Category: Compassion

A beautiful spirit my friend, Bonny McGowan passed on Saturday, August 5th, 2017, and I wrote this for her little granddaughter, Saylor. I hope it will help you, too, understand why we love this amazing Bonny so much. Hold each other closer than ever. Life is so ephemeral and fragile and brief.

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“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.”
~Louis L’Amour

Dearest Saylor,

I know that you and I never got to know each other but I certainly know of you. And of course, I knew your amazing grandmother, Bonny. Not for as long as so many of your tribe knew her, but long enough to be transformed by the mystique and stunningly creative and beautiful spirit that she was—and will forever be. She was a wonderful friend.

Your beautiful mother and you carry your grandmother’s magic and infinite belief in the majesty and power and wisdom of the divine goddess. It never dies. It grows stronger when given the chance to fly its own unique course and traverse life’s currents on its own terms, in its own way. That was what your grandmother did. She was very much the “Birdy” your mother called her—alighting on the ordinary and instantly transforming it into extraordinary. She didn’t stroll, she practically flew into view, with her scarves and flowy skirts or tight jeans and wild blonde hair and dangly jewelry—gemstones and silver, just the right number of rings and bracelets that made you stop and take notice of her gypsy beauty and style. Her cowboy boots and tango heels. Her passion for music and dance and art and crystals and candles and costumes and Burning Man magic and gardens of flowers and the Bird and Crow that she fed and adored and that great hearty laughter of hers under the moonlight with the best of friends and fighting for the underdog and everyone that needed a lift, a wing to be tucked under, a voice to be heard when they got lost in the crowd. Your grandmother was all that and more.

She was a warrior. An activist. A total original, Bonny was classy and a total head-turner, she reminded me of Cheryl Crow with her sassy sexy quality. Strong-willed and astoundingly creative. And organized in a way that she was able to balance structure and symmetry with design and imagining artistry way outside of the box.

Continue reading “Bonny M”

This morning we watched CBS Morning like we always try and do most Sunday mornings and this one really got to me. It was the segment about those Trump supporters in West Virginia –at one time mostly Democrats but now die hard “Trumpsters.” I could feel my ire starting to boil over and my judgement chip rarin’ to go becoming as vile in my thoughts as I have felt this “other” faction to be. And then I listened to them. And I watched them. And I looked at their lives and their frustrations and their pain and fear.

They have been ignored by everyone. Left out to struggle on their own—once productive, mostly coal miners and their families, they’re now living in a nearly boarded-up world of no money, no jobs, considered the lower-not-the-middle class. They’re falling into a quagmire of physical, emotional and financial quicksand and no one has offered to pull them out. No one was listening to their pain to make what has been so un-great, great again. So is it no wonder that they look at Trump as the only promise of change they have? What tremendous anger and sorrow and futility and fear they must to have in order for an unfathomable Donald Trump (!) to be considered their Rescuer?

Continue reading “Why I Share Responsibility in this Upside-Down World…”

“Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.” ~ Robert Frost

A few days ago, Pete and I headed for a Broadway musical playing in downtown San Diego—If/Then, starring Tony-award-winning Idina Menzel (Wicked, Rent, Frozen, Glee). I was so excited I could barely contain myself.

But as we slogged through the rainy streets towards our gleaming, sparkling theatrical goal, noting all the duded up patrons ahead of us and the warm, shining lights glowing within I couldn’t help but notice the other “patrons.” Those wandering nomads of the streets; most of them hidden under soggy tarps and trash bags, hunkered beneath awnings and tucked into doorways, pushing piles of refuse packed into rusty shopping carts. The homeless. So many of them. I could hear some of their whispers to each other as we passed by. My heart ached. Oh the line. The line is so fine between them and me.

I was instantly filled with equal parts of shame and gratitude. Sadness for them. Gladness that it wasn’t I caught in the rain but rather the I who was heading to a far more privileged path. Lucky me. Unlucky them. How fair was that? I wondered. Why me? Why them? Is it all luck? Fate? Choice? A Cosmic Coin Toss?

And that is kind of the theme of that startlingly incredible musical, If/Then. How did we end up here? What would have happened if one path/person/career was chosen over the other? That’s what they ask over and over again. And then reinforce the themes of Love While You Can; No More Wasted Time; Always Starting Over; and then one of my favorites “What The F–?”

Continue reading “If/Then”

“Every instant of time is a pinprick of eternity. All things are insignificant, easily changed, vanishing away.”
Marcus Aurelius , 121-180, Roman emperor and philosopher

Life is so unpredictable. I must share with you a recent experience that holds on to my heart and won’t let go. I’m just so aware of how each minute see-saws into the next—high to low and then back again. Let me explain.

I had one of those extraordinary weekends surrounded by loved ones and a welcoming group of people who came to hear my talk about Otto Frank. The conversations afterwards with complete strangers soon morphed into heartfelt connections that seal us into warm embraces so quickly. I was rich—even heady—filled with the wealth of such acceptance.

And so the weekend unfolded as such. I was able to temporarily suspend my deep pain over the suffering of animals and people and wishing I could do more to right the wrong. For a tiny moment I was free. And then the unbelievable happened. Now at the airport, while Pete and I waited to embark on our plane there was an announcement. The voice said there would be a brief delay because of a ceremony that was about to take place on the tarmac below. We could all witness it from the windows. It was a Fallen Soldier being carried from his flag-draped casket off the plane to an awaiting military service of armed guards and naval officers lined up in a united salute.

I sat on the floor next to Pete surrounded by a large group of passengers. All so silent you could barely hear a sound. Until the tears began. As the casket was gently carried to the awaiting vehicle, a woman’s voice whispered, “God bless you. Thank you for your service.” We inhaled together and wiped our eyes. I knew that a young soldier, probably younger than my sons had been killed. In a blink. A moment. A shattered second that made the difference between laughter and tears. Hellos and goodbyes.

Continue reading “Fallen Soldier – A Moment to be Shared…”