Laundry Line Divine

I have sold a few things door to door in my lifetime. Girl Scout cookies won me a few awards and once drove my mother to near distraction when the 300 boxes I sold one fall arrived and I had lost the order form. I had a good memory of my customers, which allayed any fear that we would end up having to eat Thin Mints for the winter.

I also sold potholders, the cotton loopy kind, made on a metal frame that kills your fingertips but turns out sturdy blocks of colorful protection for your favorite cook. I made a bunch of them in 1966 because I had to. There was a book I wanted more than anything and so, I peddled my wares across the alleyway on Wolcott Avenue to the other apartment dwellers in Chicago and earned enough to buy my own ‘Red Letter Edition’ of the Bible, the St. James version. Having that, I could tell what exactly Jesus said because all those words were in red. Nice and clear.

I was a student at Bethesda Lutheran School, a small parochial school connected to a Lutheran church. I was born in to a very Lutheran family. Very, because my maternal Grandfather was a Lutheran minister in DeKalb, Illinois and my father had converted to Lutheranism when he married my Mom. My childhood was full of violets and lilies at Easter, hymns sung in German or English, riding in the back of my Grandfathers’ car with my Grandma sitting in front of me with her fox stole peering at me over her shoulder on the way to church.

Attending a small school on a quiet street was a sweet spot for a kid in Chicago. I was only there through fourth grade, so I did not form lasting relationships with any of my friends. Twenty five years ago, my sister Becky and I wandered over to Bethesda to find there had been a reunion of the grade schoolers, but we Banks girls could not be found to invite. I let that period of my life float off in to the coastal waters of memory, far from the active part of my life, which is full of people and activity.

Until last night. I was browsing Face book, being the social networking author that I am, commenting on friends’ posts and reading things. I like Face book. I use it for personal and professional purposes. I have met many really wonderful people there. Four years ago when Diana Finch, a literary agent, instructed me to ‘build my author platform’, I scowled at the idea of making a Face book page for Laundry Line Divine. Now, I quite enjoy sharing interesting articles there, hearing from my followers and dropping photos by like little love notes to the people I interact with there. I can surely see how one could get lost in the ether of Face book. But, for me, I pick and choose or, as in the case of last night, get picked and chosen.

There was a personal message from a Geri Miller. Now, I know all my Face book friends, but this name did not at first ring a bell. I did once, know a Geri Miller, but she had faded from my life like my other Bethesda Lutherans with her startling blue eyes and crazy hair.

But, in fact, it was this very Geri Miller, who had moved away from Bethesda the same year I did, 1968. Neither of us can explain exactly why this move happened in our families. My parents had an apartment close to Loyola University and that Christmas a rock was tossed through our living room window, purely by chance I believe, because we were not at all associated with any University students. I did sell a good deal of Girl Scout cookies from my red wagon at the campus center, now that I think of it, but I am sure no Thin Mint eater would toss a rock through a window.

No, this was my own Geri Miller. And she found me on Face book on Sunday night, but the story is way cooler than that.
Last summer, Geri was in Marquette, Michigan at a memorial gathering for a dear friend of hers who had died 2 years ago. Geri was sitting around a fire on the shores of Lake Superior with friends talking about the interesting people to emerge from the Upper Peninsula.

Her friends run an online business called www.MiUpperhand.com. While talking over wine and warmth, the group turned to talking about Lake Superior Spirit, who, you close readers will recognize as my dear Kathy Drue’s site.

Now, the Universe has been reminding me of how plentiful my life is. I have been lately very inspired by my work and the projects I am developing for Laundry Line Divine. The momentum I feel today is borne of hours and days of doodling, talking, meditating and living my stand as a woman of value. I am so very grateful for all the ways the Universe supports my family and me. My husband could write his own chapter on this topic, but that is his story, not mine. This gift, of all these paths crossing there by the waters of Gitchegumee, came unexpectedly.

So, there on the shores of Lake Superior, my friend from 4th grade, Geri, surrounded by her friends honoring Dr. Louise Bourgault clicks on to the web to Lake Superior Spiritand she sees my guest post. Geri is not sure she knows me then, she wonders if this could be the Suzi she knew from Chicago all those years ago. Days bring her back home in Minocqua, Wisconsin, where Geri’s Mom shows her our grade school photos and sure enough, Geri knows it is me.

So, for whatever reason, she writes to me this past Sunday. As we unravel the paths our families took and our own journeys as young women out in to the world, fueled by the Holy Ghost and assorted other things, we discovered that my own Dr. James Rapport, my theatre professor and life long friend, recruited this close college friend of Geri’s, the recently deceased Dr. Bourgault, to NMU. Daddy Bear, who himself passed away this past August, in Marquette. We discover that Geri had become friends with Dr. Rapport and his amazing wife Karlyn Rapport. We discover that though we had parted at the end of fourth grade at Bethesda Lutheran, we remained somehow tethered.

Geri went through high school with my second cousin.

This all may not seem so far fetched to you readers.
But, these people, Geri and my second cousin Sally, who I knew briefly through my Grandmother, and who I have not seen nor heard of in 40 or so years, we have not known each other as adults.

So, it seems that one of my life passions, connecting, happens without my own conscious intention. Through my development of my manifesto, of which that post on Lake Superior Spirit is an important element- because you must know where you are from in order to move forward with any viable and sparkling motion- that post last July found it’s way to my dear Geri, who, by virtue of Face book, found me.

Here she is.

Then, after we peed ourselves silly with the fact that she knows Daddy Bear, and went to school with my second cousin, I mention that I have long pined away for Linda Schmidt, with whom I formed a rock band in her basement with Laura Tucker. We sang a song I wrote called “Hey Mr. Mailman, Got a Letter from my Love?” Did I mention my life long love of all things postal? Geri connects me to Linda.

Now, Linda, Geri and I have been heating up the waves on Face book, laughing about the boys Geri punched out on the playground and how I used to upchuck fairly frequently and how Linda was terrified of our favorite teacher, who had a terrible accident with the new chin-up bar in our gym that year in fourth grade and my Mom had to be our substitute teacher. I still remember holding Mrs. Finzer’s purse for her in the bathroom as she wretched in pain. I loved her. She wore the coolest clothes and pointy sunglasses and I just loved her. I don’t know why.

I guess I love her now because she is part of what has kept me connected to Geri, who connected with my second cousin in Northern Wisconsin and then with my mentor, Daddy Bear, who connected with Marquette and then with Lake Superior Spirit and then, finally with me. As my Mom would say, ‘will wonders never cease?’

I think Geri looks exactly like the title character named Twig, from Elizabeth Orton Jones’ book. My kids loved this book and I always had a sense of familiarity with Twig as I read that story to them over and over again. The illustrations are just like the back alleys of Chicago where we spent our early childhoods, playing ‘Seven-Up’ and tag.

You just never know. Someone shows up, carrying the wonder of her own life and the people and places she has loved and they are so similar if not the same as mine.

I do bark at my son to get off of Face book. I will not sell much door to door anymore.
And, I will sew these memories around my heart because there is nothing casual about the way the Universe works. I am grateful for Geri penetrating the ether to find me. I am thrilled to see Linda’s smile again. I am impressed by how fast the three of us can stir up a little trouble posting about the kids we once knew, and may in fact, know again.

I hope this week of family and holiday, or no family and no holiday, but still a week in which gratitude can play a part, I hope this week is good for you. I hope you recognize the value of reaching out to someone you feel pulled towards. You can never imagine your good fortune at peering in to the face of someone as scalliwaggishly brilliant as Geri and getting to know her again. What a joy.

All my love to you my readers of Laundry Line Divine.
I am so thankful that you stop your day and read me here.
This story could so easily be yours.
There are people who’s lives you change ever single day, just by smiling like Linda does, all sparkly and wonderful.
Thank you for reading me.
Thank you for loving your life.
Happy Thanksgiving,
S

It is Easter Sunday night.
Before I tuck in, I wanted to stop here at the Laundry Line, just to make sure all was well before I turned off the light.

I noticed that I have had 600 comments, as of a few minutes ago.
Immediately, I knew it was time to write my V post about Verisimilitude in honor of all of you readers who bravely comment here on the Line.
You give me the honor, here in this web universe, of feeling real- like a location- a gathering place-your comments create a sense of concrete tangible something happening here at www.laundrylinedivine.com.

So, all 600 of you, I thank you for bestowing upon the Laundry Line this verisimilitude.

All is well here, as Miss Clavel used to proclaim as she turned out the lights on Madeleine and her French schoolmates.

With much love and gratitude to you each,
S

What about you? Will it take a crisis to inspire you to live an authentic life? Or are you doing it already? What inspires you to live more authentically? What impetus in your life has woken you up to the person you really are? Do you feel like you’re living your truth? Are you letting your freak flag fly? If not, what’s holding you back? What next steps could you take to being more YOU?

This writing prompt is from Lissa Rankin, MD and Sister Goddess Extraordinaire. Lissa’s blog Owning Pink is a great resource for women. And, we are both members of shewrites, a gathering place for women writers, where Lissa posed the questions you read above. What about you? Here is what I wrote. Bare naked truth.

Lissa, I love that you are asking this question just now. I read your blog on “Owning Pink” last night and fell asleep with the question of what I could ask for, what unspoken ache seeks fulfilling. Then, this morning, you appear here on shewrites to jog me another time. Thank you Sister for flying your flag so high above the chaos of mothering, work and holidays to be seen by me.

Gratitude to Owning Pink and shewrites.

I do both. Own Pink and write.

Yet, over and over again, I trip as if there are logs rolling in my path and I am not a born burler. Simple things like snow on the steps barring the way of the longed for mail man or laundry, which I love to do, pull me from my studio and all the sudden it is 5 pm and I have not taken a bath- which I started out to do at 9 am. I make lists, all very well intentioned, but, the pile that stands before me captures a few hours, then time to fetch kids, make dinner, wade through homework assistance and evening things, then, I am tired…but not tired enough to be on Facebook which led me to Owning Pink last night, which leads me here.
Right now.
And so, I guess, the next move is to gratitude because without all of that, I would not be here. Would I?

The person I really am is one who lives the lush life of a fortunate woman, whatever the conditions are- the woman I really am is happy. I am the generator of all those logs in my path- whether it is my overflowing knitting basket, emails for committees I will not sit on, phone calls, writing ideas on chits of paper strewn from apron pockets to my purse, art art art everywhere- in stages of creation, glue, sparkles and postcards just waiting for that mailman…. the work of a domestic woman, full time Mom and full time Artist- where each role shortens the hours for the other- I created this and I am grateful.

I could be without inspiration or passion.
I could be apathetic about the house, the kids, or our community.
I could be at a job where I am torn away from these rhythms, but I am not. I am here, at home, studio and kitchen, poised for the logs and the love.

My freak flag is the flag of a fortunate woman. I have chosen to be a stay at home Mom and in this role; I have unfurled the wonder of my artwork and writing. It started when I had small pockets of time to create, then spread in to everything I do. Gardening led to a backyard orchard led to preserving the harvest led to seed saving and being the volunteer garden teacher at my kids’ school.
Needlework led me to knitting and a circle I have met with weekly for 13 years and a web of community I could not otherwise have created. The journal writing I started at 14 has led me to a daily practice for 38 years and to my first book, a blog and dreams of much more. Sustaining and nurturing my inner world through yoga and relational work has led me to being a certified TriYoga teacher and a 3 time graduate of the School of the Womanly Arts and to The Seven Sacred Steps.Collaging begun in scrapbooks when I was 4 years old has led me to a passion for image and texture, a 4-year mail art collaboration and the beginnings of a career as an exhibiting artist and teacher of transformation through art.
Hunger to grow my marriage of 17 years has led to many, many wonderful days of adventure with my husband, in daily life and our morning check-ins to travels abroad alone or with the kids, swing dance classes, ice skating on black ice together in the winter wind and swimming in the Great Lakes. There are many facets of my life I have not mentioned here but I hope you see the pattern, like ripples on water, one thing leads to another and I choose to consider them blessings.

I am a fortunate woman. I have turned challenges in to gifts because of my appetite for joy. A terrifying prospect of uterine imbalance led to a hysterectomy that I called my Sacred Release. The weeks before the surgery were shifted from panic to celebration because I knew if I had to make it through, I had to lean in to the things that bring me joy- and the way through was gratitude. Same for my Mother’s dying, just 2 months gone now. Gratitude. My husband and I sat with her for her last breathes.
Gratitude. Sorrow, surely, but gratitude allowed us to celebrate her to her very last moment of life and fueled the days after as we gathered family to remember Mom.

So, in answer to your question Lissa, it is gratitude that has woken me up. The things I once thought hindered me, actually fuel me. I learned this practice first in Al-Anon, as I recovered my ability for healthy relationships with people who have alcohol issues. Then, at the School of the Womanly Arts, I learned to give thanks for every small and big thing and to party where I am. I make gratitude lists when I feel low or not enough. I write thank you notes, sincerely felt and carefully composed. I teach my kids to write them to, because I think it is important to acknowledge what we have been given. We say a grace of thanks before each meal, no matter how many eyes are rolling. We say thank you.

And, I suffer pangs of doubt, oceans of grief, tangles of sorrow that my book will never come in to being, that my kids will become slackers, or that my work will dissolve in to passing wind.

But, I go on. I am pulled by love. An insatiable appetite for beauty and joy pulls me forward. I am pulled on and out because I want to share my stories in hopes that someone else will find their candle lit and burning brightly.

Thank you for asking Lissa.
Love, Suzi

This may startle you a bit. I have been keeping a journal since I was 14. I am 51, about to be 52 in September. That means the heavy selves of spiral bound notebooks that take up a bit of real estate here in my studio contain pages and pages of my scratchy handwriting.

I began keeping a journal steadily in Mr. Dedic’s Junior English class. He was just one of the many fine teachers I had at Escanaba Area Public High School. I have the notebook right here. We wrote on Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoonriver Anthology, he allowed us to write ‘tho’ instead of ‘though’ and assigned us to make daily entries. That was all the impetus I needed. As a jumpstart for those early pages, I started keeping lists. I was years away from encountering Julia Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way” with her perspective on journal keeping.

I just plowed through several stacks of journals to find the page you see below. This list was written in the year of my 21st birthday. I was still working at Bay Cliff in the summer and in the heart of my years at Northern Michigan University, doing theatre, dance and working with kids doing both of those activities. Judging from what I wrote, I had a sense of the world ahead.

On the facing page to this journal entry are cellophane taped-in magazine pictures of fresh fruits, pasta with basil, kefir in clear pitchers and beautifully arranged vegetables. This particular notebook is full of stuff I stuck in-poems by friends, church bulletins, newspaper clippings, notes from my college boyfriend who I was madly and a bit sadly in love with at the time, photos and letters. I wrote lots of lists- food I’d like to try, places to go, music I’d like to hear, presents I’d love to have which included things like a diamond ring, new tennies, and to swim in a river. The “we” I allude to in this list must mean me and BZ, that boyfriend. Hmm. I have long lost him, but gained so many other gifts. There are many things I have accomplished in these 30 years.

Over at my pal Jennifer Gandin Le’s website, she posted her “Mighty Life List”. You will find her in my blogroll. Jennifer’s writing is what got me thinking about the miles and miles of lists I have kept. I am going to post a new “Mighty Life” list here on the Laundry Line. But before I do that, I want to take a moment to value and offer gratitude for what I have attained.

This is what jumps off the page today:

We- and here I mean me and my husband- have a hammock that swings under tall trees, namely a linden and an oak.
I have a sewing room that is also an ironing room, yarn storage and closet for winter clothing and Jonathan’s hanging clothes.
Just this year I bought a pair of Frye boots. Nice timing.
I live in New England and don’t really hanker after brown bread anymore.
I went to a mountain spa in Steamboat Springs this winter- Strawberry Hot Springs, which is heaven.
I have sat under and sketched many palm trees in many different locations.

There are many things I have done, but mainly, I brag I do have kids- I love many kids more than the 2 who call me Mom. We do own our own home and it has a big, clean kitchen, though I share it freely with the rest of my family!

My life is filled with so many blessings. Today most of all, a year after a tumultous health passage for me and just 2 days after a smaller but traumatic moment for Jonathan, I can say we are all blessed with good health. And the finest of friends all over the world. Looking at this list reminds me of all I have lived in these 30 years. Offering gratitude for this cornucopia of blessings, experiences, challenges and joy keeps me in touch with the Sacred with every breath. Thank you Goddess, I will take more.

As I write this I got a notification from Tammy McLeod’s blog “AgriGirl”- she is writing about journalling today too. You can link to her over in my blogroll.

Jennifer posted a photo of herself as a young girl as a reminder to be gentle on herself as she scribes her desires for the future. This is a photo of me from the month I wrote that list 30 years ago. Pretty hopeful bundle of hair I had there.

In light of all the earthly events making the news this week, of losses my friends are having like dear Martha Burkes dying on Wednesday, of Haiti, of all that oil…I cannot stop living the life I have here today. I send my love to each of those hearts of need, all over the planet. And as a pledge to the Divine, I will live this one Mighty Life, right here in the shade of the Laundry Line.

I am heading out to the garden to ponder my Mighty Life List. I will fill the bird baths and sing a song of gratitude for all I have done since I wrote that list of ‘Temptations’ back in Big Bay.

How about you? Got a Mighty Life List to share?
I’d love to read it.
Yours, S