Cuss Time

Today was the next-to-last day of my beach writing retreat, and I did lots of writing, so... I won't spend much time on this post. Instead, I'll give you a link to a really good essay, "Cuss Time," by Jill McCorkle. It was selected for Best American Essays for 2009. Several things struck me about the essay... not only the author's honest and innovative parenting approach, but also her freedom cry:

"By limiting freedom of expression, we take away thoughts and ideas before they have the opportunity to hatch."

McCorkle is a proponent of writing that gives "a realistic portrait of human nature" and the freedom to use words that are needed to paint that portrait. Enjoy the essay. Click here.

For those who read yesterday's post, here's an update on my mom: I talked with the nurse on her wing at the nursing home today, and she said Mom "took her morning meds without being combative" and doesn't seem to be in any pain from her fall yesterday. And ... she doesn't remember what happened. No memory of the 6 hours she spent in the emergency room either.

The mixed blessings of dementia.

Early this evening I drove down to Orange Beach (10 minutes from Gulf Shores) for some fresh crabmeat and shrimp at Louisiana Lagniappe, and enjoyed sunset on the docks of the San Roc Cay Marina.

This is my favorite photo at the bay.

I'm headed to bed early... tomorrow is my last day here at the beach and I want to get an early start writing...

... here!

Unforseen Events

Remember the words from my Morning Prayer that I shared on Tuesday?

“Teach me to treat all that comes to me throughout the day with peace of soul, and with firm conviction that Thy will governs all.”

So, how come my first response when I got the call this afternoon from Jackson that my mother had fallen in the dining room at her nursing home (300 miles away) and was in the emergency room at the hospital wasn’t peaceful? How come my first thoughts weren’t, “Thy will governs all”?

It was such dejavú—from the last time I was at the beach, in October. I had driven to Seagrove with my husband for his recovery from surgery when I got the call that Mom had fallen the first time, which resulted in 2 surgeries, rehab and finally a permanent move to the nursing home.

The call came after a morning of writing today before heading down to the beach to relax for a while. I had just gone for a walk and had settled down to work on editing my morning’s work when my cell phone rang.

So, I spent the next 6 hours communicating (or waiting for a call to be returned) with the people at the emergency room and the nursing home, angsting over whether or not I needed to hop in the car and drive to Jackson. To make a long story (that doesn’t cast the emergency room folks in a good light) short, the good news is Mom didn’t re-break her hip, and she’s back at the nursing home with only a small cut on her head. I’ll see her Saturday on my way back to Memphis, but it’s hard not to feel like a bad daughter for not being with her at the emergency room today. I’m thankful for a good friend who told me I’m a Good Daughter. If you’re new to my blog, you can catch up on my long-distance care-giving episodes here.

Meanwhile back at the beach, I enjoyed meeting Phil and Karla Hardin from Jackson (Mississippi) yesterday, and today Phil and I had a great visit about writing and other stuff. Phil moved to Clinton, Mississippi, from Pennsyvania to attend Reformed Theoogical Seminary. He and Karla still live in Clinton, where they have a counseling business, Passionate Living Counseling.

Turns out their daughter, Abigail, a student at Alabama, has a children’s book coming out, Look At Me, I Am Just Like You, which she is signing next Friday, March 27, at Lemuria Books in Jackson. Small world, the beach. And Mississippi.

A couple of parting shots… caught this surfer just before he wiped out a few minutes before sunset...

… which was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as this one, last night on the canal by Lulu’s, where I went to take in some local music.

I’m staying in tonight. Recovering from an afternoon of trying not to worry about Mom… and thinking about another part of my Morning Prayer:

“In unforeseen events, let me not forget that all are sent by Thee.”

Maybe tomorrow I’ll do a better job of remembering.

Saint Patrick, Morning Prayers and Writing at the Beach

Woke at 7:30 this morning to the sound of the waves hitting the beach… the sun had only barely begun to burn away yesterday’s cloud and rain, so I made a pot of coffee, said my Morning Prayers. and got to work, here, in my little beach condo writing space.

My Morning Prayer is a historic Orthodox Prayer, attributed to Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow. I printed off a copy and placed it beside a copy of a detail of the icon, “Extreme Humility,” in my makeshift icon corner.

O Lord,grant that I may meet the coming day in peace.

Help me in all thingsto rely upon Thy Holy Will.

In every hour of the day,reveal Thy will to me.

Bless my dealings with all who surround me.

Teach me to treat all that comes to methroughout the day with peace of soul,and with the firm conviction that Thy will governs all.

In all my deeds and words,guide my thoughts and feelings.In unforeseen events, let me not forgetthat all are sent by Thee.

Teach me to act firmly and wisely,without embittering and embarrassing others.

Give me the strength to bear the fatigueof the coming day with all that it shall bring.

Direct my will. Teach me to pray.

Pray Thou Thyself in me. Amen.

I didn’t immediately think about it being Saint Patrick’s Day. Somehow the beach with its own subculture (especially during Spring Break week) feels far removed from the calendar of the Church. But it’s not. Because the Kingdom of Heaven is within. We take it with us wherever we go.
So now, having written seven pages in four hours (writing can often be slow and laborious, other times swift and easy) I’m going to take a break and head down to the beach to walk, read, and edit.

This photo from my balcony shows that I won't be alone… people, gulls, kites, boats, umbrellas, sand castles…. bring it on! I’ll be back tomorrow.

By the way, I found the pictures I thought I had lost when posting yesterday, so I added them to Monday’s blog post, below. Check them out!

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

Pee in the Wind

I drove to Jackson yesterday to visit my mother, and also my niece, Aubrey and her husband, Tommy. Last night the three of us went to Mint Restaurant in Ridgeland, Mississippi. I’d been there once before, for lunch, with my dear friend, Sissy, whose daughter, Wisdom, works there. It all sounds so Southern doesn’t it? And it is, with a twist. Read a review here, and see pictures of owners Patrick and Mary Kellly, and chef David Ferris. It’s an amazing place. (They also own Juleps, another of my favorite places in Jackson, Mississippi.)

When you walk in, you feel like you’ve been transported to a brothel in the French Quarter, with the red velvet brocade wallpaper and chandelier and all. And then there’s this amazing picture of Mary (yes, the proprietor) just above the booth in the bar, where we ate. She's dressed in period clothing. Then the picture is printed on canvas and texture is added. Well done.

I had the “two for one special”—two blood orange martinis for the price of one. Yummy! And She Crab soup and a salad.

I’m so excited because Aubrey is going to participate in the Yoknapatawpha Writers Workshop with me in June (at Ole Miss.) She’s a lawyer, and teaches (legal) writing and has plenty of experience writing legal stuff. But this will be her foray into creative writing.

I spent the night with Aubrey and Tommy in Jackson last night, and this morning I found the craziest coffee mug in their pantry. Of course I had to have my morning coffee in it. Here it is. Don’t you love the inscription? It reminds me of my current mission—continuing to draft my memoir, which sometimes feels like staring down the barrel of a gun… or peeing in the wind.

Go for it! So… here I am (again) at the beach… this time in Gulf Shores, Alabama. For five days of solitude so I can write. The condo where I’m staying (3rd time, so it feels like home) is next to land that belongs to a state park, so it’s kind of isolated, which is nice.

When I arrived this afternoon around 4:30 or so, it was raining. But by 6 pm the rain had stopped, so I ventured out for a walk. Sunset was kind of subdued. The rest of the week is supposed to be sunny, so stay tuned for better pictures in a couple of days. But not a lot of text. I’m going to concentrate my efforts on the memoir and a couple of essays with April deadlines. A writer’s retreat. It’s close to midnight, and I can hear the waves lapping the beach outside my condo balcony, and I can also see tons of stars, which aren’t so visible from midtown Memphis. I am blessed. Good night, moon. (More pictures of Gulf Shores, from my last visit in May, 2008 are here.)

Twitterers are NOT Twits!

A writing buddy of mine recently sent me this email teasing me about being on Twitter:

“Su, is it true only twits use Twitter?”

So, my dear anonymous (because I love you) friend, let me introduce you to a few of my followers (and I’m following them) on Twitter—most of them are published writers. One is a leading publisher. Some of them are spiritual. All of them are creative. I’ve only been Twittering since March 21—you can read my post about why I chose Twitter over Facebook here.
I’ve got quite a few more Twitter friends, but here are some of my favorites, in alphabetical order, so as not to show preference. Click on their names to go to their blogs or websites. I don't think you'll find a twit in the group. Not. One.

Kathleen Foucart

Connie May Fowler oh, and there's a great article about Connie here:.

Gail Hyatt

Michael Hyatt

Johnny Ray

River Jordan

Trish Lawrence

Gary Nelson

Deborah Oakland

Lisa Romeo

Daniel Root (come on, Daniel, don't you have a better photo than that, you being a photographer and artist and all? WARNING: Daniel's blog is high-tech-ish!)

Shellie Tomlinson

Another way I’ve met some great folks is by clicking on their links when they comment on the same blogs where I leave comments. Two recent ones of note:

Tim Elhajj and I both left comments on the Creative Nonfiction blog and we started emailing after that.

Kim Richardson and I found each other when we both posted comments recently on Michael Hyatt’s blog. We’ve been emailing since then, and I’m anxiously awaiting her first book, The Unbreakable Child, which is coming out in April. (I’ve pre-ordered it from my local independent bookseller, Burke’s Books, here in Memphis.)

So… Twittering and commenting on blogs is a great way to network with quality folks, like these new friends, who are most definitely not twits! Curious? Come follow me on Twitter!

Prayer for the Unity of the Church

Great Lent is a time of repentance and spiritual struggle. Usually that struggle, for me, comes mainly from my own sinful fleshly passions, and I’ve got plenty to contend with. Saint Ephraim the Syrian nails a few of them, and teaches us to ask God to “take from me the spirit of sloth, meddling, lust for power and idle talk.” As we said this prayer and did prostrations with it during the Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts at Saint John last night, I found myself strengthened, but my mind also wandered to troubling thoughts.

This Lent brings additional difficulties, not only from my own sinfulness, but from some recent struggles within my Church—not my local parish, but the Antiochian Archdiocese at large. A heavy sadness fell over me when our pastor recently read this letter from Metropolitan PHLIIP concerning the decisions made by the Holy Synod of Antioch on February 24.

The Prayer of Saint Ephraim of Syria also says, “Lord, grant me to see my own sins and not to judge my brother.” This post is not written in a spirit of judgment, but as a call to prayer, especially to my fellow Orthodox Christians. I feel helpless in light of these struggles on the archdiocese level, but I have found comfort in the following prayer, which Father Nicholas, our Assistant Pastor, shared with us a few weeks ago during one of his Wednesday night teachings. I’ve been trying to include the prayer in my daily morning or evening prayers. Please join me, and forgive me, a sinner.

(Click on the prayer to see an enlarged image, or to download it to save or print for your own use.)

40 Years Ago Today

I just found a letter I wrote to my grandmother in Meridian, Mississippi, on March 11, 1969--forty years ago today. I have a box full of letters I wrote to Mamaw, from the time I was about five years old until years into my marriage, actually. She was a "safe place" to go with my stuff, so I told her about my first kiss and other such intimate things, but also about the fights going on in our home and how I wished my brother would change and my mother would quit yelling at him and most of all that my father would step up and take care of it all. She was such a dear woman. She made most of my clothes until I was in high school. Here's the outside of the letter--can you believe it only cost 6 cents to mail a letter in 1969?

I had just turned 18. It was my senior year in high school, and I was headed up to Ole Miss during spring break, to visit my boyfriend, to whom I am now married. I love this part of the letter:

"Wednesday night is our Twirp dance, but I'm staying home to type my term paper (English) so I can go up to see Bill the next day."

Preview of coming attractions?

Speaking of 40 years ago, I got a birthday card from a friend I haven't seen in almost 40 years... she was matron of honor in my wedding in June of 1970! Kathy and I graduated from Murrah High School together in 1969, and a year later, she beat me to the altar by one week. We were in eachother's weddings in June of 1969.

Here she is, helping me with the garter that Bill would throw to the groomsmen.

And here she is, in the photo she sent with my birthday card this week, with her husband and their six grandchildren!

Can't wait to see Kathy at our 40th high school reunion in Jackson this summer. Actually, I have a feeling I'll see her before then....

A Glimmer of Hope

Like thousands of other Americans, our son Jason is out of work right now. Well, he’s actually working part time at a fast-foods place and going on job interviews. I’m so proud of him for stepping up and doing everything he can for his new family. His wife, See, is pregnant, due in July. This is See and Jason just outside Denver last May, when I flew out to meet her just before they were married.

So last week Jason wrote a poem and posted it on his blog, Spattered Words and Forgotten Meanings. I’d like to share it with my readers today, and ask your prayers for his continued job search. I’ve got two close friends who have been without work for a while and recently got new jobs, but there are countless others still looking. So, this is for you:

A Glimmer of Hope
By Jason Cushman

A cacophony of thoughts cascading into a mural of shimmering imagery.

Brings a sudden tear within a tear, gushing forth the life water of the human soul.

A trumpet plays, carrying the idea of hope amongst its angelic tone.

The gleeful shouts of children dancing in the midst of the happiness of Hope.

He looks down from above. A wave of his hand dispels the clouds of worry and vanishes the dust of anger.

A boy glances up in awe. He sees the heavens part and knows that he is seeing the coming of truth.

Darkness comes, from the earth, the sea, and the sky it carries the chill of death and despair.

The boy vanishes with the winds of time and time’s gentle sand becomes as hard as a rock.

An eagle soars with courage and strength. His wings pierce the tornado of hate before him.

The Evil one glares. He stretches forth his hand and lightning shoots with a bang.

And as the eagle falls lifeless from the sky, the clouds close from view the heavens once more.

The trumpets turn to drums, and they beat a muffled somber sound.

People roam the street aimlessly searching for the Why and the How.

Above the Man's attention is elsewhere, but still he hums idly to himself as life goes on.

Orthodox Christians sometimes pray to Saint Xenia for help getting employment. Her story is pretty amazing. You can read it here I've got her icon (similar to this one) in my prayer corner, and I've been praying to her with my morning prayers lately:

Holy Saint Xenia, please intercede with Christ, Our Lord, and bless my son, Jason, and others searching for jobs today.

Here’s the Troparion to St. Xenia:

Having renounced the vanity of the earthly world,

Thou didst take up the cross of a homeless life of wandering;

Thou didst not fear grief, privation, nor the mockery of men,

And didst know the love of Christ.

Now taking sweet delight of this love in heaven,

O Xenia, the blessed and divinely wise,

Pray for the salvation of our souls.

Big Bad Birthday

Today’s my birthday, and my sweet husband and I just got home from a delightful birthday trip. My best friend, Daphne, came over from Little Rock early Saturday morning, and the three of us drove down to Oxford (Mississippi) for a fun-filled 24-hour celebration. (Well, 19 hours of fun, 5 hours of sleep.) First we unloaded the car at the condo we had rented for the night (a lovely place five minutes from the square, with great interior design, including original paintings by local artists) and then we headed down to the square to begin the birthday marathon. We started at Square Books (where Daphne stealthily bought my birthday gift, which she saved for a surprise at lunch today—Flannery: A Life of Flannery O’Connor—a new biography by Brad Gooch which was reviewed in the New York Times last Sunday, and at Salon.com today. Can’t wait to get started on it! Don’t you love the jacket design?

After cappuccinos on the balcony at Square Books, we said goodbye to hubby for the rest of the afternoon. (He headed back to the condo to go for a five-mile run through the campus, shower and join us later for supper and the rest of the festivities.) Daphne and I shopped at some of the cute little boutiques around the square for a while . . .

. . . and then headed up to the balcony at City Grocery, where we met up with the other birthday girl, Michelle (journalism student at Ole Miss and member of Yoknapatawpha Writers Group) and another writing group buddy, Doug.

Hubby caught up with us at Ajax for supper around 7 p.m. Here we are waiting for our table… that's our new friend, Katie, on the far left. She's also a journalism student at Ole Miss.

Here's our table, (minus hubby, the picture-taker) waiting for our suppers… veggie plates, oyster poboys, and catfish. Yum! I didn’t take pictures at Proud Larrys’, where we headed next. The opening band was really really bad. I could say more, but bless their hearts, I guess they were trying. So finally the “real band” came on, and well, we gave them until after 11 p.m. to get better, since we had paid a cover to get in. Finally we walked around to the other side of the square and discovered some better music at Taylor Pub, but only caught the last 30 minute of the show. Katie Dintelman was really good, and we wished we had been there earlier. Just as we were leaving, we noticed a ruckus outside, and met up with another birthday girl. She was turning 21. I have to say I'm fine that my friends didn't make a birthday sign for me to wear around town last night. Just saying.

So here are the 3 birthday girls, at ages 21, 28 and 58. I'll just leave it at that.

Back at our condo, Daphne, hubby and I stayed up until 3:30 a.m… enjoying more music, laughter, conversation and a good bottle of wine (Kim Crawford Savignon Blanc) that was another birthday gift.




Birthday morning brought another special treat—coffee and mimosas on the porch at the home of writer Jere Hoar. Daphne and I had lunch with Jere about a month ago at the Downtown Grill and when he heard we were coming to town for my birthday, he was so gracious to invite us for coffee on his porch this morning. (We met Jere the first time in June of 2008, at the 2008 Yoknapatawpha Writers Workshop, where he was on faculty.)

We were greeted at the gate by Daisy, a Llewellin English setter who was gentle and friendly. Here she is later, relaxing amongst the daffodils.

And here’s Brutus, Jere’s pit bull, who was tied up when we arrived, but once he got used to us, Jere untied him and let him roam free while we visited on the porch.

The breeze and sunshine (a perfect 75 degrees) were perfect compliments to our mimosas and conversation on the porch. It was really fun for me to have my husband enter into my writing world a little more, as we talked shop with Jere.

I’m taking notes here, writing down the titles of books of essays and letters by authors he recommended I read to inform my own essay writing:

Growing Up by Russell Baker
Essays of E.B. White
A New Generation of Essays by James M. Salem
Heart’s Desire by Edward Hoagland
The Old Man and Lesser Mortals by Larry L. King
Southern Legacy by Hodding Carter (that’s the one I want to get first, since it talks about some of the issues I’m addressing in the essay I’m currently working on to submit to the 2009 Southern Women Writers Conference. (The theme is “Many Souths: Remembering, Sustaining, Creating.”)

It was hard to say goodbye to Jere, who is the very definition of a Southern gentleman and also a brilliant writer. He’s so generous with his time and words of encouragement and instruction to fledgling writers like me. What a treat! I enjoyed sketching and painting this entry for my watercolor journal, which is a feeble attempt at capturing the magic of our morning with Jere, but still a treasured image.

Our final leg of the celebration was a late breakfast at Big Bad Breakfast, where I’ve eaten a couple of times before with writing group buddies. Back home in Memphis I find more birthday surprises waiting for me on my own front porch, and I assemble my goodies into an artful arrangement and just look at them and bask in the love that’s behind each of them, the way I used to do with my Christmas gifts when I was growing up. Golden roses, a good book, a gift certificate to a bookstore, a bookmark, a bottle of wine, a cheerful cup and saucer from an antique store, an artsy candlestick and candle, and cards that bring joy to my heart. I am blessed. And now for a quiet evening at home, reading. Life is good.