the narrative thread

February 18, 2026

Ash Wednesday

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust… Ashes in the form of a cross on the forehead identifies penitential believers and marks the beginning of the forty day period of prayer, fasting, and sacrifice Catholics and other Christian denominations know as Lent. The ashes are a visible reminder of our human mortality: “Dust you are and to dust you will return.” (Genesis 3:19)

I went to Mass today, but I didn’t stay for the distribution of ashes. At my age and, unfortunately after my many experiences with the death and loss of loved ones that started when I was very young (along with a few close calls of my own), I don’t need any reminders about mortality. Nevertheless, while Lent is a somber season mostly spent in somber, mid-winter months, I will admit that personal reflection and a focus on spiritual life seem particularly well-suited to this time of year.

As is the case with so many religious days, Lent was established by the Council of Nicea way back in 325 AD as a sort of Christian Passover to prepare for the celebration of Easter, (which itself has roots in ancient rites of spring). The prevailing themes of mourning and repentance trace their origins to the donning of “sackcloth and ashes” among figures in the Old Testament. See Mordecai (Esther 4:1), Job (Job 42:6), Daniel (Daniel 9:3), and Jonah (Jonah 3:6).

In 601 A D, Pope Gregory built on the recorded stories in the Bible of 40 days being integral to self reflection and spiritual renewal: Noah spent 40 days in the floods, Elijah walked 40 days in the wilderness, and of course, Jesus spent 40 days in the desert before his passion and death on the cross. Thus Lent was established as 40 days before Easter of prayer and fasting, plus six Sundays when fasting does not apply.

We Catholics still fast (eat fewer smaller meals) and abstain (from eating meat) on certain days, but in general, those rules have relaxed considerably over the decades. Older people who remember the old traditions still “give up” something they especially like for Lent such as ice cream or chocolate, and then allow themselves to enjoy that treat on Sundays. These days, though, the emphasis for practicing Catholics is more on participating in Lenten devotions and trying to be charitable in word and deed.

Personally, the idea of Lent as a time spent in the barrenness of the desert appeals to me, maybe because I just naturally love deserts. They are quiet and pure, vast and wondrous, totally without distractions. Whether it’s the towering rocks of the 7 Pillars of Wisdom in Jordan, or the red rock vortex canyons of Sedona, or the dynamic shades of sifting sands from orange to red to beige to black in the Sahara, a desert is conducive to peace and reflection — to prayer, if you will. You don’t have to look hard to find humility in a desert and you don’t have to dig deep to come face to face with the realities of your own existence..

Coincidentally, I recently read a small piece written by a priest in a local church bulletin suggesting ways to create a a “personal desert” without traveling to one. The first suggestion was to try to limit distractions and reduce the incessant noise of daily life — the news bulletins and demands of social media, the beeps and burps of the cell phone, the web surfing and the rabbit holes that draw us in, even the chatter of friends and neighbors. Another idea was to deliberately slow the pace of daily living by paying attention to the present moment and not racing from one thing, one task, one place to another. Only by creating some quiet time for reading and reflection, even simply for some rest, can we hope to find the desert silence required to truly be in touch with ourselves and achieve any sort of spiritual rejuvenation.

And just today, Pope Leo XIV used the Ash Wednesday Mass and homily to reflect on the meaning of ashes on the heads of the faithful, not so much as a reminder of our own individual mortality, but as a reminder of the current death in our world, “…in the ashes imposed on us by the weight of a world that is ablaze, of entire cities destroyed by war.” He went on to bemoan “the ashes of international law and justice …the ashes of entire ecosystems and harmony among people…the ashes of that sense of the sacred that dwells in every creature.” (National Catholic Register, 2/18/26) At last, a world leader who is an American that makes me proud.

As I struggle particularly these days with the chaos in the world and the fears and challenges in my own life, I return once again as I so often do, to my favorite poet, T.S. Eliot and my favorite poem, “Ash Wednesday.” It was written in 1930 when conditions in the world were brewing very much as they are now and when Eliot was struggling to find his own place in literature, in politics, and in religion. Realizing that only a loss of hope can come from relying on what is only earthly and human, he knows he has to turn from the world in an attempt to leap to faith. And my favorite poet pens one of my favorite lines, a prayer line really, from my favorite poem. It is a prayer I have been been repeating for most of my life, but one perhaps especially relevant this year:

“Teach us to care and not to care; Teach us to sit still.”

February 6, 2026

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Sweet Hearts

Growing up, I went to a Catholic girls’ school K through 12. The whole school was housed in one giant brick building with a huge playground on a full city block. The first floor housed the elementary school and extended out into a large gymnasium; the entire second floor was the high school including science labs and special facilities, as well as administrative offices. A cafeteria that could seat the entire student body if necessary was in the basement with walkouts to the playground. Now there are all sorts of stories to be related about this primary educational experience in a small town in Texas, but for now, we will talk about Valentine’s Day.

Every holiday and every holyday at Nazareth Academy was an event. The good nuns (yes, we had nuns as teachers then, and they lived in a convent across the street from the school) helped us mark our days throughout the year, teaching us as we went about the historic, secular, or religious significance of the special ones. Bulletin boards were always decorated in celebration of whatever occasion was at hand, and often we students helped to create those decorations. Visitors actually came from other schools and other towns to see the lavish Christmas decorations fashioned by talented teachers and students at NA. (No doubt all this was the genesis of my life-long determination to decorate my own home and my own classrooms for every event, however obscure.)

But back to elementary school. When Valentine’s Day was on the horizon, the good nuns started creating hearts and flowers in pink and red and, of course, delivering information about St. Valentine and the origin of the day. That history contains several different legends, but interestingly, almost everywhere in the world that Valentine’s Day is celebrated, the date is always February 14. The nuns, of course, attributed that to St. Valentine.

As is so often the case with religious holidays, however, the significance of February 14 had some pagan roots well before the advent of Christianity. One tradition claims it was a holiday in ancient Rome called Lupercalia, which marked the beginnings of spring. Another attributes it to a Roman festival called Juno February during which young people chose their future spouses by picking a name out of a paper box (an important historic detail here to keep in mind.)

We don’t actually meet St. Valentine until the third century in Rome, just as Christianity was beginning to spread. Legend has it that Emperor Claudius II (268-270 AD) issued a law forbidding young men to marry, ostensibly so they would not have family ties when being conscripted for the army. The real reason, though, was to prevent the spread of Christian marriages. A young physician-turned-priest named Valentinus thought this unjust and so began secretly performing marriages among Christian couples. When the Emperor found out, Valentinus was arrested and stoned to death on February 14, 269. In 496, Pope Gelasius decreed that February 14 be celebrated as St. Valentine’s Day.

There are variations on the particular story of St. Valentine, and even indications that there might have been more than one Valentine, but the February 14 date of celebration has endured down through the centuries. And wherever Valentine’s Day is celebrated, it is always associated with love, marriage, and friendship. In the United States, Valentine’s is a huge commercial holiday, with spending on flowers, candy, jewelry, clothing, cards, and dining projected to exceed $29 billion in 2026 (according to the National Retail Federation). Over half of all adults celebrate the holiday and, according to the National Restaurant Association, Valentine’s is second only to Mother’s Day for dining out. Affordability be damned.

So, okay, back to elementary school. There was always a Valentine’s Day party planned each year for the class. We (our moms) would bring in cupcakes and cookies, and we (students) would bring in our decorated shoebox “mailboxes” to receive all the little Valentine cards from our classmates. We set out our boxes on the wide sill beneath the tall windows on one side of the classroom. There was always an unspoken competition among us for the best, most elaborate, most unusual “mailbox,” but never over the number of Valentines received. In true Christian fashion, we were instructed to deposit a signed Valentine in every classmate’s box, whether we were personal friends or not. No one was to be left out (and those who didn’t have a shoebox at home were somehow always provided with one to decorate).

Now that I’ve discovered the history of Juno February, I see where the idea of those little mailboxes might have originated. And now that I have gone out looking for packages of those inexpensive Valentine’s cards for children in preparation for this post, I’ve found that not only are the cards still sold, but already decorated “mailboxes” with slits in the top are on supermarket shelves as well. (Photo above.) Hallmark even sells Valentine classroom kits with a box, stickers, and 32 cards, including a special one for the teacher (for around $10). Guess busy parents, and even the kids themselves, no longer have the time to shop, think and create.

Funny how a brief glimpse into the remote past can further inform the present so many years later. For example, in writing this, I realize that the fact that I went to school for 12 years with essentially the same group of 59 girls (the number in our graduating class) explains why, even at this age, I still have a number of childhood friends of over 70 years duration. Making Valentines and mailboxes explains why I still make some Valentine’s cards and send out quite a few each year; and thinking about those cupcakes at the parties explains why I have made, and continue to make, heart-shaped cupcakes with pink icing every year since our son was a little boy. Most of all, I am reminded that thoughts of the people I love and the friends I cherish make Valentine’s Day a warm, sunny day in an otherwise cold, grey and depressing month.

January 21, 2026

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A New Year in “Nots”

I have a t-shirt that reads, “Sorry I’m late, but I didn’t want to come.” Every time I wear this shirt out in public, I get two or three people who come up to me with some version of, “OMG. Your shirt. That’s my life.!”

Usually, the comments come from women, but recently a young man saw me walking toward him as he hopped out of the pick-up he had just pulled in next to my car. “Oh man,” he said, leaning back against his truck door like James Dean. “I reaaaally like that shirt; that is my story to a T. I hate my job, I don’t like where I live, and I don’t like any of the things my friends want me to do.”

“Well,” I said, “sounds like you need to be more than late. Maybe you need to rethink showing up at all!” He laughed and nodded with resignation. (I see the potential for a pop-up therapy truck in my future.)

The truth is that we all spend time doing things we don’t want to do. We attend funerals, we go to doctors and dentists, we show up at big events and eat rubber chicken, we sit through boring meetings and performances, we work on committees, we indulge the pontifications of relatives, the list goes on and on and on … Sometimes, we really have no choice: our presence is a matter of respect, obligation, or plain necessity (such as for those jobs we hate or the medical tests we need).

But sometimes we just “keep on keeping on,” doing things we don’t want to do out of sheer habit, because we have always hosted Christmas Eve supper, or we have always chaired the community fundraiser, or we have always stifled our opinions in an effort to be congenial. And come January every year, we make New Year’s resolutions for positive self-improvement, not because we actually believe that we will accomplish those goals, but because we have always made resolutions in January.

In a recent letter to the editor that appeared on the opinion page of our local newspaper, writer Charles Lincoln, IV claims that the failure of our resolutions is not an accident, but the whole point. “The resolution allows us to enjoy, in advance, the fantasy of having changed without enduring the discomfort of actually doing so.” (“Do a resolution revamp,” San Antonio Express News, 1/12/26) Hmmm… I see the potential for a pop-up therapy truck in Mr. Lincoln’s future too.

He goes on to suggest that maybe we would all be better off to stop promising self-improvement altogether — “Not to aim lower, but to aim differently.” With that thought in mind, I have taken a different approach to my own resolutions this year by pursuing self-preservation instead. Here then is a short, but important list of things I am determined NOT to do again.

1. I will NOT say yes when I really mean no. This has been a perennial challenge for me, as it is for a lot of women. I’ve made incremental progress by shortening the list of excuses I offer when I say no, but still … After overhearing a rambling phone conversation one day, my husband said to me, “Why don’t you just say NO and leave it at that? You can be polite and add a ‘thank you’ or ‘sorry’ if that makes you feel better, but honestly… pull a Nancy Reagan.”

2. I will NOT attend a big event, any kind of event, in a huge outdoor or indoor arena designed to hold thousands of people. (Yes, that means concerts, sporting events, conventions, even rodeos!) The traffic, long lines to park in assigned lots, the long lines to enter and go through security, a mighty climb up into the stands and over other people to get to your seat, not to mention the noise, the food smells, the discomfort, and the expense of it all — well, I guess I’m just finally too old for all that.

3. I will NOT take anymore long-haul flights (10, 12, 18 hours or more) or even domestic flights with multiple legs and layovers. I’d say that if I can’t go non-stop, I won’t go at all, but even a non-stop on one of the world’s best airlines can be too long. (A non-stop from Houston to Dubai on Emirates is 15 hours, which I know because I’ve done it). I love to travel, but getting there is no longer even half the fun.

4. I will NOT complacently allow anyone or anything to waste my time anymore, not with idle chitchat or requests for small favors or unexpected interruptions or anything else. No matter how rude or dismissive I might seem when I say “no” or excuse myself, I will protect my time because time is life itself. There is simply nothing more precious we can give someone else, and nothing more valuable that can be robbed from us.

As I re-read this list of NOTS, I realize that they reflect my age more than my desire for self-preservation. The truth is I’m getting older, I’m tired, and I’m out of patience with any and all rigamarole. Time has always been “of the essence” for me, but now I’m at the stage of life when that essence is imminent.

January 8, 2026

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It’s About Time…

(Photo Credit: Jon Tyson)

Time: in good time, big time, time-out, just in time, terrible time, waste of time, the time is now, pastime, no time, too much time, take the time, buy some time, time and time again, timing is everything…

Linguists will tell you that much can be learned about a people’s values and occupations by the vocabulary of their language and common word usage. For example: indigenous Arctic people (Inuit, Yupik, Sámi) have languages rich with vocabulary words to describe specific conditions of ice and snow. Some dialects are cited as having dozens (even hundreds) of words reflecting the most minute particulars of the Arctic environment, not because the people are so linguistically persnickety, but because their lives depend on exact descriptions of their environment in order to hunt, to fish, to survive.

Actually, the same sort of linguistic indicators can be observed among almost any cohesive culture or group. Employees in a particular company share a sort of “corporate speak” that indicates not only their actual work, but also the products and services they provide. Lawyers are famous for their “legalese,” medical professionals for their “medicalese,” and engineers for their technical jargon — all meant to clarify specific, often complex, concepts and procedures, but generally best understood only by others in their same circles of endeavor. (As a matter of fact, every language is best understood by others who share the same one; the difficulty of finding word-to-word equivalencies among different dialects is what makes the art of translation truly such an art.)

In America, we are all about work and efficiency, speed and progress, and our numerous, almost constant references to time indicate just how preoccupied with it most of us are: get it done, 24/7, in the nick of time, because time is money!!! Not surprisingly, it was another extremely industrious and progressive civilization, the ancient Egyptians, who first used daylight shadow clocks to divide the day into 12 segments and star movements to divide the night into 12 periods. Eventually, this is how the 24 hour day originated (though mechanical clocks to track it did not appear until the 14th century).

Whether you believe it or not, time as simply a unit of measurement is a totally neutral concept. We try to manage it, but it feels different depending on whether we perceive it as helpful, hindering, or downright harassing. Regardless, time passes in life no matter how much we try to control it, so making peace with its flow by embracing the moments (good or bad) or acting with purpose (successfully or not) is about the only way to make it work on your behalf.

Too often we only think about time in a negative way, as a sort of oppressive overlord, but it has so many practical, indispensable uses. For one thing, where would our sense of history be without the broad period calendar designations in years: BC/AD or BCE/CE referring to the timelines of history or Circa for approximate dates, or decades and centuries (15th, 20th, etc.) Then there is the matter of telling time, the a.m/p.m. suffixes to distinguish the morning (ante-meridien) from the afternoon/evening (post Meridien). The uniformity of these designations eliminates ambiguity for international/military/business coordination. Likewise, geographical and universal designations based on longitude (time zones) standardizes regions out of coordinated Universal Time for commercial and social uniformity (with adjustments for daylight savings time).

Think about it: time is how we structure events so as to better understand when things happened and how they relate to each other; time coordinates meetings, travel and schedules; time places the cycles and eras of mankind in context allowing us to gain a long-view perspective; and time provides clarity between local time and a universal standard so that everyone, no matter where they are, can act and communicate “in real time.” Without a clock to track the day, nothing would run, nothing would work—time itself would not stand still, but certainly everything and everyone else would.

Time measured in days and hours is the framework of our lives. As writer Annie Dillard so famously stated, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” A long life in terms of years is not necessarily a fruitful or valuable one when measured by contributions to society, nor is a life cut short necessarily wasted. Just look at the famous contributions made by Joan of Arc (executed at 19), Louis Braille who developed the tactile writing system for the blind at 15 (died at 43), Mozart who wrote his first symphony at 8 (dead at 35), Martin Luther King who led the Civil Rights Movement (assassinated at 39), or Hollywood legend James Dean who only made three films before dying at 24.

None of these examples is to imply that one’s contributions have to be of major national, global, or historical importance in order to BE important. The worth of a life is not measured by grand gestures, world-wide fame or massive fortunes, but rather by the positive effects of love, influence and inspiration on others, be they family members, co-workers, neighbors, friends or sometimes even strangers.

Time does, in fact, have something in common with money, in that it is not how much you have, but how you spend it that ultimately matters. To ensure the value of our lives, we need to get on with it, because “time waits for no man.”

December 28, 2025

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Ho Ho Hum…

Ahhhh, Christmas is over. Cards have been sent, gifts have been given, meals have been eaten, and all that remains are the leftovers and the trash to be put out in the next collection. Unless you have big plans for New Year’s Eve, this period between Christmas and New Year’s should be a reprieve of sorts, a time-out from all the hustle of the holidays and a chance to catch our collective breaths in anticipation of the year to come.

Ideally, that’s what this period should be, but I’ll admit it: some of us have a hard time with time-outs. Having whirled myself into a dervish getting ready for a holiday or big event, I find it almost impossible to just sit and relax knowing that all the work of cleaning up and putting everything away lies ahead. That is particularly true at Christmas, when holiday decorations have appeared in stores before Halloween, carols have been playing on the radio before Thanksgiving, and retailers have been counting the shopping days ‘till Christmas for months already. I’m so tired of it all by the time it actually arrives that I can hardly wait for it to be over. And I’m ready for the decorations to go too.

If I were having a New Year’s Eve fete, which I did have for many, many years, I wouldn’t mind leaving the tree and the outdoor lighting in place. It’s a festive backdrop, after all. But I’m not having New Year’s Eve parties anymore; heck, I’m not even able to stay up past 10 o’clock to watch the ball drop in Time’s Square on television! Anyway, the last thing I ever needed after those late-night parties was to get up in the morning and face dirty dishes, full ashtrays, and stepped-on streamers. These days, why would I want to face leftover Christmas decorations all over the house?

Somewhere along the way, someone said to me, “Why put off ‘till tomorrow what you can do today?“ I took that advice to heart, and it solidified into a life-long mantra. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an active “to-do” list, generally written down on paper, but also ever-present in my head. To-do lists are the hallmarks of a compulsive personality (or of someone afraid of losing her grip). Either way, the list describes a driven woman. Yep. That’s me.

Relating that advice to Christmas, or any other big event within a specific time frame, there are only so many tomorrows onto which you can reasonably postpone the after-chores. For example, wedding etiquette “suggests” that you have six months post-ceremony in which to write and send your thank-you notes for gifts. Common etiquette also “suggests” prompt thank-you notes for any gifts for any occasion, as well as a prompt RSVP to any invitations to a special event. Of course, to the chagrin of party hosts, and the disappointment of grandparents everywhere, far too many people these days are either careless or clueless about any such social niceties.

Of course there are sometimes valid reasons for delayed responses. It’s not uncommon, for example, for Christmas decorations in churches and homes to be left up until at least January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany, even sometimes a bit longer. There are also serious reasons, such as a family illness or sudden calamity, that necessitate suspending the urgency of a to-do list. And then there are those who, after years of doing what they are “supposed” to do, just say “Who cares?” I have one friend who has so often left her Christmas tree up for months into the New Year that she ultimately decides in the fall that she just as well leave it there for a couple more months until December!

All I know is that the whole holiday season seems to have become one giant party leaving a giant holiday hangover in its wake. Even if you don’t host or attend actual parties, there are still all the leftovers of a party at home to be taken care of, not only seasonal decorations, but also dishes, serving pieces, and linens, gift boxes, wrapping paper and salvaged bows, phone calls, text messages, and e-mails to be answered, and yes, those actual leftovers in the fridge. The holiday dismantling and storing away takes almost as long as unpacking and setting up everything in the first place.

To be sure, lest I sound like a real Scrooge-ette, I am grateful that I have a home to decorate, a family for whom to cook and with whom to celebrate, and friends who care enough to get in touch, send cards or otherwise show that they are thinking of me. And I actually look forward to December 26th, not because I am eager to begin tackling the work of major clean-up, but because I really do enjoy some of the quieter, more contemplative activities such as journaling in my annual Christmas book, reviewing all my holiday photographs, and even writing a few thank-you notes. I make no big plans for the day after Christmas (which is also my Feast Day) other than to sleep late, enjoy examining some of my gifts, and maybe starting this year-end blog post.

So, I wish you all some peace and calm during these intermezzo days before the New Year. Certainly, we can all use the time to catch our collective breaths before the advent of 2026, which by all indications promises to be anything but peaceful and calm.

December 9, 2025

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Christmas Comes …

So here we are less than three weeks before Christmas, and I am still ordering on line. Not that I am giving a lot of gifts to people, since our family and friends have long since decided we don’t need any more stuff and don’t need to be packing up and standing in line to mail packages. Nevertheless, I do need some last-minute items for cooking and decorating and some small gifts for those whose services I value in my life. Amazon Prime beats going out to stores, even local ones, considering the traffic and construction all around us here in San Antonio.

Our little family just returned from spending the Thanksgiving holidays on Cape Cod, thereby revisiting an annual tradition we established years ago while living in Connecticut. It was wonderful; the gods of weather, air travel, and good health smiled on us and we enjoyed what really became a perfect trip. It was our Christmas gift to ourselves, which is a good thing since the shopping days ‘till Christmas this year are considerably abbreviated. But I do have to admit to some holiday rush since I have spent the last week putting away fall decorations before even starting to think about Christmas.

Part of the challenge is that for a couple years now I have been conscientiously eliminating roughly half of all my seasonal decoration (for each season) as I take them out. Just too much stuff, and too much to arrange, to take care of, and to put away and store for another year. Honestly, a lot of the decorating for Christmas has become really arduous as we age. This year, for example, the huge four-foot lighted wreath we’ve always mounted high over the garage was put out to the curb for free on a neighborhood marketplace site, first come first serve. Gone in minutes. Gone also are the lighted small trees in the front yard and a big fancy wreath on the front door. Instead, I ordered a lighted wreath from Balsam Hill to match the garland we have over the doors, and a lighted deer to stand sentry on our front entry way. Pretty, but simple.

But then there is still the matter of the huge, 9 foot artificial tree, ordered two years ago to replace the really, really arduous task of going out and finding a 10-12 foot Noble Fir at a local nursery. We had always had a real tree, and a tall one, our whole lives, but a couple years ago we got the tree stuck in the doorway and had to ask a neighbor to help us get it unstuck and into the house. Once inside, I won’t even talk about the difficulty of getting a tree that size upright and into a sturdy stand. So we gave in to the limitations of age and ordered a lighted artificial Vermont White Spruce from Balsam Hill. It’s beautiful and realistic, but it is not exactly easy to get assembled and upright either. (And by the way, no, I am not being paid to promote Balsam Hill.)

Now I’m trying to get the indoors decorated bit by bit, dragging out a few storage bins at a time and sorting out the give-aways from the sell-aways. But that effort, too, takes time, as you have to photograph, post and write a description on whatever site, and then be available to either pack and ship to the buyer or to meet and exchange in person. My church is also having a silent auction to raise money and so gathering those items, researching their valuations, and delivering them for the event next month has become yet another little holiday chore, albeit one with good intentions. Later this week, I hope to be done with all the carting and sorting and ready to make my final trip to Goodwill. And then I can start my Christmas baking.

Though I don’t host dinner parties or huge open houses anymore, I still make some time-honored recipes every year for our little family. The Christmas cookies are a must. I have used a Pillsbury “Make-Ahead Cookie Mix” recipe for over 50 years (from a 1970s booklet). With just a couple additional ingredients to the basic mix, this recipe can be turned into eight dozen of ten different favorite holiday cookies including decorated sugar cookies, chocolate chip cookies, and those famous peanut blossoms with the Hershey kisses on top. I also make my Mother’s fudge recipe, which again is an easy one using Eagle Brand Sweetened Condensed milk and chocolate chips. And then there is always the cherry trifle for Christmas Day.

Usually during the holidays, I also make pistachio biscotti and even brioche rolls for Christmas dinner, depending on the entrée. It’s a lot of food for a small family, but tradition is tradition — sort of like midnight Mass and gifts on Christmas Eve. As I do with decorating, I spread all this cooking and baking out over several days too, but this year the days are few — and I’m tired already.

And when I get tired, my ho-ho-hos turn bah-humbuggy, so let me get this finished and posted before that happens.

November 15, 2025

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Gratitude

So, here we are at Thanksgiving, a time when everyone is supposed to count their blessings around the dinner table. The attitude of the season is gratitude and, in truth, while the search for reasons to give thanks might be difficult when times are tough, the effort to find them and express them is worthwhile and even empowering.

Certainly, this has not been an easy year for many, myself and my family included. Whether the struggles were strictly personal or brought on by broader national policies and global events, the fear, stress and worry over so many issues is enough to make all of us mentally, emotionally and physically ill. Gratitude? Really? How do you muster gratitude while feeling so overwhelmed by multiple, conflicting concerns?

Call me a cold-eyed realist, but I think these days gratitude can only be found by digging deep down inside and recognizing the realities and limitations of your own existence. Only then can you determine what you might rightfully be grateful for. Keep it simple — which is not easy when life is anything but.

To that end, I offer my own expression of gratitudes and wish you some moments of quiet reflection over this Thanksgiving.

Grant Me The Grace

In a climate of chaos
Of hate and division,
When war is called peace
And history’s revision,
Grant me the grace to be grateful…
For what I know.

When people are suffering
And many are needy,
When fairness has failed them
Because of the greedy,
Grant me the grace to be grateful …
For what I have.

In a season of loss
A time of despair,
A period of mourning
For those who aren’t there,
Grant me the grace to be grateful …
For those I love.

When others moan and groan
And constantly complain,
About every inconvenience
And every ache and pain,
Grant me the grace to be grateful …
For simply being alive.

November 7, 2025

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That Time of Year

It’s what I have come to call “That time of year” again — the late fall days in November between holidays when daylight savings time ends and the twinkle of Christmas lights begin to illuminate the darkness. The year is winding down, the New Year is rapidly approaching, and already everyone is asking where the time (and money) went. But for me, these November days bring a mood of ennui. People ask me, “What is wrong? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“It’s just that time of year,” I say.

Back when I was in the thick of my career and had numerous family members, friends and colleagues nearby, my social calendar for the whole holiday season would start filling in by mid-November and the stress of planning, baking, shopping, mailing gifts and addressing cards would reach a fevered pitch by Thanksgiving. Of course, while living in the Northeast, weather was always an ever-present threat to those eagerly anticipated holiday plans.

But all this worry and anxiety now — not so much. We aren’t very social anymore, haven’t many family or friends in the area, don’t attend work-related events, and aren’t heavily involved in clubs and organizations any longer. My closest friends and family called a moratorium on gift giving ages ago (nobody needs more stuff and nobody needs to stand in long lines at the post office to mail packages that probably won’t arrive on time anyway!) I’ve been culling my holiday decorations as I unpack them for several years now, finally gave in and bought an artificial tree, and have long since sold all my china, crystal and silver with place settings for twelve. At my age, who needs to take care of all this stuff, much less store it.

Now I don’t mean to sound like a South Texas Scrooge, but you know what? Shedding all that merry-making effort is freeing. I may feel a bit at loose ends during this “time of year,” but I’m not as stressed and certainly not as frantic about meeting all the expectations of others with those family dinners, wrapping gifts, writing cards, making calls, etc. I’ll admit it: I can relax a little, and even chuckle while watching everyone else race to the “doorbuster specials.” Been there, done that — all of it and then some.

Thankfully, some “fallish” weather has finally arrived here, albeit in wild, almost daily swings of 50 degree temperatures. I sometimes have to bundle up for my morning walk in 40° and then don a light-weight T-shirt in a 90° afternoon outing. We are constantly adjusting our thermostat from air to heat to off, but hey! This is Texas, and temperatures aren’t the only weather story.

November days here are generally crisp and clear without a single cloud in the pure blue sky above; sudden dust-ups of wind swirl leaves and sway trees and the sun is somehow lower and less intense overhead. Now that the clocks have changed and the sun sets earlier, my husband and I have started to sit out on our patio in the dusk of a late afternoon and enjoy a glass of wine among the arrangement of pumpkins and mums around the fireplace. Now that we’ve finally found outdoor furniture cushions that the squirrels won’t tear apart, we can even enjoy them and their antics as they scamper about the yard. It’s a calm, civilized way to end the day.

Now that I’ve slowed down enough to “smell the roses” (and we do grow roses in our garden), I find time to pay more attention to Mother Nature and find her signs of each season to be both a comfort and an education. The one great thing Texas has is the vast open sky, and it was the one thing I always missed when we didn’t live here. Even in urban areas and neighborhoods where I live now, views of the night sky are broad and accessible.

At the moment, we are experiencing another full moon, this year also a supermoon, called the Beaver Moon (its high was Nov. 5). It was given that name by early Native Americans because beavers were most actively preparing for winter in November by stockpiling their food caches and fortifying their underwater lodges and dams. Thus, they were out and about and more plentiful, which meant that hunters were also out and about after them. Beaver fur thickens in the fall and so their pelts are warm and waterproof, and therefore desirable for human protection in winter. Not surprisingly, the Beaver Moon also came to represent an astrological and spiritual period of preparation and reflection for the darkness of winter to come.

Regardless of today’s push to rewrite history and eliminate “wokeness,” there is no doubt that much of our own American history and spiritual values emanate from early Native American practices and beliefs such as all those about the harvest and preparations for winter. I’m sure many remember those pictures in history books of newly-arrived pilgrims alongside Native Americans celebrating the first Thanksgiving with corn and foul. (Wonder if such pictures have been purged from elementary-school books by now?) Today, November means Thanksgiving to almost everybody, even though it took until 1941 for the 4th Thursday of November to become a nationwide federal holiday of celebration.

The great thing about Thanksgiving is that it is a truly American, non-secterian designation honored by all faiths and all ethnic groups, each in their own way, as a collective expression of gratitude for the bounty and the beauty of the American experience. While it may aptly be considered as “the calm before the storm” of the holiday shopping season, Thanksgiving has managed to resist the crass commercialism of other major holidays and to retain a clarity of values and purpose. Our families — large or small, blended or intact, old or young, religious or nones, multi-ethnic or monocultural — as messy and contentious as they might be, are who we are. And we willingly come together to share a meal and spend time with each other.

The meal matters, of course. Many of us have vague recollections of those Norman Rockwell images of the perfect family (that don’t look anything like us) gathered around the holiday table, but spending time with those we love IS what matters most. As I reflect on “that time of year” that is November, I realize that time itself is the greatest gift of all.

October 31, 2025

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All Hallows’ Eve

All Hallows’ Eve is an old-fashioned term for Halloween. You seldom hear it these days, perhaps only in old New England towns or in some isolated ethnic communities. It brings to mind ancient history, Puritan superstitions, Celtic mysticism — all the myths and legends and beliefs associated with Halloween, remnants of which are part of America’s secular and quasi-religious Halloween celebrations today.

When we talk about Halloween, most people immediately think about the thoroughly commercialized American version of the day in black-and-orange with candy-corn and pumpkin-carving. For sure, while not being the most popular holiday in the US (Christmas and Thanksgiving are numbers one and two), Halloween does have very high celebration rates, especially among younger people, with roughly 73% of Americans admitting that they celebrate the day in some way. The National Retail Federation projects that we will spend $3.9 billion on candy this year (the government shutdown notwithstanding). Trick or Treat!

But the roots of Halloween and contemporary celebrations go way, way back. The ancient Celts celebrated a festival called Samhain around November 1 to mark the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter. They believed that the night before their November New Year was a time when the boundaries between the living and the dead were blurred. They wore costumes and masks to ward off evil spirits and and danced and sang around the fire at night. Today’s traditions of bonfires and scary stories come directly out of this ancient festival.

In the 8th century, Pope Gregory III sought to Christianize Samhain by assigning the feast of All Saints or “All Hallows” as it was called (“hallows” meaning holy) to November 1 and naming November 2 All Souls Day; these feast days remain today in the Catholic Church. In addition to highlighting their importance in the Christian calendar, the period of October 31 to November 2, once known as “Allhallowtide,” was intended to substitute and ultimately replace Samhain. But instead elements of Christian and pre-Christian beliefs and rituals mingled to create the Halloween, or All Hallows’ Eve, we observe today.

Early immigrants, especially Irish and Scottish, brought many common Halloween traditions to the United States; the notion of trick-or-treating, for example, evolved from customs like the Irish tradition of “guising,” going door-to-door performing tricks for treats. In the Middle Ages, children of the poor would go “souling,” collecting food in return for prayers for the dead on All Souls’ Day. (The guisers dropped the prayers part and offered songs and jokes instead.)

All Souls’ Day in particular reinforces the ancient belief that the living can be in direct contact with the dead, for better or worse. Thus, the spectre of ghosts and goblins, of people being possessed by spirits, or of witches casting spells through their black cat “familiars” have become the commonly recognized, and recorded, darker aspects of All Souls’ Day. One need look no further than accounts of the famous witch hunts of the past, of the 700 witches condemned in Catalonia, Spain, over three centuries beginning in 1424, or to our own historic records of the Salem Witch Trials of 1692-3 in Massachusetts to see the worst manifestations of believing in the interactions between the living and the dead. Even today, there are many who associate Halloween with witchcraft and sorcery and believe the holiday to be anti-Christian. (Hobby Lobby, the nation-wide arts and crafts stores, do not sell Halloween decorations for largely religious reasons.)

Yet, many cultures of the world maintain that the communion between the living and the dead is a positive reality and find ways to celebrate their ancestors and traditions in a good way, an appropriate way in this season when nature mirrors the cycle of life. In Japan, there are Yōkai Parades (ghost parades); in Nigeria, the Awuru Odo Festival honors returning spirits with traditional ceremonies; in Cambodia during the Buddhist festival of PcheumBen, people visit pagodas to offer food to the dead and to guide their ancestors’ spirits to peaceful rest; in Haiti during Fet Gede (Festival of the Dead) on November 1 & 2, Voodoo practitioners dance in the streets to communicate with the dead and then walk through the graveyards bringing “food” to feed them; and in Portugal on the Dia das Bruxas (Day of the Witches), families “trick-or-treat” asking for bread, fruit or nuts to then take to the graves of their relatives.

While our common Halloween customs originally found their way to America with Western European immigrants, a similar merger occurred between the Spanish Catholic All Souls Day and the indigenous Aztec ceremonies honoring deceased ancestors in early colonial Mexico. This produced the holiday known as Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebrated for several days over November 1 & 2 and now as familiar as Halloween itself to most of us in the United States. (The US Postal service even issued Dia de los Muertos forever stamps in 2021 and they are still available today.)

The tremendous numbers of Mexican Americans and Central and Latin American immigrant families, particularly here in South Texas, have spread their cultural traditions to be enjoyed and respected by all. For example, the Catholic Churches here in San Antonio all build altars (ofrendas) in the vestibules to honor the memory of departed loved ones with flowers (marigolds), photographs, candles, and calaveras and catrinas (skeletal figures and dolls dressed to represent the deceased — see photo above). In the public squares and plazas there is music and dancing and recitation of family stories, and food — lots of food — often taken by family members to be shared on visits to the cemetery. You don’t have to be Mexican to celebrate Día de los Muertos and you certainly don’t have to be Latin to embrace its spiritual philosophy.

Día de los Muertos is NOT an occasion for mourning, but for remembering and celebrating lives well lived. Having been born from five generations of German immigrants and raised in South Texas, Mexican is my culture of immersion and Día de los Muertos is my All Hallows’ Eve.

“Viva los muertos!”

October 11, 2025

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Shine On

The romance inspired by moonlight was first given voice back in 1908 when the married vaudeville team Nora Bayes and Jack Norworth debuted Shine On, Harvest Moon in the Ziegfeld Follies. It was one of several moon-related Tin Pan Alley songs of the era, but Shine On was received with special acclaim. It became a romantic pop standard and it continues to be performed and recorded even now into the 21st century.

Oh, Shine on, shine on, harvest moon Up in the sky;

I ain’t had no lovin’ Since April, January, June or July,

Snow time ain’t no time to stay Outdoors and spoon;

So shine on, shine on, harvest moon, For me and my gal.

Songs have been written about it, photographers have chased it, superstitions have arisen around it, and cultures and societies have relied on it since ancient times: it is the Supermoon, a full moon rising closest to the September equinox. It appeared this week on October 6-7 and it is the first of three Supermoons we’ll see before the end of 2025. But this one is special because this one is the famous Harvest Moon.

Some astronomical facts explain why that’s special. The moon’s orbit around the earth is not a perfect circle; rather, it is elliptical. So a full moon always appears bigger and brighter because it is closer to the earth at that point in the month. The Supermoon appearing near the September equinox, however, is at the closest point to the earth and has the smallest differences in rise times of the entire year. On the evenings surrounding this particular phenomenon, the Harvest Moon rises at virtually the same time every night and sets roughly 12 hours later. Cloud cover notwithstanding, we can usually still see the moon shining in the Western sky when we get up in the morning.

Reflections called moon illusions make the Harvest Moon appear exceptionally bright and full on the horizon and causes it to illuminate everything around and below it. Beyond the illusions, though, the Harvest Moon is, in fact, about 30 percent brighter than average full moons and about 14 percent larger in diameter. The vivid orange and yellow colors come from atmospheric particles and, on a clear night with a magnifying lens (such as on a good camera) you can actually see some of the contours on the moon’s surface. (Photo above taken this year on the night of Oct. 7.)

The Harvest Moon is also known as the Hunter’s’Moon, again due to the dazzling illumination lasting long into the night. In ancient times, October was traditionally the month when hunters would be busy gathering meat for the long winter ahead and so it became known as the Hunter’s Moon. In subsequent agrarian societies, farmers were able to harvest their crops and work to prepare them for winter storage late into the evening hours, so the name Harvest Moon became more common.

Over time, full moons, especially Supermoons, begat all sorts of superstitions and beliefs. One of the earliest associations, which still holds sway today, is that of a full moon’s effect on human behavior. In fact, the word lunacy comes from the Latin “luna” and references the Roman moon goddess Luna. Craziness, madness, accidents, and bad luck are all likely to befall humanity during full moons while all those folkloric manifestations of pure evil such as werewolves, vampires and zombies emerge to roam the world. Not surprisingly, all sorts of rituals developed to ward off some of the evil spells and spirits, rituals such as bonfires, candle lightings, singing, dancing, and crystal cleansing (in the moonlight, of course)..

Yet, the Harvest Moon can also present an occasion for good, for making wishes and achieving that perfect balance between light and dark. It is a time for gratitude and abundance, for celebrating the “inner harvest” of what has been cultivated in one’s life, and for synchronizing one’s spirit with the never-ending cycle of nature. For me, the Harvest Moon (yet another sure sign of my favorite season even in Texas) is a time of reflection, a time of letting go of the past and what no longer matters, and a time of reordering and reckoning as I prepare for the winter darkness to come.

This week of the Harvest Moon was also my birthday week, as it often is because my birthday is early in the month of October. In spite of their association with lunacy and craziness, I often find that I feel especially grounded and in synch with nature whenever a full moon is in the sky. The metaphor prompted by a Harvest Moon on or around my birthday is particularly meaningful.

When I was younger, birthdays were big celebrations — huge parties, special excursions, unexpected surprises. I claimed “birthday girl” deference not only for the week, but for the whole month, sometimes even for the whole season! Fall was always my favorite time of year, and since Halloween was also my favorite holiday, the Supermoon around my birthday became the ultimate symbol for the Halloween theme that dominated my days and my decorations. You know the look — the silhouette of a witch on a broom flying in front of the big, orange moon: I even made a front door wreath with that image one year. The Harvest Moon spoke of mystery and excitement, of another year of new adventures and new challenges ahead.

Big birthdays (40, 50, 60) sometimes presented some existential pauses over the years, but I always managed to adjust to the new seasons of my life. (I do remember saying, though, that I didn’t get over turning 30 until I was 35!) While not quite at a “landmark birthday” yet this year, I am getting close to a big one and there is no denying that I am now well into the autumn of my life. I’m slowing down and pulling back and not always able to meet new challenges with enthusiasm. Curiously, though, I also find myself calm and peaceful, truly in synch with the season, as I take stock of my own “inner harvest.” I am proud of what I have sown and reaped, and I am filled with gratitude for the life I’ve had with my little family.

“So, shine on, shine on, harvest moon, For me and my [guys].”