Deceived Stupidity

    I admit the ongoing Anti-Ice protests tempt me to despair at the deceived stupidity of so many of my fellow citizens. But if I let that persuade me that God has lost control of his planet, my country, or even just Minneapolis, then I am part of the deceived stupidity.

 

The Company of Men

     This is the poem I had in mind before writing The Men of the Palace. I realized the reason I sacrifice so much of my Saturday to Tool Palace visits when I am not in the market for used tools is because I have always enjoyed the company and conversation of men. Since I am there with my husband and the other men's wives are not around to feel insecure, I can relax and be myself.

The Company of Men

I have always enjoyed the company of men--

tagging along as a little girl,

watching Roy Rogers, Sky King

and Saturday morning cartoons

at Dad's friend's house,

listening to the men visit.

 

Next came the school years

with boys aplenty and men too few.

At Bible college, where many girls

thought conversing with men

was solely to procure or poach a boyfriend,

I was considered a shameless flirt.

 

The churches I used to attend

treated talking much the same.

Though by then a happily married woman, 

at church social gatherings,

with their wives within easy earshot, 

speaking with men was still suspect. 

 

Fortunately, the world of 

aircraft mechanics is mostly male,

and by this time, from

decades in an aviation atmosphere,

I can contribute meaningfully

to most conversations. 

Though I am happy to visit

with a pilot or mechanic's wife,

I'm not intimidated if they don't come.

I am used to flying solo

through a cyclone of testosterone. 

I have always enjoyed the company of men. 

 

1/21/26 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Men of the Palace

     It has been weeks since I have had anything ready for my Saturday poetry swap with Fred, poet laureate of The Tool Palace. Saturday he made it clear that I needed to jack hammer my writer's block out of the way and bring him a poem. Since he wrote a poem about Tool Palace last week from his perspective, I decided to write one from mine.

 The Men of the Palace  

 

The Men of the Palace

                           are waiting there                           

on Saturdays at noon. 

And I, the only lady fair,

with escort, join them soon. 

 

Some are the wizards,

and some the wits, but 

jesters all can be.

They sit, for they are aged and tired, 

yet yield a chair to me.

 

There's wisdom 

to be gathered there 

if one can sift it out 

from the multitude of stories

they like to throw about.

 

They sit, as if 

to guard the door,

yet none could stop a thief.

Customers coming in the store 

must wonder who these could be. 

 

When the men of the Palace 

filled with tools 

make a place for me

among the stools, 

I feel like royalty.

 

1/20/26 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

Because We Can

    This week Reed got the very good news that his last PSA levels were too low to be detectable. His prostate cancer has responded beautifully to treatment. But so that he does not run out of things to worry about, his blood pressure was up at his last heart appointment and he now has a heart murmur. His EKG was a little off at his stress test, but no more than before he took it, and today's follow up confirmed that they found no problem with his heart. Admittedly, Reed had fallen off the heart healthy diet bandwagon since prostate cancer treatment--more like, jumped off and rolled away from the band wagon--those high numbers were a more powerful incentive than I was to climb back on. As a cook I am happy to accommodate his diet needs, but as a realist with some medical training, I am frustrated. 

    During my years as a volunteer taking blood pressures at Sykes Pharmacy, many of my geriatric clients said that their doctor wanted their BP around 130 over 60. In order to achieve this arbitrary ideal, they had to take multiple medications. While it would be wonderful if our senior systems could be restored to the health levels of our 30's, it is not realistic. Thirty years ago it was understood that blood pressure readings for people over 60 were more likely to be in the 150/90 range. Though physicians realize they cannot restore our metabolism, strength, skin, eyesight, hearing, balance, etc. to 30's levels, they support this standard for blood pressure. Of course no one wants a stroke or heart attack, but realistically, meds or not, odds of that increase with age, just as they do for cancer, diabetes, arthritis, osteoporosis, and dementia.

    I asked the pharmacist why, amid the herd of health problems that rear their head in old age, blood pressure is the one sacred cow. Her answer was, restoring muscle tone, metabolism, etc. was hard, blood pressure was easy--just take another pill. In other words, the reason for altering blood pressure to a higher/lower standard is, because we can. I told her that if my husband had chosen to restore his youthful energy, endurance and sex drive with testosterone, he would have unknowingly spread prostate cancer throughout his body. She agreed hormones can be dangerous. But what about over medicating? 

     At one time, obstetricians thought perhaps many births should be scheduled and induced, not out of medical necessity, but because we can. It turned out to be convenient for them, but harmful for moms and babies. And some male gynecologists thought it would a a huge convenience, if women beyond childbearing had total hysterectomies and took prescription hormones--not for a medical problem, but because we can. However, besides irritating men, women's hormones actually delay onset of osteoporosis, heart disease, and other age related issues. And supplemental hormones can actually increase a woman's odds of getting cancer.

     In years to come, we may discover that fighting high blood pressure and heart rate with mixed martial arts levels of medication does not cause problems, but the hope that our physicians might research side effects and drug interactions before recommending medications was faint to begin with, and died during Covid. Christians should be good stewards of our God given bodies; diet, exercise, and medication play a part in that. But Jesus said none of us by taking thought (human effort) can add to the length of our lives--because we can't.

      

Bye Bye Baggy

    I bought a new ensemble before shoulder replacement, knowing I needed pants that pulled on and easy to use button/zip front shirts. The pants, especially, are not really my style but I figured Costco prices would make buying them less painful. Before that Costco trip I did not own a pair of sweats. Today I am wearing a velour "tracksuit" in plum with a zip front top that includes a hood. A hood. Inside my home. I know this would be someone's ideal comfy active wear because I saw a young woman wearing the same outfit at Harbor Freight a few days ago. But when I wear it, I feel like I should be inactive, on a couch, smoking cigarettes, and watching soaps. My body may be baggy, but my brain is not wired for this. 

    Since the most painful activity I did before shoulder surgery was pulling up and fastening my pants, elastic waistbands may have been a good idea before now, but I dislike them because what goes up tends to come down. And a drawstring seems a flimsy thing to stand between me and accidentally mooning someone. One pair of my sweats, however, decided to defy gravity as, throughout the day, the waistband headed north toward my armpits in a futile search for my waist. That kind of upward mobility is not a comfortable sensation. I prefer my clothes to stay where I put them, especially when I am wearing them.

    Since my shoulder is healing quickly, I can already shimmy into some of my pull on dress pants and the pull over tops I prefer. If I believed the saying clothes make the man, I would never have married Reed, whose preferred style is somewhere between homeless and hobo. But clothes certainly make Connie, and baggy clothes make me feel like a bag lady. I will be very happy when it's time to bid baggy bye bye.

   

     

 

Tears at Christmas

     My writing usually improves if I don't publish it until the next day when I have had time to give it more thought and better wording, but this poem is time sensitive, and I want it to help those already experiencing the bittersweet blessing of Christmas, so I will post this one today. 

 

Tears at Christmas 

 

There were tears at Christmas from the first,

the pain and joy of Jesus' birth,

sorrow for the price he'd pay

for God to take our sins away.

There were tears at Christmas.

 

There are tears at Christmas, for many 

seek the joy we're taught there ought to be.

Sorrow instead, is better known  

in war torn lands and broken homes.

There are tears at Christmas. 

 

There are tears at Christmas, for those who mourn 

 remember joy with their loved one,

sorrow that those days are gone

though they live on, in heaven.

There are tears at Christmas.

 

There are tears at Christmas, and God feels

our pain, yet that is how He heals.

Sorrow on earth must come before 

the joy that heaven will restore,

and no more tears at Christmas.   

 

12/23/25 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Labels and Letting Go

   I've been mulling over this idea as I sent out Christmas cards this week, but didn't have time to write it until I finished the cards.

 

    Labels and Letting Go   

 

Each year I send out Christmas cards,

an old tradition, made less hard

by computer composed letters

and pre-printed address labels. 

 

Change of address for those who've moved,

on label sheets, is easy too.

But for those who moved beyond earth's shore 

these stickers stand for something more.

 

It ought to be a simple task

to throw old labels in the trash,

except they trigger memories

of lost friends still so dear to me.

 

I find myself at end of day

with labels I can't throw away.

Though I know that leaving their names on

won't change the fact that they are gone. 

 

My superstitious Christmas wish

to keep them on my address list 

pretends, by merely doing so,

I do not have to let them go. 

 

12/16/25