Avenue and check out the latest fashions. Or just find a sidewalk cafe where I can read and write and watch the people. Whatever I do, I'll be thinking about and praying for friends and family impacted by the floods in Tennessee and the oil leak in the gulf... and the near miss of the car bomb a few blocks away here in New York City.

A Right to Fall

A few weeks ago I got a phone call from the head nurse on the wing of the nursing home where my mother lives in Jackson, Mississippi. She calls every time a significant change takes place, and sometimes just to let me know of a shift in procedures. This call was to tell me that the physical therapist had been working with mom again on her walking, in hopes that she wouldn’t have to be in a wheelchair all the time. (She’s been in a wheelchair since October of 2008, when she fell and broke her hip. Her Alzheimer’s prevented her from participating with physical therapy, so she hasn’t been able to walk on her own.) They were removing her “lap guard,” and trying her in a new chair, which not only fit her better and allowed her to navigate around the facility better, but it also did not have a lap guard. Instead, it had a seat belt, to “remind her” not to get up and try to walk alone. I was encouraged. For about 24 hours.

The next day they called to say it didn’t work. Mom quickly figured out how to undo the seatbelt, and would unhook it and try to walk on her own before anyone could prevent her from falling. So they had to put her back in a chair with a lap guard, because she can’t figure out how to get it off.

“Why don’t you just hook the seat belt behind her?” I asked, thinking she would be more comfortable in a smaller chair without the lap guard.

“Oh, we’re not allowed to restrain her in a way that she can’t get loose from,” the nurse told me. “She has a right to fall.”

A right to fall.

Okay, I understand that it takes away her freedom, her independence, her dignity, to be restrained, but I also understand that without some sort of restraint she will surely fall and break her hip again (or worse) and end up in the hospital. But somehow—legally, at least—being in a lap guard, which she could possibly figure out how to remove, isn’t actually being restrained.

When I visited Mom today, she didn’t mention the lap guard, as she sometimes does. Sometimes she points to it and says, “Is this yours?” or “What am I supposed to do with this?”

I always remind her it’s there to keep her from standing up and trying to walk by herself and falling and breaking her hip again. She doesn’t seem frustrated by it, thankfully. And they’ve ordered her a smaller, more comfortable wheelchair with a smaller lap guard, so she should at least be more comfortable.

So, I got to thinking about the legal phrase the nurse used: “She has a right to fall.” And I started wondering how and if it would be wrong to take that right from her, the same way we don’t let an infant or a small child have full “rights” because they would get hurt. In fact, there are laws about children being in car seats, so they don’t have a “right” to be unrestrained in a car. And adults don’t have that right either, in states that have seat belt laws.

So today I imagined myself, fifteen or twenty years from now, possibly in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s. On the one hand, I would want my “freedom” for as long as possible, and depending on my mental state, being “trapped” in a wheel chair with a lap guard might seem awful to me. But I also hope that measures will be taken to prevent me from the pain of falling and breaking something and having to be hospitalized as a result.

I guess freedom comes with risk, and protection comes at a cost.

Stretch That Seven Seconds

Seven Seconds. Evidently that’s how long the brain can focus on one thing before it wanders—how long a person can stay “in the moment.” At least that’s what Lee Woodruff said in her talk, “Role of the Caregiver,” during the 2010 VA Research Forum in Washington, DC, this past Thursday.

I was there with my husband, Dr. William Cushman, who received the John Blair Barnwell Award for outstanding achievement in clinical research and gave a talk on the “Compa

rative Effectiveness of Research and Hypertension.” The day (April 22) was too full for me to adequately capture in one blog post, so I’ll just hit on one or two “moments”. Of course I want to congratulate my husband! Here he is, flanked by the presenters, Dr. Robert Petzel, Under

Secretary For Health, and Dr. Joel Kupersmith, Chief Research and Development Office.

The keynote talks and panels covered everything from rehabilitation and Gulf War Research to neurological function, genomic research, ALS, diabetes, schizophren

ia, bipolar disorder and Alzheimer’s Disease. Presenters included physicians, veterans, and family members, and each one brought a different dynamic to the day. I wasn’t bored for a minute.

And now back to Lee Woodruff. She talked about the importance of learning to be in each moment, because your life can change, as her first book is titled, “In An Instant.” It was a New York Times Bestseller, co-written with her husband, ABC News Anchor, Bob Woodruff, who was injured while embedded with the military in Iraq in January of 2006. He suffered a traumatic brain injury that nearly killed him. In an Instant is the account of how the Woodruffs put their lives—their marriage and their family—back together again. Since then the Woodruffs have become involved in helping wounded service members and their families get the care they need.

Lee has written a second book, Perfectly Imperfect: A Life in Progress. It’s a collection of short essays, a quick and light read that touches on things most of us can relate to. It was fun meeting Lee and getting her to sign my books after the research day awards and talks were done. I’m going to remember her encouragement to all of us to learn to “stretch that seven seconds” and be in the moment with the people we love, even if it means leaving dirty dishes in the sink.

As a side note, I loved being in DC, even with clouds and rain half the time we were there. We were able to carve out a few hours to walk the sidewalks in the Dupont Circle area, browse the shelves at Kramer Books on Wednesday, where we also enjoyed a terrific lunch at Afterwords Café and Grill. Thursday afternoon we walked back to the Dupont Circle area for pomegrante margaritas on the patio at Circa, people-watching and a little reading. (Okay, I did a little reading, and made a few notes for my novel-in-progress. My hubby did whatever he does with his Blackberry while I was reading and writing:-)

Thursday night we met our dear friends (and former Memphians) Drs. Joe and Gale Frances for dinner, and caught up on old times. Joe and Gale both worked at the VA in Memphis when they lived here, and Gale was a member at St. John Orthodox Church with us.

Gale and I also participated in two icon workshops together a few years back, including one that was held at St. Nicholas Orthodox Cathedral in DC. It’s been ten years since they left Memphis, and I had only seen Gale twice during those ten years, so we definitely tried to “stretch our seven seconds” together on Thursday night. I fell in love with the city on this visit, so I’m sure I’ll be seeing them again before long!

The Veteran Panel on Thursday was moderated by Nashville country music artist, Stephen Cochran. Stephen’s back was broken in six places by a bomb in Afghanistan (and was paralyzed from the waist down) when he was deployed as a Marine. He credits VA research and health care with getting him up and walking again. With his band, “The New Country Outlaws,” he created a DVD, “Turning Hope Into Reality,” which was shown during the meeting. Stephen also received an award during the event, for his work on behalf of veterans.

It was fun to meet the guys in the band during lunch following the ceremonies. I hope to get to Nashville to hear them some time. They’ll be performing at the CMA Fest in Nashville in June, in case anyone plans to go.

There were many more outstanding people, including Purple Heart recipient, Charles Eggleston (read his story here) and his wife, Pamela, who is now Director of Development for Blue Star Families. I had a great time visiting with Pamela during lunch.

I also met, briefly, the daughter of a Vet with Alzheimers (who spoke on caregiving) and several brilliant scientists who are doing the research to help better their lives and ours. I don’t have time to write about all of them, but I’m thankful that they were honored in our nation’s capitol, and I’m excited about the work they continue to do which will benefit all of us. They truly are turning hope into reality.

Here are a few "parting shots" from our two days in Washington.